Archive of Our Own

To be honest, Choi doesn’t want to touch it. It’s a plain white envelope, undecorated, without a recipient or sender name, placed carefully beneath Choi’s keyboard so that the sides are perpendicular to the lines of the keys and the bottom is parallel to the edge of the desk. It doesn’t seem like it was left in a hurry. There are no items that accompany it, and the envelope is too flat to hold anything but paper. Choi didn’t see anything out of place when he entered the room, either.

He stops looking at it. He turns his eyes to the person at the other side of the room, her cheek slumped into a hand, a document visible on her computer screen.

“Hey, Seoyun-sunbae, do you have something to tell me?”

“Hmmm?” Seoyun leans back in her chair, her eyes still on the page. “Well, I’ve told you that ‘sunbae’ is too formal. You don’t even call Haegeum-ie with an honorific; aren’t you too distant with me? At least call me ‘noona’!”

“Haha, is it? If you really want me to I can~”

“Heh. Doesn’t that mean you don’t want to? Ah, I get it, I get it. Our team’s former youngest is so cute!” She beams at him. “What did you want to ask this ‘sunbae’?”

“Hold on, why do you think I want to ask you anything? I asked you if you had something to tell me.”

“Hey, don’t you know I’m your sunbae? Your roundabout ways of talking don’t work on me; I practically raised you, after all!”

Choi grins, “There’s at least two people who would disagree.”

Seoyun huffs. “Well, they’re not here, are they? If they want to disagree, they have to get better quickly and come say it to my face! Until then, I’m your mother, you understand?”

”Haha, yes, mother~ Just wanted to ask, did you leave this here?”

“Left what? Oh, the letter.”

“Mm. That. Sounds like you didn’t?”

“ ? Shouldn’t you be able to guess from context clues? Jaekwan-ie is still in recovery and I’m right in front of you; if I had something to say, I’d just say it. So, it’s obviously Soleum-ah. Did my junior’s deduction skills deteriorate?”

“Haha… It wasn’t here last night, so did Grapes leave it just now? Where is he?”

“Called in for a solo rescue~ Left about five minutes ago?”

“So he was here already. Aigoo, there was a call this early?”

“Well, you know how it is. Disasters can happen anytime, anywhere.”

“Seoyun-sunbae didn’t take it? You said you need to work extra hard, since you’ve had such a long ‘vacation’.”

Seoyun shrugs, “Soleum-ah seemed a bit restless, so this kind and considerate sunbae let him take it.”

“I see~ Then, any clue what this is about? Did he say anything?”

“’This’? The letter?” Seoyun swivels in her chair to face Choi, her eyes falling to the untouched, partially obscured envelope. “I thought it was documents or something. If it’s not work-related, what is it? Oh my, don’t tell me it’s a love letter? Open it, open it!”

Choi refuses to look at it. “Oh? Does Seoyun-sunbae support dating in the workplace? If I remember correctly, isn’t that against policy?”

“Now, when did I say that? It seems this junior skipped a few steps? Does that mean if it were a love letter, you’d quickly accept it? Rejection isn’t possible?”

“…”

“Hehe, don’t play games with this noona. So, open it?”

“Ah, no, I’ll open it in private, in case it’s sensitive.”

“Okay~ Let me know if either of you need help with anything. Work or not, I’m available, ‘kay?”

“Yep, will do.”

Satisfied, she turns back to her desk, ending the conversation. Choi chances a glance at the envelope, then puts it in his pocket without looking. He turns on his computer. If no one is in danger, and no one is missing, then he can give himself a bit of time.

“Oh, Grapes-ie.”

“Yes, Agent?”

“I had a quick question about your wish, if that’s okay~” Choi makes sure to say it casually, like it happened to cross his mind.

Even with the levity, Soleum is more on guard. His steps halt and he unnecessarily glances around the room for other people; Choi wouldn’t bring up this topic if anyone was around, though. Seoyun left early to go to a restaurant with another team. Soleum was just about to go to lunch, too. He looks at the door as if wanting to escape, and checks the clock. He’s supposed to meet with Agent Mint but, unfortunately, Choi knows that there’s some time.

In the end, Soleum reluctantly makes eye contact.

“Yes?”

“You need about four hundred thousand points, right?”

“Approximately, yes.”

“And you’d let me know before you leave?

“…If the situation allows for it, yes.”

“Hm. Do you think there are any methods to get points faster?”

“It’s likely, but I would prefer not to risk it.”

“That’s right. You’re planning on steadily getting points to use the more reliable wish, right?”

“Mhm.”

“So, you won’t do anything risky, since you already have a guaranteed way to get home?”

“Agent, are you contaminated?”

“Haha. The screening results last week said I was okay~”

“Is there a reason for the questions?”

Inside a jacket pocket, Choi thumbs over a paper corner edge. “Just had some nightmares, recently. Aiya, you know how fretful seniors are.”

Soleum presses his lips together. “…Yes. Um, speaking of seniors, when you were younger, did Agent Citrine also, er, pay so much attention to you?”

