three

The thing is, Hyukjae’s inventiveness happens to have limits. And those are—quite unfortunately, one might say—huge.

Whenever Hyukjae tried to think up something, it’s usually good and creative for a while of five minutes. Then, it just deflates pathetically into nothing. It’s hard for Hyukjae to keep even fantasies going, because he’s not good at picturing situations that he hadn’t gone through in real life. Hyukjae needs the experience, needs to have lived through things so he can analyze them, and then remember at a later time.

So yeah, imagination has never really been one of Hyukjae’s strong points, to be honest.

It’s not a bad thing, of course it’s not. There are plenty of people who have close to no imagination, and Hyukjae just happens to be one of them. His skills just lie somewhere else, maybe in numbers and high-quality wit.

No, the problem is that now, Hyukjae has completely run out of ideas. He has absolutely no clues about what he’s supposed to do for his post-it notes thing’s next step. Helping his co-workers with their messed up social life isn’t too much of a hassle anymore, now that Hyukjae’s realized that there’s a lot less complaining during cafeteria time. Yet there’s really only so many pieces of advice that he can think of writing.

Plus, thanks to the company’s strong fondness for gossip, it’s now a well-known fact that an anonymous colleague is leaving cheering-up notes to some privileged ones. They’re talking about it in the elevator, and in the cafeteria, and even in the toilets. It’s become a total crisis if Hyukjae ever lived through one.

And Hyukjae’s an ex-delinquent. Trust him when he says that he did.

Because, well, Hyukjae categorically hates the attention, whether it’s positive or negative. In fact, he’s done his very best not to get caught by anyone—yet he still has a terrible feeling that Joohyun knows. Jungsoo does, too. Hyukjae’s sure of it because, well, duh. And just that terrifying thought alone is enough to keep him up at night. Maybe Hyukjae should just ask for a transfer into another branch of the company. Maybe Busan; or New York. Hyukjae’s always wanted to go to the USA. He’s not really good at English, but he supposes he can always try and think up something, right?

Ha, ha. Such a great joke that he just did there.

Hyukjae wouldn’t usually mind leaving his little kindness campaign on hold, but Kyuhyun and Junmyeon clearly aren’t on the same page as he is. They still have boxes to cross, they insist, and they need Hyukjae to finish his damn job. Hyukjae wants to curse at them. Oddly enough, however, he still hasn’t. Probably because he actually finds himself enjoying their friendship and, God, doesn’t that sound like a complete nightmare already? 

So there he is, wasting away his Sunday afternoon to try and think of something cool and nice to accomplish on Monday.

The—other—problem is that he’s left post-it notes to about all the people that actually deserved one. Hyukjae gave notes to almost all of the Heads of Department, and to some of the other hardworking colleagues of his service, and even to the sad-looking janitor that he keeps walking past at closing time. He doesn’t know who else to give one now, and he strongly refuses to send something to the same person twice. That is just not done.

“Meow,” Fleabags purrs uninterestedly next to Hyukjae.

Well. Maybe there is someone. Hyukjae hesitates for a moment, and then sighs. There’s, well. There’s Donghae, right. He could leave something for Donghae.

And yes, he did leave something for Donghae already, but those weren’t notes, were they? They were just… something else. Something that didn’t count. Obviously.

*

Donghae isn’t the type to need a lot of things to be happy. He always has a smile on his face, always has a kind word on the tip of his tongue, always is read to help. If someone just thought of bringing him a cup of coffee, Donghae would accept it like it was an early Christmas present. If someone else dropped by and said, hey, how’ve you been, he’d thank them thrice for thinking of him. Donghae seeks social interaction like one needs oxygen to survive, and gives it back a hundredfold. He’s a bit like an office plant; all he needs is a bit of sunshine and love.

So to put it simply, Donghae is Hyukjae’s complete opposite.

If Donghae were a peace lily, all cute and lovable, Hyukjae is a ing wasabi. Literally the hardest plant to grow in the world. And not quite the prettiest either. Because, let’s be honest, Hyukjae isn’t easy to deal with. At all. He’s complicated, and difficult, and he needs this and that, and again this, just to have enough motivation to wake up.

