Chapter Text
The Zoom call was scheduled for 7:00 PM sharp.
Not 7:01.
Not “around then.”
Exactly 7:00 PM.
Their CEO, P’Tha, had sent the invite three times. Once with a calendar alert, once with a voice message that somehow managed to sound calm and threatening, and once more in the group chat with the passive aggressive "If you're not on time, I’ll know."
The words haunted them.
By 7:07 PM, only one square was occupied.
It wasn’t a manager.
It wasn’t P’Tha.
It was Joong, halfway in frame, the glow of kitchen lights illuminating his face in high-definition chaos.
“Is this thing working?” Joong muttered, squinting at his laptop as he stirred something off-screen with questionable technique.
“You’re supposed to stir clockwise…clockwise, Joong!” Dunk’s voice rang out from nearby, sharp and already a little exasperated.
Joong frowned. “I am!”
“You’re stirring like a man possessed,” Dunk replied, stepping into the frame just briefly. Hair a little messy, apron neatly tied, phone in one hand filming Joong from another angle. “If this sauce separates, I swear to god-”
“It’s not gonna separate,” Joong muttered, switching the hand he was using and promptly splashing a bit onto the counter.
Dunk made a noise that was deeply disappointed. “You’re banned from touching dairy.”
Joong gestured at the screen. “I’m on a Zoom call for work!”
“You’re barely on it. You’ve got one elbow in the meeting.”
The Zoom beeped again.
Pond joined.
Or rather, Pond’s phone joined. Shaky, handheld, angled just a bit too low as he walked across what looked like a sad, dusty park.
“Hey! sorry, sorry, I’m here,” Pond said between huffs, breathless and clearly already in trouble. “We were trying to find a place to sit, but-”
“What place?!” Phuwin’s voice snapped from behind the camera, sharp as ever. “This is dirt, Pond. You brought me to sit in dirt.”
“There was grass here last time,” Pond replied weakly, turning the camera to face him and revealing his best attempt at a winning smile.
Behind him, Phuwin entered the frame just enough to shoot a look. Arms crossed, a bag slung over his shoulder, eyes full of judgment.
“Grass? It was so muddy, I almost lost a shoe. And you said you packed the mat.”
“I-” Pond glanced around, panicked. “I thought I did?”
“You packed two cans of Pringles and sunscreen,” Phuwin deadpanned. “And neither of those are things we can sit on.”
Joong, still awkwardly stirring off-screen, leaned toward his mic. “He’s really being boyfriend-of-the-year today.”
“Shut up, whisk boy,” Pond muttered.
“Hey,” Joong said with mock offense. “This is Dunk’s fancy hollandaise. I’m creating art.”
Dunk’s voice, now closer, chimed in dryly: “That’s a generous word for whatever you're doing to my eggs.”
The Zoom beeped again.
Santa joined.
Or tried to.
Instead of Santa’s face, the screen was immediately filled with wind.
Violent, relentless wind, like someone had stuck a microphone into a leaf blower.
“Santa?” Pond shouted over the audio chaos. “Are you on a boat?!”
“Car!” Santa yelled, face barely visible as the screen shook. “Convertible! Perth won’t slow down!”
“Tell him to close the damn roof!”
“I did! He won’t!”
In the background, Perth was laughing. A little too gleefully and driving with one hand while the other reached over to tickle Santa’s ribs.
“Put your phone down,” Perth said, innocent as a cat mid-murder. “You're mine right now.”
“I’m being held hostage by this menace,” Santa squealed, batting Perth away, wind whipping through his hair. “Someone call HR-”
Call disconnected.
Santa’s square vanished like it had been yeeted out of existence.
Pond choked. “Did Perth just delete him?”
Joong grinned. “Snatched mid-sentence. Beautiful.”
“Add it to the meeting notes.” Pond said, dead serious.
The Zoom beeped again.
P’Ying and P’Jack joined.
P’Ying wore a hoodie, hair in a messy bun, her expressions already a blend of panic and regret. P’Jack looked slightly more put together, headset on, the distant caffeine buzz already in his voice as he tried to smile through the chaos.
P’Ying waved weakly. “Hi, guys! You’re looking… lively.”
Joong was now using his whole torso to stir the bowl like it owed him money. “Totally focused on the meeting,” he said, panting.
Dunk muttered in the background, “You’re focused on burning my kitchen.”
P’Jack, eternal optimist, opened his mouth to speak-
And then the final square appeared. P’Tha.
The CEO’s camera turned on slowly. Deliberately. As if the silence had summoned him like a final boss.
He said nothing. He just stared.
Not angrily. Not even disappointed.
Just the dead-eyed calm of a man whose patience had been legally declared missing.
“Oh,” Pond whispered. “We’re dead.”
P’Jack gave a nervous cough. “Okay, so let’s start with venue logistics-”
“I swear to god, Joong,” Dunk hissed. “That’s boiling. That’s literally boiling. You’re gonna split the emulsion!”
“I’m leaving!” Joong cried, fumbling his phone just as something sizzled dangerously.
Before he disappeared, he shouted toward Pond’s screen:
“SIT ON HIS LAP, PHUWIN!”
Phuwin’s expression turned to stone.
Pond doubled over laughing.
Phuwin, calm as ever and now officially over it, picked up Pond’s phone, stared directly into the camera with all the fury of a man who just wanted to sit on something, and…
Ended the call.
Pond’s square vanished.
Now only the three staff squares remained and one empty, blinking red square.
Aou – Connecting...
P’Tha turned slowly toward it. “Where. Is. Aou.”
P’Ying cleared her throat. “He’s, um… napping.”
P’Jack, consulting his phone: “Boom said they’re two hours into a nap. Couch. Blankets. Deep cuddle.”
“Couch cuddle?”
“Yup.”
P’Tha stared in silence. Somewhere, a spreadsheet cried.
The blinking red text beside Aou’s name kept flashing:
“Joining... Joining... Joining…”
Joong was gone. Pond had been forcibly ejected. Santa had been wind-blasted out of existence. Aou was in sleep heaven.
P’Tha exhaled through his nose.
A vein in his forehead made a small, worrying jump.
The blinking “Waiting for participants...” banner replied, smug in its own digital way.
Finally, he exhaled.
“New rule. All Zoom meetings… will now be in-person.”
P’Ying’s soul audibly left her body.
P’Jack spilled coffee on his keyboard.
Joong, rejoining the meeting late with egg yolk on his sleeve, blinked.
“In-person? Like… every time?”
P’Tha just clicked “End Meeting for All.”