It’s an abrupt change in topic. He can’t tell if Soleum doesn’t register the implication about nightmares, if he chooses to not think about it, or if he doesn’t want to talk about it. Choi is the one offering a way out, but doesn’t Soleum take it too easily? And, he used the way out to get to such an odd destination. A very odd destination. He couldn’t think of a more subtle topic change?

“Eyy, didn’t ‘Agent Citrine’ say to call her by name? Or to at least call her ‘noona’?”

“She’s an experienced agent, so I should call her respectfully.”

“Even if she told you otherwise~? Grapes should listen to his seniors.”

“…Agent Choi hasn’t answered my question.”

“Oh, you really want an answer. Hmm, if anything, she treated me more specially ‘cause I was her first junior. Aren’t firsts usually special? Now, she’s probably feeling guilty for being away for so long, so she’s taking extra care of you and Jaekwan-ie, too. Don’t feel pressured by it.”

“Is that why you call her sunbae?”

“?”

Soleum misunderstands his confusion. “You don’t usually use that honorific with anyone.”

It’s not surprising for Soleum to know that, since it’s obvious to anyone who pays the slightest attention. But, Soleum doesn’t ask personal questions. Is he genuinely curious, or is he trying particularly hard to make this topic stick so Choi doesn’t go back to the other one? Soleum isn’t typically this bad at manipulating a conversation, though.

Ah, maybe he’s confused because honorifics are uncharacteristic of ‘Agent Choi’? Choi would also be confused by a suddenly discrepancy in what he knows. Now, the bad change of topic makes sense. It must have been bothering Soleum for a while; Seoyun has been back for several days, now, and Choi has called her ‘sunbae’ the entire time. If Soleum is bothered by the discrepancy, Choi will have to give a good enough reason.

“Well, back then, Citrine-sunbae really liked being called ‘sunbae’. And of course, this considerate Choi listened to her request. If you want me to call you by an honorific too, Grapes, you can let me know anytime.”

“But, Agent Citrine told you to call her ‘noona’. When she introduced herself to Agent Bronze and I, she said ‘all of you’, not ‘both of you.’ That means she was talking to you too, doesn’t it?”

“Wow, Grapes-ie was really paying attention! I don’t think she had such meaning, though,” Choi lies. “If it’s her, then she’ll tell me if she has a problem with it, so it should be okay.” He softens his smile to be more reassuring, and cuts his answer there. The true answer isn’t a big deal, but it would involve a longer explanation, and giving too much information could be annoying if the listener isn’t interested. A fake but believable answer should be enough; it’s not as though Soleum cares for their personal lives.

Choi takes the opportunity to change the topic to his original concern. “And… if you have a problem, then you can tell me, too, okay?”

Soleum’s expression is confused. “Alright?”

“As in, you can tell me to my face, Grapes-ie. I won’t get angry or offended or anything.”

“I…know…?”

“You don’t need to tell me through a letter.”

Soleum opens his mouth, then closes it. Pauses. Eventually, he says “Agent, you… haven’t read it yet, have you?”

Choi adopts an apologetic smile, “Oops, I guess it was obvious? Sorry, today’s been busy.”

“There weren’t any rescue calls aside from this morning, though? And the paperwork from Sekwang has been dying down, too.”

“No no, I had some personal matters. In terms of work, it really has been peaceful today, hasn’t it? Let’s hope it’s like this for the whole week!”

“Mm. Are your personal matters okay? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Stop leaving letters around, maybe.

Choi laughs, “Seojun-sunbae offered the same thing. Aigoo, my team 1 really is the best. Thanks, Grapes-ie, but there’s no need to worry.”

“Did Agent Citrine help you with it?”

“Why do you ask?”

Soleum’s expression goes carefully blank. “Just curious. It’s rare for Agent Choi to have personal problems, so I hope everything is well.”

“Haha, it might happen more often than you think? This agent is quite experienced, though, so don’t worry about it. Really.”

Soleum doesn’t seem convinced, but he nods in acknowledgment. Choi allows a short, comfortable silence, then continues his questioning. “So? Nothing to tell me?”

Soleum sighs, “Agent-nim should just read the letter. Why do you keep asking?”

“Heyy, there’s no harm in double checking! Should I read it right now?”

“Ah…please don’t.”

? What, is Soleum guilty of something after all? Choi’s smile twitches.

“I’m just joking~ I’ve kept you from lunch for long enough. If you’re late, tell Agent Mint you were kept by a nagging senior.”

“Mm. I should make it in time. I’ll see you after lunch, Agent.”

“Of course, of course~ See you.”

Seemingly relieved to escape the room, Soleum exits.

Instead of eating lunch, Choi goes outside and smokes.

Nowadays, the first exhale is always stressful. The smoke reminds him of 130666, and thinking of 130666 forces him to remember the odd circumstances around Soleum’s body, and Choi still doesn’t know how Soleum got his human body and if he can keep it or what it’s made of and the potential side effects stresses him out until he remembers that Soleum will probably leave before any potential side effects would become serious; he hopes Soleum doesn’t die, and he knows there are fates worse than death. Stressfully, he’s not sure if Soleum dying would be better, or if a fate worse than death means that he can at least be eventually saved.

