Work Text:
Yoo Sangah prided herself on being composed. She answered work emails within the hour. She never raised her voice in meetings, even when Han Myungoh interrupted her for the third time. She brewed her coffee with an exact ratio of beans to water and she always, always posted fan content to the right account.
Until now.
It happened on a random Friday. Her boss was breathing down her neck, her inbox had exploded, and she was just trying to take a breath between reality before she had an entire meltdown. So naturally, she opened Tumblr—her favorite refuge—and composed what was meant to be a self-indulgent, slightly pathetic vent post on her sideblog.
he posted a picture of his bookshelf today and i swear i almost passed out. why does he know the exact kind of books i’d fall in love with someone over. i hate him (affectionate)
She even tagged it:
#pining #crush things #he doesn’t follow me on this blog thank god
Except…
Except he did. Because she posted it on her main account.
And Kim Dokja, the guy she had been terminally pining over since the start of their civil conversation about some weather in the beginning of their contract earlier this year, he saw it.
Worse: he had liked it.
Yoo Sangah realized her mistake ten minutes later when she went to reblog a cat gif and saw her own post at the top of her dash, with his username: @kimdokja (yes, he used his government name) glowing smugly underneath it.
She stared at the screen for a full minute. Her coffee cooled. The office phone rang. Somewhere in the distance, she swore she heard God laughing at her stupidity.
“Okay, maybe he didn’t read it,” she whispered to herself. Trying to be positive. “Maybe he just saw the tags and thought it was a meme.”
Spoiler: he read it.
Meanwhile, Kim Dokja sat at his desk in his cramped desk in his apartment, scrolling through his feed in his usual detached manner.
He wasn’t sure why the post bothered him.
It wasn’t like the post had the phrase “i like you, Kim Dokja-ssi” written all over it or anything, but it was... timed oddly. Right after he posted that picture of his new bookshelf. Which he had done because he noticed Yoo Sangah liked Haruki Murakami and Han Kang, and he thought… well, a man gotta do everything it takes to court the woman he likes, right?
Anyway, not important. Now that she had posted that strange, cryptic crush confession, it had been bothering him all afternoon. He couldn't decide which was worse: the post being about someone else or the post being about him.
Probably the former. He preferred the latter.
Which was why, after two hours of pacing and three hours of staring at her blog, he finally DM’d her.
@kimdokja : hey
@kimdokja : random question
@kimdokja: that post you made earlier. whos that about?
Yoo Sangah saw the message when she was halfway through deleting her blog and applying to jobs in a different country and her soul instantly left her body.
She stared at her phone, waiting for the notification to vanish. Unfortunately, her phone did not comply.
After five agonizing minutes, she replied, holding her breath while typing each words.
@ivorymoon : ???
@ivorymoon : what post?
@ivorymoon: hahaha
Kim Dokja stared at the message, unimpressed. He waited for a solid twenty seconds before typing again.
@kimdokja : the one about the bookshelf and the books and the affectionate hate or whatever that means
@kimdokja : the one with the crush tags
@kimdokja: that one
Yoo Sangah considered her options. She could lie. She could ghost him. She could move to Mongolia and live among the yaks.
But this was Kim Dokja, who once wrote her an entire 2,000 word essay in her DMs about how good the book she recommended. Who always sent her the best reaction gifs. Who made her laugh, even when she felt too tired to feel much of anything.
So, she took a breath and typed.
@ivorymoon : it wasn’t supposed to be here
@ivorymoon : i meant to put it on my sideblog
@ivorymoon: but uhh it was actually about you. sorry
There was a long pause.
Yoo Sangah stared at the “typing…” bubble until it vanished.
Then it came back.
Then it vanished again.
She nearly threw her phone across the room when it reappeared.
@kimdokja : oh
@kimdokja : ok
@kimdokja : well now i feel stupid
@kimdokja : but worry not. i have liked you wayyyyyyy back in the days when you wrote essays about “tragic men in literature”
@kimdokja : yk its embarrassing to say this but if it makes you feel any better… ive been trying to make you notice me by posting those pretentious book photos for like 3 months
@kimdokja: ok maybe 4
@kimdokja: hell i dont even like those books i read them when i have trouble sleeping
Yoo Sangah reread the message three times. Then, she laughed loudly at her desk, alarming the one intern who hadn’t gone home yet.
@ivorymoon : oh
@ivorymoon : do you want to get coffee sometime then
@ivorymoon : in person i mean (outside office pls)
@ivorymoon: we can argue about kafka properly
There was no pause this time. The messages came right in.
@kimdokja : oh god no thanks (yes to hanging out though)
@kimdokja: told you i dont like these kind of books
@kimdokja : ok yk what only if you admit you were wrong about the metamorphosis though
@kimdokja: ive been saving that debate for months (my computer almost exploded from all the research i did)
Yoo Sangah smiled. It was so wide that her face hurt and the intern asked her if she was fine—which she didn’t reply to.
@ivorymoon: okay deal. see u soon
They met the next Saturday at the cafe near the office. She brought a copy of The Metamorphosis in her bag. He brought her favorite matcha latte.
They sat in the corner of a quiet cafe, arguing about literature (he lost twice) until the sky dimmed.