Chapter Text
‘Warning! Shameless homos in the company.’
‘HR working overtime. Join and you can date a colleague.’
‘Straight dating at work = FIRED; Homos dating = NO PROBLEM. HR is truly an amazing sovereign.’
Jihoon chews on his knuckles as he sits at his desk and scrolls through the internet forum. Good news spread fast and bad news spread faster so it comes as no surprise that thirty minutes after the incident pictures of the posters have already been uploaded online. Thankfully, the photos on them have been blurred out but the text still gathers the attention of gossipers on the internet. Jihoon is quite sure a lot of them are from the company as well.
He sighs as he closes the tab and leans back on his chair to look at Sanghyeok’s desk at the end of the aisle. His seat is empty. It has been like that since his phone rang a little after he came to work.
Left alone with his thoughts, Jihoon can’t help but feel terrified. It’s not like Minseok or Minhyung are going to get fired – Gen.1 has a strict policy against discrimination so you can’t lose your position simply for being gay. But the pressure of being a subject of gossip in a work environment is petrifying and Jihoon’s brain loves working overtime when it comes to worrying.
Walking past the bookstore that day had given him hope that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope that he can finally be honest about his feelings not only to himself but also to the one that sparked them in the first place. And that warmth he had felt after that long-awaited revelation had kept him buzzing with something so real and so bright. It was as if his heart had been locked in his chest all this time but he had finally found the courage to get the key out of the cupboard where it was gathering dust and let it free.
It’s terrifying how a single question rips the key out of his hands and locks his heart back in its prison cell.
What if this happens to him? What if he tells Sanghyeok how he feels and they only get to share a couple of days of happiness before he gets off the bus and finds his face plastered all over the glass doors of the office? What if he is the one his colleagues whisper about in the hallways while they think he isn’t looking?
It’s easy to try and pretend he’s not bothered about what people think about him and blame it on his protectiveness towards Sanghyeok. It’s true that his affection towards his colleague makes him want to stop any harm from coming his way and a situation like this would impact both of them, after all.
But it’s dishonest to not admit that Jihoon’s fears come from his own selfishness. Yes, he wants to protect Sanghyeok, but most of all he wants to protect himself. While blinded by his own newly found feelings, he had forgotten that some people don’t get to love freely. And it’s so unfair because why does something so pure and warm such as simply loving someone from the same gender have to be somebody else’s gossip? Why does being honest with yourself have to come at the price of living in fear that your love might become the source of your biggest misery?
Jihoon’s breath gets stuck in his chest and he slams his fist against it a couple of times. When that doesn’t calm him down, he picks up his phone from the desk and gets up. The last thing he needs right now is to break down in front of all of his coworkers.
He’s a coward so he takes the stairs to the kitchen, too afraid that he might bump into Sanghyeok in the elevator. But every action has its consequences and Jihoon has never had luck on his side.
The kitchen is on HR’s floor so it’s not a surprise that members of the team occupy it for most of the time. But Jihoon’s distress turns off his brain and he fails to take that into account before he walks in and is met by Minhyung’s back, as he stirs a cup of steaming coffee. The sound of footsteps catches his attention and he turns around, finding Jihoon frozen at the door.
Jihoon hasn’t known Minhyung for that long but he’s well familiar with the way the other man always tries to stay calm no matter what kind of shitty situation he’s in. Even then, he’s shocked to see a warm smile on his face.
“Grabbing a morning snack?” Minhyung leans back on the countertop and takes a sip out of the cup. “We’re all going to need some energy in the next few weeks, after all.”
Jihoon finally manages to make his legs work again and he steps inside the kitchen.
“Yeah, I felt like taking a break,” he replies, as he walks to the vending machine and punches a random number. The snack falls with a thud that echoes through the room and Jihoon takes it before leaning against the opposite countertop. He doesn’t open it because he knows his stomach can’t handle anything when he’s feeling like shit. “How are you doing?”
