#thread.do-si-do

[neueroses]

do-si-do

23:09 Jung-gu, Seoul

Like any well-meaning and well-to-do coworker ready to call it a night, it’s a simple formality. Two cleanly plucked brows divoted with all the makings of concern that she can muster in the second it takes for her to splay one arm languidly over his cubicle wall while the other clasps tight onto the handles of her taupe Birkin, Yebin sends her regards.

“Don’t stay up too late, you two,” She sing-songs, lips puckering towards the next cubicle over where Youngdeok slaves away to the slow stream of perspiration of his fifth iced coffee. In front of her, there is Junho. Junho, gray sunken eyes trained on the screen and unflinching. Junho, punching digits at eleven like usual.

Usual?

And how would she know.

It occurs to her then. Junho’s been staying extra late nights for the past two weeks, or at least later than her. Normally Yebin was out the door by seven, eight at the latest. But Subin had left behind two month’s worth of leads after taking maternal leave, and she’d been playing catch up on the night owl shift ever since—and had therefore taken note of Junho’s otherwise phantom presence. (Youngdeok, meanwhile, was a given; a self-effacing, caffeine-jittering fixture of dawn.)

“These aren’t the numbers i threw at you today, are they?” She leans in, eyes widening... and quickly narrowing. He should have sent them hours ago, when she’d actually needed them. The presentation was over—this deliverable was as good as garbage now. “So sorry about that, by the way, for putting you on the spot on such short notice. But seriously, there’s no rush.” Anymore. “Save it for Monday morning!” So you at least don’t fuck up the math. “You should go home. Or go out. It’s the weekend!”

@youngnovas