Chapter Text
June 2026
“I got a phone call I think was misdirected.” Yeosang’s hand hovered over the transfer button, waiting for an acknowledgment.
Was that a reply? Mumbling? Muttering? Was there a difference?
He snapped back to focus at the creak of a chair as San leaned back just enough to be visible past the cubicle partition.
“Who?”
“Manager Baek. Well, his secretary. Says his computer’s freezing up, and he wants—”
“He doesn’t want me.”
Yeosang blinked. Had he ever heard or seen San so…drained of life? They’d worked together two years—it could’ve happened, he could’ve forgotten—but when the topic was Baek Jungmin?
He forced a smile over the crawling sense of unease, and nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks.” San paused. “I’m…I’m going to get some water. Be back in a few.”
And he didn’t walk like that. Not normally. Had they fought? But San didn’t fight. That, he knew for certain. He chewed on his lower lip as he watched his friend turn the corner.
Hesitantly, he picked the call back up, and listened as the secretary briskly repeated her request.
“Has Manager Baek tried rebooting his computer?”
Ow! He held the receiver away from his ear. Why did people get mad at such a simple request?
Yeosang ran a hand through his hair—he really needed a cut—and cautiously drew the phone back toward him. “Let me remote in, and see what the problem seems to be.”
***
Of all the departments at his company, Yeosang considered IT the absolute best place to work. Not because they paid more than accounting or marketing or sales. (His salary just provided enough to share a small two-bedroom apartment). Not because they had more comfortable chairs or desks. (Only executives got those perks.) Not because his co-workers were the nicest and most accommodating. (Though they weren’t the worst.)
No. His department was the best because their manager adored his wife and children and resented time spent away from them. Most of his friends counted themselves lucky if they clocked out before 8:00 p.m.—can’t ever leave before the boss!—but him? Half the year, he could watch the sun set!
And that same family devotion meant the (still silently mandatory) every-other-week hoesik their department held never lasted more than three hours. Bi-monthly dinners on a company card? Fine with him. Free food, free drinks, and their manager never nagged anyone into drunken toasting sessions, with all the complications that came with them. If people wanted to switch to soda, no sneers of disapproval from anyone in IT.
Other departments?
Traditional corporate hell.
In Yeosang’s nightly prayers to whatever guided the Earth through the space dust of the cosmos, he always added a request for his manager never to quit.
Nights like tonight, he was especially pleased. Barbeque, and a lot of it, because his boss’s baby daughter had said “appa” for the first time that morning. How the expenses would be accounted for, Yeosang didn’t know, and didn’t care. It was delicious.
He blamed his single-minded focus on eating for how long it took him to notice San drinking soju. From his own bottle.
He never did that. Every other week, he’d take a couple shots with everyone else, then switch to water. His tolerance was too low to continue.
But there San sat, one table away, over half his bottle gone. What the hell?
“Analyst Kang?”
He turned his attention back to his tablemates. “Yes?”
“How’s the crush going?”
He groaned. Which only made their sly smiles grow. If he didn’t know better, he’d think his co-workers were deliberately screwing with Sales Rep. Gong’s computer just to send him to “fix” it. As she stared at him in silence.
“Exhausting,” he replied shortly, before stuffing a ssambap in his mouth.
They took one look at his puffed-out cheeks—he’d perhaps been a bit liberal with the beef and kimchi—and laughed, then turned back toward each other.
He’d take looking ridiculous over nosey, teasing questions any day.
Yeosang looked back at San. Was he wobbling in his chair? Shit. He chewed as quickly as he could, swallowed, and glanced wistfully at the remaining slices on the grill.
Friendship came first.
He scanned the nearby tables. Had anyone else noticed San’s odd behavior? Or how drunk he was?
Ah…their manager. Made sense. He’d want to be home soon, not figuring out how the hell to deal with a possibly-soon-to-fall-over employee. Yeosang caught his eye and nodded. His manager smiled back.
And that was that. He said goodnight to his slightly puzzled tablemates, then stepped over to San.
Could he get him out of here discreetly?
Probably not.
Quietly?
Maybe.