By the second exhale, the nicotine hits. He closes his eyes and thinks of the letter, waiting for the drug to chip down the weight of anxiety until it’s contained between his ribs instead of spreading through his shoulders and up his throat. The second letter Soleum ever gave him nearly made him collapse, so, this time, he preemptively sits down.

Thinking of that second letter spiked his anxiety, so Choi breathes for another minute before taking the letter out of his pocket. He has an intrusive thought of burning it, and takes another breath. It’s unsteady.

In the face of his emotions, he can turn to rationality. And, rationally, if he reads the letter now, he can confirm Soleum’s presence after lunch. If he reads it after work, he’ll be awake the whole night, anxiously wondering if he’ll see Soleum the next day. If he reads it too late, he might mess something up again. What if Soleum needs help with something, or has something to say, or wanted to give information? Ignorance has never served Choi well and, to be honest, he knows he’s stupid for not reading it immediately. Time is precious and knowledge is essential and the paper still trembles between his fingers as he unfolds it. He places it on his lap, lights a second cigarette, then holds the paper at arm’s distance.

It’s an apology.

Well, gratitude, too, but the apology is what stands out. Soleum has historically apologized for the wrong thing, and this third letter officially makes it a pattern. The first time, Soleum apologized for not living up to expectations, for not sincerely submitting to disciplinary action, and for resigning as if running away. The second time, Soleum apologized for causing trouble, for not ‘properly’ protecting Jaekwan, and for not living up to expectations. This time, Soleum apologizes for letting his emotions get the better of him, for blocking Choi’s plan even though they agreed to not interfere with each other, and for causing all of Choi’s preparations to go to waste. In the first letter he compensates via items and informations, in the second letter he compensates by promising to take responsibility, and in this letter he compensates through gratitude, compliments, and platitudes.

Choi’s being mean. Soleum doesn’t lie unless he has too, and it’s likely he truly does think that ‘Choi should value himself more’ and that he’s grateful Choi went ‘through the effort of asking about his situation, in addition to taking care of their bodies for so long.’ The words would have more weight to them if they weren’t so heavily contradicted by Soleum’s actions. The gratitude might have been nice if it didn’t imply Soleum didn’t expect Choi’s effort. He shouldn’t thank Choi for something Choi was always going to do. They both know Choi does nearly anything to save people, so why thank him? Soleum rarely thanks him. Isn’t doing so now too obvious of a tactic? For someone so manipulative, Soleum’s manipulation can be quite amateurish.

There’s nothing important in the letter. There’s no indication of Soleum’s next action, no new information, no offer to talk, no sign that Soleum is willing to try and lower the walls he’s built so highly around himself. Choi is an idiot for taking so long to read it. There’s nothing in it that he needs to stress about.

The anxiety has crept back up his throat. His eyes burn. He turns his face away from the smoke and takes some time to breathe.

He folds the letter along the creases, tucks it back into the envelope, and places it back into an inner pocket. He lights a third cigarette and tries to guess at why Soleum felt the need to write this letter. The first two times were out of obligation and wanting to give necessary information, like an employee passing on tasks before leaving. This letter has no information, and— to Choi’s knowledge— Soleum isn’t leaving. Not immediately. The only potential obligation is emotional. Soleum doesn’t do emotions. But, there’s no other indication of a different reason, so emotions are the only possibility. He must have felt compelled to apologize.

Is that why he didn’t want Choi to read the letter in front of him. Because he felt embarrassed or, worse, guilty?

Choi doesn’t think any of the things listed warranted an apology. He feels sick that Soleum felt the need to apologize to him. He’s irked that Soleum has dodged all the things that should be addressed in favor of corporate politeness. He feels bad for being irked. It’s an apology. Based on how Soleum reacted, it’s probably a genuine apology. He should be grateful that Soleum considered him and took the time to write a letter even though Soleum is probably disappointed with him.

Wouldn’t it be nice if Choi could react the way he’s supposed to?

He’s tired.

“Welcome back, Agent Choi. Did you eat?”

“Yep!” Choi faux-casually makes a beeline to his desk and pretends to be busy setting things up. “What about you, did you eat? How’s Agent Mint?”

“Mn, I ate. Agent Mint seems to be doing well.”

“That’s good! I should check in on her soon and give my regards.” Choi looks up just long enough to smile in Soleum’s direction, then looks back down to stare at his sleeping monitor. It’s a good indicator that the conversation is done, even if Choi normally wouldn’t end it so quickly.

Soleum is definitely aware enough to catch it, but he keeps peeking over at Choi. Every minute or so, almost involuntarily, he glances over, like he’s concerned about Choi or wants to say something. He probably won’t say anything, with his personality, but the potential of it pricks at Choi’s skin. He doesn’t trust himself to have a meaningful conversation with Soleum on a good day, much less this particular moment.

Hahhh, he should have thought of a better lie than ‘personal matters’. He shouldn’t have brought up the letter, either, but that’s not something that could be helped. As of consequence, it seems he’ll have to face Soleum’s scrutiny all day.

“I’m~ back~!”

