TUESDAY

6:43 A.M

A ray of sunlight makes its way into the room and hits Jongin square in the face the next morning.

Jongin unconsciously rolls onto his side. He doesn't need to check his alarm clock to know that he's overslept by an hour, as usual. Not only that, but, even with his eyes closed, it doesn’t take him long to figure out that something isn’t right.

He has no idea what it is, and he’s not about to go dumpster diving in his memory bank for events he knows are long forgotten. But he still can’t dismiss the strange heaviness in his chest as he stares up the cracks in the ceiling.

Aside from the usual splitting headache, it takes Jongin nearly a minute to muster the strength to crawl out of bed. The whole apartment is oddly silent save for his own pulse in his ears, which is so deafening that Jongin almost wants to burst into tears.

It’s not until his feet hit the soft carpet that something seems to snap at the back of Jongin's head. He takes a look at the wrinkled sheets before sneaking a glance at his disheveled dress shirt and tie, which is not only on the verge of becoming undone, but covered in darkened, orangey patches.

To make matters worse, Jongin suddenly comes to remember handing his house keys to Sehun at some point last night. He can’t recall what he might have said to Sehun for the life of him, but Jongin figures that he doesn’t need to, because he doesn’t even need to call out to know that Sehun is no longer here. Since Jongin knows that he must have crashed the second he walked in the door, he makes a mental note to ask Sehun to fill him in on last night's events as soon as he gets to the office.

Retying his tie, Jongin tries, and fails, to ignore the dull throbbing in his head. He knows that his boss will go into conniptions if he shows up without a tie, but if she doesn’t want him to arrive at noon by staying behind to run it through the washing machine, she’s just going to have to live with it for today.

A part of Jongin considers texting Sehun to thank him for coming over on such short notice, only to give up when he can’t find his cell phone anywhere. All he can focus on is making his hair look less like a crow's nest and perhaps slathering three inches of concealer under his eyes if he doesn't want to scare his colleagues away in a bit. His chest aches like it’s being weighed down by a three ton boulder, to the point that Jongin momentarily considers crawling to the bathroom.

Jongin doesn’t know what else he expected, but he only feels his headache worsen when he catches a glimpse of his own reflection in the mirror. He isn’t sure if it’s his splotchy cheeks, the strange redness lining his jawline, or his overall sunken appearance, but he’s unable to look at himself for longer than two seconds before scrambling for the nearest packet of Advil. 

The pill must have awoken his brain, because a thought subsequently hits Jongin like a freight train. Given the disdain Jungah seems to have grown towards her own bedroom lately, Jongin doesn’t even bother checking it as he nearly trips over his own two feet flying down the stairs. Instead, he stumbles into the living room, fully expecting to see her fast asleep on the couch. 

Except Jungah is nowhere in sight, and Jongin is about to question if this whole babysitting thing was just one big dream until he catches a glimpse of something colorful in his peripheral. Upon closer inspection, he notices that it’s a gigantic pile of newly folded origami. At least that dismisses his theory of everything being a figment of his imagination, even though he certainly doesn’t recall folding a single thing last night. She must have asked Mom to walk her to school.

Jongin finds himself staring at the blue cranes and pink cats until something clenches at the back of his chest. He sort of hates that he fell straight into a drunken slumber as soon as he got home, because the thought of crafting origami with Jungah and Sehun makes his gut flutter. Jongin swipes his house keys, which Sehun must have left on the windowsill last night. His briefcase seems to have fallen off the face of the planet, so Jongin opts to ditch it before flying out the front door.

___

If Jongin wasn’t already beating himself up about arriving an hour late, it’s nothing compared to the irritation that makes him want to cry when he comes to find the driver's side door unlocked. And, to make matters even worse, that his car has been running the whole night with key in the ignition. If he’s lucky, he’s going to make it with enough fuel to the office, but Jongin still curses out loud as he tries grabbing his briefcase from its spot in the backseat.

The seats are damp against his back, but Jongin forgets all about it when he shifts, only to realize that he’s sitting on something soft. To his surprise, he holds up one of Jungah’s Rilakkuma dolls, the one that she always said reminded her of him due to its squishiness. Come to think, the driver's seat has been pushed back ever so slightly, and Jongin tries to ignore the buzzing in his chest as he reaches for the lever.

What the is going on?

Jongin has to stop himself from slamming the accelerator when the familiar dullness ignites deep within his chest. As a distraction, he makes a mental note to scold Jungah for messing around and using his car as some sort of cozy sleeping cabin while Sehun babysat her. Jongin figures that he'll have to ask Sehun about it later if their schedules will allow a mutual lunch break. As long as his boss doesn’t slaughter him on the spot for coming in forty minutes late, of course.

