Work Text:
The office was loud in a way it never usually was—grinding drills, a power saw somewhere behind the temporary plastic walls, and the occasional thump of falling ceiling tiles. The marketing department had been displaced, half their section gutted for renovations, leaving everyone scrambling for places to sit.
And somehow, Jinsol ended up here—at the desk right next to Seol Yoona.
It wasn’t even a proper desk. Just two pushed-together tables in an open cubicle, close enough that she could hear Yoona’s typing cadence and smell her peppermint tea.
This should’ve been fine. Jinsol had seen Yoona in meetings for over a year now. She wasn’t intimidating.
Okay, maybe she was, but Jinsol wasn’t the type to flinch under pressure. She regularly led client calls without a stutter. She gave presentations to entire departments, once even in front of the CEO. People had called her “polished,” “a natural,” “confident.”
So there was absolutely no reason—no logical reason—for her to have dropped her pen three times in the last hour.
Clatter.
Four.
Yoona looked over. Barely. Just a glance, her fingers still gliding across her keyboard.
“You okay?” she asked, in that low, steady voice that always made the conference room go silent.
Jinsol nodded too fast. “Yep! Sorry. Just butterfingers!”
She bent down to grab the pen, hit her head on the edge of the desk on the way back up, and immediately wished she could teleport into the floor.
Yoona blinked, a hint of surprise flickering across her usually unreadable expression. But she said nothing. Just went back to typing.
Jinsol spun slowly in her chair to shake off the embarrassment. Not a full spin—just a little pivot. A back-and-forth. Then again. And again.
It was either that or melt into a puddle.
______
“She’s next to you?” Lily whispered, eyes wide.
“Right next to me,” Jinsol muttered, pressing her forehead to the vending machine as she waited for her can of iced tea to drop.
“Like desk neighbors?”
“There’s no desk. We’re practically sharing a breath.”
Lily looked half-delighted, half-horrified. “And you’ve dropped your pen how many times?”
“Four,” Jinsol groaned. “No, wait. Five. I dropped it once behind the printer and didn’t even go back for it.”
Lily tried to keep a straight face but failed. “You do realize you led that pitch call last week like it was nothing, right?”
“That was business. This is something else.”
Peach iced tea thumped into the tray. Jinsol retrieved it and leaned back, exhausted.
“I mean, Yoona doesn’t even talk to people unless she has to,” Lily continued, nudging Jinsol with her shoulder. “She’s like… not scary, but very composed. In a beautiful, elegant way, of course!”
“I know,” Jinsol groaned again. “That’s the problem. I can’t be normal around her. I swear I saw her color-coding her desktop icons this morning and I nearly passed out.”
“Wow, you are so doomed.”
______
Tuesday, Day 2
Jinsol came in early.
She figured if she got there before Yoona, she could breathe for a second, gather her thoughts, and maybe not come across like an over-caffeinated intern pretending to be a professional adult.
Yoona was already there.
Of course.
She sat calmly, sipping tea, her monitor angled just slightly to the left, a notebook open to a clean page with perfect handwriting.
Jinsol nodded in greeting and sat down as smoothly as she could.
Then immediately spun in her chair.
Just once. A nervous tick.
Yoona raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
______
It continued like this for the rest of the morning.
Jinsol fumbled with her stylus, opened the wrong PowerPoint three times, and accidentally sent an emoji in the team chat when she meant to upload a file.
Yoona didn’t say much. She never did. But every now and then, she’d glance over—not in judgment, not quite—but like she was puzzled. Curious, maybe.
By lunch, Jinsol had practically disintegrated into the breakroom couch.
“You’re pacing like someone who’s about to get fired,” Lily whispered, sitting cross-legged with a container of bibimbap in her lap.
“She saw me try to plug in my charger and I missed the socket. Twice!”
Lily squinted at her. “You really don’t act like this around anyone else.”
“I know. That’s what’s terrifying. She probably thinks I lied on my resume.”
And that’s when Lily tilted her head, narrowed her eyes, and said it—like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Oh. You’re totally into her.”
Jinsol froze mid-bite.
“What?”
“You like her. You’ve got a crush.”
“I don’t have a crush.”
“You’ve got a massive crush. You’re a disaster.”
“No, I’m just—” Jinsol paused. “Okay, maybe I think she’s kind of pretty. In an intimidating, terrifying, inhumanly graceful way! But that’s not a crush! That’s just admiration. From a safe emotional distance.”
