Archive of Our Own

The office is in shambles.

It’s currently week 3 that Mark has been out of office. He was only supposed to be out for one week -- no more.

Week 1 he was traveling for a conference. The plan was to fly home at the end of week 1… but if working in corporate has taught him or his team anything about plans, it’s that contrary to what they’re called, they actually never go as planned.

Mark took his parents and his sister with him on the trip, just for a cute little family vacation at what seemed to be a convenient and opportune time. On day 2 of the trip, his mother caught some stomach virus. The next day, the rest of the family went out to do tourist things while she remained at the hotel to rest. They came back the same evening to find she’d passed out on her way to the bathroom and broke her ankle in the process. 

That was hospitalization #1.

On day 4, Mark’s sister woke up with extreme abdominal pain and said that peeing felt like a romantic rendezvous with a blowtorch on her lady parts. After taking her to the hospital, it turns out she’d developed a kidney infection.

That was hospitalization #2.

On day 6, Mark himself came down with a fever (unrelated to his mother’s stomach virus, since he wasn’t vomiting). The fever started out at 38.3 degrees, but later spiked to 40.1 degrees. Mark said he started hallucinating the ceiling breathing.

That was hospitalization #3.

The only one who made it out of that trip unscathed was Mark’s father. The entire family couldn’t fly home until three days later than planned (halfway into week 2). Mark stayed home for the remainder of week 2 just to sort through the aftermath.

Chenle shows up fifteen minutes late on Monday morning of week 3 and is greeted by only Renjun and Jaemin. For reference, their team consists of four people: him, Renjun, Jaemin, and their team lead, Mark.

There are only three people in the office at 9:15 AM, and there continues to be only three people in the office at 10:15 AM. At 10:30 AM, Mark calls Renjun’s phone and panickedly explains that he had to send his sister to the hospital (again) because she might be developing an infection in her other kidney. This also means he has to stay home until some date in the future TBA to help his dad take care of his mom since she basically can’t walk.

He’s a frazzled, stuttering mess. He can barely speak. One can practically hear him sweating over the line. Chenle, Renjun, and Jaemin stand in a circle around Renjun’s phone laid on the corner of his desk. Speakerphone is turned on. The three of them are nearly stock-still, chins tilted downwards to stare blankly at the phone as if they are listening to Mark read the weather forecast instead of summarizing the plot of Episode II: Further Developments (All Bad). No one flinches -- there’s just a series of slow nods and an occasional “sorry to hear that” or “ah, yeah” or “oof”, like witnessing the state of their office crumbling further into dust in real time is nothing but a mild scheduling inconvenience.

If Mark stays home for this entire week, that means that it will be almost five weeks between the last time Chenle saw him and the next time Chenle sees him, because Mark is supposed to be out of the country during week 4 for yet another conference.

That’s fine. That’s perfectly, utterly fine.

There’s an obvious subset of people that would ask why the fuck any of them are not very thrilled about the boss being out, because doesn’t the boss being out mean free rein to dick around and slack off? And, well, yes, Mark being out does mean free rein to dick around and slack off, but there’s only so much dicking around and slacking off one can do before things start to feel like you’re a zoo animal, but instead of a tire swing, you have the same spreadsheet that you’ve renamed five times for variety and an inbox full of irrelevant emails because you’re on some departmental mailing list only tangentially related to your actual job.

There has been absolutely nothing to do since sometime during week 2. Everybody has emailed Mark multiple times asking if he can give them something--anything, really--but he either takes a day or longer to reply, or just doesn’t reply at all (mostly the latter). Nobody blames him for being MIA given he’s currently living through a real life version of A Series of Unfortunate Events (minus the gothic mansion and orphans).

Chenle and Renjun have just accepted the rot for what it is since the beginning. The only one who tried to actually do something useful with his time was Jaemin -- and even then, as the days progressed, the probability that he was playing some gacha game on his phone any time Chenle walked by his desk rose exponentially.

Renjun comes by Chenle’s desk half an hour after Mark hangs up the phone. “What’s your plan for today?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Chenle replies. 

“Okay, same.” Renjun sighs.

“Yeah…” Chenle murmurs, going back to looking at his monitor. “I’m deadass remoted into my home computer right now to work on some personal stuff.”

Renjun snorts and begins walking away. “I wish I had personal stuff I could do,” he mutters as he disappears out of Chenle’s field of vision.

Fifteen minutes later, Chenle hears the vacuum cleaner turn on somewhere in the background.

The sound of it whirring gradually becomes louder and louder. Eventually, it seems like it must be nearing his desk. Unsurprisingly, a minute or two later, Renjun rounds the corner and reappears at the edge of Chenle’s vision. One of Renjun's hands pushes the vacuum cleaner back and forth, and the other one holds onto the electrical cord attached to the machine.

Chenle turns his head. Silent and unblinking, he gives Renjun a once-over, eyes coasting up and down as he watches Renjun slowly make his way to where he is sitting.

“What?” Renjun asks, raising his voice so he can be heard over the whirring of the vacuum cleaner. “I have nothing to do.”

“Okay,” Chenle replies and turns back to his screen. Renjun maneuvers the vacuum cleaner around the nooks and crannies of Chenle’s desk space, taking care to avoid Chenle’s feet, and then disappears out of Chenle’s field of vision once again. The sound of the vacuum cleaner fades off into the distance.

Chenle’s “personal stuff” is writing fanfiction, not that he’d ever admit it to anyone he works with. If anybody gets close enough to his screen to actually read what he’s putting down into the Word doc, then he quickly minimizes the window.

At some point during the morning, they get a visitor. It’s some dude from IT -- Jisung, if Chenle is remembering his name correctly. Chenle has only interacted with the guy a handful of times in the years he’s worked here. IT on their floor has a reputation for being kind of unhelpful and relatively useless; Mark and his team only ask IT for help as a very, very last resort. 

The last few times Chenle corresponded with IT were all regarding the printer not working. Jisung was unable to do anything to fix the problem. In the end, what got the printer to work again was Jaemin building it a shrine and praying at it. To this day, Jaemin still prays in front of it every morning.

Nobody invited Jisung, and yet he’s still here. He claims he’s here to fix a “Wi-Fi latency issue”. Okay, sure. Everybody gives him a wary glance before turning back to whatever they were doing.

All Jisung does is fiddle around with the ports underneath their desks -- specifically, the ports that wire into the building’s cloud network. Makes sense, if he's here to “fix the Wi-Fi”. He pushes the sole button on the port, looks at something on his phone, then pushes the button again… over… and over… and over. Chenle has no idea what the fuck he’s trying to do, but it’s getting real awkward having a stranger crammed underneath his desk for ten minutes while he’s in the middle of trying to write fanfiction.

Jisung does eventually finish whatever he's doing, at least, and then hits his head very hard on Chenle's desk while trying to remove himself from being eye-level with Chenle’s knees. Chenle opens his mouth in concern, but before he can say anything, Jisung is already turning around and walking away -- well, wobbling away, swaying slightly and rubbing his head as he puts one purposeful foot in front of the other.

Chenle knows when Jisung is “working” at Renjun’s desk--and then Jaemin’s desk--because things happen.

Jisung accidentally kills the internet connection on Renjun’s computer, and only Renjun’s computer. In doing so, he also accidentally kills Renjun’s Spotify podcast. It’s not a huge deal; Renjun is just a tad bit annoyed, because this means he has to sit in silence and somehow get by with no entertainment for the time being except watching some lousy IT guy push a button underneath his desk. From Jisung’s own POV, he starts sweating profusely, because it feels like the shape of Renjun’s form is one giant dark shadow looming over him, Renjun’s gaze boring holes into his body as Renjun contemplates if it’s possible to uninstall a person. (Jisung is probably just projecting, though. Renjun isn't being scary on purpose… right?)

And then, when he finally moves on to Jaemin’s desk--yes, he did restore the internet connection on Renjun’s computer, which is the only useful thing he’s ever done for them if you ignore the fact that his “fix” is a fix to a problem he caused in the first place--Chenle knows Jisung is over there because there’s a giant crash coming from somewhere in the direction of Jaemin’s desk.

Chenle pushes back his chair to stand up and look over. Squinting, he sees Jaemin on the floor, his chair tipped over sideways. Jisung is frozen in place, palms held out in front of him like he’s hesitant to help Jaemin up because he’s worried holding Jaemin’s hand will result in a sexual harassment complaint to HR.

Apparently his lanyard got caught in one of the wheels of Jaemin’s chair, and when he stood back up, he did it so suddenly and forcefully that he took both the chair and Jaemin with him.

Jaemin is fine. He isn’t hurt, but he absolutely could’ve done without the whole abruptly having his ass deposited on the floor thing.

“Are you finished with whatever you are here to do?” Chenle hears Renjun ask. “Please leave if you’re done.” Then, under his breath, Renjun repeats, “Please.” Maybe Jisung wasn’t projecting, and Renjun really was contemplating if it’s possible to uninstall a person.

Jisung apologizes abundantly and scurries out of their office, but not before setting Jaemin’s chair upright (and almost tipping it back over in the process, because one of the wheels lands on his foot and he doesn’t realize it until trying to turn away, only to panic and barely manage to catch it and prevent it from falling over once more).

The office is peaceful for a few hours -- only a few hours.

After lunch, Jisung visits… again.

Chenle, Jaemin, and Renjun are gathered in a circle around Renjun’s desk. “Who invited him?” Renjun hisses, arms crossed and voice low to prevent Jisung from hearing. Chenle thinks that even if Renjun spoke at a normal volume, Jisung likely wouldn’t be able to hear him anyways -- the guy seems to be having way too much fun waving around the device in his hand and pointing it at things, humming merrily as he does so.

The three of them silently look at each other, eyes darting back and forth.

“...I don’t think anyone invited him,” Chenle whispers, after several seconds of silence. “Unless it was Mark?”

Renjun then pulls out his phone and texts Mark. Did you open a ticket with IT? he writes.

Mark replies a minute later. That’s the most responsive he’s been the past two weeks. He probably also remembered to actually take his phone off vibrate today. No? he says. Why would I? Just go tell Jaemin to pray again.

Okay, so clearly their boss has no idea what’s going on, too. So, that means Jisung is here for no good reason besides… shits and giggles?

“Hey,” Renjun calls out, towards Jisung. Jisung doesn’t seem to hear him. “Hey,” Renjun repeats, louder this time, but Jisung still doesn’t seem to hear him. “What’s his name again?” Renjun asks, turning towards Jaemin and Chenle.

Jaemin shrugs once. “Jisung, I think?” Chenle suggests. 

“Hey, Jisung!” Renjun says, voice raised and nearly yelling.

Jisung jumps half a foot in the air, whipping his head around to be met with two blank stares and one mildly scrutinizing glare. “Y-Yes?” he replies.

“Why are you here?” Renjun asks bluntly. “None of us opened an IT ticket.”

“Oh, uh, I’m just here to… calibrate the office thermals,” Jisung answers, smiling sheepishly. “N-No ticket needed. It’s just regular maintenance stuff.”

“I think he’s lying,” Chenle whispers, after Jisung turns back around and returns to “calibrating the office thermals”. 

“You ‘think’?” Renjun mutters, eyes narrowed, staring pointedly at Chenle. 

“Why don’t we just let him be?” Jaemin proposes. “It’s not like any of us are actually doing anything important. Maybe he’s got nothing to do too, and so that’s why he’s here.” When Renjun does nothing but stay silently doubtful, his lips pursed into a flat line, Jaemin adds, “Just treat him like… entertainment, I guess.”

“You’re the one he flipped over today,” Chenle points out, one eyebrow raised. Not that he’s opposed to letting Jisung just do his thing, but he didn’t exactly expect Jaemin to be the one to suggest it.

“Yeah, and if he does something like that again, you can tell me ‘I told you so’,” Jaemin replies.

Renjun sighs, but still ends up shrugging. He tilts his chin and looks at Chenle, who also shrugs.

The three of them then disperse back to their own desks.

“Calibrating the office thermals”, as it turns out, is just fake jargon to mean Jisung pointing a thermometer gun at random objects to scan their temperature. He scans anything and everything within his reach: a microwave, a coffee machine, a chair, and Renjun’s mug of tea -- well, he tries to scan Renjun’s mug of tea, but the look Renjun shoots him when he comes close makes him think twice.

Chenle hears Jisung’s footsteps approaching, and just to be safe, he minimizes his Word doc. He’s left staring at his email inbox. Trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, he stays completely still until Jisung is stopped right next to him.

Then, his eyeballs carefully rotate to side-eye his new visitor. As expected, Jisung raises the arm carrying the thermometer gun… just to point it directly at Chenle’s forehead.