8:56 A.M

After nearly colliding with the moving elevator doors, Jongin hurriedly scrambles out onto the second floor. He can already pick up on Luhan shading Minseok for stealing his lunch, and Jongin makes sure to tune them out as he makes his way towards his cubicle. To his relief, his boss only sends him a mild look of irritation when she spots him instead of dragging him to her office, stringing him upside down and sawing him in half for coming in late. 

Jongin barely gets a chance to slide into his chair before he’s suddenly hit with a headache strong enough to make his temples throb. It’s his own fault for forgetting to fetch himself a glass of water before leaving, but Jongin dismisses it as he opens one of his drawers and retrieves an unopened packet of Advil. 

Even though he’s never had a problem with it before, Jongin finds himself unable to down the three pills in his palm without water, given that his tongue feels like sandpaper. Turning around, he spots Jongdae, who looks like he would rather be anywhere else as he leans against the water cooler. Even awkward small talk isn't exactly at the top of his priority list right now, his pounding cranium makes Jongin fly out of his chair.

Jongdae waves his cup around when he sees Jongin approaching. ”It's your favorite colleague basking in unfamiliar territory,” he chuckles, taking a sip.

Jongin is too busy filling up his own cup to respond, seconds before he downs all three pills in one go. To his relief, he can subsequently feel his headache melting away. ”That’s fine, she isn’t here, anyway," he mutters.

”She wouldn’t dare boot me, anyway,” Jongdae chuckles before he grimaces. ”Do you smell that?”

Jongin shakes his head. His cluttered mind is barely making him able to register anything, let alone scents.

Jongdae chuckles to himself. ”Nothin’, I just thought it smelled like a pub in here for a second,” he murmurs, refilling his cup. ”Overslept as always, see.”

Leaning against the water cooler, Jongin doesn't even bother chuckling at Jongdae's lame attempt at humor. ”You know me,” he hums, seconds before he blinks. ”Wait, what do you mean, ’as always’?” 

”Duh," Jongdae chuckles, "everyone knows you tend to come in super late 99.9% of the time.” He's silent for a moment. ”I mean, a little birdie from your area keeps us up to date.”

Jongin inwardly curses. He doesn’t even need to ask to know that said birdie is Luhan, whom he mentally launches into outer space. ”Good for him, I guess.” 

Jongdae puts his hands up in defense before something flashes in his eyes. ”Yo, can I ask you something?”

Jongin nearly gives himself whiplash looking up. ”What is it?”

Jongdae presses his lips together. ”It’s nothing, it’s just…” He gestures at Jongin. ”You don’t need to say anything, but is something…you know, the matter lately?”

Jongin blinks. ”What do you mean?”

”I may be wrong, but…” Jongdae quickly scans their surroundings with his eyes. ”People say they’ve seen you down those things a ton nowadays.” He shrugs. ”And not to sound like a or anything, but you have been looking a little…off lately.” 

In the distance, Minseok says something about poisoning Luhan's energy drink if Luhan doesn't quit flicking blu-tack at him. Jongin bends down and refills his cup in a meek attempt at tuning them out. It barely works.

”It’s just that you seem like you’re in your own little bubble, like, 99% of the time,” Jongdae continues. ”I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that, but like, even people from Sales have started commenting on it and we barely even see each other on a regular basis.” He shrugs. ”Just a thought...something to consider, I guess.”

To say that Jongin regrets not just swallowing the godforsaken pills dry would be a vast understatement. Although Jongdae means well, Jongin still feels an urge to dunk his colleague into the nearest trash can when his headache returns again.

”I just haven’t been sleeping well lately, that’s all,” Jongin grumbles, taking a sip. The ice cold liquid nearly makes his throat close up.

Jongdae eyes him for an uncomfortable amount of time before he, too, nods. ”Fair enough,” he chuckles before making a joke about how everybody under the roof is most likely suffering from insomnia, anyway. ”The rest of us’ll be here any minute, I just came down early ’cause I couldn’t stand Redhead’s constant griping about their guys not having the perfect cake.” He rolls his eyes in annoyance. 

His brain freeze must be messing with him, because it takes Jongin's mind an embarrassingly long time to catch up with Jongdae’s words. ”What do you mean?” he asks. "Down where? For what?"