Lily grinned.
______
Wednesday, Day 3
Yoona didn’t say much the next morning, as usual.
But halfway through their work session, she passed Jinsol a USB drive without looking up.
“You said you needed those files from last quarter,” she said simply.
“Oh. Right. Yeah. Thanks,” Jinsol mumbled, feeling her hand brush against Yoona’s for a second too long.
She stared at her screen, not opening the files for several minutes because she was too busy processing the fact that Yoona remembered.
Later that day, Jinsol got up to grab a snack, tripped on the leg of her own chair, and caught herself mid-fall by smacking her palm down on the desk with a loud thud.
Yoona looked over.
Jinsol, breathless: “I meant to do that.”
Yoona blinked.
And then—a tiny thing happened.
A blink-and-you’d-miss-it kind of thing.
Yoona’s lips tugged upward. Just barely. But it was there.
A smile.
______
Thursday, Day 4
The fourth day started quietly.
Jinsol was feeling… not normal, exactly. But a little more resigned to her fate. Two weeks of this. She’d survive. Probably.
They typed in silence for a while. Occasionally, their elbows bumped. Jinsol tried not to flinch.
Then Yoona glanced over and spoke.
“Is that lo-fi hip hop?”
“Huh?”
Yoona nodded toward Jinsol’s headphones.
“Oh. Yeah. It helps me focus.”
There was a pause. Then: “You’re always listening to music. Even in meetings.”
Jinsol grinned. “I swear I’m paying attention.”
“I know,” Yoona said. “You’re one of the few people who actually do.”
That might’ve been a compliment.
Maybe.
Jinsol almost dropped her pen again.
______
Friday, Day 5
By Friday morning, it was undeniable: Yoona had started watching Jinsol.
Not overtly. Not obviously.
But her gaze lingered a bit longer whenever Jinsol muttered to herself while checking spreadsheets. When Jinsol spun in her chair and caught her hoodie on the drawer handle, Yoona’s hand twitched, like she almost reached out.
And when Jinsol laughed—quietly, to herself, reading something in the team chat—Yoona turned, just for a moment. Like she wanted to see what the sound looked like on her face.
That afternoon, while Yoona refilled her tea at the office kitchen, Haewon appeared beside her like a cheerful ghost.
“Nice tea.”
Yoona glanced over, expression neutral. “It’s peppermint.”
Haewon smiled, leaned in a little. “So. How’s it going with your new desk buddy?”
Yoona blinked, her fingers wrapped around the mug. “She’s energetic.”
Haewon laughed. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”
“She’s also more competent than she gives herself credit for,” Yoona added. “Even when she’s dropping things.”
Haewon tilted her head. “And cute, right? Heard from Lily.”
Yoona paused, lips parting slightly.
Haewon grinned. “I knew it.”
Yoona didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.
______
Monday, Day 8
By now, Jinsol had all but accepted her fate. The spinning chair, the pen dropping, the coffee spill that stained one of Yoona’s neatly stacked reports (which Yoona brushed off with a calm “It’s fine”). Her brain had given up trying to behave.
What she hadn’t expected was this: Yoona smiling at her more. Just a little. Just enough to make Jinsol feel like her heart was sprinting a lap around the office.
That morning, Yoona slid over half a croissant without a word. Just pushed it onto the edge of Jinsol’s desk and kept typing.
Jinsol stared. “What’s this?”
“You skipped breakfast.”
Jinsol blinked. “How did you know?”
Yoona shrugged. “You’re always more talkative when you don’t eat.”
Jinsol stared harder. “You noticed that?”
Yoona looked over. Steady, composed. “You’re more predictable than you think.”
Jinsol suddenly felt very warm.
______
That afternoon, Jinsol tried (and failed) to quietly eat a granola bar while typing one-handed. A chunk fell onto her lap. She brushed it off. It bounced, hit the floor, and landed by Yoona’s foot.
Jinsol groaned. “I swear, I’m not usually like this.”
Yoona leaned back, looking faintly amused. “I’m starting to doubt that.”
“You’ve seen me lead meetings! You know I can function!”
Yoona nodded. “I do.”
She sounded entertained.
And fond?
No. Definitely not. That had to be Jinsol’s crush-delirium speaking.
Still, Yoona added, almost too quietly, “But I kind of like this version of you, too.”