The gun beeps. Jisung retracts his hand.

“Oh,” he murmurs, staring at the little screen on the back of the gun. “You’re running a little hot. You good?”

Chenle frowns at him. He feels perfectly fine right now, although mildly weirded out by just having the IT guy read his body temperature. “You scanned my boss’s ficus,” he flatly points out, “and you told it to hydrate.”

“Yeah? And?” Jisung replies, casually shrugging. “It’s thriving. Maybe you guys should take notes.”

Chenle’s mouth immediately drops open. This motherf-- he thinks, only stopping himself short because Jisung just blinks at him all confused and innocent, as if completely unaware he just delivered a diss so well-timed that even Renjun would reconsider throwing him out after hearing it.

The next moment, Chenle realizes that maybe Jisung is confused because he truly has no clue he just dissed this entire office -- and that would mean he actually believes they should be taking notes from Mark’s precious plant.

After all, given Jisung's reputation… Chenle wouldn’t be surprised if that's what's really going on up in his head.

But then again, it occurs to Chenle there’s always the possibility that maybe Jisung isn’t as clueless as he seems, and by dropping that line, he was simply testing the waters to see how Chenle would react. It makes sense since Chenle is the only one in this office that Jisung hasn't (accidentally) hosed… thus far, at least.

Chenle narrows his eyes. Interesting, he thinks.

Tuesday morning is dead silent until the click of a tripod extending breaks through the air.

Immediately, all three heads deep in the room look towards the fourth head at the doorway. Jisung somehow managed to creep into their office without making a single sound, which is a little weird, Chenle thinks, since Jisung is a decently tall dude with long-ass limbs who generally moves about like he has the physical awareness of a Roomba with a vendetta.

He’s currently in the middle of assembling the tripod. It’s huge. It’s either a camera rig or a weaponized coat rack, and Chenle isn’t sure which.

“What are you doing?” Chenle asks, frowning slightly.

“Diagnostics,” Jisung replies, without even looking up. Propped up against the doorway is a large posterboard, and once he has the tripod fully set up, he leans the posterboard against it, making sure to angle it so that the three sitting at their desks can clearly see it. 

In large, messy black marker, the posterboard reads: Something Is Wrong and This Is Proof.

“There have been complaints,” Jisung adds, gesturing towards the posterboard.

“No there have not,” Renjun pipes up. The expression on his face appears to be vaguely offended.

Jisung ignores him. He pulls out his phone, tapping a few times on the screen. Then, with it held in an outstretched arm, the screen facing the ceiling, he begins to slowly walk around. The entire time he moves about, his eyes remain glued to his phone, a solemn and wholly serious look on his face.

Curious, Chenle gets up from his desk (yes, he minimizes his Word doc window first) and wanders over to get a better gauge on what exactly Jisung is doing.

Given how somber Jisung appears, Chenle is hesitant to come too close to him, and so he stops a few feet away from him and cranes his neck to peek at the phone screen.

The thing Jisung is so intently focused on is a large radar display that emits a soft green glow. In its center is a thin line that slowly rotates like a clock hand, sweeping around the circle in steady arcs.

“Dude--” Chenle starts, only to interrupt himself by folding in half with laughter. 

It’s the fucking Ghost Detector app. 

Jisung is using the fucking Ghost Detector app, but the kicker is that Chenle can’t tell if he is being serious about it, or this is one giant setup of a joke. Where the fuck did the tripod even come from?

“...What’s going on?” Renjun asks cautiously.

“H-He’s looking for paranormal activity,” Chenle replies, trying his hardest to sound intelligible and not choke on his own laughter.

“You’re not serious,” Renjun says dully, lips pursed into a thin and flat line.

Jaemin, whose attention has long ago returned to his monitor, interjects without even looking up. “If a ghost starts responding to my emails for me, I’m cool with that.”

“I’m chasing interference,” Jisung mutters lowly, continuing to slowly pick his way through the office with his eyes glued to his phone screen. Chenle is extremely shocked that he hasn’t crashed into anything so far. 

“‘Interference’?” Chenle echoes cryptically, one eyebrow raised. “It’s in your brain, not in this office.”

Renjun immediately breaks out in laughter, holding onto the edge of his desk for stability.

“Huh,” Jisung murmurs, eyes narrowing. “I guess that explains why everything smells like static,” he continues. “But anyways, I’m only renting that space. I’ve got no control over the neighbors.”

Chenle has zero idea how to respond to that. Renjun is now laughing so hard that he’s crying.

“You know what?” Chenle says, turning towards his two coworkers and jabbing his thumb at Jisung, who thus far hasn’t even so much as cracked a smile. “I think I’m beginning to like this guy. He’s funny.”

“Or possessed,” Jaemin pipes up. “You can never be too sure.”

Jisung continues to visit them at least once a day throughout the week. Unsurprisingly, Mark remains MIA. Chenle gradually comes to learn that while Jisung may initially come off as an oblivious and anxious mess, he just needs a moment to get comfortable around new people. After that, the more… appealing parts of his personality begin to shine through. Sometimes he’s slow on the uptake of a joke, but sometimes he’s not at all, which once again makes Chenle wonder if he’s actually clueless, or he’s just feigning it for the sake of keeping up with his schtick.

Even Renjun is slowly getting accustomed to him, which is more than mildly amusing -- not that Renjun is anywhere close to welcoming him with open arms, but at least the light no longer leaves his eyes whenever Jisung’s face or voice--whichever comes first--pops into their office.

At a minimum, Jaemin did have a point in that letting Jisung just do his thing was a viable source of entertainment. Chenle is tired of starting deep philosophical debates with the pencil sharpener (it always wins, in case you were wondering), or if he feels like living on the edge for a bit, Googling motivational posters and wondering exactly who they were trying to save.

Inspired by Jisung, the other three begin to realize that even though they have nothing to do, rotting at your desk (or in Renjun’s case, vacuuming too) doesn’t have to be your only option for entertainment. As such, Jisung becomes a pseudo fourth member (technically fifth including Mark) of their team simply because of how often he’s in their office. Nobody asks why he has so much free time to dick around -- given that he works in IT, it seems Chenle, Renjun, and Jaemin have all silently agreed to assume that he truly has nothing better to do, and perhaps the reason they’ve never really encountered him until now is because he was going around testing other teams to see if they’d be willing to adopt him… you know, vibe-checking them or whatever.

But anyways, since this is corporate, even if the goal is to get absolutely nothing accomplished, you can still play the role of actually getting things done.

Renjun sends an email requiring everyone to show up for what he calls the “Quarterly Vulnerability Workshop” (of which the description for the event in everyone’s calendar is written as, Practice sharing your feelings… or at least pretending to have some lol). In his email, he notes that prep for the “workshop” includes bringing one “fun fact” and one piece of “emotional vulnerability” to share with the group. It’s supposed to be a parody of some team bonding activity kinda shit; both Jaemin and Chenle see right through the satire, but Jisung apparently takes it seriously.

By the way -- of course Jisung shows up to the “workshop” even though he wasn’t a part of the original email invite. Chenle forwarded the calendar invite to him just for shits and giggles even though Renjun gave him an exasperated look when Chenle said he was going to do it.

Jisung enters the conference room with a paper tray of four coffees. Is this a peace offering, or is this a bribe for them to overlook what’s about to happen?

“No,” Renjun says, the moment half of Jisung’s leg breaches the doorway boundary between the hallway and the conference room.

Chenle sticks his tongue out at Renjun. “Yes,” he replies. “He’s not wearing sweatpants, so he can sit with us, Gretchen.”

Renjun silently rolls his eyes.

After setting down the coffees in the middle of the table, Jisungs drops a notebook on the surface in front of him and sinks down into a chair. “I came prepared,” he states solemnly. Chenle leans over and sees the words “MY DIARY” written in giant gold lettering on the front of the notebook.

“You can’t be serious,” Chenle says. His eyes quickly divert to Renjun, sitting at the head of the table. Mark usually sits there, but since he isn’t here, apparently this is the time for Renjun to rise to the occasion and shine… and power trip. “This meeting is fake, right? Satire?”

His head then turns to Jaemin. Jaemin just shrugs. He’s holding up his phone, making no attempt to hide the fact that he’s recording everything. How shameless.

“Why don’t you start, Jisung?” Renjun asks, “Since you’re the only one that came prepared. Please share one fun fact and one emotional vulnerability. Or make something up. I won’t check.” He gestures grandly towards Jisung.

Jisung puts a fist in front of his mouth and clears his throat. He flips open to some place that's been dog-eared in the middle of the “diary”. The page he lands on is empty except for one line written at the top.

Chenle scrunches his nose. Did Jisung write in a brand new notebook just for this, or is this his actual diary and he’s just reading off of the most recent entry that happens to be on a new page?

“Fun fact: I know four types of knots. Like, with rope.”

There is a pause of silence in the room before someone speaks.

“That’s a threat,” Chenle states, his eyes narrowing.

Renjun, his eyes also narrowing, nods. “Yeah, I agree. That’s a threat.”

Chenle’s head immediately whips around to look at Renjun. “No, I meant like -- BDSM.”

Renjun suddenly coughs, his face doing a full U-turn. “I meant like strangulation,” he mutters, carrying the exact expression of someone who’d enthusiastically clapped too early and is now trying to pretend they were just swatting a fly.

“Why not both?” Jaemin asks.

Everybody in the room turns to look at him, and Jaemin’s only defense is a casual shrug.

Jisung blinks like he’s either confused or his brain is still buffering the situation. “I’m just gonna keep on going,” he says. “Vulnerability: I’ve never been camping. Trees at night can be a little intimidating.”

Renjun looks at him strangely. “You know four knots but you’ve never been camping? That’s… alarming.” Regardless of how he feels, Renjun still turns in his chair to write on the whiteboard behind him. Jisung = Tree-averse. Knot-fluent. Vaguely threatening.

Somewhere on the other side of the table, Jaemin is trying his hardest not to laugh for the sake of the video.

Since Chenle is sitting next to Jisung, he goes next. Leaning back into his chair and putting his hands behind his head, he says, “Fun fact: This feels like an ambush.”

Renjun coughs again, but this time it’s to suppress his laughter. “That’s the spirit,” he murmurs encouragingly.

Chenle grins widely, the full range of his teeth on display. “Vulnerability: I’m being psychologically audited in real time.” He’s obviously referring to Jaemin, who’s shifted the positioning of his arms to get a better angle of Chenle through his camera lens.

“Strong self-awareness,” Jaemin narrates, “but weak interpersonal metrics.” That’s Renjun’s cue to silently turn around and write down, right underneath Jisung’s “assessment”, Chenle = Needs improvement (emotionally).

Jaemin himself goes next. “Fun fact: I’ve never once clicked ‘Reply All’ on purpose.” He casually takes a sip of coffee. He’s the only one who’s actually grabbed a cup so far. “It’s a game I like to play. Like slots. Or roulette.”

“Or Genshin Impact,” Chenle mutters under his breath, disguising it with a cough. As Chenle has mentioned before, the probability that Jaemin is playing some gacha game on his phone any time Chenle walks by his desk is very, very high.

Jaemin remains silent and eyes him over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“Statistically speaking, you’re someone’s arch nemesis,” Renjun points out. “I really, really hope you’ve never done that on a departmental email.”

“No guarantees,” Jaemin replies. “Vulnerability: Every time I help someone with something they should already know how to do, even if I smile, I internally update a list.”

“...You have a list?” Chenle murmurs warily. Rut-roh. Sometimes when Chenle has had a bad night’s sleep, he asks Jaemin to do one of his tasks for him, simply because Jaemin is (usually) very nice and rarely says no.

Jaemin’s lips curl into a smile that’s very sweet and convincing. “Don’t worry, it’s not public,” he reassures. Obviously, that is absolutely not the reason why Chenle is worried about this so-called "list"… and it seems Jaemin is definitely aware of that.

“But is it alphabetical?” Jisung quietly asks. Everybody in the room looks at him, and yet no one answers him -- certainly not Jaemin, who remains silent and simply takes another sip of coffee.

“Okay then,” Renjun says. Jaemin = HR’s pet. Keeps a list, he writes on the whiteboard.

He pivots back around. It's now his turn. “Fun fact: I’ve re-organized the team Google Drive folder thirteen times. It still haunts me, because there’s a file called ‘Final_FINAL_useThisOne(2).docx’ in it that predates my employment, and I have no fucking clue what to make of its contents.” Very, very carefully, he eyes Chenle as he speaks, because the author of that file, according to Google, is the one and only “Chenle Zhong”. 