Choi relaxes at the sound of Seojun’s voice; having a third party around basically erases the odds of Soleum bringing up the letter. He gears himself up to throw back a casual greeting.

An arm is thrown around his shoulder. Before he can react, a plastic bag is dropped onto his desk. Seojun’s cheerful voice is loud at this proximity. “Sorry for being late~ I would have been back right on time, but as I was walking back to the building, I noticed a certain someone smoking on the fire escape.”

Shit. Soleum definitely heard that.

“My dear, beloved junior: didn’t Hongrim-unnie always tell us to not skip meals? So, this noona made a detour for you!”

Seojun pats his shoulder twice. When he looks up, she’s smiling at him. The hand on his shoulder squeezes. “It’s just kimbap, since I didn’t have time. But if you’re not eating, should we go to the market after work and get gukbap? Is your favorite stall still open? Your sunbae will treat you!”

“…No.” His throat feels tight. “It closed down a few months ago. But, there’s a stall a few streets away that you’ve never tried, sunbae. You’d like it; their kimchi isn’t that spicy.”

“Mhm, our junior is as considerate as ever~ But, does that mean you really haven’t been eating? And you were bad at smoking before... Aw, Hongrim-unnie would scold you! Or, well, she wouldn’t scold you, but she’d give you that disappointed look. Oh! Should I do it in her stead?”

“No need, sunbae.”

“Hehe, that’s true, my junior is bad with disappointment. You haven’t changed at all! Well, aside from your name.” His hair gets ruffled. He’s too scared to look at Soleum.

The direction of Seojun’s voice changes. “Sorry, Soleum-ah; I wasn’t sure what to get you. I was thinking of grapes, but I wasn’t sure if you’d prefer real or artificial…Ah, nevermind. Have you eaten? Don’t tell me Choi’s bad habits rubbed off on you!”

“I’ve eaten, Agent Citrine; thank you for considering me.”

“Good! The rookies always think eating isn’t important, but health should always come first. Don’t be like Choi with skipping lunch, okay?”

“…Yes, Agent Citrine. I won’t.”

The hand on Choi’s head finishes ruining his hair and lightly pats his head a few times. Seojun’s tone is soft in her teasing, “You can’t neglect your health, Choi~ Accept this sunbae’s consideration and eat, okay? It’ll be disrespectful if you don’t!”

“Mm. Okay, sunbae.” The weight of her consideration feels awkward. Choi exhales, and stands up. He smiles without making eye contact with anyone. “But, um, I just realized I forgot my lighter outside, so I’ll go grab it. After all, littering is bad! I’ll eat when I’m back; it shouldn’t be long.”

He‘s out the door before they can respond.

Choi actually ends up on the fire escape. If you don’t want to be found, then you shouldn’t go to the place you say you’ll be. Here he is. His subconscious is quite childlike at times, isn’t it? His conscious wouldn’t know what to say if someone does follow after him, though.

He inhales the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and wishes he had the time to light another one. He’s not sure if he’d be able to smoke it properly; his breathing is too unsteady. He glances at the fire escape door, gets paranoid, and goes up a flight of stairs. This landing doesn’t smell so much like smoke.

Rationally, Choi should be doing something. He can only be outside for so long without being suspicious, and if he wants to seem like nothing’s wrong then he needs to do it quick. His hair is probably messed up from Seoyun’s ruffling. His eyes might be red. His face feels too tight. He should at least clear his throat, and check that his voice sounds normal.

There’s the sound of the fire escape door being pushed open. Just like that, Choi’s energy drops even more. If he’s lucky, the person will go back, or least go the wrong direction so that Choi has more time. Without any luck, he hears footsteps. They’re quiet in the way of someone used to sneaking around, but not quite practiced at noise-prone metal stairs. They’re also getting louder. Of course that person would end up going in the right direction.

Choi is practiced at metal stairs, so he silently makes his way up to the next floor. He can tell when the person makes it to landing by when the footsteps stop. He’s half hoping they’ll give up. But they continue, and Choi moves as well.

Soleum has a habit of doing things to the end when he has decided on it; it’s an endearing and frustrating trait, but more frustrating when it makes him blind to other possibilities. And, more frustrating when Choi can’t understand it. Soleum isn’t interested in forming connections. Soleum makes an active effort to avoid interpersonal matters. Soleum is taking the time to look for him.

Soleum has always given mixed messages when it comes to Agent Choi. Why is he putting in so much effort in finding him? Is he concerned? Feeling guilty? No, more likely, isn’t he just trying to clean up whatever character sheet he has in his mind? For example, “when did the ‘Agent Choi who always tell people to eat’ become a hypocrite and skip lunch”, or “why would the ‘coldly rational Agent Choi who’s always smiling’ start to cry.”

Maybe he’s not giving Soleum enough credit. Choi doesn’t actually know how Soleum perceives him, but it’s evidentially somewhat accurate. Sometimes, Choi wants to ask Soleum to write it all down, so Choi could have a neat list of expectations. Although, the more time that passes, the more he can guess at it. Choi crying? Something like that… probably doesn’t line up with Soleum’s expectations.