Jinsol’s brain shut down. Fully.
She stared at her screen, typing the word “creative” into a Google Doc fourteen times by accident.
______
Tuesday, Day 9
By the ninth day, Yoona had a routine. She’d arrive five minutes earlier than usual, set her tea down, and take a moment before logging in.
A moment to watch Jinsol walk in—flushed from rushing, hoodie sleeves bunched up, probably holding a half-unzipped laptop bag in one hand and her phone in the other.
“Sorry, sorry—I swear the subway was cursed today,” Jinsol said as she slid into her chair, hair slightly messy from the wind.
Yoona didn’t say much. Just hummed softly, handing her a napkin because Jinsol had lipstick smudged on her chin from sipping coffee too fast.
And when Jinsol muttered, “Thank you. I’m an embarrassment,” Yoona replied, calmly, “You’re very consistent, I’ll give you that.”
Jinsol laughed.
And Yoona… liked that laugh.
She started learning what each one meant.
The short, sharp one when Jinsol read something snarky in a team chat. The soft, tired chuckle when she was working late and saw a meme Lily sent her. The little surprised squeak when someone complimented her out of the blue.
And the rare, low kind—the one she made when Yoona said something dry or teasing.
Yoona liked that one the most.
______
“Do you want to get lunch together?”
The words slipped out faster than Yoona intended.
Jinsol froze mid-email. “Huh?”
Yoona didn’t look up from her keyboard. “You mentioned liking that curry place around the corner.”
“Yeah, I do. I mean—yes. Sure. Totally. If you want. Unless you were just being polite and I’m reading into this too much.”
Yoona’s mouth twitched. “I wasn’t.”
“Oh. Cool. Then yeah. That sounds… great.”
______
They walked in comfortable silence for a few blocks.
It wasn’t weird. Not exactly.
But Jinsol noticed things now—like how Yoona’s stride matched hers after a few steps, or how she asked if the curry was too spicy before ordering. How she didn’t rush the meal, even though Yoona was usually all business.
And when they sat across from each other, chopsticks in hand, it almost felt normal.
Almost.
Until Jinsol tried to pick up a piece of tofu and dropped it into her water glass.
She winced. “Okay, well. That’s new.”
Yoona blinked. Then smiled.
She huffed out a giggle. Muttered something about Jinsol being cute.
And Jinsol thought she might actually combust.
______
Wednesday, Day 10
“You’re getting along with Yoona?” asked Jiwoo over coffee, eyes wide.
Jinsol snorted. “More like I’m professionally unraveling in front of her and she hasn’t filed an HR complaint yet.”
But Jiwoo smirked. “Well, she’s been less scary lately. That’s probably your influence.”
And maybe it was.
Yoona had started looking softer. Not less herself, just slightly more at ease. Her clipped sentences in meetings had a touch more warmth. Her resting expression had a bit more life to it.
Or maybe that was just how Jinsol saw her now.
It was hard to tell.
______
That evening, they both stayed late.
The office was quieter. Most people had left. The glow of their monitors painted soft shadows across their faces.
Jinsol yawned, stretching, hoodie sleeves slipping up her arms.
“You should head home,” Yoona said gently. “It’s already seven.”
“You too.”
“I’m waiting for one last file to render.”
“Same.”
Silence stretched between them again. But not an awkward one.
And then Yoona asked, out of nowhere, “Why do you spin your chair so much?”
Jinsol laughed, caught off guard. “It’s a nervous habit.”
“I noticed.”
“I don’t even realize I’m doing it half the time.”
Yoona tilted her head, curious. “You don’t spin in any of the other chairs.”
“What?”
“In meetings, in the lounge. You’re usually still. But only here, next to me, you’re constantly fidgeting.”
Jinsol blinked. “You… noticed that?”
Yoona didn’t answer. Just looked at her, eyes calm but unreadable.
And then, after a long beat: “Is it because of me?”
Jinsol swallowed. “Maybe.”
Another pause.
Yoona’s voice softened. “That’s not a bad thing, you know.”
Jinsol let out a ridiculous squeal.
______
Thursday, Day 11
Jinsol had done so well that morning.
No pen drops. No weird murmurs. Not a single chair spin.
She arrived five minutes early with two coffees in hand—one for herself, and one for Yoona, because she’d remembered how Yoona always sipped hers at exactly 9:12 AM, and the line was short today, so—
“Thought I’d grab you one,” she said casually, setting the cup down like she wasn’t having an internal breakdown.