Chenle crosses his arms. Honest to god, even he doesn’t remember what the fuck that file was for. “That’s not a fun fact,” he states, completely deflecting, “that’s a grievance you should bring to HR.”

“You think HR is gonna give a shit when I tell them I have nightmares because one of my coworkers doesn’t know how to use revision tracking?” Renjun pushes back sarcastically.

Chenle’s shoulders go up and down once. “Not my problem.”

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Okay, whatever. Moving on. Vulnerability: I experience full-body disgust every time someone uses the word ‘synergy’ unironically.”

Jaemin immediately frowns. “Dude…” he begins, “dude… this is corporate. That’s… that’s most people here.”

Renjun stares at him pointedly, one eyebrow raising. “Yes, exactly,” he states. “And I suffer.”

“Rest in peace,” Jaemin replies.

Silently, Renjun turns around. Renjun = Fueled by spite. The ghost of Office365, he writes.

“Good work, team,” he says, when he’s back to facing the other three in the room. 

“Aww,” Jisung hums, smiling contently. The expression on his face appears to be genuinely pleased, his eyes folded up into cute little crescents. “I think this was nice. Like… it was kinda helpful,” he comments softly.

Chenle’s brows instinctively furrow, his lips twisting into a shape that’s somewhere between an uncomfortable smile and a grimace. “You think feeling things in front of your coworkers is ‘helpful’?” he asks, sounding mildly incredulous.

“Mm, no,” Jisung murmurs, turning to meet Chenle’s eye. “But I do like your voice when you’re annoyed.”

There is a long, heavy pause, silence immediately coming crashing down around them. Whatever the vibe of the room had been previously, Jisung had instantly bulldozed it, reversed over the debris, and then got out to ask if he did a good job, because apparently he’s the only one at the table who is not suddenly weirded out.

Chenle can only describe how he feels at the moment as “my brain attempting to politely excuse itself and leave the room”. Jisung continues to smile at him, unblinking and completely unaware that he’s the sole cause of Chenle’s neck rapidly turning red.

Renjun clears his throat loudly and harshly. “I’m ending this meeting,” he states gruffly. “Let’s just forget about all of this happening before someone lodges a complaint to HR.”

“Too late,” Jaemin replies. “The video is already uploaded to our Drive.”

“I hate this place,” Chenle mutters, swiveling around in his chair so Jisung can stop looking at him like that. 

“Why?” Jisung asks, sounding genuinely curious. “I like it.”

Jisung is starting to grow on Chenle, and no, it’s not because he complimented Chenle’s voice -- in fact, he’s starting to grow on Chenle despite the fact that he complimented Chenle’s voice.

Yes, you heard Chenle right -- despite. Jisung saying “I like your voice when you’re annoyed” induced the most intense sensation of embarrassment Chenle has experienced in the past eight years of his life, though he’s not 100% sure why. All he knows is that if he wanted a coworker to compliment him in the first place, he’d prefer to be complimented on how his emoji reactions to Slack messages are always on-point, or how he somehow always manages to have a working pen somewhere on his desk, or how he sometimes refills the coffee pot without someone mentioning how they’re out of coffee… yeah--

Not his voice, especially not his voice when he's annoyed.

Well, whatever. Regardless, Jisung is starting to grow on him primarily because Jisung is funny in the same way that cats are funny, being creatures that take themselves so seriously while doing things that are objectively absurd. At a surface level, Chenle will admit that Jisung can be really fucking annoying, but he’s also incredibly faceted in a manner that makes him weirdly charming.

Or, wait -- is this just Chenle being delirious? Has he spent too many days rotting at his desk that his sense of self has withered away and made him easy prey to being Stockholm Syndrome-d by what is essentially the human representation of the reason the employee onboarding guide has a warning section?

Certainly, Renjun and Jaemin don’t seem to feel the same way about Jisung as he does. While Renjun is definitely much more accepting of Jisung than he was initially, there are still occasions where Jisung will do or say something that Chenle finds funny, but has Renjun looking like he wants to gouge his own eyes out with a spoon or politely eject Jisung from the building… through a window… in their office… that’s on the ninth floor.

Jaemin, on the other hand, just doesn’t appear to give a fuck. Either that, or he’s long run out of fucks to give. His stance is that “Jisung can do whatever the fuck he wants as long as it doesn’t screw with my ping during Spiral Abyss or make me lose another 50/50 to Diluc”... because those are Jaemin’s priorities apparently, and he can only take so much disappointment per week.

Well, in Chenle’s defense, it’s nice to finally have someone in the office who he can take turns with being each other’s problem. If Chenle tries that with Renjun, he will be met with full-blown retaliatory violence. He has never tried that with Jaemin, mostly because the notion of recreationally antagonizing Jaemin feels similar to charging interest on Make-A-Wish -- AKA an absolutely monstrous thing to do. The other part, however, is that Chenle has the vague idea that if he were to start recreationally antagonizing Jaemin, then while Jaemin would take most of it in stride with that sweet, sweet manner of his and somehow make you feel bad for trying to get a rise out of him, there’d always be a small chance that one day you’ll wake up and discover your apartment is now listed as a WeWork, and somehow he’s the building manager.

There’s also the fact that Chenle is now very sure that Jisung is not as clueless as he initially seems. Sure, there’s a decent likelihood that at least some of his obliviousness is just because he happens to be that way, but honestly… most of it has to be because he’s very, very good at playing that role.

Like, for example, one time Jisung comes over to Chenle’s desk to “check port latency” on his mouse and keyboard. Okay, whatever, sure. Chenle doesn’t give a fuck. He just minimizes his Word doc window and pushes back his chair to give Jisung space to do whatever the fuck “checking port latency” is supposed to be. Jisung unplugs the cables to Chenle’s mouse and keyboard, only to immediately forget where each one goes, so he plugs them back in to random ports. The only reason why Chenle knows that Jisung forgot is because he overhears Jisung muttering to himself.

Whatever. It’s not a huge deal if Chenle’s mouse and keyboard cables are in the wrong ports. He’ll know that’s the case if his mouse and keyboard don’t work, and then at that point it’s just unplugging and plugging them into other ports at random to see which one finally makes something work. 

Once Jisung is done, he doesn’t say or do anything besides stepping back and telling Chenle that he should be “good to go”, whatever the fuck that means. Chenle scoots back to his desk. Jisung doesn’t fully walk away from Chenle’s desk space, Chenle being vaguely aware of Jisung’s awkwardly lanky stance hovering somewhere off to the side. It’s a little bit suspicious, and Chenle squints slightly while trying to act as casual as possible -- but maybe it's nothing and Jisung is simply standing there looking at his phone or something.

Chenle moves his mouse to “check” his email. The moment he clicks on his inbox tab, a new Excel book opens up.

Okay, that’s fucking weird. Maybe Chenle just imagined it…? Is that possible?

He tries to open a new tab on his browser window instead. 

Another new Excel book opens up.

“Hey Jisung,” Chenle calls out cautiously.

“Yes?” Jisung replies without missing a beat.

“Why does my mouse click open Excel now?” Chenle asks.

“Oh, that’s a new productivity feature,” Jisung explains. Chenle turns his head to look at him, eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and doubt. “It’s called--” Jisung continues, “--accountability.”

Chenle blinks. Jisung blinks back. There is a long pause of silence, neither of them saying or doing anything besides blinking back and forth at one another like they’re playing a game of tag.

Somewhere off to the side, Renjun snickers, breaking the silence. 

“...Please change it back,” Chenle whispers, chin dropping. “I’m begging you.”

He receives no response. Five seconds later, he lifts his head, only to be met with an empty space in front of him -- no Jisung in sight. Whipping around back and forth, he finds Jisung has already wandered off to go pester Jaemin.

This motherfucker, Chenle thinks, but still smiles and laughs to himself.

However, even despite his amusement, he is still moderately pissed. How’s he gonna write his fucking fanfiction now?

Chenle internally plots how to get Jisung back. Jisung’s only mischievous, not evil, so he does eventually come back to fix Chenle’s mouse, but like… this still warrants some sort of payback.

While Chenle strategizes, Jisung continues to make other “improvements” around their office. They aren’t nefarious in nature (he’s probably picked up on the same sentiments about Renjun and Jaemin that Chenle mentioned earlier -- where one does not want to intentionally upset Renjun if they want to keep all four limbs, and one probably does not want to intentionally upset Jaemin for the sake of their future prosperity), just… funny. Stupid. Dumb.

One afternoon, Jisung installs an “anonymous suggestion box” next to the office doorway. The only reason Chenle, Renjun, and Jaemin are aware that it’s supposed to be a suggestion box is because Jisung tells them it’s a suggestion box. They otherwise wouldn’t exactly know, because the box’s only label says “Please Do Not Submit Crimes”.

The following morning, Jisung checks the box. Surprisingly, there is one submission. Chenle watches Jisung pull the slip of paper out, and with latent curiosity, he himself wanders over to read the suggestion too.

Jisung unfolds the paper and squints. “Let me die,” he reads out loud. The suggestion box is supposed to be anonymous, but there’s a “--Renjun” in the corner of the paper.

“Huh,” Chenle murmurs, studying the paper held in Jisung’s hands carefully, mouth slightly parted. The suggestion box does say “do not submit crimes”, but does it count as a crime if the victim consents to it? “This is legally ambiguous,” he comments.

At that moment, Jaemin, returning from the break room with a fresh tumbler of coffee in hand, breezes by. “So is our payroll system,” he says.

He isn’t wrong. Their payroll system is still in beta, and it has been since 2019. It also asks you to rate your own performance before it calculates taxes to deduct from your paycheck, and someone in their department once got paid in Kohl's cash.

The same day, Chenle walks into the break room around half past noon and finds Jisung sitting at one of the tables, madly typing on a laptop. What appears to be his lunch is haphazardly laid out on the surface next to him. Chenle only offers him a simple greeting that he returns, unsure if it's appropriate to say more because Jisung seems to be genuinely engrossed in whatever he’s doing. Chenle opts to remain silent as he approaches the refrigerator. From this angle, he can see Jisung’s screen, so he takes a quick peek.

He recognizes the site Jisung is on. It’s the IT ticket portal… and it seems Jisung is in the middle of diligently replying to a ticket.

Chenle’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but then he immediately asks himself why he’s surprised. Jisung works in IT, so why is Chenle shocked to find him replying to an IT ticket…?

Or, maybe it’s more so that he’s surprised at the fact Jisung is working during his lunch break, which does not align with the common belief that he has little real work to do.

Chenle forces himself to turn away. He opens the fridge. There is nothing in there that isn’t labeled with someone’s name on it. He left his apartment this morning in a daze and completely forgot to pack lunch. Given that there’s nothing in the fridge he can steal and just feign innocence because it didn’t have a name on it, he will have to go across the street to the overpriced cafe and buy himself a sandwich. He sighs, cheeks puffing up as he blows out air.

Maybe his sigh was noticeably loud or something, because the next second, Jisung speaks.

“Don’t have anything to eat?” he asks.

Glancing up in surprise, Chenle is met with Jisung’s unblinking, but gentle, stare.

“No,” Chenle replies. “I’m just going to go across the street, I guess.”

Going back to facing his computer, Jisung grabs something off the table next to him. “Here,” he says, arm outstretched in the vague direction of Chenle’s voice as an offering. 

Chenle takes a step closer. It’s a fruit cup Jisung is holding out, one with a little disposable spoon tucked between the lid and the plastic film. “I have a yogurt in the fridge you can have, if you want that too,” Jisung adds.

“Oh--” Chenle begins, a little caught off-guard, but he nonetheless takes the fruit cup from Jisung’s hand. “Thanks.”

Jisung simply hums in response. Chenle carefully opens the fruit cup and begins to dig in with the spoon. 

A minute of silence, with the exception of Jisung typing on his laptop, passes. Not really realizing it, Chenle stares at the back of Jisung’s head, genuinely very curious as to what exactly Jisung is working on -- after all, this is the first time he’s witnessed Jisung do any sort of real work.

Unintentionally, he takes a couple steps closer until he’s hovering somewhere behind Jisung. He’s just barely close enough to read some of the text on the laptop screen if he squints really hard.

“You can come closer if you want,” Jisung suddenly says. Chenle jumps a little, partially from not realizing he’d gravitated forward, partially from not expecting Jisung to notice him standing there. “The ticket I’m working on isn’t confidential.”

“Oh,” Chenle murmurs. He awkwardly shuffles forward until he’s right behind--beside?--Jisung, and he leans in a little so he can see the screen better.