Minhyung lets out a loud sigh but the smile doesn’t leave his face. Jihoon wishes he knew him better so he could tell if it’s honest or just a facade.
“Been better, been worse,” he replies simply. “Our team is going to be really busy from now on, as you can imagine.”
“Do you have any clue who it was?” Jihoon leaves the snack on the countertop so he can fidget with his hands.
“I have a suspicion,” Minhyung shrugs. His coffee mug lands on the marble counter with a loud thud – the only sign of his anger. “A few months ago, HR received a signal for an employee who had been harassing multiple women on his team. We investigated the case and confirmed it was true, so he was fired shortly after.”
Jihoon furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “But why you? Not that I think it’s a better thing to do but wouldn’t it make more sense for him to try and get back at the women instead?”
His question brings a tight smile to Minhyung’s face.
“I was the one to serve the news to that asshole,” he says. “And if I have to be honest, I was pretty disgusted with what he did so I may have been a bit less… professional than I should’ve. I guess he holds a grudge against me for that.”
Jihoon’s chin rests on his hand as he recalls the details on the posters.
“That would explain some of the–” the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth so he avoids it, “discriminatory slogans on those posters.”
Minhyung sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Jihoon can tell he’s done that quite a few times this morning, since his usually impeccably styled bangs look disheveled now.
“He had a weird obsession with my relationship with Minseokie when we had that conversation back then as well,” he says. His eyebrows draw together and the smile disappears from his face, hinting that their talk was far from pleasant. “He wouldn’t stop insisting that I was being a hypocrite since what he did to the women was what we did.”
“What a fucking weirdo,” Jihoon can’t help but blurt out. “There are no similarities between sexually harassing women and being close with your coworker outside work.”
Minhyung chuckles at his honest outburst and nods in confirmation, “Not to mention Minseokie and I are not romantically involved in any way.”
Jihoon’s hands freeze at that. He looks at Minhyung to try and find any clues on his face that he’s joking but he finds none. His colleague has a small but honest smile on and he tilts his head in confusion when Jihoon keeps staring at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re–” Jihoon starts and his voice cracks. He clears his throat and tries again. “You’re not?”
Minhyung’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. He takes the mug back in his hands and circles its rim with a finger.
“It’s interesting how so many people assume we’re anything more than friends,” he says while looking down at his coffee. “When I was in the elevator today everyone looked at me like they believed those rumors too.”
Jihoon’s not one to pry but the situation has taken a turn that scares him. In the past couple of weeks, he had been around Sanghyeok’s friends a lot and he’d thought he’d learned a lot about their dynamics. For example, Hyeonjun and Wooje were always bundled up in one corner, while Minhyung was always next to Minseok, as if they were two pieces of a puzzle attached together.
Making assumptions about people is something Jihoon tries to avoid but in this case, he hadn’t even thought of it as an assumption to begin with. The two were attached to the hip and he could swear Minseok looked up at Minhyung like he was his whole world. In return, Minhyung would always find time to talk about the other, to the point where it seemed like his whole brain was occupied by thoughts about him and him only. Now that Jihoon is faced with the reality that he was very, very wrong about the two of them, he’s terrified.
“Sorry if I misunderstood,” Jihoon says quietly. Minhyung’s smile makes him feel sick to his stomach, so he looks back down to his hands. “I just thought– I thought you guys were closer than that. I mean, you’re always together and–”
The more he tries to explain it, the less sense it makes. Friends can be close. Friends can hug without it being romantic. He hasn’t even hugged Sanghyeok yet, so why did he think they could be anything more than–
“Close friends,” Minhyung says. Jihoon’s eyes start to sting. “That’s what we are and will, hopefully, always be.”
The sound of the mug hitting the countertop doesn’t mask the loud thud that comes from the kitchen door. Both of them turn towards it, only to find Minseok standing there frozen, his hand propped against the wall as if to stop him from stumbling.