No, really, Hyukjae has no idea how he’s managed to keep the will to stay alive for so long.

Anyway, the point is, Hyukjae’s sure that he could give him a paperclip, and Donghae would be the happiest man in the world. He’d keep it on him all the time, and he’d show it to anybody who’d be willing to listen, and he’d cherish it probably for the rest of his life. And just for a ing paperclip.

That’s just crazy, isn’t it, because Donghae lost his father not so long ago. He has all the rights in the world to be angry and sad, and yet he still tries. He tries so hard.

Donghae is—he is a cupcake. The sweetest cupcakes of them all, and do you know how weak Hyukjae gets in front of cupcakes?! Well, they don’t make one of his finest moments, that is certain. To be fair, Hyukjae hasn’t met a lot of cupcakes before Donghae, but if they’re all like him—and thanks whoever’s up there, there’s only one like Donghae—, God, he would die.

“Paperclips,” Hyukjae mutters under his breath. “ing paperclips.”

Next to him, Kyuhyun gives him a look and glances at his grid longingly. Junmyeon is eyeing Hyukjae suspiciously from his desk. There’s no Gone Crazy boxes left anymore for them to cross, which is only a small satisfaction compared to the desperation that’s growing steadily in Hyukjae’s stomach.

*

When Donghae steps sleepily into his office on that same day, there’s a string of paperclips waiting conspicuously for him on his desk. He stares at it, bewildered, and then looks for the note. There’s always a note.

And there it is, plain black ink on bright pink. It’s stuck on his leather chair and reads, lucky charm paperclip necklace, wear it for plenty of happiness.  

Donghae raises a disbelieving eyebrow. There were folders at first, and then candy, and now a lucky charm? He’s not sure if his secret gift person, if he can call them that, is being purposely silly or if they just ran out of inspiration. As he stares curiously at the colorful “necklace”, Donghae decides to opt for the second option.

And then he wears it.

*

At lunchtime, Donghae is sauntering happily through the cafeteria with his stupid paperclip necklace on him. He’s smiling as bright as the sun, telling whoever’s asking that it’s a gift, from the post-it note person. It’s a happiness lucky charm! he repeats over and over again. And just, God. There are dozens of colors on that thing, red and blue and yellow, and Donghae just, he just looks ridiculous.

Hyukjae wasn’t lying when he said that Donghae would be happy with even just one paperclip. But now he has twenty-six of them, and he looks like he could burst out of happiness and pride. For a ing paperclip necklace. Donghae’s like a little child who just got offered the best gift in the world, and isn’t that—isn’t that just so adorable?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Hyukjae feels his face burn up with embarrassment, while both Kyuhyun and Junmyeon laugh uncontrollably by his sides. Their respective Sentimental Fool AF and Define Worst Artist Ever boxes are clumsily crossed out, and Hyukjae feels like he deserves it a little.

But then, why can’t he stop smiling?

*

The next day, it’s a potted peace lily that Donghae finds in his office. His necklace makes soft clinking noises when he gasps and rushes to it. It’s small and adorable, and the flowers are so pretty, and Donghae just loves it. It’s one of those easy-to-grow plants, and that’s just perfect for him, because really, Donghae does not have a green thumb at all. It’s usually why people avoid gifting him plants, even though he secretly loves to have some in his office or at home.

This time, the post-it note says, adorable little plant which needs love and sunshine (and water), just like you.

Oddly enough, that makes Donghae blush.

*

“Hey, Hyukjae!”

Hyukjae startles and drop all of his folders on the floor. Sheets of paper scatter around his feet and mix up together, and he groans just from the thought of having to sort them out again. From the corners of his eyes, he sees Junmyeon crossing out his Vandalizes the Building’s Common Spaces with a bored look. Hyukjae glares at him fiercely.

“Uh. Yeah?” Hyukjae turns around to Donghae, and then nearly chokes himself to death.

Donghae is holding the ing potted plant to his chest, as if it’s some kind of fragile puppy that needs constant attention. The paperclips are still around his neck, and he has this huge, huge smile on his face again. Sunlight shi