For some reason, he feels a little jumpy being this close to Jisung even though the distance between them is definitely not narrow enough to be considered unprofessional. From far away, it probably just looks like Jisung wanted to point something out on the screen to Chenle, or maybe he asked for Chenle's advice on what he’s working on. There technically is no reason to be anxious about their positioning. However, this is the very first time Chenle has been physically close enough to Jisung to detect the vague scent of laundry detergent wafting off of him. His nose then picks up on something else, something subtle, light, and citrusy -- maybe cologne, or aftershave, or a hair product.

Jisung smells… clean, simple, and strangely enough, welcoming. 

Honestly, Chenle thinks, it suits him.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “You seem very… focused. I’m not sure if I should be concerned or proud.”

Jisung chuckles lightly, but he sounds subtly strained. “The new guy in accounting thinks Outlook is cyberbullying him.”

Chenle pauses, one eyebrow raised. “Go on.”

Jisung sighs, then reads, verbatim, from his screen: “‘Spellcheck in Outlook is underlining my name. This is discrimination.’”

Chenle bursts out in laughter. “Okay, sure,” he huffs, “whose name doesn’t it underline? The only one in my team whose name is actually in Outlook's default dictionary is Mark.”

“Right?” Jisung agrees, nodding. “But this guy insists it's discrimination because there's no way his name is missing from the default dictionary. Apparently his name is ‘relatively common’.” Jisung puts up air quotes around “relatively common”.

Naturally, the next thing Chenle does is ask Jisung what this guy’s name is.

“Jaxsyn Jaykob Young,” Jisung replies.

Chenle frowns slightly. “But… doesn't he have a point?” Chenle himself knows three different “Jackson”s.

“Unless you spell ‘Jaxsyn’ with an x and a y and ‘Jaykob’ with a y and a k,” Jisung states dryly. 

Chenle’s reaction is to blink confusedly. “How the fuck do you spell ‘Jackson’ with an x or a y? Or ‘Jacob’ with a y?” he asks, just to have Jisung point at some place on the screen. Leaning forward and bending down, Chenle’s lips part. “Oh,” he murmurs. “That’s… a tragedy. If I were him, this is something I’d take up with my parents, not IT.”

“Yeah…” Jisung mutters lowly, gaze flickering away like he’s briefly contemplating why the hell he chose this job, if all he was going to be doing are things like explaining to people how spellcheck works and that no, your mangled version of a “relatively common” name not being in Outlook’s default dictionary is not a valid complaint to submit to HR. “So right now I’m just including instructions on how to add his name to the custom dictionary,” Jisung says, continuing to type on the keyboard. “And I also made sure to tell him that Outlook is not targeting him personally.”

Chenle turns his head to look at Jisung, a mildly amused expression on his face. In the back of his mind, he briefly realizes that with him leaning over Jisung’s shoulder like this, their faces are maybe half a foot apart. But, just as quickly as that thought appeared, it just as quickly disappears.

Only as a joke, he asks, “Are you sure? From my experience, Outlook seems petty enough.”

Jisung tilts his head a little bit, not quite enough to actually meet Chenle’s eye, but still enough to be able to glance at Chenle without needing to side-eye him. A look of nervousness flickers over his expression so fast that Chenle wouldn’t have noticed it if his eyes weren’t trained on Jisung’s face. Whatever Jisung is nervous about though, Chenle has no idea -- perhaps Chenle is imagining even seeing the nervousness in the first place, because Jisung continues to speak and move about completely and utterly naturally.

“I also wrote, ‘Outlook doesn’t trust me either.’” Jisung glances at Chenle again. “I thought that was comforting.”

Chenle huffs out a small laugh. “I think that’s the most honest thing you’ve ever said.”

Jisung smiles, but he doesn’t break stride. Chenle watches him take a screenshot, highlight a few things on it, attach it to the ticket, and then double-check the tone of his reply.

“How… precise of you,” Chenle comments, after Jisung hits the submit button. “I am both weirded out and impressed.”

Jisung’s smile grows a little wider, the corners of his lips climbing up higher. “Thanks. I do strive to be helpful, even if it’s only on occasion.”

Chenle snorts. “We could use a little more of the ‘helpful’ version of you in our office, you know,” he says pointedly, head tilting to the side. 

“What would I even help with?” Jisung asks. “You guys rarely have anything to actually do in the first place, let alone something that would require another person’s help.”

Chenle narrows his eyes. “Knock on wood,” he mutters, then knocks twice with a fist against the table -- Jisung had better not just fucking jinxed them. Despite how much rotting at your desk sucks, drowning in overtime is even worse. “Okay, but maybe you can help Jaemin set up a shrine for the hallway printer,” Chenle suggests. “Or like, an exorcism. I heard the hallway printer’s haunted.”

“Printer’s not haunted.” Jisung puts a finger over his lips. “Just between us, I tweaked it so it makes weird noises whenever someone dumps a 60-page long print job and disappears before it finishes. I’m certainly not going to be standing there for seven minutes waiting for Ashley from DevOps’ 500-step workflow that could’ve been an email to clear the queue so I can print the one page I need like a chump.”

Chenle pauses, mouth hanging open. When he realizes he’s gawking, he immediately shuts his mouth, embarrassment causing tendrils of heat to lick at his cheeks. Oh god, this is beginning to feel like when Jisung said he liked his voice, but the difference is that this time, Jisung isn’t the one taking the initiative to say or do something to embarrass Chenle. Instead, Chenle is doing it all to himself, because at that moment, he realizes he just finds Jisung so utterly interesting; while Jisung is bumbling, a bit awkward, and (mostly) harmless, he's also devious and strangely clever when it’s necessary.

Oh god, that’s kinda hot, Chenle thinks, not that he will ever openly admit that. In fact, the moment he catches himself thinking that, he immediately banishes the thought from his mind. Seriously, what the fuck is he doing -- is he really about to develop a crush on the lousy IT guy?

Okay, well, it’s not like the lousy IT guy is one of the worst people to develop a crush on; actually, he’s probably far from one of the worst people to develop a crush on, given Chenle’s track record of disastrous flings and situationships.

Jisung is moderately attractive, clean (well, he certainly appears and smells clean…), sincere, and gentle (er, at least he never intends to be not gentle). His worst trait is probably the fact that he has the unwavering confidence of someone who definitely didn’t read the instructions.

And, that’s totally okay. Chenle knows how to enjoy living life on the edge from time to time.

He purses his lips a bit. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you,” he says. Jisung’s only response is a small smile that’s mostly sheepish, but also a little bit playful. “You weaponized a printer. I don’t know if I should be terrified or… deeply into that.”

The smile on Jisung’s face remains static, but the lump on his throat bobs as he swallows.

At some point during their conversation, Renjun walked into the break room. He knew the two were in there given that he heard their voices from a short ways down the hall. However, the moment he laid eyes on them--witnessing Chenle leaning over Jisung's shoulder almost until their heads were parallel--he immediately turned heel and wondered when and how the two got so close.

Chenle reconsiders getting back at Jisung because Jisung gave him a fruit cup and yogurt, but then he comes back from taking a shit on company time to find his mouse has been replaced with a potato, no note attached. There’s literally just a potato sitting next to his keyboard, a USB cord stabbed into it and plugged into his desktop tower to replicate a mouse cord.

“Why,” he says out loud, lifting up the potato.

Jaemin looks up from his phone. “Maybe this is his way of packing you lunch,” he suggests. “He mentioned you forgot to pack lunch the other day.”

“I still want my mouse back though,” Chenle mutters. Whatever. For now, he’ll just go dig out a replacement mouse from the filing cabinet in the corner of their office dedicated to miscellaneous tech supplies, of which most of the things in there may or may not be almost as old as Chenle himself.

He’s still keeping the potato, though. Food is food. Better not let it go to waste. 

In terms of getting payback, he decides he isn't going to plan anything elaborate or time-consuming. All he does is momentarily pop out of his office and head down the hall to IT when he knows Jisung isn't there. He has three zip-ties in his pocket. Jisung’s coworker looks at him weirdly when he enters and immediately heads towards Jisung’s desk even though Jisung is obviously not there, but the guy doesn’t speak up. If anything, he’s much more interested in whatever he’s watching on his phone, unsurprisingly.

Chenle zip-ties all of Jisung’s cables into one giant lump -- literally, all of them, as many as he can grab and twist together without unplugging anything. He returns to his own office ten minutes later acting as if nothing happened.

Neither of them need to say anything to each other. Jisung automatically knows it’s Chenle who zip-tied his cables, because at this point, he’s well aware that Renjun wants as minimal interaction with him as possible, and Jaemin just doesn’t give a fuck. 

This marks the beginning of a prank war -- nothing really major, just the two of them leaving stupid surprises at each other’s desks, because there really is nothing better to do. Well, actually, Chenle is still spending most of his time in the office writing his fanfiction, but variety is the spice of life, and going to IT is a good excuse for him to take a break and stretch his legs with a short walk.

Renjun notices him periodically leaving and asks him if he’s okay and why he suddenly started needing to pee so often. Chenle shrugs and says he’s recently started taking hydration seriously, but Renjun still appears to be skeptical about that answer.

Jisung chooses to retaliate by making labels for everything on Chenle’s desk… and Chenle means everything. They’re not standard labels, too -- clearly Jisung put a little bit of thought into each and every slip of adhesive-backed paper he pastes: “Hardest Working Mug”. “Top-Tier Paperweight”. “Employee of the Month (Stapler Division)”. “Emotional Support Highlighter”. “Overachieving Pen”. (Thank you, Chenle briefly thinks when he sees the label, for giving my one working pen its recognition.) “Mouse of the People”. “Emotionally Stable Surface” (for the desk). “Still Here. Still Trying” (on the nearly full dispenser of sticky notes). “Q3 Survivor” (for the half-dead cactus in the corner). Jisung also comes up behind Chenle to put a label on his forehead. Thankfully, Chenle hears footsteps and knows to minimize his Word doc just in time.

“Thanks,” he says, when he opens his front-facing camera and sees “Mostly Operational” pasted right above his eyebrows. “I’m flattered.”

Jisung gives him a thumbs up that he sees next to his face in his phone’s camera.

In response, he swaps out Jisung’s mousepad for a high-res print of his employee ID photo. Everyone looks like shit in their ID photo, Jisung included. His particular flavor of “looks like shit” is grayish dim lighting and an uncomfortably serious expression that vaguely resembles a mugshot.

Jisung then counters by sticking a giant “Live, Laugh, Log Off” decal on Chenle’s monitor bezel.

Chenle’s answer to that is inverting the default scroll direction of Jisung’s mouse. He names the new setting “Mindfulness Mode”. 

They end up going back and forth so frequently that Chenle finds himself looking forward to some new surprise on his desk… multiple times a day. Actually, he also finds himself looking forward to seeing Jisung too, as crazy as that sounds.

Maybe he really has developed a crush on the lousy IT guy. He grimaces at himself as he mentally affirms that truth; he has enough self-awareness to recognize that he immediately tried to internally justify his strange fondness for Jisung as, Okay, but look. He’s nice. And funny. And weird. And employed. What’s not to like about a man like that?

Chenle thinks he handles crushes well. He’s absolutely not the type to get all stuttering and blushy-blushy (for the most part…). If anything, more often than not he’s the one who pursues the other person; crushes are crushes, and there’s no hard feelings if he gets rejected, as long as he gets rejected respectfully.

But, like, with Jisung… things are a little different. Chenle is actually cautious about Jisung, which is new to him. He briefly considers that maybe his hesitation is because he is genuinely terrified of making things awkward between them. Daresay he can call Jisung his friend now, because it’s clear that both of them do like each other (at least platonically), and it is obvious that Chenle is Jisung’s favorite out of the team by far. And, well, when you’ve made a new friend that you actually really like, potentially scaring them away with something like feelings is an uncomfortable thought.

There’s also the fact that Chenle started liking Jisung in the first place for reasons completely unrelated to his face. Like, Jisung is decently attractive, but for once, one of Chenle’s crushes doesn’t have “physical appearance” as their #1 trait… so, if Chenle happens to fuck up things between them, he’s not losing someone who is primarily pretty to look at. Instead, he’s losing someone who he first and foremost enjoys hanging around, and who enjoys hanging around him too.

Unfortunate.

The end of their prank war is Jisung building a pillow fort in Chenle’s desk space and camping out there.

Yes, Chenle is serious. And no, he has no fucking clue where Jisung sourced pillows and blankets; hopefully they’re not ones he brought from home, because the office floor is gross (even despite Renjun vacuuming), and there’s probably dust laying around that’s old enough to be the same age as Chenle’s father.