He crouched down. “San-ah,” he whispered, careful not to let anyone overhear him. “Let’s get going, okay?”
San turned to him, face flushed bright red, breath reeking—there was no way this was a second bottle, was there? No. No, he’d have passed out. Wouldn’t he?
“Why?”
This close, he could see three-fourths of the bottle had been consumed. Yeosang winced.
Because you’re drunk and our boss wants you gone, and you don’t want people to remember you as the IT puker, do you?
Couldn’t say that.
“Because…because I need to get home and if I try to leave early, alone, they’ll stop me. Ask more questions about…about Sales Rep. Gong.”
Was that the best he could do in a semi-crisis? Truly?
“Oh. That—it’s not nice, to be talked about. Poor Sales Rep. Gong.”
Huh?
“No, it’s not nice. I don’t want her talked about, either. But if you leave with me, no one will. Talk about her, I mean.”
San pressed his lips together, then slowly pushed himself upright. “Okay.”
Yeosang stood, keeping close, hands not-quite hovering, but ready to catch if need be. Moving at a measured pace, the two of them left the restaurant, the warmth of a sunny June day still felt in the evening air.
“I don’t…I don’t remember where you live.”
As drunk as he was, had San meant to see Yeosang home? Because he’d said he needed to be there?
Stupid question. Of course he’d meant to. San was still San, sober or not.
Okay…okay. No need to confuse the issue. He’d lead the way and then—then what? Send San home alone? Like this? No. Which meant he really should text Yunho to let him know their couch would be occupied for the night.
He sighed, and linked their arms together.
“Thankfully, I remember the way home.”
San started to tilt forward, then jerked himself upright. “That’s good.”
Yeosang nudged San to the left, and used his free hand to grab his phone from a pocket.
KangYS:
Hoesik. San got drunk.
Bringing him back to ours.
Couch.
He squinted at the intersection. Hm…two blocks to the subway. Doable.
***
He had not counted on Yunho being in his room already. With company.
“Lean against the wall,” he ordered San.
He leant.
With a muttered curse at the red and blue ribbon tied around his apartment-mate’s door, he knelt and untied San’s shoes.
“One, and…two. Okay. Next one…and two. There.” He set the shiny black pair next to his own, stood, then held out his hand. “Come on.”
“No more wall?”
Sweet hells, how far gone was he?
“No. And the couch….” The slightly too big couch they’d squeezed into the living room shared a wall with Yunho’s bedroom. On the exact opposite side of that wall was his bed. Yunho could’ve had a nice mattress on the floor, but no, he’d wanted a whole bedframe. Which smacked the wall when people weren’t just sleeping.
“Couch…for me?” San blinked at him, starting to sway back and forth.
Yeosang bit his lip. He’d rather not inflict the couch on anyone, but the only other option was….
“No.”
San halted mid-step, his brows drawing together in a puzzled frown.
“The floor?”
“Of course not.” It shouldn’t feel this awkward. They’d been hired at the same time, become fast friends within months, and only grown closer since. They hung out on weekends. Had meals together. They’d gone bowling, just them, other times with a few friends. Texted each other on a regular basis.
And for the last three months, he’d been San’s sole confidant when it came to Manager Baek, two floors up, four years older, and romantic in all the best possible ways.
According to San.
Yet earlier today, when he heard the man’s name….
And then the drinking tonight….
Dammit. There was a connection, wasn’t there? At twenty-seven, he should be better at these kinds of things, but every year older decreased his interest in looking too deeply into others’ lives.
People deserved their privacy. Including him. Especially him, when it came to…certain friends.
But friends, good friends, didn’t ignore problems.
“Yeosang?” San looked and sounded utterly baffled.
“My room.”
“Your room?”
“Sleep in my room tonight. Sleep it off. And tomorrow—” How would they handle tomorrow? A workday. Nothing he had would fit San. His shoulders would rip through the seams of Yeosang’s shirts, and he knewSan had to get his pants tailored to fit his ridiculously small waist. Even if he gave him a belt, it wouldn’t look right. “I’ll set an early alarm, the steam from both our showers can un-wrinkle your shirt. I can give you a tie, and socks. No one will notice.”
