Chapter Text
“Any good news?” Lee Jihoon, 31, asked as soon as Choi Seungcheol, 32, entered the room. Both pairs of shoes were wet.
“I wish! Two unemployable young men.” Seungcheol organized the files on his table, in front of Jihoon’s.
“I didn’t mean that,” Jihoon said, lifting the file boxes off the floor and putting them on the table. “Did maintenance say anything?”
“Ah, I don’t know.” The oldest man scratched his head with a small smile. “I asked Hansol to check it out.”
Jihoon took a deep breath. “We save what is possible, then.” Seungcheol nodded.
A pipe busted in the Human Resources department and now the four members (and the intern) were struggling to save the physical files. Jihoon and Jeon Wonwoo, 31, were soaked after trying to contain the leak — to no avail. Seungcheol had his shoes and parts of his pants wet. He’d been fortunate enough to conduct two job interviews at the right time. Yoon Jeonghan had placed two boxes of files on the table and attended an emergency at the Accounting office.
“Okay, the building isn’t huge, but the least they had to do is make sure a pipe doesn’t burst on the fourth floor,” Wonwoo sighed and adjusted his glasses as he dragged a box over to the table.
“Water got to the Accounting room,” Jeonghan, 32, announced while entering the room. “Junhui is furious.”
A white screen divided the Accounting office and the Human Resources department, so that didn’t surprise the other men. Both departments shared the floor with the warehouse. The Accounting room was more spacious and better decorated, which at first caused a feud between the two departments, but at one point, it no longer made sense since the company’s general management neglected both of them. Although Accounting was more favoured since they were handling the company’s revenue.
On the other side, the Human Resources department room had two small windows, two old yellowish air-conditioners, and five small tables with built-in drawers. They furnished the rest of the room with a small side table, a water filter, three enormous bookcases packed with folders and file boxes. At that moment, the department members’ priority was saving what was on the lower shelves and the plastic boxes around their tables.
Jeonghan hurried to go towards the other men to help with lifting the boxes and folders that were sliding across the wet floor.
A few minutes later, Hansol came rushing in and stopped by the door, gasping, “Mrs. Huang from maintenance is coming up here, but she’s said we’re going to leave the room for a while.”
“So they can fix the pipe and dry everything, it’s obvious,” Seungcheol remarked, nodding to himself.
“No. She said everyone on this floor needs to move to another area because the floor will have to go through an inspection.” All of them stopped the box lifting and stared at Chwe Hansol, the 22-year-old intern.
“What?” The entire HR heard the voice of Wen Junhui, who soon appeared at the door behind the youngest. The accountant was close to most of the department members, especially Jeonghan. “Where are we going, then?”
“I have no idea. We have to wait for her to come up and explain everything.”
“Can this day get any worse?” Jihoon clicked his tongue.
In the next second, there was a loud crack from the bookcase closest to the pipe. It was old, wooden, and a little fragile, too. It wasn’t a surprise when its legs gave out and it went straight to the floor, dropping all the boxes on the upper shelves right into the water.
“Does this answer your question?” Junhui challenged and Jihoon sighed deeply out of frustration, not averting his eyes from the crashed bookcase on the wet floor.
You see, Lee Jihoon was a serious and organized man who fancied knowing exactly where things were at home or work. So, as soon as he started working at The Morning Trumpet, he set up a system that comprised stacking his boxes with employees’ files on the bookcase closest to his desk, which went straight to the floor taking away his entire system, his files and, maybe by the end of the day, his sanity too.
“Hm, Jihoon, weren’t those your files?” Hansol asked and Seungcheol’s eyes widened, moving his hands as if silently asking the intern to shut up.
Jihoon breathed in so deeply that his shoulders trembled, his face quivering from the pressure he was putting on his jaw. He took another deep breath and nodded. “Yes. All my files.”
It’s not as if the department didn’t have a copy of most of those files, since many had been scanned before. However, among those papers, there was specific information about each of the newspaper’s employees, things that could not and/or should not be scanned. Information that now Jihoon would have to collect again.
Jihoon threw his body on the chair, damp with the water the bookcase spread in the fall — he was already soaked; it made no difference. Wonwoo deposited the box he was holding on the table and sat down too, being followed by all the other members inside the room.
“Have you guys lost anything, Jun?” Jeonghan questioned, putting his feet on the table.
“The water is not so strong on our side.” Junhui shrugged. “Chan and the others already saved what’s important. Not that it’s gonna make a big difference — the floor will soon be flooded.”
“Did anyone go check on the warehouse?” Seungcheol asked as he loosened his blue tie. All of them seemed to have given up fighting the broken pipe.
“It’ll take time till the water gets there,” Hansol said and dropped himself on the chair closest to the door.
