Work Text:
0700
Gunwook still wasn’t sure about what he was supposed to pack for his 24-hour shifts. A water bottle his mom bought him, sleep clothes, and a defrosting box of Uncrustables left his backpack rather empty. Everything else was at the fire station, no need to overpack. Something his station’s driver engineer, Matthew, tried to drill into his head over the past two months.
0800
Matthew was someone who would be essential to Gunwook’s daily life, something he found out rather quickly. It was little things, like Matthew making coffee for everyone on the C shift.
“You beat me here, probie!” Matthew’s voice cut through the silence of the station kitchen, startling Gunwook almost entirely awake where he sat at the counter.
Gunwook sat up when Matthew entered. There was something about him that made Gunwook want to be impressive, to prove his worth.
“You gave me shit when I got here at 8:01,” Gunwook pouted, “I’ve been getting here at 7:45 ‘cuz I’m not into the whole bullying thing.”
Matthew’s smile was so bright it could’ve set the room on fire. “Bullying?”
“You heard me!”
“It’s not bullying, it’s… conditioning?” Matthew’s head tilted ever so slightly to the right. He was right. Matthew was the nicest tenured firefighter that Gunwook had been on shift with.
0900
The captain assigned chores out for the day. There were only six people on the C shift, and Gunwook had the honor of doing laundry with Matthew.
Being stuck in a teeny laundry room wasn’t the worst thing to do for an hour, especially with Matthew to entertain him.
They’d pass towels back and forth to each other, and Gunwook felt his cheeks warm every time their fingers brushed. He blamed it on the lack of AC.
1000
Eventually, they got a call, nothing crazy nor fire-related.
Matthew drove the firetruck, taking turns too sharp, so much so that Gunwook had to hold onto his seat. They parked in a neighborhood, by a group of kids staring up into a tree.
“Cat stuck in a tree is the most stereotypical thing ever,” Matthew whispered to Gunwook as they watched their colleagues use the firetruck ladder to get up.
Gunwook snorted, causing a child with snot coming out of his nose to glare at him. Matthew fought back a laugh, too.
1330
They got another non-emergency call a while later, one about an odor in a neighborhood.
Gunwook told Matthew once that his biggest fear on the job was a gas leak explosion. Maybe this was exposure therapy.
Their captain went up to the door of the oldest woman Gunwook had ever seen while the rest stayed back and checked out the cul-de-sac.
“Maybe I have a blocked nose or something,” Matthew said to Gunwook when they reconvened at the truck, “I don’t smell anything gas-y. The gas leak detector didn’t go off anywhere, either.”
Gunwook stood still while Matthew yapped, trying to figure out what the lady would’ve been concerned about.
A breeze came by them, ruffling through Matthew’s hair and messing it up. Gunwook would’ve been more distracted by the sight if it weren’t for the immediate smell the wind brought.
“She thought weed was a gas leak?” Gunwook said, interrupting Matthew’s stream of consciousness. Matthew’s face shifted from a look of pure shock to utter joy, laughing so loud it caught the captain’s attention. Gunwook smiled to himself, fixing Matthew’s hair in the process.
1500
After all the paperwork from the weed gas leak was finished, Gunwook sat alone at the kitchen counter again.
Everyone else was having lunch in the living room, but he needed a moment of peace to reflect on how his heart burned a little whenever Matthew looked up at him.
1600
His peace was interrupted by an emergency call. Something about a man having a heart attack.
Matthew drove extra fast when he heard what the call was about. The idea of a gas leak was bad, but real EMS calls were far worse.
1700
The call went wrong quickly. Gunwook had never seen Matthew so solemn before.
He’d also never seen someone die, not in the whole two months he was here, and certainly not in his entire life before then. He was sure what he was feeling was shock, or sadness, or something far more complicated than he could understand.
1800
Gunwook sat in the kitchen again while everyone else lingered elsewhere in the fire station. His need for peace and quiet was at an all time high, only interrupted by,
“Are you okay, Gunwookie?” Matthew asked, voice cutting through the silence.
Gunwook jumped in his seat, “Shit, you scared me.”
Matthew had a concerned smile on his face. He was looking at Gunwook too hard, getting too close for comfort.
“My question still stands, probie,” Matthew prodded, “Are you okay? How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay,”
“You’re pretty clearly not.”
“Okay, yeah, I’m not,” Gunwook sighed, leaning on the counter, “That sucked.”
“I mean, to put it lightly, yes,” Matthew said, breathing out a laugh.
Gunwook felt a hand on his back, Matthew’s attempt at soothing him.
“Is it going to feel like this every time? I don’t want to like, get desensitized and not care, but I can’t feel like this forever, can I?” Gunwook asked, words faster than his brain could keep up with.
Matthew’s gaze softened, hand pausing on the nape of Gunwook’s neck. “Gunwookie, I think you and I both know you’re never going to not care.”
Gunwook nodded.
"You’re a good person. People need someone like that on a day like today. Like, that was that family’s worst day ever, probably, and they needed someone who really cared to help them. That’s *you*.” Matthew continued.
“Caring a lot sucks,” Gunwook said quietly.
“It sometimes does,” Matthew said, “But I like that you care.”
Gunwook turned to look back at Matthew. Sincerity was written all over his face.
“I like that you do, too.” Gunwook replied.