Work Text:
Choi Jongho strode across the marble floor of the lobby, his confident gait turning heads as he went. Security at the front desk greeted him politely, as always. He nodded, gave a short ‘good morning,’ and stepped into the elevator.
The trip to the top floor was just long enough for Jongho to check his phone for notifications, answer two to three emails, and briefly check his own reflection in the pristine, mirrored walls of the elevator.
His hair was combed back sensibly, and a silver watch glinted on his left wrist. Out of habit, he rolled his shoulders, straightened his tie, and tugged on the end of one of the sleeves of his gray suit jacket.
A few more moments, and the elevator doors opened to the C-Suite offices.
Jongho’s office had a sprawling view of Seoul. Morning sun streamed across the floor as he walked in and sat down behind his desk.
He had a busy agenda today. Every minute was carefully scheduled. He had fifteen minutes to make a handful of calls before his first meeting at eight.
Just as Jongho was about to scroll through his inbox and truly get to work, there was a knock.
He looked up to see Kim Hongjoong, his executive assistant, standing in the doorframe with his work bag still on his shoulder.
Jongho frowned at his watch. Twelve minutes until eight o’clock. Hongjoong was in his office rather early.
His assistant was dressed in deep blue from head to toe. He always wore something from his vast collection of eccentric-looking suits. Jongho was pretty sure Hongjoong designed them all himself. He was one of those artsy types.
Despite Hongjoong’s odd hobbies and disorganized desk (Jongho could barely look at the state of it for more than a minute or two without feeling second-hand stress), Hongjoong’s work ethic was unparalleled, and his and Jongho’s weekly routine was well-established.
Rarely did Hongjoong approach him with any questions or scheduling concerns until eight thirty. Which is why Jongho raised one eyebrow at him when he appeared with his bag still unpacked. He looked mildly confused.
“Good morning. Um…there’s someone here to see you.”
That was unusual. Still, Jongho really didn’t have time. He glanced at his watch. Eleven minutes until his first meeting.
“I’m unavailable,” he said.
“Yes, I told him that. He’s very insistent. Says it’s an emergency,” said Hongjoong, though from the note of uncertainty in his tone, Jongho doubted it was an actual emergency.
Jongho gave him a flat stare. “Well, who is it?”
At that moment, someone popped out from behind Hongjoong. Someone who looked even more out of place than the strangest jacket Hongjoong had ever dared to create.
Jongho blinked. “Wooyoung?”
His friend, Wooyoung, had wrapped himself in an enormous, purple, fuzzy blanket with cream-colored teddy bears all over it. It formed a cozy hood over his smiling face and reached the floor, where his house slippers were peeking out.
“Jongbear! How’s life?” said Wooyoung.
Jongho blinked rapidly while his friend let out a low whistle at the skyline behind the desk.
“Wow. Boss man with a great view and an expensive suit? Impressive.” He gave Jongho a knowing, lopsided grin. “You’re so predictable.”
Jongho tamped down his confusion (mingled with annoyance) and checked his watch again. Nine minutes until he had to be in a conference room.
“What do you want, Wooyo?”
Wooyoung hummed, still squinting at the skyline. “You’re a really realistic dreamer, you know that?”
Then, with a perfectly straight face, he turned to Jongho and asked, “Can I have three dollars?”
Jongho stared at him like he had grown a second head.
“What?”
Wooyoung shrugged and hugged the fuzzy blanket tighter around himself.
“I need three dollars. Please?”
“No.”
Giving up on making any calls, Jongho stood up. He might as well get to his meeting early.
“Excuse me,” he said as politely as he could while squeezing past Wooyoung, who had positioned himself close enough to the desk to breathe down Jongho’s neck as he tried to get around to the office door.
“Seriously? It’s just three dollars!”
He shuffled along behind Jongho. Jongho sighed and gritted his teeth but didn’t answer.
“Jongho? Pretty please?”
“For what?”
“Three dollars.”
“I know. What are you trying to buy with three dollars?”
“…A snack?”
“Oh my god, Wooyoung…”
Now, Jongho knew that Wooyoung wasn’t exactly blessed with financial wisdom, but he was employed. He made rent just fine. He bought himself fun things all the time. So, Jongho was pretty sure Wooyoung had three dollars to spare. The request was just plain ridiculous.
Besides, Wooyoung could have easily texted him like a normal person. Instead, he chose to show up at his place of work to irritate him while looking like he had just rolled out of bed.
Where on earth were his friend’s shoes? What possessed him to come all the way up to the top floor to ask for a bit of cash?
