With a satisfied nod, Kim Minseok filed the signed contract and emailed back his thanks to his contact at NC Tech. Jeong Jaehyun had been direct, friendly, and—most importantly to Minseok—respectful when they talked over the phone, and his demeanor translated into his emails.

A client who finally didn’t want to make Minseok take out his frustration by flinging compost onto his garden.

As Alternatives in Disposal Solutions’ Responsible Disposal Advocate Specialist Manager (long title—he knows), he got more than his fair share of disgusted and condescending attitudes. He saw how clients would step back after shaking his hand or the slight grimace once he started negotiating terms for his workers on ground. They might as well have pinched their noses and said out loud that Minseok and his team should just be grateful of their employment.

Minseok huffed at the thought. As if corporations, establishments, or regular citizens could go about their daily lives without waste collection and processing workers.

But NC Tech had only been enthusiastic and reasonable in their collaboration and requests with their small company, so Minseok planned on calmly dressing his plants this upcoming weekend.

For tonight, he saved his files and logged off his computer, glancing around his office to make sure that he didn’t leave anything, before locking the door. He headed down the hallways and stopped by the Lounge. The office area of the disposal plant had a kitchenette, a couple of plush chairs, and harsh florescent lights. Minseok didn’t like the glares from the lights to the blank walls, but he often found his coworker friend and his second cup of coffee here.

He didn’t spot Yixing though, which was a bit odd considering that his hazel-haired friend worked in the Lounge so much that they joked that it was his second office. He often worked late on waste inventory records or his mysterious ‘side gig’ that he always shooed Minseok away from whenever he tried to figure it out. It was like the man didn’t need to sleep—he never needed coffee, always answered his phone no matter what ungodly time Minseok called him, and permanently radiated kindness and gentility. He was like an angel whenever he listened to Minseok’s complaints or whenever he handled unhappy clients—even more so with clients. The moment his dimpled smile lit his face, even the crankiest of clients softened up.

The gentle reminders to get rest, take breaks, and eat always slipped out of Minseok’s mouth whenever he saw his friend, and sometimes he couldn’t bite them back in time. He wasn’t supposed to care like that or to nag. More than once he apologized for it, but Yixing would tilt his head and tell him not to be sorry for showing concern.

Wondering if his friend decided to go home without telling him, Minseok kept down the halls, locking the main door, until he made it to the parking lot. He walked to the few cars left in the lot, got in his car, and checked if Yixing had at least left him a message. He saw that his friend hadn’t, so he just texted a pouty face since he had left without him nor a goodnight.

He started the drive back to his apartment. In truth, Minseok probably should take his own advice in getting rest, taking breaks, and eating. He saw that he worked well past the closing time. Again. On-ground workers worked from the beginnings of dawn to evening, while office workers came in and left a little later, excluding meetings with clients. But Minseok worked late so often that his boss, CEO Gu, just gave him a key to lock up when he was done.

He decided to just eat pre-packed sushi from his regular convenience store, the only nearby place open at one in the morning, and stopped in front of Red Velvet Washing and Convenience. The corner shop had its hidden charm, being half a laundromat and half a convenience store. The shelves and tables near the door normally took in the white daylighting of the outside, illuminating the shelves of small products, necessity foods and seasonings, magazines, snacks, and open fridge. The washers, dryers, and vending machines of soap, dryer sheets, and laundry bags lined the opposite wall.

The person he always saw on the night shift, Bae Joohyun, looked up at him with a smile. She had pale skin, almost paler than the florescent lights of the Lounge, which made Minseok hope that these late-night shifts weren’t affecting her health, but she never seemed tired when he saw her. And when he had asked if she was, she just laughed and appreciated his concern, though he could have sworn a mischievous smirk had played on her lips.

“Hi, Minseok. Working late again or lost track of time?”

“Both. I think I’ll get sushi for dinner.”

“The unagi is fresh from today. You know where to go.”

He chuckled and made his way to the fridge. After a few minutes of debating which unagi meal to pick (they had the same contents and weight, but one of the packages looked like it had more unagi), he paid at the counter.

“Thanks, Joohyun,” he said and waved, except she had her head turned, looking out the windows. Her eyes narrowed at something in the distance.

“Minseok, be careful getting home for the next few days. Don’t side-track for anything you hear or see and go straight into your house.”

Her tone had a firmness to it, like a command, and although he felt a twinge of indignance for someone younger than him to order him home, he dismissed it when he saw how she clacked her nails against the counter.