Jihoon knows he looks like shit but Minseok looks even worse. His face is pale and his eyes glisten with an emotion far from happiness. He tries to smile but it’s so obviously fake that it breaks Jihoon’s heart.
“Why are you standing there like a statue?” Minhyung chuckles and it’s fake too. Jihoon wishes he had never gone to the kitchen.
“I wanted to grab a snack,” Minseok looks at his feet when he replies. Then he lifts his head and makes another poor attempt at smiling, “but I’ve gained a lot of weight recently, so I’ll actually pass. See you guys later.”
He turns on his heel and disappears as quickly as he had arrived.
Jihoon stares at the doorway, breath caught in his throat. The room is silent for a while until he hears Minhyung let out another exhausted sigh.
“I hate this asshole for bringing Minseokie into this,” he says, as he takes the mug and puts it in the sink. Jihoon’s peripheral vision sees only his back when he turns around and runs the tap. The sound of the water filling the cup is loud. Too loud.
“I have to go,” Jihoon blurts out with the little breath he has remaining.
He doesn’t wait for an answer before he storms out of the kitchen. Jihoon runs down the stairs to his floor on autopilot and grabs his coat before heading back to the staircase. He can feel Siwoo’s concerned gaze on his back and he knows he will have to explain himself to their team manager later but he can’t think about it right now. All he knows is that he has to get out before he suffocates. Or worse – catches even a single glimpse of Sanghyeok.
It’s a cold winter day and even the smokers value their warm toes more than an unhealthy addiction, so Jihoon climbs up to the rooftop, skipping three stairs with each step. Only a few people occupy the space but he pays them no attention, as he almost runs to the edge and grabs the ice-cold railing. It sends a freezing shock through his hand and it’s exactly what he needs, so he keeps it there. His ragged breath comes out in little clouds that go up before vanishing into thin air. His thoughts are not on the tip of his tongue, so they stay and pollute his mind with worry.
Jihoon doesn’t know how long he stands there, hands braced against the cold metal. At some point, the pain gets so strong that he can almost see the snowflakes turning into sharp knives and digging into his skin. Yet it’s still more bearable than the storm in his heart.
It suddenly feels like his whole world is flipped over and what was once right is now wrong. He had never realized that ever since he had met Sanghyeok, he had taken everything for granted. He had assumed they were getting closer every day and a couple of weeks later he was almost convinced his affection was requited.
But now that the sharp, cold ice digs into his palm it hits him that, objectively, their relationship is no different than Minseok and Minhyung’s. They hang out a couple of times a week and that’s it. Sure, Jihoon’s been bolder than usual with his advances but even then none of them had crossed any lines. Sanghyeok, on the other hand, is always kind to anyone and that kindness is now a thorn in Jihoon’s mind because what if it’s just that? Just kindness. Just him feeling too bad to reject a colleague and make it awkward between them at work.
And Jihoon’s heart hurts because he doesn’t want to be just another one of Sanghyeok’s friends. Deep down he knows he would rather be that instead of not being part of his colleague’s life at all, but it’s still not enough. Day after day he finds it harder to keep his hand in the pocket of his coat while they walk next to each other and Sanghyeok’s arm swings next to him, fingers reddened by the cold winter air. When they say goodbye, it takes him all of his willpower to stop himself from taking the other man into his arms and whispering a warm “see you tomorrow” into his neck.
The idea that maybe Sanghyeok has never had a similar thought about him sickens Jihoon. And it hurts so much more after he’s spent weeks imagining what it would feel like. Taking Sanghyeok’s hand into his, running his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck when their lips finally meet, strangers no more. What if it remains just that – an illusion, an offspring of wishful thinking.
Jihoon swipes a hand over his cheek before the tear manages to slide down and freeze there, a manifestation of his grief. He looks around to see if anyone’s noticed and that’s when he sees him – Minseok, sitting at a bench on the opposite side of the rooftop with his face almost fully buried in his white scarf.