“Why are you here,” Chenle asks, upon seeing Jisung huddled underneath the desk, nested in a divot made by a giant blanket and multiple pillows. Chenle briefly wonders if the blanket used to belong to the HR nap pod. There’s a bag of pretzels sitting to one side and a small USB-powered desk lamp clipped to the underside of the desk.

Chenle takes a seat in his chair and rolls himself closer to his desk. He stops just short of kicking one of the pillows. “Is this how you die?”

“I’m avoiding real work,” Jisung replies simply. “I got assigned a ticket with a real question. And it has a deadline.”

“Aww,” Chenle croons with fake pity. “Tragic.” He crouches down to peer underneath his desk. “And your plan is… tactical retreat?”

Jisung frowns slightly. “It’s not retreat. It’s a temporary workspace in a neutral zone.”

“You’re hiding under a desk,” Chenle points out.

Jisung shrugs, adjusting a pillow with all the dignity of a man who is absolutely not curled up under a coworker’s desk like a woodland creature.

Chenle sighs, pushing himself back to slide out of his chair and sit cross-legged next to Jisung -- not underneath the desk, because there’s no way in hell both of them would fit in there in addition to the blanket and the pillows. There’s also no way in hell he’s able to write fanfiction given current environment; sure, Jisung can’t see his screen, but his presence is still very obvious and distracting.

Plus… Chenle kind of wants to hang out with him.

“I always knew you were a runner,” he says, leaning his cheek on a fist.

“I prefer the term ‘burrower’,” Jisung responds. 

Chenle takes a moment to inspect him, glancing over the soft glow of the lamp, the half-eaten pretzels, the strategic placement of the pillows, and Jisung himself curled up with his knees tucked into his chest and the blanket draped around his shoulders.

Chenle feels… weirdly affectionate at the moment. His cheeks begin to warm, and he briefly looks away, attempting to swallow whatever emotion is rising in his throat.

“This is kinda pathetic,” he states, when he feels his face has sufficiently cooled down. “But also… unnecessarily cozy, I guess.”

Jisung smiles warmly. “Shared misery is the foundation of every IT office.” There’s a little sparkle in his eye. He then grabs the pretzel bag and offers it to Chenle.

Naturally, Chenle reaches into it for a handful. “You know that this has to be some sort of OSHA violation.”

“Capitalism is an OSHA violation,” Jisung replies back.

Chenle can’t help but laugh a little, exhales coming out in puffs. 

They sit in silence for a bit, the only sounds around them being the crunching of pretzels in Chenle’s mouth, somebody’s phone buzzing a couple of times, and the distant hum of traffic from the streets below.

Jisung leans his head to the side, almost as if to rest it on his shoulder. “I noticed you’re always typing,” he says quietly. He doesn’t quite look at Chenle as he speaks, like he’s a little nervous to be breaching the subject. “What is it you’re working on all the time? I swear it’s the same Word doc I’ve seen for the past two weeks.”

Chenle’s first reaction is to blink in surprise. Then, he feels himself begin to flush. Mentally, he asks himself why he’s surprised Jisung is curious in the first place; after all, Jisung is the only one who actually regularly makes visits to Chenle’s desk. It’s natural that he’d notice.

Still, Chenle deflects. “Wow,” he murmurs, slightly chuckling. “You’ve been watching me. Should I be flattered or concerned?”

“Maybe a little bit of both.” Jisung shrugs nonchalantly. “I thought it might be your resignation letter. Like, an evolving draft.”

Chenle snorts. “Please. If I were to write my resignation letter, it’d be in Notepad. And, it’d be one sentence. All caps. ‘I AM QUITTING, THANK YOU, GOODBYE.’”

Jisung laughs. The glow of the desk lamp makes it look like the previous twinkle in his eyes is spreading. “Okay,” he murmurs. “But… really. What is it? The doc.”

Chenle remains silent for a moment, lips pursed. “Um, nothing.” His eyes flicker away. He feels the heat of Jisung’s gaze on him, and it’s uncomfortable, but not in a way that’s suffocating. It’s more just like he’s nervous, and maybe a little embarrassed, at having Jisung look at him so acutely. “It’s just… notes. Personal stuff. Nothing really interesting.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow lightly. “Seems pretty intense for ‘nothing really interesting’.” His tone is gentle and mild, not meant to be pressuring at all.

Side-eyeing him, Chenle fires back. “You made a pillow fort under my desk. Let’s not throw stones.”

Jisung chuckles. “Touché,” he says.

There’s another pause of silence between them. During that time, Chenle reaches out for more pretzels, and Jisung immediately moves the bag closer to him.

“...You really think it’s cozy?” Jisung asks softly.

Chenle glances at him sideways and nods. “Unfortunately so.”

A minute later, Renjun walks by, only to stop halfway in his tracks and back up until he’s parallel with Chenle’s desk.

“What are you guys doing?” He squints.

“Team-building,” Chenle replies simply, “I think. He’s running away from his responsibilities, and I’m just here for emotional support… I guess.”

Renjun stands there for several seconds. His mouth is partially open, maybe with a question or an accusation hanging on the tip of his tongue, but in the end he just shuts his mouth and shakes his head.

“Okay, sure,” he mutters, exhaling through his nose and walking away.

Mark is supposed to come back next Monday, which means the team will have to actually start doing work sometime soon. Therefore, Chenle is attempting to take full advantage of his last few days of freedom.

“Freedom” includes three-hour lunch breaks. Jisung invited him to have lunch with him at the café across the street. “O-Or just some coffee if that’s more your speed,” he had said, laughing sheepishly. “I know we have coffee in the break room, but I’m kinda craving something that doesn’t come out of a Keurig pod.”

Of course Chenle said yes. They’re in the elevator now, on their way downstairs…

And then the goddamn thing comes to a grinding halt. There’s some soft clunks and clicks. The lights shut off.

“What the fuck,” Chenle blurts out. He presses several buttons on the elevator’s panel, but nothing lights up. 

The next moment, a blaring metallic ringing starts resounding around them, and a woman’s voice comes on over the PA system. Her voice is familiar; Chenle recognizes it as belonging to one of the ladies that works the front desk in the lobby.

“Hey folks, this is a fire drill. Building maintenance is here to conduct emergency system testing. Please remain calm and follow standard evacuation procedures. Again, this is a test only. We apologize for the interruption and appreciate your patience.”

“Oh. That’s great.” Chenle sighs. Guess lunch will have to wait. With impeccable timing, his stomach growls right then and there. At least this is just a drill, which means they aren’t going to be stuck in this elevator indefinitely. “I hope this doesn’t take too long. I’m hungry,” Chenle mutters crossly.

He doesn’t hear anything from Jisung next to him. Several seconds of awkward silence, with the exception of the alarm still ringing, pass. Chenle frowns slightly -- did he say something wrong? Then, he turns his head to look at Jisung, only to see that the space next to him is empty… and Jisung has backed into a corner, where he’s tucked himself into a ball, knees against his chest and arms tightly wrapped around his shins. His face is slumped against his legs.

“Hey--” Chenle calls out, moderately concerned. He approaches and kneels down next to Jisung. Jisung is whiter than a sheet of paper, and tiny little drops of sweat are beginning to bead at his hairline. “Dude-- dude, what’s going on? Are you okay? Look at me.” Chenle nudges Jisung on the arm.

Jisung shakily lifts his head. He’s smiling, much to Chenle’s surprise. “I-I’m--” he stutters through gritted teeth, his smile faltering into a very obvious grimace, “I-I’m okay--”

“Bullshit,” Chenle interrupts, his frown deepening. Immediately, he’s reaching forward to push back Jisung’s hair and press his hand against Jisung’s forehead. His palm is cool and dry, especially compared to Jisung’s skin. Jisung is damp and flushed--he seems to redden a little more with Chenle touching him like this, though it could just be Chenle’s imagination--almost as if he’s running a fever, but he was completely normal literally no more than one minute ago. For a moment, he even leans into the touch, the contrast in temperature of Chenle's cool hand against his heated skin acting as some sort of refuge.

Just then, it finally hits Chenle exactly what he’s doing, and he feels himself also begin to redden. However, he mentally chides that right now isn’t the time to be embarrassed over touching Jisung’s forehead.

“Do you not like elevators?” he asks gently. That’s the first possible explanation he thinks of -- there’s no way Jisung is actually sick. People don’t pitch into fever within the span of a minute.

But, Chenle then considers that maybe that explanation doesn’t make sense either -- if Jisung is scared of elevators, then he’s done a fantastic job of hiding it thus far, because Chenle certainly hasn’t noticed anything in the maybe three times he has been in the same elevator as Jisung, until now.

“T-They’re okay,” Jisung replies shakily. The curl of his lips trembles. “I-I just don’t like being trapped in them…”

Oh. Chenle’s expression softens. His eyebrows lift slightly with concern. Gingerly, he adjusts his positioning to sit cross-legged on the floor next to Jisung. His knee bumps into Jisung’s hip. Jisung watches him with wide eyes.

Chenle is not the motherly type. He is terrible at comforting people, so he usually tries to avoid it, and yet right at this moment, he feels he needs to at least try to comfort Jisung -- not because he likes Jisung a little more than he should, but because Jisung is his friend… 

And friends should have each other’s backs. (Indeed, Chenle starts gently patting Jisung’s back, as if that actually does anything to help.)

There’s also the fact that Jisung in his current state looks pathetic -- like, pathetic in a pity-inducing sick puppy kind of way. It’s borderline aggressively adorable--him with those flushed cheeks and glazed-over eyes and a shiny, sweat-covered forehead--but Chenle knows he’s fucking delusional for thinking that, and he 100% blames it on being blinded by his crush.

Now that he mentions it--the word “crush”--he thinks the entire situation is bizarre. At least in movies, when people get stuck in an elevator with their crush, things happen -- and by “things”, he means they confess, they kiss, or they fuck (or all three…). But, here he is, stuck in an elevator with his crush, and instead of any of the above happening, he’s just sitting here, awkwardly patting Jisung’s back like he’s trying to burp a particularly anxious toddler.

“Well, we’re technically not ‘trapped’,” he begins, only to be met with Jisung frowning at him like he just presented an opportunity to buy a timeshare instead of anything actually helpful. “Okay, yes, we are trapped,” he quickly clarifies, laughing sheepishly. “But what I meant is that it’s not like the elevator randomly stopped working. It’s just a fire drill, so we’re not stuck here indefinitely.”

“That’s true…” Jisung mumbles, looking away. His head slumps against his knees once again. 

Chenle purses his lips uncomfortably. Okay, that didn’t seem to help at all. “Hey, at least you’re not alone?” he offers. “I’m here.”

Jisung doesn’t reply. Now Chenle is beginning to feel bad.

“O-Okay,” he stammers. “Um… how about this -- what can I do to help? Like, uh, any coping mechanisms?”

Jisung takes a moment to respond. He lifts his head a little bit, just enough so that everything above his nose comes into view. Slowly and hesitantly, his eyes flick up to meet Chenle’s, pupils peeking out from beneath his lashes like he isn’t sure he’s allowed to look at Chenle's face.

“Can you distract me?” he asks quietly.

“‘Distract’ you?” Chenle echoes, mildly confused.

Jisung’s gaze averts. “Like, make me forget we’re trapped in an elevator.” He inhales shakily. When he peeks at Chenle again and notices him still looking confused, he adds, “Um, I don’t know… T-Talk to me, maybe? Tell me a story?”

Chenle bites his lip. A “story”? He sits in silence for several seconds. For some reason--maybe he’s too nervous?--his mind is just… blank. He watches another bead of sweat slide down Jisung’s temple, and that makes him panic because oh god, he’s probably making things worse right now by doing nothing but silently staring at Jisung.

Without thinking clearly--without even fully considering what he’s about to do--he pulls out his phone, taps on his personal OneDrive, and opens the most recent document.

“It always smelled faintly like burnt coffee and fryer oil, the kind of scent that clung to your jacket for hours afterward,” he begins, reading from his phone, voice shaking slightly. In that moment, he pauses, vaguely registering the sound of his heart pumping in his ears, and glances at Jisung.

Jisung silently blinks back at him, the expression on his face apathetic, but the flutter of his eyelashes soft and expectant, like he’s waiting for Chenle to carry on, eagerly clinging to his words.

Chenle takes a deep breath.

“The waitress didn’t ask if Mina wanted a menu anymore,” he continues. “Mina slid into the booth like she’d been there for a while already, like she hadn’t just walked in from the rain, her shoulders damp beneath a cardigan that had lost the battle two blocks ago. Nayeon brought a mug of black coffee to the table. It was chipped along the rim. ‘Booth loyalty has its perks,’ she said, nodding at it. Mina nodded back like it was fair trade.”