Yoona looked at it. Then at her. Then, “You remembered my order.”
“I have a good memory,” Jinsol said way too fast.
Yoona smiled. “Thank you, Jinsol.”
Breathe, Jinsol told herself.
She sat down. Logged in.
Then immediately spun her chair once, hard, like her body betrayed her on instinct.
______
Lily dragged her into the marketing lounge under the pretense of reviewing the new campaign slides.
“Okay,” Lily said, arms crossed, “Spill. You’re into her.”
Jinsol choked on her orange juice. “Who?”
“You know who!”
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Jinsol.”
“Lily.”
“Yoona?”
“Lily,” Jinsol groaned, head in her hands. “I’m not.”
“You are. You’re in, like, a full-blown rom-com situation. You spin your chair every time she breathes. It’s annoying!”
“I spin my chair because it helps me think!”
Lily leaned forward. “Then why don’t you do it when she’s not around?”
Jinsol paused. Stared at the carpet like it personally betrayed her.
She mumbled something coherent.
“Oh my god,” Lily whispered, beaming. “You like her so much.”
“I don’t!” Jinsol hissed. “I just panic in her presence because… she’s really cool! And composed! And she looks really nice when she concentrates! And she knows how I take my coffee and she compliments my spreadsheets even when they’re a mess!”
Lily blinked.
“Okay, maybe I have a very specific admiration—”
“That’s a crush, you dummy.”
Lily flicked her forehead.
Jinsol pulled her hoodie over her head and screamed into the fabric.
_____
Haewon found Yoona at the office printer, arms crossed, waiting for a marketing packet to spit itself out of the jammed tray.
“You’ve looked lighter lately,” Haewon said casually, sipping her coffee.
Yoona didn’t look up. “I’ve just had fewer meetings.”
“That’s not it.”
Yoona raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve been smiling,” Haewon said. “In the morning. And not because someone messed up a report.”
“I always smile,” Yoona replied evenly.
“Not like this. I know you, Yoona.”
A pause. The machine whirred.
Yoona picked up her stack of papers.
Then, with deliberate calm, she said, “Jinsol’s cute. That’s all.”
Haewon nearly dropped her cup.
Yoona turned.
Haewon blinked. “I’m sorry—did you say that? Seol Yoona? You—the queen of emotional detachment—called someone cute?”
Yoona frowned. “I’m not emotionally detached.”
“You once told me a puppy was ‘fine-looking.’”
Yoona blinked. “That was taken out of context.”
“She was licking your shoe.”
Yoona gave a long-suffering sigh.
“She’s a mess around you, you know,” Haewon added. “You make her nervous.”
“I know.”
“And you like that?”
Yoona allowed herself a smile. “It’s endearing.”
Haewon stared. Then slightly grinned.
“Well,” she grunted, “I’m sick of you both. Get it together.”
_____
Friday, Day 12 (Afternoon)
Jinsol stared at her calendar with quiet dread.
Just one more workday after this. Then she’d be moved back to her old desk.
Back to her space near the window. Her own shelves. Her own rhythm.
No more stolen glances. No more casual coffee exchanges. No more watching Yoona type, her brow furrowed just slightly when she concentrated.
Why did this feel like the worst news of the year?
Yoona caught her fidgeting with a binder clip, twisting it open and closed in her hand.
“You alright?”
Jinsol looked up, startled. “Yeah! Totally. Just thinking.”
“You’re a little quiet.”
Jinsol shrugged. “Guess I’m conserving my chaos for next week.”
Yoona smiled faintly. “I’ll miss the chaos.”
Jinsol blinked. “Wait, what?”
But Yoona had already turned back to her screen.
______
Time passed like a blur. They stayed late again, though neither said it out loud.
They just didn’t pack up. Didn’t feel like it, neither of them.
Jinsol worked on client slides. Yoona reorganized documentation. But it wasn’t really about work anymore.
“Hey,” Jinsol said suddenly. “What’s your favorite snack?”
Yoona looked up. “Why?”
“Just curious.”
Yoona considered. “Sea salt chocolate. The dark kind.”
Jinsol nodded like she was filing it away in her permanent memory bank.
“And yours?” Yoona asked, almost surprised at herself.
Jinsol grinned. “Jelly candies. The kind shaped like fruit!”