Even from far away, Jihoon can see the tears that roll down his face and land on the soft wool. His legs move on autopilot, as he walks to the bench and sits down next to his colleague, close enough to feel his warmth but far enough to give him some space.
They don’t walk. Unlike Jihoon, Minseok doesn’t wipe his tears away but lets them stain his cheeks. When Jihoon finally turns to him, he can see the lonely path they leave behind.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks quietly. The cold has finally chased everyone away and back to their desks, but he doesn’t feel like raising his voice. “If not, I can leave and give you some space.”
“Please, stay,” Minseok’s voice is uncharacteristically weak and Jihoon hates it. He’s always been the loudest of them all. “I’m scared that if you don’t, I might just shout it all out from the rooftop like a madman.”
Jihoon lets out a small smile at that, “Why not?”
“Because then everyone would know the posters weren’t complete bullshit.”
Minseok’s head hangs low for a few seconds, red nose buried in his scarf. Jihoon doesn’t reply and simply waits for him to continue.
Finally, Minseok turns to look at him, surprise painted all over his face, “You’re not shocked?”
“That you’re in love with Minhyung and he’s the only dumbass who hasn’t noticed yet?” Jihoon raises an eyebrow. The embarrassment on Minseok’s face leaves him feeling a little bit guilty for his frankness. “I’m not surprised but if I have to be honest, I didn’t expect that outcome.”
Minseok lets out a loud sigh and looks up at the sky. A stray snowflake lands in his eye and melts on his cheek. Or maybe it’s just a tear, Jihoon is the last person to judge anyway.
“I know it sounds stupid but I didn’t either,” he replies. “I guess I was a bit delusional but I really thought he–”
His voice cracks and he chokes up. Jihoon hasn’t known him for that long but he’s well aware of how the other one functions best. It’s ironic that he’s learned by watching Minhyung do it instead.
He takes his hand out of his pocket, interlocks Minseok’s fingers with his and sticks them back in to protect them from the cold. Then, he waits.
A few moments later, Minseok lifts his face from the scarf where he had previously hidden it. Jihoon thinks it must be wet and uncomfortable, so he flips it over with his free hand and tucks it under his coworker’s chin to keep him warm.
"I know I’m touchy-feely with everyone but he’s like that only with me,” Minseok talks quietly, eyes trained downwards. “And I’m not saying physical contact necessarily means something more than friendship but I really thought he–”
He takes a deep breath and Jihoon realizes that he has never talked to anyone about this before. He’s never said the word out loud and now that he finally has to, it’s not in the way he wants to. But Minseok still has more courage than he does, so he lets his heart spill it all out.
“I thought he liked me as more than just a friend. That he likes me the way I do; that he looks at me like I look at him. That he’s just as lonely as I am when we part ways at the bus stop and I watch his back disappear in the distance.”
Jihoon’s grip around Minseok’s fingers tightens subconsciously when his words hit a bit too close to home for comfort.
“But I guess thinking isn’t enough,” Minseok chuckles but it’s devoid of humor. "And I know I don’t have any right to be pissed off at him but I am. I know he wasn’t leading me on, that he’s just a kind-hearted person and that he wants to be a good friend to me. But I don’t need his kindness nor his friendship, I need more.”
Jihoon murmurs in assent. There is only the noise of the busy street far below them when Minseok scoots over and lays his head on Jihoon’s shoulder. His tears finally dry down but Jihoon knows it will be a long time before he comes to terms with his new reality.
“What are you going to do now?” He asks at last, thumb smoothing the rough skin on the other’s knuckles. “Don’t you want to talk to him after this whole shitshow?”
“No,” Minseok is quick to reply. “He made it clear he doesn’t want us to be anything other than friends and I’m not going to be the one to make it awkward between us. I’ll just have to get over my feelings and go back to how it used to be when we first met.”
Deep down Jihoon knows he’d say the same thing in that situation, yet he still hates hearing it.