“Pants.” San tugged at the fabric. “Have creases and things.”
Yeosang pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “I have an iron. You can use that.”
“Okay.” San gave him a firm nod, then pivoted—and his arms shot out, flailing the air, as he started to topple sideways.
Shit.
Yeosang lunged forward and caught him. “Oof.” All that muscle made him heavy. “You okay?”
“I’m not.”
He’d never heard San sound that sad.
“You will be.” He had to be. “I promise.” He’d do whatever it took. “Let’s go to my room, all right?”
“’Kay.”
Yeosang pulled San behind him, ignoring the muffled thudding against the wall.
“What is—”
“Thunder.” Would he buy that?
“Really? It’s raining?”
“Um.” He shooed San down the hall. Please let Yunho’s partner not be a screamer.
***
July 2026
San’s birthday came and went, in a crowded karaoke room. Yeosang did his best to ignore the number of ballads, though by the sixth, he was shooting San’s friend Jongho warning glares. Small ones, but still. Lovelorn songs wouldn’t erase the memory of Manager Baek and his two-timing, deceitful, greedy ambition. To be meeting with a rich future bride, his parents’ friends’ daughter, while still coaxing San to his place? Disgusting.
By the end of July, San seemed mostly recovered. Mostly.
Yeosang tapped his lip, idly wondering if he had the skills to hack Baek’s computer and corrupt every file. Without being noticed, arrested, and sent to jail. He doubted it.
It was just so frustrating, to hear the lilt in San’s voice fall flat when they got a repair ticket from that floor. He need a push, an incentive to finally consign Bastard Baek to the dustbins of his memory.
“Are you going to eat those noodles, or just spin them around in the bowl?”
Was he? Yeosang looked down at the mini-tornado he’d absent-mindedly created.
“You’re one to talk.” He shoveled a spoonful in his mouth and chewed meditatively as he regarded San—whose own chicken stir-fry was growing colder by the untouched minute. “Not much left of lunch break and yet….”
San smiled sheepishly and picked up his chopsticks. “Just a decision I have to make. Harder than I thought it’dbe.”
A decision? Yeosang raised an inquiring eyebrow.
“Um, my trainer? Changbin?”
“The man you dedicatedly meet every morning, and have for well over a year, yeah.” Had Changbin asked San out? It was possible. They spent enough time together.
San ate two bites in silence, then twisted his mouth to the side.
“He was going on and on about his new boyfriend and…and he suddenly asked me if I wanted him to set me up.”
Yeosang swallowed another mouthful of mushy noodles.
“Anyone in particular?” Keep your tone light, he reminded himself.
“A friend from college. Name’s Song Mingi. 99-liner, like us. That’s a positive, right?”
Encourage, boost up morale, keep your friend moving forward.
“Anything else about him?” The soup didn’t taste as good, cold. He spun his spoon side to side.
San held up a hand, his eyes on the clock, cheeks stuffed full of food.
Yeosang’s mouth twitched.
A gulp of water, and then, “Changbin says he can seem rough and tough, but he’s more soft-hearted than people assume.”
Like San. He hadn’t ever felt intimidated by him, but there were employees who still gave his friend slightly nervous glances when he was intently focused.
Yeosang smiled. “That’s promising.”
“And Changbin said he’s funny, and smart. A little outrageous, but fun.”
Opposite of Bastard Baek. Which only led to one logical piece of advice.
“Go for it.”
San frowned slightly. “You think I should?”
“Absolutely.” Firm cheerfulness, a tone he’d nailed within six months of meeting San. “Worst case, no spark. But not like he’s someone you’d see the next day. No need to feel awkward if you don’t click. And if you do,” Yeosang quickly inhaled a steadying breath, “it’d be wonderful. Been a while since you enjoyed yourself.”
San slapped his chopsticks on the table. “Not true!” he protested. “I always like spending time with you—and my other friends!”
Up to a point.
“Not the same thing, San-ah.”
His frown deepened. “You make it sound like I have to be dating someone to be happy. That’s not the case. Not at all.”