Yoona tilted her head. “That makes sense.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re kind of a jelly candy.”
Jinsol squinted. “You think I’m chewy?”
Yoona laughed—a real laugh, open and warm.
“No,” she said. “I think you’re unexpectedly sweet.”
Jinsol stared.
Then she fumbled and dropped her pencil.
Again.
_____
Monday, Day 13
The office was unusually quiet that morning.
Jinsol came in early. Earlier than Yoona.
She sat down, coffee in hand, staring at her desk like it was her last day of summer vacation.
Yoona walked in five minutes later, carrying two croissants.
She set one down beside Jinsol without comment.
Jinsol blinked. “You remembered?”
Yoona nodded. “You always get one on stressful Mondays.”
“I didn’t think I said that out loud.”
“You didn’t.”
Jinsol’s heart did a very complicated somersault.
Yoona sat, adjusted her files.
And then, so casually it almost passed unnoticed, she asked, “Would it be weird if I asked for a seat change extension?”
Jinsol looked up.
“Like if I wanted to keep this desk.”
Jinsol stared. “Why would it be weird?”
Yoona glanced at her. “Just checking.”
She said it like she was talking about workflow.
But her hand was tapping the edge of her chair, just once. A small, nervous motion.
And Jinsol realized—
Yoona was nervous.
Because of her.
She couldn’t bite back the shy smile that began forming on her face.
______
Tuesday, Last Day
Lily nearly exploded.
“You’re both the worst at this!” she whisper-yelled during their coffee break. “She brought you snacks, changed her seating request, and smiles at you like you hung the moon.”
“She just likes sitting near the chaos,” Jinsol mumbled, smirking.
“She likes you.”
“She hasn’t said anything!”
“She doesn’t have to! Do you think Yoona buys other people jelly candies?”
“…She bought me jelly candies?”
“They’re literally on your desk right now.”
Jinsol ran back to her desk. Sure enough: a tiny bag of fruit-shaped jellies with a sticky note.
For when your hands aren’t full of pens. —SY.
She stared at it for a full thirty seconds.
Then sat down, heart thumping so loud she was sure it was echoing off the monitor.
______
The HR manager strolled over with a clipboard. “Bae Jinsol, we’re moving you back to your original desk starting soon, okay?”
“Oh,” she said, trying not to sound devastated. “Sure. Right. Makes sense.”
Yoona didn’t say anything.
Until the HR rep left.
Then she turned, just slightly, voice quiet. “You could ask to stay. If you wanted. I don’t mind.”
Jinsol looked at her.
Yoona wasn’t teasing. She wasn’t perfectly composed.
She looked hopeful.
And that hope cracked something open in Jinsol’s chest.
“I’ll ask,” she said, voice soft. “If you’re asking me to?”
Yoona’s smile was small but impossibly warm.
“I am.”
______
Yoona sipped her tea, reading through a client brief.
Next to her, Jinsol leaned back, spinning her chair once.
“Still spinning,” Yoona said without looking up.
“Still adorable,” Jinsol muttered under her breath.
Yoona raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothing?”
Lily walked past, saw them, and whispered to Haewon from across the cubicles.
“They’re so dating soon.”
Haewon snorted.
______
Yoona caught Jinsol doodling on the corner of a notepad—little hearts and a very terrible sketch of what might’ve been a bunny wearing a tie.
“Is that supposed to be me?”
Jinsol yelped and slammed her notebook shut.
“No!” she said. “I mean—no, it’s a totally different bunny!”
Yoona smiled. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Jinsol turned pink.
Yoona reached across the desk and gently poked her sleeve. “You’re very cute,” she said softly, smirking.
Jinsol looked up.
And this time, she didn’t drop anything. Instead, she beamed.
The renovation was done. Everyone shifted back to their usual spots—except two people.
Bae Jinsol and Seol Yoona remained exactly where they were, side by side in the front left corner of the office, next to the windows that now let in a perfectly diffused kind of morning light.
Jinsol had a little cactus on her desk now. Yoona had added a neat acrylic organizer. There was a shared snack drawer. Jinsol still spun her chair too much.
And Yoona had started spinning hers once or twice, too.
No one said anything about it—except Kyujin, who smirked every time she walked by. And Haewon, who raised her eyebrows in that deeply unimpressed “You two are still dancing around it?” kind of way.
But they were comfortable. Ridiculously so.