“What if he said it just because he was scared I’d react weirdly if he told the truth?”
Minseok scoffs and lifts his head from Jihoon’s shoulder to throw an unimpressed look at him, “Even that dumbass knows you’re literally the fruit basket and all the fruit in it, you know that, right?”
Jihoon chokes on his spit and looks away, feeling his ears turn red at the other’s words.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Minhyung might not know how I feel about him but I can assure you he’s aware of your obsession with Sanghyeok-hyung,” Minseok rests his head back on Jihoon’s shoulder. “I think everyone but Sanghyeok-hyung knows at this point. How is it that they’re both fucking stupid only when it comes to the people who have feelings for them?”
“Men,” Jihoon supplies and it doesn’t make any sense but he still feels Minseok nod in agreement.
A couple of minutes pass in silence until Jihoon remembers the posters.
“What are you going to do about the rumors?” He asks carefully. “I heard people were looking at both of you weirdly but I guess they’re going to forget about it soon just like they did with every previous scandal.”
Minseok sighs for what feels like the hundredth time today, “Honestly, I don’t care at this point. Since this asshole rejected me without even letting me confess first, I’ll let him handle it and I’ll pretend I don’t hear my nosy colleagues whispering behind my back.”
“Sounds good,” Jihoon replies quietly. “You know you can come to me if you need my help, right? I know we haven’t known each other for that long but I swear I’ll keep my mouth shut, so you can be as honest as you like.”
Minhyung always says Minseok pouts like a sad puppy and Jihoon has to agree, now that he sees it for himself.
“Thank you so much,” Minseok’s voice wobbles and his eyes fill with tears but Jihoon laughs because they’re no longer ones of sadness. “The others know how I feel but I’m too afraid they’ll find it awkward if I talk about it openly, so I just kept it to myself.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Jihoon replies quickly. “I’m glad you’re comfortable with sharing more with me.”
Minseok chuckles and the ice around Jihoon’s heart melts a little, “You’re so honest it’s kinda cute. If I didn’t know about your crush on Sanghyeok-hyung, I’d assume you were flirting with me.”
It’s Jihoon’s turn to scoff. Minseok only smiles at him and when he lays his head back on his shoulder, Jihoon rests his on top, cheek pressed against his soft hair.
“I’m glad we met,” his colleague murmurs. “I hope you and Sanghyeok-hyung stay close so we can keep hanging out.”
In another world, Jihoon doesn’t have feelings for his colleague and doesn’t need to think before confidently replying that they will.
In this one, he is in love with Sanghyeok so he settles for a quiet “I hope so, too.”
But hope is a dangerous thing for a coward like Jihoon to have and he has never been brave when it comes to feelings.
Minhyung’s unconscious rejection of Minseok’s love leaves a deep scar in Jihoon’s heart and he grows scared. It starts slowly with him using stupid excuses to cancel his plans with Sanghyeok, sick one day and too busy the next. Then, he stops picking up his phone and when the other asks him about it at work, Jihoon tries to convince him he’s dealing with family issues. If Sanghyeok is aware that he’s being lied to, he’s too kind to confront him about it.
Jihoon sees it on his face sometimes – a shadow of sadness or maybe disappointment. In moments like these he wants to be honest but the words are confined to his heart with a tight chain, the key to its lock lost the day his hands froze on that metal railing. The fear of unrequited love is worse than the fear of choking on the feelings stuck in his throat. So he swallows the bile and thinks of another excuse.
Christmas comes around and Sanghyeok invites him out to dinner. Jihoon tells him he’s spending the day with his family and his colleague smiles at him warmly, telling him it’s alright and wishing him a Merry Christmas.
Later in the evening, he’s eating the store-bought rice he’s heated up in the microwave and staring at the fake Christmas tree in the living room when he remembers the day he’d told Sanghyeok his family was spending the holidays overseas. Jihoon thinks of him smiling so kindly even when he knew he was being fed a pathetic lie and the rice suddenly feels like chalk in his mouth. That night he goes to bed in an ice-cold room, thoughts too polluted with guilt for him to remember to turn the heating on.