Chenle pauses again, this time for only half a beat. His gaze flickers to Jisung. Jisung is still looking in his direction, though not really at him anymore -- instead, he seems to be focused on some place that is not Chenle’s face, though still in the general vicinity of it, like maybe at Chenle’s ear or neck or shoulder.

So, Chenle takes another deep breath and trudges onwards.

He continues to read for who knows how long. He’s not keeping track of time. He can’t; it’s like he’s unable to split his focus off of reading, even for just long enough to glance at the digits at the top right of his screen. The entire time, the lights remain turned off, the space casted in a gentle, ambient dimness, sort of like standing in the shadow of a tall building with just enough light to make everything out. The fire alarm even stops ringing at some point, leaving Chenle’s voice as the only thing filling the air.

“...it was 3:50 AM on a Wednesday night -- no, a Thursday morning. This is the sixth week in a row Mina has shown up, always on a weekday morning past midnight, but never after ‘normal’ waking hours.”

Chenle stopped pausing to look at Jisung a while ago. But, he was and still is paying attention. Gradually, he hears Jisung’s breathing soften from labored to quiet.

“Nayeon has a handful of regulars. They’re usually folk that show up half-drunk on a Friday or Saturday night once every week or two, just for some greasy middle-of-the-night fare to close up a night of drinking. But, Mina was always sober, at least as far as Nayeon could tell. And, she’d never visited on a Friday or a Saturday. Nayeon always paid attention to patrons like that. They were usually the ones with the most stories to tell, whether they did so with or without words.”

There’s a loud click. Suddenly, the space is engulfed in light once again.

Both Chenle and Jisung immediately glance upwards. Obviously, the lights have turned back on. The elevator rumbles, grinds, and thunks. Then, it starts moving again, beginning to head upwards.

“Huh,” Chenle mumbles. He awkwardly clears his throat. “Looks like we’re live again.” Immediately, he presses the power button on his phone to shut the screen off before sticking the device in his pocket.

Jisung trembles as he exhales, his body finally releasing all the tension he’d been holding in. There’s visceral relief painting his expression, so intense that Chenle can’t help but feel a little relieved too, even though he wasn’t particularly freaked out by being stuck in the elevator in the first place.

If anything, he’s probably relieved because Jisung is no longer freaking out, rather than because of any reason directly related to the elevator.

He gets up and extends a hand to Jisung to help him up. Jisung takes it gratefully. His palm is clammy, and he mumbles an apology for it, but Chenle doesn’t particularly care. Chenle then presses the lobby button on the elevator’s panel. They’re still going up, but eventually they should start going down too, now that the lobby button is lit up.

“Thank you,” Jisung says quietly. Chenle shyly looks at him. When their eyes meet, Jisung’s gaze flickers away, sheepish. A dusting of pink begins to diffuse over his cheeks. “That was actually really… comforting. U-Um, both your voice and the story. It helped.”

“Oh,” Chenle murmurs instinctively. Now his face is beginning to heat up. There Jisung goes again, complimenting his voice. At least this time, Jisung isn't complimenting his voice when he’s annoyed. 

Still, Chenle’s skin burns a little hotter than he’s even aware it's able to. Jisung didn’t just compliment his voice -- he also complimented the story…

The story, that Chenle wrote.

That doc Chenle pulled up, the one he was reading from? It’s the doc he’s been typing on for the past four weeks. It’s his fucking fanfiction. 

But of course, Jisung has no idea.

Chenle’s head dips. He must be the same color of red as a tomato right now. He can’t let Jisung see him like this.

“Really, I…” Jisung begins, trailing off, the index finger and thumb of one hand absentmindedly playing with the cuff of the opposite hand’s sleeve, “I liked it -- the story, I mean. Like, not a lot happened, but it felt like it was actually saying a lot. It’s one of those settings where everything’s quiet, but you just feel that something big’s happening underneath.”

Chenle freezes. Not a single inch of his body moves. He doesn’t even blink. Jisung just rambles onwards like he has no idea that what he’s saying is low-key sending Chenle into a meltdown. 

Well, of course he has no idea. To him, Chenle is probably just funny, sarcastic, a little bit lazy, a little bit cynical, and charmingly unserious. To him, Chenle is probably absolutely not someone who would take on writing as a serious hobby, fanfiction or not.

The elevator stops, then opens. There’s no one to be seen in front of the doors. The doors take a second to close, and then Chenle feels them finally start going down.

“It was weirdly calming. Like, I could picture the whole diner too. And not just picture it -- I could smell it, as if I’ve been there before.”

Jisung then looks at Chenle, all sincere and earnest with a warm little smile on his face. Chenle can’t bring himself to meet his eye.

“What book were you reading from?”

“I… u-um, don’t know,” Chenle mumbles roughly. 

“You… ‘don’t know’?” Jisung echoes in confusion. If Chenle were looking at him right now, he’d see an expression of discomfort--and a little bit of hurt--quickly flash over Jisung’s face. Jisung has noticed Chenle is avoiding looking at him, and that, coupled with Chenle’s rather stand-offish response, is beginning to make him panic.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Chenle repeats defensively, with noticeable force in his voice. There’s a lump growing in his throat, a big ball of something -- like, he doesn’t quite know what it is. Anger, maybe? Panic, probably? Anxiety, definitely? Regardless, it’s uncomfortable and frustrating and annoying, and it makes him itch, like he wants to lash out.

“I didn’t know the IT guy doubled as a literary critic,” he snaps, voice low.

“O-Oh.” Jisung swallows nervously. He has no idea how to reply to that. To him, Chenle is suddenly pissed, and it’s scaring him, because he doesn’t know why.

The remainder of the elevator ride is spent in silence. Even though Chenle outwardly remains as still as a statue, inwardly, he’s spiraling. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what the fuck am I doing, why did I fucking say that-- he repeats in his head. Oh god, why did he read Jisung his own writing in the first place--literally anything else would’ve been a better idea, even the goddamn HR compliance manual--and why did he fucking say that to Jisung? “I didn’t know the IT guy doubled as a literary critic”? What is he, an edgy sixteen year-old? Not to mention the way he said it, all sharp and irritable and cold. 

He feels bad; he feels really, really bad. Jisung probably hates him now. Forget potentially ruining their friendship by confessing feelings, Chenle just skipped all the intermediate steps and went straight to the “ruining their friendship” part by reacting all pissy to a situation that was 100% his own fault in the first place.

Yes, it does occur to him that he should apologize, but then he fumbles over how. Like, what could he possibly say to Jisung as an explanation for the way he acted? “Sorry I got mad at you for liking and complimenting the book I read you to calm you down while you were having a panic attack in the elevator, because ha ha it actually wasn’t a book, it was a piece of fanfiction that I wrote”?

No way in hell Chenle is saying that. He still has to protect his pride, so he’s not divulging the fact that he writes fanfiction, nor the fact that what he read was a piece of his own writing, to Jisung. 

But then, like, what else can he say, as a lie, that actually makes sense in terms of explaining his behavior?

The answer is “nothing”.

The moment the elevator doors open to the lobby, Chenle panickedly says, “I-- I gotta pee. Now. Really badly,” and runs, as fast as he can, to the bathroom.

The bathrooms are single-occupant. He locks himself in one and doesn’t come out of it for a whole hour and a half.

There’s two days left until the end of the work week. Chenle avoids Jisung like the plague. While Chenle does show up to the office, he actually spends the majority of his time lounging in the lobby, sitting at the coffee shop across the street, or crashing in the break room on a whole other floor. He only occasionally pops his head back into his office, first making sure he doesn’t hear Jisung’s voice coming from inside, and then going in to sit at his desk for half an hour--just long enough to reassure Renjun and Jaemin that yes, this is the real Chenle sitting here, not some cyborg replacement--before promptly getting up and moving on to the next location on his list of “places Jisung hopefully won’t run into me”.

Mark comes back, as scheduled, the following Monday. Chenle has to stay at his desk, since the boss is back. Jisung attempts to make a visit sometime in the early afternoon, but upon seeing that Mark is back--and certainly, Mark narrowing his eyes the moment he spots Jisung at the doorway, then warily asking, “What brings IT here?” doesn’t help--he makes some excuse about mixing up the room numbers and quickly backs away. Of course, Chenle just keeps his head down, pretending to be grossly occupied by reading the contents of some binder he’s sure contains the pages of the written handbook on how to use Word… the version of Word from 2007.

Naturally, Jisung stops visiting the office altogether, simply because Mark is there. But, Chenle knows there’s always a chance he’ll run into him in the break room, so he’s been putting his lunch in the fridge in the break room on the floor below them and eating lunch there.

It’s pathetic; he knows it is. But, that doesn’t mean that he isn’t still freaking out. Like, oh my god, it’s been over a week now, and he hasn’t made any sort of move to reach out or apologize. At this point, Jisung probably thinks he’s a real ass and won’t even care for an apology. While one can argue that Chenle shouldn’t make assumptions, Chenle thinks about the fact that despite Jisung being nothing short of sweet and nice to him (with exception to some of the teasing jabs he’s taken at Chenle, the ones that are so clinical they feel like a diagnosis, not an insult), Jisung also somehow weaponized a printer -- so really, what can Chenle expect from him? 

Nothing, actually. And that’s kind of scary. Maybe, for once, Chenle is scared of rejection. So, what does he do when he’s scared? He runs away, of course.

But, the thing is, despite Chenle making the decision to run away, he still misses Jisung. 

The workdays go back to being bland and dull and tedious. Hell, even though Mark is back, half of the time, there is still nothing to do, because Mark’s attendance is spotty and his attention span is in five places at once, of which none of them are the actual office.

It doesn’t help that Chenle is even having a hard time writing his fanfiction. Every time he opens up a Word doc--and it doesn’t even have to be the same piece he was working on previously, the one he read to Jisung in the elevator--he puts down several paragraphs before hitting a roadblock, because he can’t help but think of Jisung. Apparently he now associates writing fanfiction with Jisung and Jisung’s genius literary critique, those comments Jisung had made on his work replaying in his head like a recording.

God, it wasn’t even like Jisung said anything mean about his work, either. Jisung had nothing but lovely compliments to make, and instead of gracefully absorbing that and inwardly appreciating it, Chenle panicked and bolted. In hindsight, if it were anyone but Jisung in that situation with him, he might’ve reacted differently. 

However, obviously that was not the case. Okay, so maybe Chenle was wrong and he actually doesn’t handle crushes well.

He spends every day at work as a tangled ball of boredom and frustration and depression. 

Mark is having them coordinate on some project with a couple of other teams. Chenle attends all necessary video meetings, but he sure as hell does not want to be the liaison for their team should one of the other teams need something from them. So, in order to prevent that from happening, he sets his status message on Teams to something nothing short of dramatic, depending on the type of mood he’s in during that hour, which may or may not be affected by him mourning the lost presence of a certain lousy IT guy.

For example, after being noticeably late coming back from lunch, he sets his status to “out of office (spiritually)”. He’s late because he spent forty-five minutes trying to reheat his lunch in floor eight’s break room microwave, only to discover that he never actually hit START. He ended up eating his lasagna cold out of spite. Somewhere between realizing the microwave’s clock had been blinking 02:00 since the last fiscal year and taking his second bite of cold, limp, marinara-covered noodle, his soul left his body.

Also, Jisung once showed him how to change the time on the microwave in floor nine’s break room. (Yes, Chenle didn’t know how to before that.)

In a different instance, his day starts with a ceiling tile above his desk making rhythmic ticking noises all morning. He calls facilities to ask about it and is told it’s “just thermal expansion”. However, the sound is syncopated. It sounds… intentional. It sounds like judgment.

Chenle firmly believes that the sound is definitely not thermal expansion. The sound must be because God is clearly up there, and they are taking notes. God is up there, and God is judging him on how many pages of fanfiction he’s written on company time instead of replying to a single email, on his performance as a functioning adult versus his commitment to fictional lesbians with deep emotional wounds, on his decision to deflect his feelings by pretending to vanish from the mortal plane like that’s a healthy coping mechanism and not just slow self-implosion, and on his determination to color-code unread emails by how likely they are to ruin his day.

Then, later that same day, he receives a calendar invite titled “Quick Sync -- no agenda” from someone he’s never heard of, with no body text and no attached team assignment, just a single link to a scheduled Teams meeting. He ends up joining it at the scheduled time out of morbid curiosity, and the result is him sitting in a video meeting room, completely alone, for seventy minutes.