______
“Did you eat yet?” Yoona asked, glancing over the top of her laptop.
Jinsol shook her head, unwrapping her scarf. “Nope. I snoozed three alarms and ate exactly one breath mint.”
Yoona slid a container across the desk. Inside: a small rice ball, seaweed crisps, and an egg roll sliced into perfect thirds.
“You made this?” Jinsol asked, stunned.
Yoona shrugged. “I was up early.”
Jinsol blinked at her. “Wait— did you wake up early to make me breakfast?”
“I was already up,” Yoona said quickly.
Jinsol stared.
Yoona didn’t meet her eyes. “You forget to eat when you’re nervous about pitches.”
“I think I’m in love with my desk partner?”
“I’m nothing if not efficient,” Yoona muttered, typing something that looked suspiciously like gibberish just to avoid the look on Jinsol’s annoyingly bright face.
“Thank you,” Jinsol said, quieter this time. “Really.”
Yoona finally looked at her.
Jinsol’s grin softened, all sincerity. “It’s cute.”
Yoona flushed instantly. “Gross. Eat.”
Jinsol laughed.
______
Jiwoo cornered her in the pantry.
“Has she asked you out yet?”
Jinsol paused mid-tea pour. “No.”
“Have you asked her out?”
“No.”
Jiwoo groaned. “You are living in a romantic comedy and refusing to turn the page.”
Jinsol crossed her arms. “Maybe we’re slow.”
Jiwoo stared at her. “It’s been almost a month. You two literally trade snacks like schoolkids and giggle when the other opens Excel.”
“We do not giggle.”
Jiwoo gave her a look.
“I can hear you guys across the fucki-”
“Okay! We giggle a little.”
“Jinsol.”
“I’m building rapport!”
“You’re already dating.”
“We’re not.”
“Everyone thinks you are.”
Jinsol paused.
That… wasn’t untrue. People had stopped giving them strange looks. Meetings defaulted to them as a pair. Someone from HR referred to their desk as “the duo corner.” Even Haewon pleaded for them to let her have one lunch break without seeing them all over each other— which was not true by the way!
Okay, maybe this was a little much.
But she hadn’t said anything. Neither had Yoona.
Maybe that was the last step.
______
They stayed late again. Not necessarily working. Just there.
The office had mostly cleared. Only the soft hum of monitors and distant footsteps echoed through the floor.
Yoona closed her laptop and turned to her.
Jinsol looked up from her notebook.
Neither spoke for a moment.
Then Yoona said, “You’re not as clumsy lately.”
Jinsol blinked. “I’ve been trying to rein it in.”
Yoona smiled. “I kind of miss it.”
“…Seriously?”
Yoona tilted her head. “It was charming?”
Jinsol went very still. “So you liked it?”
“I like you.”
It was said simply. Like she’d just told her the time.
And Jinsol sat there, stunned, for a full two seconds before replying, “Wait. What?”
Yoona’s expression didn’t change, though her fingers tapped once against the desk. “I like you.”
“Like… like like?”
Yoona nodded. “That’s what two ‘likes’ mean.”
Jinsol exhaled. “Okay. Cool. That’s—cool. Because I also like you. In the double-like kind of way.”
Yoona leaned her elbow on the desk, chin resting on her palm. She stared at Jinsol, half curious-half amused. “You’re panicking.”
“I’m not panicking,” Jinsol said, panicking. “I’m just very aware of how deeply I want to hold your hand right now and wondering if that’s something we do now or—”
Yoona reached over and gently took her hand.
Jinsol shut up instantly.
“Okay,” she said, sighing softly. “That answers that. Yup. Right.”
“…”
“…”
“You’re cute when you’re quiet, too-”
“Shut the hell up,” Jinsol grunted out, face flushed.
______
Jinsol walked in with two coffees.
Yoona already had one on her desk for her.
They stared at each other.
“We have a problem,” Jinsol said.
“We’re too thoughtful,” Yoona agreed.
They swapped cups and started the day.
Lily passed by and nearly dropped her stapler when she saw them holding hands under the desk.
Haewon didn’t even blink.
“You owe me twenty bucks,” she told Lily later. “I said it’d be under a month. Queers move fast.”
The renovations were long finished. But Jinsol never moved desks again.
Not because she had to.
But because Yoona’s desk always had space beside it.
And now, apparently, it had space for her hand, too.