Suddenly, the water leak halted. They were silent for a few seconds, contemplating the disaster, until Huang Meiqi appeared at the door behind Junhui, who was still propped up there. Meiqi was an engineer and was always on the company’s premises to solve problems like that.
“I closed the register. You should start gathering what you’re going to need and leave the room quickly. That goes for accounting as well.”
She spoke and threw a glance at Wen Junhui, who walked back to his office after letting out a sigh. “Someone from management will come here shortly to usher you to another room.”
Meiqi was talking as the HR men started selecting files, rearranging them in boxes, folding laptops, and stuffing them into bags and backpacks. Thankfully, a few months earlier, they had replaced desktop computers with laptops. Otherwise, everything would’ve been soaked, and nothing would’ve been saved. The boys put on their bags and backpacks and each held a box. They were ready after just 10 minutes. Huang Meiqi announced they should wait in the hall and soon Junhui, Chan, and the other four members of accounting were crowding the narrow space.
The office administrator, Park Sooyoung, arrived and announced everyone should go up to the sixth floor. The HR members shared a look as if they were smelling trouble. Everyone knew that the newspaper’s editorial staff occupied the fifth, sixth and seventh floors. And Jeonghan was the only one who had a minimally good relationship with the people above.
The other employees rarely liked Seungcheol and Jihoon very much; the first for being the guy responsible for the layoffs and the latter for being the bore, always inquiring documents and proofs to fulfill insured benefits. Jihoon was often the one who dealt with questions of personal nature among employees, which didn’t exactly help his popularity. Wonwoo had a less abrasive presence, so he was the least hated, but still hated for dealing with risk management.
Sooyoung and the five HR members entered the elevator, each holding a box and wearing an annoyed demeanor. They went up to the sixth floor and waited in front of the elevator until the other elevator came up with the Accounting group. The six accountants and the five managers lined up in front of the elevator.
Sooyoung cleared her throat.
“For today and perhaps tomorrow, HR members will take the desks of some columnists who are on vacation. I’m sure that by Wednesday, everything will be back to normal.” She turned her body over to the accountants. “You can use conference room number two for now.”
Of course, they gave Accounting a proper room , Jihoon thought in a mix of frustration and vexation.
Sooyoung showed where Junhui and the others should go and then signaled for the other five to follow. Jihoon looked around and saw at least two dozen tables with dividers occupying that part of the floor. The journalists there were too busy with their laptop screens and faux leather chairs to notice the fourth-floor intruders. Sooyoung stopped at the estimated center, where no tables or people were standing.
“Someone here,” she said, pointing to an empty chair next to the water dispenser. Hansol ran and sat down as quickly as possible, and stuck his tongue out at Wonwoo and Jeonghan. The intern was mostly an airhead, but he knew how to be smart when he wanted to. It’d be difficult for them to get a place better than Chwe’s.
“Someone there.” Sooyoung signaled the table next to Wonwoo, so he just dropped his body onto the chair. Wonwoo had a resigned expression on. “Two with the photo editor,” she said, signaling to the long table just behind Wonwoo’s. Seungcheol and Jeonghan were closer, so they went together. She turned to face Jihoon. “And you over there.” It was the table against the wall, just below the fancy air conditioner.
Jihoon sat in the suggested place, looked back and smiled at the thought of the HR members sitting in a “U” formation — he could see everyone if he twisted his body a little. Hansol was sharing the table with a guy who looked almost as young as he was; they seemed to talk as if they were already familiar with one another. Turning his attention to Wonwoo, he saw the man’s face of dread; his table mate was a blonde man wearing a flashy tiger-printed shirt — Jihoon chuckled at the sight. Seungcheol and Jeonghan appeared to be walking on eggshells, sitting with an editor. The man had a friendly smile on his face, though.
So Jihoon got his act together and looked at his table mate. The man looked annoyingly tall; his shoulders were hunched though — is he trying to look smaller? He also wore glasses and was bluntly looking back at him, so Jihoon just gazed back with the same intensity until the man said something. Was he allowed a footnote, Jihoon would also add that the boy was fucking hot, at least from the shoulders up — which was all that he could see.
Look at him, calling a stranger hot! Not even in his wildest dreams Jihoon’s friends could hear him say something like that, or he’d die a slow death.
“I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m Kim Mingyu,” he greeted in a husky, uncertain voice. Jihoon pouted, trying to contain a nervous laugh.
“I’m from Human Resources. Lee Jihoon.” Even with his body still slightly twisted, Jihoon stuck out a hand to Mingyu, who readily accepted it.
“I know who you are,” Mingyu murmured, but Jihoon let it go. They probably met on Mingyu’s hiring day. It was easy for people from other departments to memorize names or faces of the HR team, but this didn’t go both ways. “What’s HR doing up here? Is this part of personnel training?”