“Is something the matter?”

“No, just… the late night, you know? It’s dangerous.”

“I should be saying that to you, Ms. University Student. I know it’s hard getting money for tuition, but your safety should come first. Maybe talk to the owner about changing to a day shift on days you don’t have class?”

At this, her features laxed even if just a little.

“You nag more than my mom did, and that’s saying something. Don’t worry though. I’ll be fine. I got weapons and my bike. If anything happens, I’ll run them over, then spray them with mace.”

He snickered at the image but couldn’t suppress the worry.

“Okay, but call someone if anything happens or even if you’re feeling spooked. You have my business card.”

“I will. Thank you.”

They waved, and he left, hopping back into his car and driving back to his house. A squat building that ran up a hidden cement hill, his house was like a dot of greenery in the middle of the city, filled with flowers, herbs, and accompanied by a few trees. At least, it felt that way to Minseok. He argued to himself that he liked plants, and he might as well made use of his backyard/balcony that overlooked parts of the city. He escaped there whenever clients or his own mind heckled him. His private garden and paradise.

Unlocking the door, Minseok sighed at the light shining on the empty rooms, at the volume of his sigh in the vacant house. He ate a few bites of sushi before closing the pack. He didn’t feel that hungry despite not eating anything since lunch. He supposed that it was the stress of his work. Even though his recent clients have been more pleasant to work with, he wished that…

No, he was just tired from the day.

Shaking his head, Minseok left the remaining sushi in his fridge, took a shower, plugged his phone, and slipped out to his garden. Under the canopy of a tree older than him, he had set up a daybed complete with pillow and blanket as he more often than not fell asleep there than in his actual bed. Because here, the chill along his skin could be rationalized by the wind even during the summer.

He settled against the bed, staring out at the city lights. He had knocked down the brick railing and replaced them with iron bars so that he could see down into the city. His neighbors were on the ‘ground’ floor and had their own backyards on the same level as their house anyway, so no one could complain.

He watched the lights twinkle, rubbing his arms when the blanket slipped from covering him. It made him think that someone else was with him if he pretended.

In the privacy of his own garden, Minseok sighed and admitted the sentence in his head that always ran free whenever he came to his sanctuary.

He was alone in what was supposed to be home.

~~~~~

Minseok woke to a buzzing, and he groaned, patting around for his phone and squinting at the screen.

From: Yi⭐

Sorry I left without telling you

There was an emergency with my side gig

Minseok rubbed his eyes, a bit more alert now. The ‘side gig’ was a way for him to tease his friend, but if Yixing actually used the word, then he must have been pretty out of it. He sent a text asking if everything was okay and woke fully when Yixing’s reply came immediately.

From: Yi⭐

It’s fine… Can I tell you about it at work?

Minseok tapped out an encouraging yes and moved to get ready. As he freshened up, ate his leftover sushi, and brewed his coffee, he rubbed his forearms in thought. On occasion, Yixing did tell him about his ‘side gig,’ albeit vaguely and usually when something bad happened. He used metaphors and stand-in names, but the disheartenment could never be disguised whenever something bad happened. Moving a little faster than usual, he capped his coffee cup and drove to Alternative Disposal Solutions.

When he met his friend, he cringed at the way he looked up at him from one of the Lounge’s tables. His skin lost its usual glow, his neat hair stuck out in messy tangles (and it was short, so that was a feat of itself), and his attempt at a smile just made him look even more depressed.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Minseok sat down next to him, nevermind that he was supposed to clock in.

“I’m fine. Just exhausted.”

“Yixing, you can’t put ‘just’ and ‘exhausted’ together like that. It doesn’t make sense. What happened?”

His friend frowned and sighed, poking at the table.

“You know how I said that my side gig involves a lot of other people, and we work together by area, and I’m in charge of keeping track of everyone and their assignments?”

“Yeah.”

“Yesterday, a really bad person came and… stole some assignments. My coworkers and I looked all over, even got injured, but we lost the bad person. Now all those missing assignments are probably alone and hurting somewhere, and it’s all my fault.”

He covered his face, and Minseok felt his heart reach out to his friend. Some things never really made sense whenever Yixing talked about his side gig—like how assignments could be stolen or be alone and hurting—but Minseok had learned to not question them, not when his friend was starting to sob with quiet cries.

“Yixing, I’m sure it’s not your fault. You only keep track of assignments, and besides, that awful person is the reason to blame for anything bad happening