While he is sitting there, using the video feed of his own face as a sort of mirror to try and guess the exact length of his tongue, he is reminded of Jisung once telling him that, “Jumping into random departmental meetings that have nothing to do with us is the closest we’ll ever get to time travel”. At the time Jisung said that, Chenle had looked at Jisung like he was stupid-stupid and told him to shut up. 

But, right now… right now, Chenle gets it. Right now, he’s all alone in the void, and he’s starting to understand.

So, he sets his Teams status to “in a meeting (with God)”.

(Again, maybe Chenle was wrong and he actually doesn’t handle crushes well.)

Obviously, his coworkers notice his depression. (His boss doesn’t though, because emotional unavailability is basically Mark’s default setting right now.)

Renjun is kind of an ass about it, but then again, Renjun is kind of an ass about anything and everything. Chenle is in the middle of watching him draw a flowchart on the whiteboard that is quickly devolving into nothing but question marks, because while Renjun is great at actually doing things and accomplishing things, he’s even better at pretending to do and accomplish things. 

Then, he stops in the middle of drawing a giant connecting arrow between one node consisting of the words “2 months (??)” to another node consisting of the words “Q4 (????????)” just to slowly turn around and glare at Chenle, the tip of the Expo marker in his hand still pressed against the whiteboard.

“If you’re done auditioning for a slow-motion breakdown--” he begins lowly, eyes narrowing. He’s definitely picked up on the fact that Chenle is completely zoned out. Chenle currently has the thousand-yard stare of someone who’s read the words “per my last email” one too many times. “--I’d love your input on whether this arrow points to sadness, further paperwork, a PIP, or all of the above.”

Chenle doesn’t blink. You could replace him with a cardboard cutout and no one would notice. Actually, the cardboard cutout might even blink more than the real thing.

Since Chenle doesn’t reply, Renjun caps the marker and sets it down in the whiteboard tray. He slowly approaches Chenle and then picks up Chenle’s mug sitting on the table in front of him. There are only a few sips of coffee left in the bottom.

Renjun holds the mug right in front of Chenle’s face -- right in between Chenle’s eyes, almost touching his nose. Of course, Chenle doesn’t seem to notice.

“Should I replace this with something stronger, or just let it evaporate like your desire to live?” Renjun asks, free hand resting on his hip. “I’ve seen houseplants perkier than you today.”

Finally, Chenle blinks, although very, very slowly, like he’s one of those children’s dolls whose eyes automatically close when you set them down horizontally… except that in this instance, Renjun is lowering doll-Chenle with solemn finality, as if laying him to rest in the shallow grave dug at the bottom of the tupperware drawer in the break room kitchenette, right next to the expired coffee pods and everyone’s dreams.

“Yeah?” Chenle mumbles, grimacing slightly. “Tell Mark’s ficus I’m coming for its spot.”

Renjun laughs. He sounds both amused and a teeny, tiny bit relieved -- probably relieved to confirm that yes, this is the real Chenle sitting here, and he hasn’t been monologuing to a cardboard cutout this whole time… which, if we’re being honest, probably would’ve given him about the same level of feedback.

“I was wondering if you’d either run out of sarcasm or just the will to apply it,” Renjun comments, dropping Chenle’s mug back onto the table in front of him with a thunk. “Glad to see it’s neither.”

On a different day, Chenle is dicking around by leisurely spinning around in his chair. There is once again nothing to do, and usually he would just be writing fanfiction, but for previously stated reasons, he’s having a hard time doing that.

He doesn’t know how long he spins for. He’s spinning slowly enough that he isn’t getting dizzy, but still fast enough that his surroundings sufficiently blur, and for a while, he’s not sure whether he’s still in the office or he’s been transported into a screensaver.

At some point, he hears someone violently cough, and he jolts, stopping mid-rotation. He’s met with Renjun standing four feet away from him choking on a popcorn kernel, a half-eaten bag of freshly-popped popcorn clutched in one hand. (The higher-ups actually banned microwaveable popcorn because too many people were setting off the fire alarm making it, but Renjun is far from giving a fuck about some old, overpaid geezer dictating what he is and is not allowed to eat in the office.)

Once Renjun stops coughing and clears his throat, Chenle meets his eye suspiciously. How long has Renjun been standing there watching him silently spin?

“Don’t stop on my account,” Renjun says. “I want to see if you ascend.”

Great, so according to Renjun, Chenle and his depression are equivalent entertainment to one of those rescue horses that does nothing but stare at the fence the entire day.

Jaemin is a little nicer about it -- just a little. He once wordlessly gives Chenle a granola bar. Chenle frowns at it, at first a little suspicious in case this is the beginning of some revenge plot because maybe he has hit some threshold on Jaemin’s internal “list” (yes, he still remembers the fact that Jaemin said he has an internal list, and he’s 99% sure Jaemin was not just saying it for shits and giggles). But, later, after he retrieves a pair of plastic food handling gloves from the break room (just in case) and puts them on to inspect the granola bar, he sees that there is a slip of paper taped to the other side of the wrapper. Sorry for your loss, it says.

Chenle narrows his eyes. This is either a threat or the nicest prelude to blackmail he’s ever received. 

Well, he later figures it was probably an act of kindness, not only because in the next several days, he doesn’t receive any “new login detected from a suspicious IP address” emails from his social media accounts or alerts for hard inquiries on his credit report for new credit cards that he definitely didn’t open himself, but also because one morning, Jaemin watches him try to unwrap a tea bag, only for him to keep on missing the tear notch. Chenle, frustrated, just puts each pitiful failed attempt back in the little basket of tea bags, and now he’s on his fourth packet.

Jaemin then carefully approaches him and puts a warm palm on his shoulder. Chenle jumps so high that he makes a noise he can’t immediately explain or repeat.

“You want me to make your tea for you or… file a wellness check?” Jaemin asks. He means it sincerely, gazing at Chenle with his eyebrows threaded together in worry.

“S-Sure,” Chenle chuckles awkwardly, scratching his head. He doesn’t specify which part of Jaemin’s question he’s saying “sure” to. Jaemin figures it’s probably the tea part… at least for now.

“What tea do you want?” He sets his own tumbler down on the counter and begins to rifle through the tea selection in the little basket.

Chenle thinks for a moment. “Make it something herbal,” he replies, smiling but with his lips stretched out into a flat line, as if he’s trying his hardest to be pleasant but forgot what pleasant feels like. “If I can’t feel joy, at least let me feel vaguely earthy.”

Jaemin smiles back -- the curl of his smile is real, but it’s fragile, like he’s not sure whether to laugh or gently suggest therapy.

So… yeah.

This continues on for a bit. Chenle become everyone's new definition of “corporate misery”.

However, Renjun decides one day that he’s done with Chenle’s mopeyness. Before anyone asks, yes, Renjun is at least a little bit concerned about his coworker’s wellbeing despite how he comes off, but it’s important to note that if he wanted to witness a slow emotional collapse, he’d call his dad.

Renjun isn’t stupid; that, combined with the fact he also happens to be very good at sticking his nose into other people’s business without them realizing it, is fully aware that something happened between Chenle and everyone’s (un)favorite lousy IT guy some while ago, and it was probably definitely Chenle’s fault.

So, he makes a visit to IT.

The moment Jisung sees him firmly open the door and step inside, Jisung sits up straighter like he’s about to get audited for misconduct.

Jisung definitely didn’t do anything wrong though… unless you count accidentally attaching a meme instead of a patch note to some accounting software update sent out to the entire finance department.

“H-Hi,” he mumbles nervously. His coworker eyes him and Renjun curiously, eyebrows raised with interest from sensing the air in the room suddenly change. However, his head drops back to his phone the next second.

Renjun doesn’t bother greeting Jisung back. He just pointedly stalks to Jisung’s desk, stopping right in front of Jisung and putting a palm flat on the surface.

“Listen,” he begins, tone serious as he leans down to stare Jisung right in the eye. From Jisung’s point of view, this is beginning to feel like that one time he was under Renjun’s desk playing with the network port… where Renjun became one giant dark shadow looming over him making him feel all judged and small. (It’s low-key crazy how good Renjun is at doing that to Jisung, because he’s a whole half a head shorter -- Jisung could probably put his chin on Renjun’s head if he tried, but then he’d probably lose access to his chin shortly thereafter.)

“I don’t know what you did or what you didn’t do--and nor do I care--but Chenle has been rotting at his desk like an old banana.”

“O-Oh,” Jisung murmurs, eyes widening slightly. “U-Um… is he okay?”

There’s a pause. Renjun’s face doesn’t move much, just a flicker of disbelief in his eyes, something subtle, automatic, and mildly disappointed as if to say, You want to try that reply again, but with thinking this time? Jisung can feel the judgment radiating off of Renjun, and nervous sweat begins to gather at his collar.

“He’s depressed,” Renjun states plainly. “Which is worse, because that means I have to deal with it. I know for a fact he’s depressed because of you.”

“O-Oh,” Jisung murmurs again, but he doesn’t try to say anything else this time, whether because he’s still processing Renjun’s words, or he’s staying silent for the sake of self-preservation.

“And you are going to fix it.”

Jisung purses his lips, eyebrows threading together in the middle. “But, um, isn’t he mad at me…?” he asks hesitantly.

Renjun frowns a tad bit, head cocking to the side. “‘Mad’?” he repeats. “Hardly. He’s emotionally jammed, like the printer, but more prone to sarcasm.”

“Oh, okay.” Jisung sounds relieved for a moment. “Uh… so… what do I do?”

Renjun almost rolls his eyes. In his head, he’s wondering how Chenle gets so much enjoyment out of hanging out with someone whose default internal monologue is probably just elevator music and mild panic.

“You?” he says, jabbing a finger at Jisung. Jisung looks at it and nervously swallows, as if Renjun is pointing the tip of a sword at him, not his finger. “Write him a letter. Or bake him something. Or set yourself on fire in his name -- I don’t care, do whatever it takes to get you two to reconcile.”

Jisung exhales a little bit. “O-Okay,” he murmurs, “I can write a letter I guess…”

Renjun is already grabbing the first piece of paper he sees on Jisung’s desk. He does not give a fuck if it’s some important document; all that matters is at least one side of the page is blank.

“Yes, you will.” And then, he glares at Jisung, for no particular reason other than to give him a warning. “No stickers. Be serious -- that means you are not going to use the phrase ‘technical difficulties’ anywhere.”

“You are reading this,” Renjun says, at 4:45 PM that same day, appearing next to Chenle’s desk and shoving an envelope in Chenle’s face. “And then, you are doing something about this, or so god help me I will draft your reply for you in your own blood, tears, or whatever’s most available.”

At least Renjun is considerate enough to deliver it to Chenle right before the end of the work day, just in case whatever is in the contents ends up rendering Chenle even more emotionally, mentally, and physically useless than he already is… because then, Chenle can go home and be emotionally, mentally, and physically useless there, instead of doing that in the office and making Renjun suffer through it.

Chenle says nothing, just carefully accepts the envelope and watches Renjun stalk away (but not before he gives Chenle a warning glance to drive the point home).

The next thing Chenle does, of course, is immediately open the envelope--it’s not that he’s scared of Renjun, but he knows Renjun is not the type to toss around threats without any follow-up--and unfold the paper that is inside. 

What he sees instantly makes him frown -- it looks like a heavily annotated floorplan for the building--specifically for their floor--labeled “Evacuation Routes: Revised Draft” in bold lettering at the top of the page. The annotations, scribbled in marker, are not only messy in handwriting, but messy in content too: “?? what does this door do ??” and “remove this hallway?” and “this stairwell always smells like shit”... just to detail a few.

Chenle doesn’t know what to make of it. If anything, his entire head is blank with the exception of question marks.

Then, he turns the page over. There’s writing there, too. As he begins to read, he realizes that maybe he is not the intended audience for the content on the other side of the sheet.

Hi Chenle,

I’m sorry for upsetting you!! Um… if this is about the elevator thing, I want to say I’m sorry, even though I’m still not 100% sure what happened. But, that doesn’t matter to me! I don’t need to know! I just didn’t mean to react weird or anything, and if I made you uncomfortable, I’ll back off. I’m sorry… I know I’m not great at people stuff. But I liked hanging out with you, and still do. I miss that, and I miss you! Let me know if/how I can fix things.

Jisung

Then, taped right below Jisung’s letter is an additional slip of paper that appears to be messily ripped out from a spiral notebook. It has writing on it too, and says: He almost cried writing that, just so you know, and I had to sit there the entire time watching over him like his goddamn nanny. You owe me.

The handwriting on this piece of paper is remarkably different from Jisung’s. Even though there’s no signature, Chenle has worked long enough with Renjun to recognize the handwriting as his.