Jihoon made a sour face at the situation. “No, our floor was flooded,” he explained, getting up from his chair. He placed his backpack — adorned with a Baby Groot pin — on the desk and left the box on the floor beside him, positioned the laptop in the center of the table and turned on his side to look at the files in the box, still feeling Mingyu’s curious eyes on him, burning holes. Jihoon went on for a few more minutes, separating folders and making notes about what he’d need to replace — Mingyu’s eyes faltering, alternating between typing and watching Jihoon.
“Is there a problem?” Jihoon asked when he couldn’t stand the situation anymore. Mingyu’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. Good God, he looks like a frightened puppy.
“Hm,” Mingyu hummed, “your clothes are wet, won’t you get sick?” Jihoon then remembered he was drenched. He looked down to see his blue dress shirt glued to his chest and more so his arms. Mingyu was still staring.
“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged. “There’s not much I can do either,” he muttered, more to himself, but Mingyu opened and closed his mouth before rummaging through his bag; he was leaning so Jihoon could only see his shoulders with his vision blocked by the laptop screen. The editor resurfaced with a neatly folded lilac sweater and deposited it on half of Jihoon’s desk.
“You can use it. Not to get sick.” Mingyu’s look was determined, yet something about him still seemed to be shrouded in hesitation. Jihoon glanced at the sweater, pondering whether to accept it. He ended up deciding not to take it, as he concluded the damage was already done.
“Ah... Mingyu, I appreciate it, but I’m fine,” Jihoon said, giving the passive-aggressive smile Hansol claimed to hate.
It bothered him. Jihoon was the type who worked best in silence and didn’t appreciate others interrupting his chain of thought, but he couldn’t just ignore Mingyu’s curious looks or his unrequested kindness.
“Okay,” Mingyu spoke with a smile, and Jihoon tried to slide the sweater across the table, but Mingyu’s hand stopped him. “Leave it there.”
Jihoon pouted but didn’t argue, as the piece didn’t hinder the organization of his desk. He continued to set up the files he’d lost and what he’d saved until his lunch hour. Usually, the HR team had lunch divided into two groups, Jihoon being in the second one together with Wonwoo. Mingyu had already gone to lunch when he got up from the chair, his back sticking to the backrest. Jihoon winced and considered the sweater once again. He shook his head and went to Wonwoo’s table, noticing how his tablemate was also gone.
Noticing Jihoon’s look, Wonwoo hurried to explain, “He went to lunch about ten minutes ago.” Wonwoo got up from his chair as if it were a task that demands extreme physical effort. “I’ll die if I have to spend another four hours with this lunatic, Jihoon. I promise.”
“It can’t be that bad.” Jihoon chuckled.
“Ah, but he is!” Wonwoo retorted passionately, as they made their way to the company’s cafeteria on the third floor. “He’s noisy, annoying, chatty and is wearing that hideous tiger-printed shirt,” Wonwoo listed.
“The worst thing is he’s constantly starting a conversation.”
“What’s his name?” Jihoon asked when they stepped into the cafeteria.
“Kwon Soonyoung,” Wonwoo said through his teeth. “He said he’s a writer for the culture section.”
“He sounds interesting.” Jihoon held back a laugh.
“And your tablemate, how is he?” Wonwoo and Jihoon stopped in front of the vending machine. Sometimes they ate at a self-service restaurant next to the newspaper building, but this time they were too exhausted to walk there.
“He’s kind, but he clearly wants to start a conversation.” Wonwoo nodded in understanding. “He’s tall,” Jihoon added nonchalantly when a packet of cookies and a can of Coke fell into the dispenser.
Wonwoo barked a laugh. “How so?”
“Taller than you,” Jihoon replied good-naturedly. Wonwoo was very tall himself, so he shrugged as he stuck the money in the machine and gestured a ‘Wow’.
“More handsome than me, too?” Wonwoo asked, nudging his friend with his elbow. Jihoon frowned, but he couldn’t help a smile when Wonwoo grimaced. Jihoon denied theatrically. “Good. But I’m jealous. So let’s take this chance and switch tables once lunch is over.”
Wonwoo proposed, his eyes hopeful.
“No fucking way.” Jihoon started drinking from his can. “The guy even offered me his sweater.”
“Really? Did you take it?”
“I didn’t, as you can see.” He opened his arms and turned to Jeon, showing off his wet shirt. “I wasn’t just going to wear a stranger’s sweater.”
“You’re still damp. Man, your shirt is see-through,” Wonwoo countered impassively. “I’m pretty sure someone from HR should warn you about the office’s dress code,” Wonwoo snickered, earning him a glare from Jihoon.
“I’m not gonna wear other people’s clothes. It’ll dry soon.” He shrugged and stuck a handful of snacks in his mouth. “You’re also wet and will not die from this.”