“You can barely buy any snack with three dollars anyway,” he argued.
“Five dollars then?” asked Wooyoung hopefully.
He almost tripped on the corner of his blanket to keep up with Jongho’s stride. Then Jongho whirled on him, and Wooyoung crashed into his shoulder.
“Ask Seonghwa. I don’t have time.”
Wooyoung’s eyes lit up like he had an idea that would inevitably incite chaos.
“Oo, do you have important boss man stuff to do? Can I come?”
Jongho groaned inwardly while he escaped into the hall. On his way out, he caught Hongjoong’s eye. His assistant just winced and shrugged.
“I do,” he answered without looking at Wooyoung, “And no, you can’t.”
Wooyoung scoffed. “At least give me a chance. You may want to hire me!”
He was still following. Jongho sighed. He didn’t have time for this.
“That’s not happening.”
“How can you be so sure?” Wooyoung asked.
Jongho thought he might accidentally step on his heels.
“I just am.”
“Judgy,” Wooyoung muttered.
“You’re in slides and asking me for money, Wooyoung.”
“So?”
“That’s unprofessional.”
“Classist. Fine, I wouldn’t want to work for you anyway. I’ll just watch. I’ll stand in the corner, and you’ll forget I’m there!”
Apparently, this was happening. The next moment, Jongho and Wooyoung appeared in a long conference room. They were early to the meeting, so it was only them and Hongjoong sitting at a polished oak table.
Well, Jongho and Hongjoong sat. Wooyoung hovered with his back to one corner of the room, hands folded in front of him. Just as promised.
Jongho watched him stand there looking foolish for a few seconds before he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Wooyoung…”
“If you give me three dollars, I’ll leave.”
“No!”
Although his blood was boiling, he couldn’t surrender now. On principle, he refused to be rage baited and robbed by a blanket burrito.
Wooyoung sighed heavily.
“Hope your meeting’s interesting. I get fidgety when I’m bored—”
“Hongjoong,” said Jongho, swiveling his chair to face his assistant, “on second thought, I’ll take my own notes this time. Would you please take him for something to eat? And yourself, too. I’ll reimburse you—”
“Are you kidding me?” shrieked Wooyoung.
He shuffled forward and plopped himself into the chair next to Jongho, staring at him pitifully.
“You’re offloading feeding your friend and spending quality time with him onto your assistant?”
Jongho opened his mouth, but Wooyoung wasn’t finished. He clutched the blanket under his chin with one hand, and with the other, he pointed an accusatory finger at Jongho’s face.
“And as my friend, you won’t give me three dollars, but you’ll pay for our food to get rid of me? Choi Jongho, you’re drunk on power. I barely recognize you. Also, you and I both know Hongjoong would never survive at a corporate job!”
With that, he stood abruptly.
“What are you doing?” asked Jongho warily.
“I’m leaving.”
Jongho’s eyebrows shot up, and he felt a flicker of hope.
Wooyoung grinned shrewdly at him. “I’m telling Real Hongjoong you force him to take meeting notes at this weird, rich-boy dream job. And that you’re a stingy, capitalist monster deep down.”
Jongho’s brows drew together in confusion. Something about the way Wooyoung was talking was not right. He kept making less and less sense.
Wooyoung proceeded to unwrap himself from the purple blanket. He wore checkered pajamas, and static made his hair stand up. He neatly grabbed two corners of the blanket and shook it out.
To Jongho’s surprise, the fabric appeared to lengthen. The more Wooyoung moved the blanket, the bigger it got. He spread it out in the air as if laying out a picnic blanket. The teddy bear pattern grew to the size of the conference room. It floated over their heads while Wooyoung still held onto it.
Suddenly, Jongho heard a noise like a wind tunnel. It rushed through the room and whipped the blanket around until it got caught on chairs and whipped into Jongho and Hongjoong.
With one final flick of Wooyoung’s wrists, the blanket shot out to the walls and windows.
Jongho blinked, and suddenly, there was no blanket. There was no Wooyoung, either. The rushing wind had gone too, and he and Hongjoong were alone.
He gaped at his surroundings. Every surface, including the carpet, the wallpaper, the once-transparent windows, the ceiling, and the upholstery on the chairs—every inch had changed to purple and teddy bears.
Jongho woke up, and the dream was forgotten. It faded into his subconscious as if it never happened.
Until a single notification chimed on his phone in the middle of the day.
Venmo
Jung Wooyoung requests $3 for “🍪”