Jongdae smacks his forehead. ”I keep forgetting you’re not up there,” he mutters. ”You should hear Baek's constant whining about how their cake company place doesn’t have his dream wedding cake. Seriously, he went off on a half hour tangent about it after you left the room yesterday, I thought I was dying.” He crushes the cup in his hand. ”It's times like this I’m glad I won’t be able to make it. I mean, if I can't stand 'em for longer than twenty minutes, you can forget about ever seeing me stuck in a church while watching 'em ogle each other for two hours straight.”

Jongin is silent before he blinks. ”Not that,” he says. ”I meant…y'know, the other thing.”

Tossing his cup in the trash can, Jongdae emits an unattractive cackle. He says something about how he’s too tired for social interactions at this hour while gesturing at the marble staircase. ”I don’t know if anyone bothered informing you, but we’ll be joining you guys for the meeting instead of Printing.”

Jongin wants to smack himself. He’d forgotten all about their nine o’clock meeting. The fact that his headache might take him under if he so much as utters a word isn't doing anything to help, either. The sound of dress shoes coming down the stairs fills the air before he can rack his brain for a response. Sure enough, every single one of his Sales colleagues trickle into the hallway one by one, some of whom are deep in conversation and too busy to greet their peers from the production team. Jongin is relieved that Taeyeon is too wrapped up with locating Sunny to talk his ears off as usual, all while he unconsciously ogles the packed crowd in search of a particular face.

Jongin figures that he must be standing too far off to the side, because Sehun doesn’t even spare him a glance when he walks past a moment later. To Jongin’s dismay, he doesn’t get a chance to process it before their boss loudly orders them to take their seats in the meeting room at the far end of the hallway. Somewhere behind him, Jongin hears Baekhyun saying something about something he can't make out as he trudges along with the moving crowd.

___

For once, the meeting room floor has been newly vacuumed and the whiteboard newly scrubbed. Jongin hopes that his unwillingness to endure a whole hour of coma inducing boredom isn’t showing on the outside as he drags himself towards one of the chairs at the back of the room. 

Even though Jongin knows that he’ll get flack for it, a part of him wants to move seats until he’s close enough to ask Sehun what exactly went down last night. If Sehun would bring himself to look in his direction, that is, and Jongin gives up on hoping that Sehun will acknowledge his presence when the rest of Sales start taking their seats in front of him. 

The pills seem to be working, because Jongin manages to sit through his boss’ gnarly voice without suffering a mental combustion. Frankly, he's just surprised that he's able to hear a word of hers over Taeyeon drumming her nails on the tabletop in boredom. It’s not until Sehun and Chanyeol go on to present their weekly sales that Jongin realizes that he's been holding his breath for nearly a full minute. He’s lucky, because avoiding the seats at the way front saves him from having to look interested, especially with his heart about to burst out of his chest. 

Knowing his boss will throw a fit if he opens the windows, Jongin remains in his seat, hoping he doesn’t die of heatstroke as his pulse quickens. He knows that Jongdae is gawking at him like he’s grown a second head, but Jongin ignores it as he keeps his eyes glued on the depressingly gray carpet. 

Jongin nearly jumps out of his own skin when he hears his name being called, presumably for the fifth time. With every pair of eyeballs turning to face him, he racks his blank head for a response, only to mutter an apology when he can’t bring himself to utter a single word. Amid Chanyeol’s annoyed muttering, Jongdae’s indiscreet snicker and Taeyeon yawning to herself, Jongin almost regrets wishing Sehun would pay him a speck of attention when Sehun momentarily looks up from his portfolio to send him a look. Jongin is so busy trying to become one with the wall that he doesn't hear his boss telling him to sit upright.

11:00 A.M

Shoving his coffee cup aside, Jongin gives up on typing another word when it becomes obvious that Luhan and Minseok are too busy tossing paper airplanes at each other to get any work done. His legs ache from being cramped in the tiny meeting room for nearly two whole hours, and Jongin contemplates downing another Advil if he’s planning on walking to the break room later on.

Even though it’s most definitely Luhan and Minseok’s fault for being insufferably loud, Jongin hasn’t been able to concentrate ever since he left the meeting room earlier. In fact, his head hasn’t stopped spinning ever since he tried, and miserably failed, to give his reports his complete and undivided attention. Jongin can’t recall the last time he had a hangover this terrible, but, ironically enough, the strange tugging in his gut only makes him crave a drink that much more.

Jongin suddenly comes to realize that his mother hasn’t texted or called him ever since last night. To his frustration, he can’t recall what a word of what they discussed during their latest phone conversation. Despite it, Jongin finds himself fetching his phone from the outer compartment of his briefcase. He must have switched it off at some point yesterday, because it takes nearly five whole minutes to start up. 