“Except if I had a choice, I wouldn’t stay wet,” Wonwoo said as if he were stating the obvious. Jihoon begged to disagree. “Stop being stubborn, you bastard!”
They made small talk while eating until lunchtime ended, then they went to the bathroom to brush their teeth and were pleasantly surprised to see that they had reopened the register. That was a good thing. It meant that the pipe was already fixed and soon the problem on their floor would be over.
Jihoon was a lot happier when he went back to his shared table. When he sat down, Mingyu hadn’t arrived yet, but the sweater was there and the air conditioner was on now, throwing icy air directly at him, making constant shivers run up and down his back. He looked over his shoulder and saw Wonwoo still alone; he looked back and gestured eagerly to Jihoon to put on the goddamn sweater. Jihoon huffed and stood up, grabbing the sweater with his left hand, and heading to the bathroom.
What the hell. What the fuck did they turn on the air for? It’s already cold! He thought about a few more curse words as he went into the bathroom and exchanged his wet dress shirt for Mingyu’s wool sweater. His torso and arms were still clammy, but it was much better, warmer.
He returned to the table again, and this time Mingyu was there. Jihoon sat down, a little embarrassed that he’d denied the offer and accepted it the minute the other wasn’t there to witness. It made it look like he denied it out of embarrassment, a vastly different idea than denying it because he didn’t think it was necessary. Mingyu didn’t seem to care for the details. His mouth just went agape when Jihoon stopped in front of him, turning fast into a tiny smile.
Jihoon felt like this was a game and Mingyu had won.
This isn’t how Mingyu grasped the situation, though he’d gladly accept his victory.
The next four hours were quiet, with not a lot of conversation happening between Mingyu and Jihoon, as the latter was bogged down with work, making lists of what he would need. For the next day, Jihoon would need to email all newsroom employees with a form to fill in with their personal information.
Jihoon’d been able to save a scant amount of the journalists’ files, so it’d be easier to just gather up everything from scratch. Not to mention all the other lost documents, he’d have to beg the employees to hand him again.
Office hours ended seamlessly and a lot faster than expected. Jihoon closed the laptop, stuck it in the built-in drawer, locked it, and kicked the file box under the table. Yeah, we put the laptop away and leave the files exposed. This is a big joke, Jihoon thought to himself as he pushed his chair against the table. He stared at Mingyu, who was still typing, even though he was standing in front of the laptop and had his satchel bag across his torso. Jihoon waited for him to finish, turn off the device, and put it away.
“I’ll give your sweater back tomorrow,” he informed, not waiting for Mingyu to look back. “Thank you.” Mingyu gazed at him, an unreadable expression until his cheekbones rose slightly.
“No problem,” he replied, his head tilted to the side. Jihoon got angry that he found the sight captivating. Mingyu passed by Jihoon and went straight to Wonwoo’s table; the latter’s flashy table mate got up laughing, and the two journalists left together.
Jihoon stood in the middle of the “U” between Hansol and Wonwoo - both still busy organizing their things - until Seungcheol and Jeonghan appeared. “You put the sweater on, huh?” Wonwoo teased by turning around the chair and pulling on the sleeve that covered Jihoon’s entire hand when his arms were down.
“Oh, so cute our Jihoonie,” Jeonghan said, making a vein bulge on Jihoon’s forehead. “Where did you get this?”
Jihoon was going to ignore the question, but Wonwoo had a different plan. “His new tablemate lent it to him,” he gossiped, rising from the chair with his bag on his shoulder.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re not stuck with some nutcase.” Seungcheol sighed. “The chief photo editor, Hong Jisoo, kept defending Facebook and telling us about how Instagram steals data. He also told us about how nobody uses Facebook anymore, and the likes on his photos are decreasing. He made us log in just to like his page.” Jeonghan looked mortified while Seungcheol told the story.
“My table mate is crazy,” Wonwoo shared, with hands in pockets. “I can’t describe him any other way. He kept disturbing me until I gave him my Instagram handle.”
“And did you?” the four asked in unison.
“Yes, but it’s private,” Wonwoo said with an evil smile. “He may rot in the request purgatory.”
“I’ve never seen Wonwoo dislike a person so passionately and so quickly,” Hansol whispered to Jeonghan. The two were leading the way.
The five men were leaving the elevator when Wonwoo heard them, adjusted his glasses, and cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “What about you, Hansol?”
“Seungkwan and I were neighbors. Everything’s smooth.” He shrugged. “I mean, he kept complaining about deadlines and remembering things from my childhood that I’d rather forget. Other than that, everything’s smooth.”
Jeonghan unlocked the car, and everyone got in. Before putting the key in the ignition, he said, “Guess we all got what we deserved. Maybe this means something.”