On the next day, Jihoon wakes up with a fever that has his body feeling like it’s being stabbed by thousands of needles. Numb fingers search for his phone and when they finally find it, he calls in sick to work. His manager sighs exasperatedly and has only a couple of seconds to complain about low coverage during the holidays before Jihoon ends the call and drifts into an unsteady sleep.
A few hours later he gets out of bed to take some meds from the kitchen cupboard. It’s an unusually sunny winter day and the soft snow reflects the sunrays, sending them to shine on Jihoon’s bed. He stands in the middle of the apartment, bare feet planted on the cold tiles and stares at the light until his eyes, dry from the high fever, start stinging. His phone rings and he closes the curtains before walking to the nightstand and picking it up.
The name on the display isn’t Lee Sanghyeok, so he answers the call.
“Hello?” His voice echoes weakly through the room.
“Don’t fucking ‘hello’ me,” Minseok scolds and Jihoon has to move the phone away from his ear, the ache already returning to the back of his head. “Care to explain what happened and why you haven’t returned any of Sanghyeok-hyung’s calls? I went to your floor and he kept staring at your desk like you died or something.”
Even being in so much physical pain doesn’t stop Jihoon’s heart from skipping a beat at the thought of his absence worrying his colleague. Then he recalls Sanghyeok’s reaction to his lie and the excitement dies down, making way for his guilt.
“I’m sick,” he replies with a sigh. “I should be back in a few days.”
Minseok scoffs through the phone, “Okay, then call him and tell him, so he can stop acting like a military wife waiting for her husband to come back from war.”
“Why don’t you–”
“Shut up, I’m not telling him anything,” Minseok raises his voice and Jihoon runs a hand through his hair in desperation. “Stop being a pussy and call Sanghyeok-hyung. I’m hanging up.”
The phone beeps, signaling the end of the call, and Jihoon throws it on the bed in annoyance. It bounces twice before landing on the carpet, call history still on the screen. Jihoon sighs and kneels on the ground to pick it up, before sitting down with his back against the bed.
He finds Sanghyeok’s name on the list and his finger hovers over it. When the screen dims he finally presses down, too afraid that if he doesn’t call now, he never will.
The phone rings only twice before he hears a familiar voice from the other side.
“Jihoon-ssi?”
It’s short but Jihoon can’t help but feel like he doesn’t deserve more.
“It’s me,” he whispers with his eyes shut. He draws his knees to his chest and hugs them with his free arm. Clueless about how to continue, he remains silent.
“Is everything alright?” Sanghyeok’s voice is calm but he speaks slowly, as if he’s taming a wild beast.
Jihoon chokes out a desperate laugh at the thought that he isn’t far from that – a scared, wounded creature, confined in the tight space of his own home yet feeling so far away from it. He hopes Sanghyeok can’t hear the shaky breaths he needs to take before he can reply, but it’s in vain – it’s exactly because he can hear them, that he remains silent and waits for Jihoon to reply.
“I got a cold,” he finally says, quietly. “I’m sorry that I didn’t pick up, I was sleeping.”
“Do you need me to come over and bring you something?” Sanghyeok asks and Jihoon is so devastated that the other man still has the time to worry about him after he’d treated him like a stranger for the past two weeks.
“Please don’t come,” Jihoon chokes out and his eyes might be dry but they’re not dry enough. “I’m so sorry, I just can’t–”
Can’t figure out what I want.
Can’t look you in the eye after I answered all of your kindness with radio silence.
Can’t tell you that I’m in love with you.
“I understand,” Sanghyeok replies but there isn’t a trace of disappointment in his voice. Only warmth. “Instead, when you recover and you’re ready, come to my desk after work and let me do one last thing for you.”
“I will,” Jihoon whispers and the line goes silent.