Chenle puts down the letter and just sits there for a little bit, staring off into space. Too much and too little is going on in his head at the moment. He’s not exactly sure how he feels -- he’s definitely some part shocked, some part nervous, and some part terrified. But then, as he’s sitting there, internally searching himself, he looks down and reads Jisung’s letter once again.

But I liked hanging out with you, and still do. I miss that, and I miss you!

The fear in Chenle right now is real and strong. Yet, there’s something else there that is real and strong too, that he only begins to recognize is present by rereading the last couple lines of Jisung’s letter…

It’s hope, he realizes. 

Jisung isn’t mad at him. In fact, Jisung thinks it’s all his fault, even though the only one who made mistakes was Chenle. And, let’s not overlook the most important part -- the part where Jisung says he misses him.

Chenle glances at his phone. It’s 5:07 PM. He panickedly pushes back his chair and stands up. If he’s fast enough and lucky enough, maybe--just maybe--he can catch Jisung before Jisung is gone for the day.

He sprints out of the office with all the grace of a newborn calf, nearly tripping on one of the legs of his own desk. IT is at the other end of the floor. There’s tons of people moving in the opposite direction of him, heading towards the elevators, and all of them watch him oddly as he swerves back and forth down the halls, mumbling flustered “excuse me”s and “sorry”s and “coming through”s and trying not to accidentally clip someone’s backpack strap or purse handle or jacket button.

He makes it to IT’s door and finds it unlocked. Then, he bursts inside, before gracelessly slamming the door shut behind him.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, hoarse, his environment briefly spinning around him. He needs to lean over, placing his hands on his knees and folding himself in half, in order to catch his breath. (Yes, he has bad cardio, but in his defense, he was also running as fast as his body physically allowed.)

“C-Chenle?” he hears, and wearily lifting his head, he’s met with Jisung frozen in mid-action, packing his laptop away in his backpack and clearly preparing to head home for the day, staring back at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“G-G-Great,” Chenle stammers, roughly clearing his throat and sucking in deep breaths. “You’re still h-here. Renjun, that fucker, d-didn’t give me your letter until twenty minutes ago--” He then violently coughs, wobbling forward until he bumps into the nearest surface -- somebody’s desk, probably Jisung’s coworker’s desk, but since the guy appears to have already left, Chenle doesn’t care and plants his ass on it, right on top of a couple of papers.

Jisung finishes shoving his laptop into his backpack and awkwardly reaches his hands out, as if he’s going to help Chenle in some way, but his arms fall back down to his sides the moment after.

Chenle finally lifts his chin and takes a deep, deep breath -- not only because he’s still breathless, but also just to calm his nerves in general. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, tone serious. His next inhale is shaky. “I’m sorry for-- for everything. For everything that happened in the elevator, for snapping at you, for running away, for ghosting you and avoiding you, for being garbage at communication in general.”

“Oh…” Jisung mumbles. He laughs awkwardly, turning his face away. Chenle sees Jisung beginning to color bright red. Is it from embarrassment? Maybe that’s a part of it, but Jisung shouldn’t be the one that’s embarrassed -- after all, it’s not like he’s the one who’s currently admitting to being a shitty human being.

Maybe, Chenle realizes, Jisung isn’t turning red because he’s embarrassed -- he’s turning red because he’s shocked.

“I-It’s… okay,” Jisung says quietly.

Chenle immediately shakes his head. “No, it’s not,” he firmly replies. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way and done those things. It’s my fault. Like, I was just kind of… terrified by all the nice things you said about that, um, book I read you, that I just kind of lost it and ran away. And not only did I continue to be terrified, but I got extra terrified afterwards because I was freaking out about how to explain myself to you.”

Now that he’s saying it out loud, he realizes how fucking stupid it sounds. Really, why did he do that? Why was he like that?

In reaction to his words, Jisung frowns. “‘Terrified’?” he repeats, clearly confused. 

“Okay, look, it doesn’t exactly make perfect sense to me either.” Chenle laughs nervously. He takes a deep breath, and in the one second he spends inhaling, his gaze coasts over Jisung’s face. Something about the way Jisung is looking at him hits him with the realization that regardless of what happens between them, Jisung would never be someone to ridicule another person for their hobbies regardless of how out-of-pocket they are. 

Sure, Jisung teases, but he’s not malicious, and Chenle was foolish to have been too prideful and sensitive to see that.

“It wasn’t… it wasn’t a book,” Chenle continues, the volume of his voice dropping several notches. His gaze flickers away, too self-conscious to maintain eye contact. As he readies himself for his next words, the heat rushes to his face.

“It was my own writing. My, um, fanfiction.”

A few seconds of silence pass between them, the air thick with it.

“You wrote that?” Jisung asks. He sounds shocked, obviously, but also hesitant and unsure.

“Surprise?” Chenle shakily grins, holding his hands up at his sides in a shrugging kind of motion. “Secret hobby. It was the most recent doc on my phone, and my brain just happened to default to opening it for whatever reason. I admit that I’m embarrassed about it… so, you can kinda see why I freaked out at you in the elevator.”

Jisung stays frozen and unblinking for a while, long enough to make Chenle start panicking again. But then, he finally blinks.

“But-- why?” is what he ends up saying. “Why freak out? It wasn’t even bad writing!” He says it like it being bad writing would’ve further justified Chenle’s meltdown -- which, it might’ve, but that’s not the point. The point is that Chenle had a meltdown over it, and he handled that meltdown very, very poorly.

Then, Jisung’s jaw tightens, just slightly. His overall expression doesn’t change much, but there’s now a sharpness behind his eyes and a labored breath before he speaks again…

It almost sounds as if he’s getting angry.

“You-- you had me thinking I did something to piss you off really badly. I thought we were friends, but then I wasn’t so sure anym--”

“N-No, we are!” Chenle exclaims, flustered, holding his hands up in front of his body. He’s nervous once again, but this time for a completely different reason. His ears perk up, detecting the mild edge in Jisung’s voice, and he briefly thinks, Oh god. Maybe Jaemin wasn’t the one I should’ve been worried about. “We are friends, I swear! I’m telling you, I’m the one who fucked up, not you. You can be angry at me, but please just don’t be angry at me for too long?”

Jisung seems to calm down, even if only a little.

“I’m not… I’m not angry,” he mutters. “I’m frustrated.”

“I understand--” Chenle begins, just to get interrupted.

“No, you don’t.”

Chenle’s mouth immediately shuts. He didn’t expect that kind of response from Jisung of all people -- if Renjun were on the other side of this conversation right now, Chenle would’ve totally seen it coming… but not Jisung.

“I’m frustrated because I like you, Chenle.”

Chenle freezes. Huh? he thinks. Then, it occurs to him that obviously, Jisung is referring to their friendship. 

“I know,” he replies. “B-But, like I said, we are still friends, unless you--”

“Not like that.” Jisung exhales through his nose, loud enough that Chenle would’ve assumed it was paired with an eye roll if he wasn’t looking directly at Jisung’s face right now. “You know that one time I put a label on your forehead that said ‘Mostly Operational’?”

Chenle slowly nods.

“So, I like you in the way that I’d have changed that label out for one that says, ‘Object of Affection’ instead.”

Chenle freezes, again.

Jisung grimaces. “Fuck, that sounded better in my head,” he mutters, under his breath.

It takes all of three seconds for Chenle’s brain to finally catch up to current events. Did he… did he just hear things correctly? “Object of Affection”? Like… like… that kind of affection?

“Wh--” he begins, stammering, jaw dropping open. “What-- why-- how--”

“If you’re in the process of searching for the words, ‘Thank you, I am flattered but let’s just stay friends’, I’m fine with that,” Jisung states plainly, shockingly not at all perturbed by Chenle’s flusteredness. “If anything, in that case, at least neither of us will have to send an email to HR…” he adds on, slightly embarrassed and chuckling.

Never, ever, in a million years would Chenle have guessed that this is how things go down should he decide somewhere down the line to tell Jisung that he likes him--like, likes likes him--that instead, Jisung would not only flip the tables on who says what, but also somehow Chenle ends up being the one hitting the ceiling over it.

“N-No--” he stutters, waving his hands around because he has no fucking clue what to do with them. “No, I mean--” Not to be fucking dramatic, but he has to put a palm over his chest, because otherwise he feels himself beginning to forget to breathe, “--I kinda, um, freaked out super hard over the whole reading you my fanfiction thing also because I… like… you… too?”

The inflection at the end of his sentence is raised, making it sound like a question. It is a question, at least sort of; but, the question isn’t whether or not he likes Jisung -- the question is whether or not he can maintain a straight face and admit it, right now and out loud.

Well, ha ha, he can’t. His cheeks become hot enough that it feels like he could burst into flames at any moment, so he puts his hands over his face.

“Okay,” is Jisung’s reply, sounding super professional and polite, as if he was actually expecting Chenle to admit that he has feelings for him too. But, that is probably just his programmed response, and in reality things simply take a moment to hit him, because a few seconds later he starts spiraling.

“What?!” he exclaims. “Are you-- are you serious? Really?”

“Y-Yeah?” Chenle mumbles, muffled by his own palms. “I was so stupidly depressed over not having you around that motherfucking Renjun threatened to murder me--or torture me or something--if I didn’t reply to your letter.”

Okay, well, Renjun didn’t specifically say he was going to murder or torture Chenle, but considering he was threatening to draft Chenle’s reply for him in “blood, tears, or whatever’s most available”? That sure as hell sounds like murder or torture.

“Oh…” Jisung whispers, “oh my god…” (Just to be clear, Jisung is “oh my god”-ing over Chenle reciprocating his feelings, not “oh my god”-ing over Renjun threatening to murder or torture Chenle… because let’s be real, he’s not surprised Renjun would do such a thing.)

“Yeah…” Chenle murmurs. 

They sit in brooding silence for a very, very long time.

“So… what do we do now?” Jisung quietly asks.

“Wanna… wanna have dinner together?” Chenle nervously suggests. “We never did get to eat lunch that one time, because you know… I ran away before it happened.”

Jisung blinks twice, as if still in disbelief over the fact that the person he likes, likes him back.

“Sure,” he says, grinning.

The following week, Jisung appears in their office for the first time in a while. Mark isn’t going to be in until noon, so Chenle texted Jisung and told him he’s free to drop by if he wants.

Jisung is currently in the process of building towers with Chenle’s erasers, while Chenle is updating an internal FAQ page that no one has accessed since 2021. 

Jaemin is bored, too. For once his main source of entertainment is not a gacha game. He and Renjun were surprised to see Jisung visit again--if not a little cautious--but any ruffled feathers were quickly smoothed over by the free, non-Keurig pod coffee Jisung brought with him.

“I’m curious,” Jaemin begins, leaning back in his chair. “Why did you decide to randomly show up in our office one day? Like, we are all aware by now you weren’t here to do actual work. Is it just because you were bored and heard we have nothing to do too?”

“Well, yeah,” Jisung replies. “That was the primary reason.”

“The ‘primary’ reason?” Chenle raises an eyebrow curiously. “What’s the other reason?”

Jisung pauses, a small smile playing on his lips. Immediately, Chenle is moderately suspicious. “You really want to know?” he asks.

Chenle and Jaemin exchange a glance. At that moment, they share one thought, and one thought only: Uh oh.

“...Sure,” Chenle carefully responds.

“It was targeted,” Jisung says, simply.

Jaemin frowns. “‘Targeted’? The hell does that mean?”

“I’m in IT.” Jisung adds another eraser on top of the current tower, and it topples. “Oops,” he mutters, under his breath. “I’ve met everyone on the floor at some point, even the temps and the contract workers and the guys who only last for two weeks.”

“And…?” Chenle continues.

“I met you a while ago, thought you were cute, then figured out since your boss was out for a while and your team wasn’t doing anything important for the time being, now might be my chance.”

Chenle pauses typing. Jaemin pauses breathing.

Just then, Renjun walks through the door. “Why do you two look like you’ve just seen a ghost?” he asks. 

“I know you think he’s stupid,” Chenle begins, jerking his head towards Jisung. “But I promise you, he’s really not -- and I’m not just saying that because I’m seeing him.”

Surprisingly, Renjun throws his head back and laughs.

“Of course he’s not stupid,” Renjun says, in between laughter. “He’s somehow managed to fool his boss into keeping him employed for this long. I doubt he’d be able to do that if he was actually stupid.”

Simultaneously, both Chenle and Jaemin whip their heads around to stare at Jisung.

“What?” Jisung innocently asks, shrugging once. “I thought the duality was part of my charm.”