Neither does running away. Today, too, must be full of disappointments for Soleum, right? To be honest, Choi also knows he should stop running away. There’s a lot of reasons why but the most imminent one is that the more he goes up, the more suspicious it is. It’s not like he can all the way to the roof. If he did, Soleum would follow him there, and then what?

No; Choi is someone who always acts when needed. This situation is quickly becoming a necessity, so he stops on the next landing. He takes a deep breath, checks that his face is dry, counts Soleum’s steps, and starts going down the stairs.

“Oh, Grapes! Why are you here? Need something from me? You could’ve waited in the office~ Or, did you think something was wrong and came after me?”

“Agent. Did I do something to upset you?”

As always, straight to the point. Choi widens his smile as if laughing. It feels brittle. “Such a question out of nowhere? Did Grapes-ie do something that would upset me? Eyy, it’s okay, you can tell this senior. I won’t get mad.”

“…I’m not sure. That’s why I’m asking. I… can’t apologize if I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Ah. Shit.

How annoying.

“Aishh, why is Grapes always apologizing? You already apologized to me so many times, this senior wouldn’t make you apologize more.”

“So, I did do something I should apologize for?”

“I don’t need more fucking apologies.”

“…”

Soleum stares at him, wide-eyed. Ah, Choi and his damn emotions. He’s not sure if he can do this. He hides his face by covering it with his palm, the corner of his smile pressing into skin. Soleum doesn’t respond well to disappointment. Soleum tends to internalize criticism.

Soleum only does things superficially. He doesn’t want to form connections, after all. There’s no point. There’s no point. Choi should shut the fuck up and be considerate and cherish whatever remnants of a relationship they have left. Soleum’s leaving, anyway. Don’t make Soleum feel guilty.

He makes sure his hand covers everything important in an expression, and doesn’t look up. His tone, at least, he can control. “Sorry, Grapes. I’m having a bad day. Let’s talk later, yeah?”

“Is it because of me?”

Aigoo, maybe Soleum needs comprehension classes.

“Later. Okay?”

“…I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Eyy, I’m fine. I’ve been on my own for ages before. I can take care of myself for five minutes.”

“Agent. You’re not breathing properly.”

“…”

Choi’s fingernails dig into his face. The slight pain doesn’t help him with his breathing at all. He’s not crying. He’s not panicking. There’s no reason why he can’t control his breathing. And yet.

Metal creaks, slow and squeaky, as Soleum hesitantly steps closer. Choi can practically hear Soleum’s gears turning. He doesn’t know what to do at all, huh? Makes sense: this is probably outside of his expectations.

Choi should make it easier on him. Take a step back, re-establish those invisible boundaries, throw a smile and say it’s okay, or give a glare and say to go away. People want to rely on commands when they don’t know what to do, after all.

He’s clenching his teeth too hard for it to look like a smile. He doesn’t want to try to talk around the lump in his throat.

He’s tired.

A hand carefully curls around Choi’s wrist. There’s a slight weight to it, as if gently asking to move.

“Sunbae,” Soleum’s voice says, manipulatively, “Let me stay with you? Please.”

Haha. Isn’t that a first? Soleum has never asked to stay before.

The only thing he’s ever wanted to do is leave.

“A-Agent? Agent! Ah, um, don’t cry.” Soleum’s voice goes hushed but his panicked breathing is audible, like he’s stressing over what to say. Ah, Choi is messing up again. The hand around his wrist gets tighter. On Choi’s free arm, he feels a pressure at his elbow, guiding. “Let’s move to a landing, okay? It’s not safe to stay on the stairs.”

Choi doesn’t want to. If Soleum wants to move, he can go on his own. Seriously, isn’t this the worst? Out of everyone to cry in front of, Soleum is the worst possible person.

But to refuse, Choi would have to say something. And he doesn’t trust whatever could come out of his mouth.

“Agent?”

Choi doesn’t nod, but he quietly follows the gentle weight of Soleum’s pull. He watches the blurry stairs through his fingers, and lets Soleum take them down the six or so steps down to the landing. It takes longer than it has to; Soleum pauses at each step, his fingers tensing with every pause as if ready to catch Choi if he stumbles. Meanly, Choi lets himself think he’s surprised by Soleum’s patience, even though he knows Soleum can be patient when he wants to. There’s only certain situations when Soleum rushes without thinking, and this has no reason to be one of them.

They reach the landing. Choi waits for Soleum to let go. Instead, Soleum tugs him more, walking until they reach the wall, and turning Choi so his back is against it. Having something to lean on is more helpful than it has any right to be, and Choi’s breathing stutters with the relief of it.

He exhales, and slides down the wall until he’s sitting. He drops his hand and presses his forehead against the top of his knees, still hiding his face. His breathing is terrible.

Now that he’s no longer in ‘danger’, he’s waiting for Soleum to leave, or maybe get someone for help. Choi might be able to mange his emotions better when he’s alone, or at least use a cigarette to do it. He counts the seconds while waiting, pacing out his breathing and hating that he can’t control it enough to inhale for four seconds.

