It’s way too early. Still tired, you stumble into the small office breakfast bar, eager to make yourself some coffee in hopes of preventing you from faceplanting into your desk later in the day.  Unfortunately, your mundane daily morning routine is interrupted when you hear cursing coming from the kitchenette; curiously, you round the corner and come face to face with Jongdae.

Also known as your lowkey crush and first friend since your employment.

But, anyway.

He looks startled to see you, but quickly regains his composure. “Uh, hey there?”

“Is everything okay?” you ask, concerned. The way he fidgets nervously gives away that clearly something is wrong. “Did something happen?”

“Uh, I kind of, broke the coffee machine? Or something?” He lets out a nervous laugh.

“You're not serious, are you?" you ask, eyeing Jongdae. He gives you a nervous smile before stepping aside, letting you see the tragedy. The coffee machine sputters steaming coffee into the empty space where the pot is supposed to be, which, for its part, is in pieces on the floor. You wince when it gurgles and spits out another few drops, getting coffee everywhere, except it already is everywhere—pooling on the counter, trickling onto the floor, spreading across the white tiles.

“Oh,” you say, staring at the mess.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, I can help?” you offer, and grab as many napkins from the paper towel dispenser as you can hold.

“Sure, yeah, that would be great,” Jongdae says gratefully, grabbing his own share of napkins. “I just hope the boss doesn’t get here before we finish.”

You hum in agreement and begin wiping the spilled coffee on the table, but you fail to realize that it’s freshcoffee, which means that it’s hot. But of course, the realization comes too late, and you instinctively retract your hand, cursing, and manage to hit the nearby cappuccino machine.

“Ow—oh ,” you say, diving for it at the same time as Jongdae; you knock heads, and helplessly watch the cappuccino machine clatter to the ground. Reeling back from the hit, you stumble backwards, try to steady yourself on the bagel rack, and end up sending it toppling to the ground as well.

And thus the beginning of the destructive cycle is set into motion, amazingly driven by coincidences—or on your part, at least. After Jongdae managed to somehow miraculously knock over the fruit stand (and thus spilling fruit everywhere), you began to suspect that maybe the over exaggerated movements and flailing limbs aren’t entirely an accident. Lowkey, of course. You only lowkey suspected him.

Finally, the apocalyptic mess finally subsides; you step back and immediately eviscerate a grape. You wince; it certainly isn’t the first grape you’ve brutally murdered this morning, but the terrible feeling is always the same.

“,” you curse. “We ed up.”

“No we did,” Jongdae agrees with satisfaction, surveying the scene before you. Food is everywhere; fruit is haphazardly strewn across the floor, squashed and bruised and lying in the pools of coffee that have messily spread across the floor. You pick up a bagel lying by your feet. Gingerly, you toss it into the nearby trashcan and hear a squelch.

“What do we do now?” you ask, staring at the countless machines you and Jongdae have managed to break.

“I don’t know, just walk out and pretend that we didn’t just break the entire breakfast bar thing, I guess,” Jongdae suggests.

“Well,” you say, “we didn’t break the ketchup machin—”

Right on cue, the red condiment dispenser finally wobbles its way off the counter onto the ground. It splatters some ketchup onto the ground, adding to the grisly mess.

“….Never mind.” You wonder why there was a ketchup dispenser at a breakfast bar in the first place.

Jongdae in a sharp breath. “Yeah.”

“Let’s just—let’s just leave. Right now,” you say, gently pushing Jongdae out of the