But he was happier when he had someone he longed to see. And that only happened with the people San had a romantic interest in. Not with friends. As Yeosang had learned to accept with only a twinge of pain.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
He ignored the frown’s morph into a slight pout and stood up, tray in hand. Lunch break was nearly over, and no matter how comparatively relaxed their department, late arrivals were not okay. Which was natural, and no cause for complaint—he just sometimes wished he had a little more time, alone with San. If he were going to start dating again, lunch would become the only guaranteed time they spent together.
They strolled out of the cafeteria in companionable silence, but on seeing the crowds waiting for the elevators, San turned to him with a mischievous grin.
He groaned.
“C’mon, Yeosang-ah. It’ll help us digest our food.”
San veered toward the stairwell.
He sighed, and followed. Only five floors….
On the 3rd floor landing, he put out a hand. San gave him a quizzical look.
“Tell Changbin yes.”
San hesitated, eyes darting away, then back.
He did want to go, didn’t he? Why would he have brought it up, and sung the prospective date’s praises, if he wasn’t interested?
“You think so?”
He turned back to the steps and resumed their upwards climb. “Why would I lie?”
Though he would. He had been, in a sense, for a long time. Always upbeat, always encouraging, even if being so clashed with the tiniest of hopes that just would not die. Not that he wanted San less than happy. He just wished it could have been him.
He’d fallen, hard, within weeks of first meeting San. He hadn’t dared try anything. Office confessions, let alone relationships, were a giant gamble for anyone. When you worked literally side by side? And San could resolutely prefer women, and women only, for all he knew. Best to stay quiet.
But then.
He could still remember the moment he’d realized he didn’t have an entirely hopeless crush on a straight man. Their CEO’s son, Park Junhee, had stopped by the IT department to drop off his laptop. After a quiet discussion with their team leader, and a grin to everyone staring (or trying not to), he’d vanished.
Whispered conversations had sprung up around them, and Yeosang had smiled wryly at San.
“Devastating, isn’t he?”
San had shaken his head slowly. “Understatement.” Then his gaze had snapped to Yeosang. “Have you met him before today?”
“Briefly, during a tech call for his PA.”
“I don’t think I could survive close quarters like that,” San had muttered, then abruptly shut his mouth, his widened eyes meeting Yeosang’s in a mild panic. “Beautiful people, right? Have an effect on everyone. You must have noticed it yourself, since you’re—um.” San had clamped his lips shut.
Such tiny hints, but enough.
Yeosang had cleared his throat. “Can’t decide if I envy or pity his wife. Never met her. But imagine seeing that face every morning. Demoralizing or blissful. Really not sure.”
San’s eyes had crinkled, and a gorgeous, deep-dimpled grin of his own had served as acknowledgment and agreement.
No mutuality in his crush, but it’d become slightly less mortifying.
Yeosang pushed open the door to their floor with a huff. “I am waiting for the elevator next time, Choi San. You can take the digestive hike.”
San chuckled and strode next to him to their adjoining cubicles.
Finding out your crush also liked men had been a relief, and yet not. It hadn’t lessened the risks. And finding someone attractive didn’t equal wanting to date them.
A week’s internal debate hadn’t resolved the issue, but he’d thought he could take a small chance. San had nearly called him beautiful, too. Thus, a light, very light flirtation. Light enough it could be brushed off as banter if it failed.
Which it had. He didn’t think San had even noticed.
And that had been fine. It was just a crush, and San’s easy manner hadn’t changed at all.
Nor at any point since then.
Yeosang settled into his chair and logged in.
CHOI:
You really think I should?
KANG:
Did you forget to log out before lunch?
CHOI:
Um….
KANG:
sigh
CHOI:
I had a lot on my mind!
KANG:
Sure.
CHOI:
I did.
KANG:
I know.
Sure, as in sure, yes,
I think you should.
CHOI:
Go on the blind date?
KANG:
Log out before lunch.
Yes, of course, I meant the date!
He’d gone with San to his gym a couple times. Changbin had seemed nice. Almost undoubtedly anyone he recommended for San would be a good guy. They were friends, as well as trainer and trainee.