Soleum is still standing there by the second attempt. When he does move, he gets closer, his legs moving in Choi’s peripheral vision. He moves next to Choi and sits down, like he’s ready to be there for a while. It’s sweet. It’s annoying. Choi thinks he would feel less burdensome if he were left alone. Choi’s surprised Soleum hasn’t left.

Choi swallows, and risks talking despite the lump in his throat. His voice is embarrassingly weak. “Grapes. You can go.”

“Mm.”

He doesn’t move.

“Go back to work. Seojun-sunbae shouldn’t take care of the waiting room by herself.”

“Agent Citrine will manage. She can always call or text if something comes up. There’s nothing that urgently needs my attention, either.”

Oh, it seems Soleum talks more formally when he’s trying to be careful. He’s not very good at being careful, though; doesn’t that imply he’s only here because there’s nothing important going on? Choi could tease him about it.

“You should still be in the waiting room. Otherwise, heh, won’t you be slacking on company time? I’ll follow in a bit.”

“…”

“Seriously.”

“…If you want me to go, then I’ll go. But if it’s okay, I’d like to stay.”

“Why?”

“Huh?”

Choi doesn’t elaborate.

“Uh, ‘why’? Because… I want to make sure you’re okay?”

Choi huffs a breath of laughter. He curls his legs closer to himself. “Eyy, don’t you know? I’ll always end up okay. In this line of work, having some emotional breakdowns is basically expected.”

“…”

“I’m not a civilian, Grapes. I can take care of myself.”

“I know. But…”

“…”

“…”

And so, Soleum goes silent. Isn’t that familiar? It’s seriously annoying at times. As usual, Choi tries to figure out what Soleum is thinking. The easiest is Soleum not wanting to admit he cares, because verbalizing something makes it more real. If there’s another reason, though, then Choi has a better chance of chasing him off. Maybe he feels guilty?

But Soleum evidentially didn’t feel guilt before. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left that second letter. Or this third letter. Now that Choi thinks about it, this is also a pattern; it’s now three for three that a letter from Soleum makes Choi break down. If Choi wanted to, he can also make it for three for three of letters not talked about.

He hasn’t decided if he wants to talk about the letter. He has the opportunity to, since Soleum is still here and there aren’t any pressing matters, but… what would be the point? What would he even say? ‘Stop apologizing when you don’t mean it’? That wouldn’t resolve anything, and only make Soleum feel awkward, especially if he thinks he means it. ‘Don’t lie about being grateful’? Choi doesn’t know if Soleum is actually grateful or not. What if he is? The gratitude makes Choi feel a certain way, unsettling and irksome despite the positive connotations. He has no reason to think Soleum is lying, though. It’s not the first time Soleum has thanked—

Oh.

It feels wrong because it’s gratitude for a failed attempt. Soleum rarely thanks him for that. For good reason, and doesn’t that make Choi’s chest constrict again. Choi has failed at too many things when it comes to Soleum. And now Soleum is thanking Choi for his “efforts”? After all this time, and everything that’s happened? No wonder it feels disingenuous. Even if Soleum meant it— even if he’s really grateful—, it’s for something that doesn’t deserve any gratitude. Or, what, he’s glad that Choi fucked things up? Oh, maybe he’s glad that Choi’s efforts didn’t fuck things up. It’d be enough to make Choi laugh, if he had the breath for it. Choi could ask. He knows he could ask. Soleum is right there. Despite everything, Soleum is alive and well and still here.

Soleum is only thanking him this time because there were no consequences to Choi’s failure.

Choi attempts another deep breath, and fails at that, too. Ah, he was so close to getting his breathing under control, and now it’s worse than before. His eyes hurt. Crying is always so uncomfortable. He can’t breathe properly and his eyes burn and his nose runs and his throat feels stuck and his head starts to hurt. He shifts his head, pressing his knees against his eyes like pressure could help with the pain, and sniffles. He has eye drops in the waiting room, but do they help with soreness from crying? Seojun might know some remedies. But Seojun would also baby him, and Choi doesn’t think he can handle that right now. The less he needs to be the reliable senior, the more his stability cracks under the lack of pressure.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

…? All of a sudden? Why ask now?

“We might be here for a while, and it’s possible someone will come. Would Agent Choi be okay with someone seeing him like this?”

Choi sniffles again. Clears his throat. “No one will come here.”

“Really? Couldn’t someone come to smoke?”

“Probably not. It’s illegal.”

“Agent Choi was smoking here, though?”

“Yeah.”

“…”

Soleum goes silent. Choi would have a better idea as to why if he were willing to look at Soleum’s expression, but he doesn’t. It’s probably confusion or disappointment, though.

It’s a bit funny. All the times Choi has been disappointing, and Soleum is caught off guard by little illegality?

“A spy can’t lecture me on breaking the law. Much less a Daydream employee.”

“…I didn’t say anything.”

“Mm.”

It’s quiet again. As Choi regulates his breathing, he wonders if he should say something. He’s surprised Soleum hasn’t said anything, to be honest. Does he know how Soleum does with silence? He’s not sure. Of course he knows that Soleum himself is silent with Choi, and he doesn’t always mind it with others. But with Choi, he seems bad with it, often saying more than he needs to when he’s unsettled by Choi’s silence. Even when Choi doesn’t mean to weaponize it, it becomes a weapon.

Oh. Maybe he can weaponize this, too. Emotional guilt tripping isn’t his favorite tactic, but this is a good opportunity, isn’t it? It’ll take some time for him to go back for normal, and it’s a waste of time to sit here doing nothing.

More importantly, maybe it’ll stop his mind from wandering and making things worse.

Choi inhales, and thinks of an approach. Crying. Fire escapes. Cigarettes. The law? That could work. “Are you really surprised? Grapes-is never did anything like going on the rooftop when he wasn’t supposed to? Entering somewhere you’re not allowed?”

“…No.”

“I see~ I guess Grapes was an obedient kid! I bet your teachers and parents loved you, huh?”

“…That’s not the case.”

“Oh? But Grapes is super smart, quick-thinking, good at talking, responsible, and a natural leader. And obedient? That’s the exact type parents would compare their kids to.”

“If anything, I was told to be less responsible.”

Wow. It’s? Actually working?

“By who? Your parents?”

“Hm. They thought I should live more carefreely.”

…Choi’s a bit surprised Soleum remembers his parents. He’s never brought up his family before. Can he push more? If he goes too much then Soleum might shut down, so he’ll be gentle.

“Really?”

“…Yes. They once told my younger sibling to not follow my footsteps.” His voice shifts a little, somehow a little fond. “And then he went and opened a dessert shop. They were happy until they realized how much financial work it involves.”

Kim Soleum has a sibling?? With a dessert shop???

He seems to like the sibling. Choi’s relieved he actually has someone to go back to.

“Oh? Your parents don’t like financial work?”

“Mm. They don’t like the financial sector, at least.”

“How do you know?”

“They didn’t want me to work in it.”

“And? Did you do it?”

There’s a twinge of amusement in Soleum’s voice. “Yes. I did.”

Choi wonders about that. Does Soleum have a bad relationship with his parents? It’d be nice if that wasn’t the case. Unlikely as it is, Choi prefers the idea of Soleum returning home to a loving, picture-perfect family. Well, he prefers it now that he knows Soleum actually has some memory of a family to go home to… Regardless, it still gives some evidence that Soleum’s ‘home world’ actually exists. 

“Haha. I guess Grapes-ie had a delayed rebellious phase.”

“Maybe.” Soleum pauses. “Did Agent Choi have a rebellious phase?”

“Heh. You have to ask? Do I seem like I’d be a well behaved child?”

“Well, you never know.”

“Wow, did Grapes just insult me?”

“Agent Choi started it.” Soleum pauses again. Then he says, with a certain tone to his voice, “What trouble did Agent Choi cause?”

“Huh? The standard things, I guess? Playing hooky, sneaking onto the rooftops, being too loud in the hallways, y’know.”

“Then, you’ve done it often?”

“Do what?”

“Skip lunch to sit somewhere you’re not supposed to.”

“…”

“Agent Choi, why did you lie to me about eating lunch?”

Haha. Wow. This is probably why Soleum answered Choi’s questions so easily. What is this, 20 questions? Why’d they have to use such a roundabout method? Seriously…

Choi swallows, and takes a breath. “Eyy, is it that big of a deal? One skipped meal never killed anybody.”

“That’s not the issue. I wish Agent Choi wouldn’t lie to me.”

“What, don’t you know by now? I’m a liar.”

“No, you’re not.”

That’s not what Soleum thought two years ago, under that damn manhole. Choi debates on bringing it up, but he doesn’t think he has the energy for an argument right now.

He sighs, and tells the truth. “Sorry, Grapes. I didn’t have the energy to be nagged at.”

“…That’s hypocritical, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

Then, back to silence. If it was going to get awkward again, then Choi shouldn’t have tried talking— No, actually. He’s gotten information on Soleum’s home. That’s worth far more than an awkward silence and some disappointment. Now, he won’t have to spend years worrying what happened to Soleum after Soleum makes his wish. Even if it’s minor, unconfirmable evidence, it’s more than he had before, and he can cling onto the now-evidenced possibility.

Next to him, Choi hears a sigh. He thinks this is when Soleum will get up and leave, and go back to the waiting room to be a responsible employee.

Instead, he feels a weight against his shoulder as Soleum leans his head against him. It’s warm even through the Bureau jacket, and the weight is comforting.

Aigoo. Is Soleum trying to make him cry even more? Choi doesn’t even know why Soleum— Soleum doesn’t initiate physical contact. Is this guilt? Or maybe it’s pity? Ahh, but either way, Choi is hopelessly, stupidly, grateful for it. Even if his breathing is ruined again, and his pants are wet with more tears, and his eyes hurt from crying— Soleum leaning against him means more than it has any right to, when it’s just a physical action.

“If Agent Choi told me to not nag, then I would have listened.”

“Haha…shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” Choi sighs. “Grapes really is a good kid.”

Soleum pauses long enough that Choi thinks it’ll go back to silence. But then, cautiously, Soleum says, “If that’s the case… May I ask a question?”

Choi sniffles. “…Sure.”