It’d be fine. Perfectly fine. Nothing he couldn’t handle.
***
August 2026
CHOI:
His birthday is the 9th, Yeosang.
Two days from now.
What do I do????
San and half-measures? Didn’t co-exist.
Song Mingi’s praises had been sung at every lunch, and on and off via text, every day since their first date. And now in their encrypted work chat.
Where was the fun in working in IT if you couldn’t break the rules a little bit?
Though the last few days, he wished they hadn’t. San hadn’t dared mention Baek at work, but Song Mingi….
Yeosang sighed.
KANG:
Send him a text.
CHOI:
That hardly seems enough.
KANG:
You’ve been on two dates.
More than that seems a touch….
CHOI:
A touch what?
KANG:
Excessive.
He heard the creak of an office chair and reluctantly turned to his right.
“Excessive?” San demanded in a whisper. “Sending him flowers, a cake, and multiple gifts would be excessive.”
He pursed his lips, and tilted his head back toward his computer screen.
With a small huff, San leaned back toward his desk, and out of sight.
KANG:
Text him at midnight.
On the dot.
Since he doesn’t go to sleep early,
he’ll probably smile and be grateful
you were thinking about him.
Since you usually do.
CHOI:
Think about him?
Uh, yeah.
Patience, Yeosang reminded himself. Patience, encouragement, support.
KANG:
Yes, but I meant that you usually
go to sleep earlier
than he does.
From what you’ve said.
Which had been rather a lot, over the last week and a half.
CHOI:
Oh! That’s true!
Thank you!
KANG:
You’re welcome.
CHOI:
Um. Yeosang-ah?
KANG:
Yes?
CHOI:
One more thing….
KANG:
Yeah?
CHOI:
It’s a little bit….
KANG:
???
CHOI:
That is to say….
He now had three pending tech support tickets he needed to take care of.
KANG:
San-ah.
Just say it.
CHOI:
Would you go on a double date with me?
Yeosang stared at the screen. Did he really just ask him to…?
KANG:
A what?
CHOI:
Um, a double date.
Me and Mingi.
And you and a friend of his.
Was San pitying him? Why was he trying to set him up? And wasn’t this awfully fast, for double dates? Or had Mingi asked San if he knew anyone single for his friend?
KANG:
Why?
CHOI:
I want you to meet Mingi.
I like him.
I think he’s a good guy.
I don’t think anything bad or weird
will happen with him.
But I thought that about
you know who, and
if you met Mingi, you’d…well.
You’d tell me, if I’m being blinded by hope.
I trust you.
Yeosang let out a quiet, shaky breath. San wanted—not his approval, that would be absurd—his opinion? He supposed that was normal, though friends typically only met the new person after the couple was kind of…established.
But this wasn’t a typical scenario. And he’d been present during the entirely of the Baek fiasco.
KANG:
I’m happy to meet Mingi.
But why a double date?
He’d really rather not, all things considered. The awkwardness potential was so high.
CHOI:
It’ll look less obvious.
KANG:
Unless he’s an idiot,
I think he’ll figure out why I’m meeting him
this early on.
CHOI:
He’s smart enough, yeah.
But him “knowing” is different from him knowing.
I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.
Like I distrust him or anything.
A double date, you can get his measure.
And another person for you to talk to means
you won’t feel like a third wheel, and, again,
less obvious.
Is it asking too much?
I know you don’t date a lot.
I’d make sure Mingi knew you weren’t wanting
a real date.
Just…a casual…friendly thing?
How would that even work?
Would San call Mingi and say, “Hey, I thought of a great idea! Let’s go on a double date with my friend and one of yours! But no pressure, because my friend would never really want to date your friend.”
He shook his head. Not his business how San managed it, assuming he could.
KANG:
Okay.
CHOI:
Really???
KANG:
Yes.
It’s for you,
so…sure.
He bit his lip. Was that revealing too much? He didn’t think so, but—
CHOI:
Thank you, Yeosang-ah!
All San knew was him as a supportive friend. Which was the goal.
KANG:
Let me know when and where.
A damn double date.
A fourth ticket popped up on his screen.
KANG:
Back to work, yeah?