“Are you crying because of my letter?”

Oh. Is leaning on him a manipulation tactic, so Choi is more likely to answer? Even if it is, Choi can’t be mad.

“…Yes. And no.” Choi’s throat feels stuck, so he clears it. “Why did you write it, anyway? There’s nothing you need to apologize for or… be grateful for.”

“Well…” Somehow, Soleum’s voice sounds flustered. “Isn’t it only considerate? Not to mention polite. I’ve caused you a lot of trouble.”

Haha…Choi can’t tell if that barrier was intentional or not. He doesn’t want to think about it. “Aiya, so you were being considerate? Wow, Grapes has a lot of patience to do that. Here’s a tip from a senior: you shouldn’t force yourself to be considerate of people you hate; it’ll stress you out too much. Grapes needs to prioritize his mental health more.”

“…”

“…?”

“I…don’t hate you, Agent Choi.”

“…”

“That’s the implication, isn’t it? That you’re someone I hate. It’s not true.”

“Aigoo, I guess ‘hate’ is a strong word? Grapes seems like the type who doesn’t hate anyone.”

“No, but, even then, I don’t hate you, Agent Choi. I don’t dislike you, either.”

“Really? Then Grapes must be a forgiving person. I’ve caused you a lot of trouble.”

“Is that enough reason to hate someone?”

“People hate others for less. I’m sure that’s more than enough reason.”

“…Still. I don’t hate you, Agent Choi.”

“Hm.”

“Really. If anything, I think you’re an admirable person.”

“Haha, what? Next, are you gonna say you look up to me?”

“Yes.”

“…”

If it weren’t for the situation, Choi would think Soleum was lying. If it were two years ago, Choi could believe it. But now, after everything…?

“You’re a good person, Agent Choi. You’re smart, and reliable, and you care about others. You’re… like a hero.”

It sounds oddly genuine. Wistful, even. It’s uncharacteristic of Soleum. It’s not pity because Choi is crying, is it? But Soleum is someone who doesn’t lie unless he has to, so it shouldn’t be platitude. Plus, it’d be an asshole move to lie right now.

So, it should be a real compliment.

Choi should be nicer. For such a kind, genuine compliment, shouldn’t he live up to expectations? A hero would be nicer. A hero wouldn’t be so annoyed by hypocrisy, especially when the hero himself is a hypocrite too. But Choi, who doesn’t think he’s a hero, is annoyed anyway. So he brings it up, using a light tone as always.

“You say that, but you don’t rely on me very often?”

“I’ve relied on you before.”

“Hmm. Only when you have to, though, right?”

“That’s…”

“…”

Soleum is silent for a while. Choi wonders if it’s one of those silences that means Soleum doesn’t intend to respond. If Choi were nicer, he’d take the hint and change the topic.

“…I.”

Oh?

“I don’t like to rely on people. It’s not a matter of who it is.”

“…”

“…So, you as well, Agent Choi: it’s not a matter of reliability.”

“…Oh.” Choi doesn’t know how to respond to that. The admission makes him feel better, that he’s not singled out. The admission makes him feel worse, because Soleum should be more comfortable relying on people. What should he say—

“Is that why you haven’t called me by name recently?”

“…?”

“Because you thought I hated you?”

….In hindsight, he wouldn’t be surprised that Soleum noticed. He didn’t realize it might have bothered him, though. Choi sniffles. “No. I.” He takes a breath, feeling oddly vulnerable. “I wasn’t sure if you’d think it was manipulative.”

“Agent Choi is manipulative regardless of whether he uses my name.”

“Sure. But, I’ve used your name a lot in bad situations. I don’t want you to be reminded of those situations if I called your name.”

“What? That won’t happen. And if that were the case, shouldn’t Agent Choi try to override those situations?”

“…Is it okay?”

“You have to ask?”

“Communication it’s important, isn’t it?”

“Says the liar.” Soleum goes quiet. When he speaks again, his voice is soft. “It’s best when Agent Choi acts as usual. There’s no need to be concerned about me.”

He just skipped the question entirely. And, Choi doesn’t even know what Soleum considers to be ‘usual’ for ‘Agent Choi.’ Honestly, he thought the current ‘him’ had already strayed far from ‘Agent Choi’, or at least the one that Soleum ‘admires’. Is that not the case? Choi’s not sure how he feels about it: relief at not failing completely, or fear that he can apparently fail more.

He can think about it later. At least, now, he somehow feels lighter.

It takes some effort, but he’s about to get his voice out. “It’s a yes or no question, Grapes-ie~”

“Then…yes.” Soleum clears his throat. “It’s okay. Agent Choi doesn’t have to avoid my name.”

Choi exhales, long and trembly. He raises his head, and lightly bumps it against Soleum’s, leaning against him. With Choi’s head raised, he can feel a slight breeze, cooling his teary, too-hot eyes. Soleum’s hair is soft against his cheek.

“If you say so, Soleum-ah.”

Soleum doesn’t say anything. He usually doesn’t, when it comes to Choi. But Choi is observant enough to see small reactions and, this time, when he musters the courage to look, Soleum is smiling, slight and fragile and there all the same.