Except he wishes that he’d just focused on his reports, instead, when his screen lights up.

Jongin doesn’t know what scares him the most, the fact that he’s got thirty six missed calls or the fact that they’re all from his mother. She must have been frantically trying to reach him at some point during the night, and the fact that she only chooses to call when it's urgent makes Jongin dial her number before he can think another thought.

She picks up after the third ring, and for a second, all Jongin hears is static mixed with his own breathing. 

”I sent her off to school an hour ago,” his mother says after nearly a minute of silence. ”Kim Jongin, you’re stopping by the second you get off work and I don’t want to hear a word about overtime,” she adds when Jongin only blinks.

Jongin blinks again. ”What are you-”

”Sehun told me everything,” she interrupts and there’s something about the flatness in her tone that makes Jongin's skin crawl. ”And I know you probably didn’t mean it, and I’m sure you don’t remember, but this is the last straw, do you understand?”

It’s not until Minseok walks by and sends him a funny look that Jongin realizes just how loudly she’s speaking. In fact, he has to hold his phone a few inches from his ear to avoid going deaf when she goes on to yell something about how disappointed and downright exhausted she is with him nowadays. But Jongin doesn’t hear anything, given that there’s only one thought lingering in his mind.

”What do you mean Sehun told you everything?” he asks, voice practically a whisper. He tries delving into his thoughts, only to give up when his cranium feels like it’s about to burst. ”What did he say? What are you even talking about?”

Jongin swallows the lump in his throat. At this point, his pounding head is already on the verge of taking him under, and he’s so caught up with trying to calm his racing heart that he fails to register what his mother proceeds to scold him for on the other end of the line. It takes him four thumps on the back from Luhan to realize that she’s hung up long ago, but he doesn’t bother turning around.

Making sure to tune out Luhan asking him if he’s feeling okay, Jongin shoves his phone in his pocket. If his anxiety wasn’t already sky high, it’s nothing compared to the coiling in his gut that only worsens when his mother’s words sink in. The fact that his memory bank is entirely blank only adds to his frustration, and Jongin has to get out of his seat before he can flip his desk clear across the room.

Despite his cravings, the thought of being trapped in the tiny smoke room for even a second makes Jongin steer clear of the hallway when he steps outside. The janitors must have forgotten to polish the stairs, because they get progressively dustier with each step Jongin takes. He’s beyond caring at this point, though, since all he really wants is to take his mind off everything for a moment.

Amid the phones ringing, muffled chattering and keyboard clicks, Jongin finds himself staring at Sehun’s cubicle until his eyes ache. Sehun seems to be in the midst of completing some sort of chart on his computer. He looks so focused that Jongin almost doesn’t want to intervene, but he ends up taking a step forward before he can change his mind.

Although the small cubicle reeks of mint, as usual, Jongin can’t help but think that it feels slightly colder than usual. He almost regrets his decision to enter when he feels his chest shrivel up again, but he doesn’t get a chance to turn back around before Sehun looks up from his monitor.

Sehun must have been deep in thought just now, because it seems to take him a minute to register who he’s looking at. ”Did she ask you to drop something off?” he asks, running a hand through his hair.

Jongin blinks. ”Not really,” he mutters. He has no idea why he expects Sehun to respond, but he still feels a pang of disappointment when Sehun simply turns back to face his computer again. ”Listen, I just wanted to-”

”You know you aren’t supposed to be here if she didn’t send you,” Sehun sighs with a tired expression. 

Scratching the back of his head, Jongin shrugs. He tries not to wince when his headache slowly creeps up on him again. ”I know that,” he huffs. ”But I-”

”Jongin, you know the rules.”

While Jongin knows that it’s technically his fault for barging into Sehun’s cubicle uninvited, he can’t help the spark of irritation that ignites in his chest. ”Just let me talk, for God’s sake,” he grumbles.

Sehun opens his mouth to respond, only to close it again with a defeated sigh. ”Fine,” he says. ”Then talk.”

To Jongin’s irritation, the words on his tongue all end up disintegrating when Sehun continues to stare at him. ”I just wanted to say thanks,” he blurts out after a moment, all while attempting a smile. ”I appreciate it, you really did save me there.” 

Sehun is silent for a moment. He shakes his head with another sigh. ”You know I did it for her, so don’t get too excited,” he replies before resuming his graph.

Jongin ends up awkwardly bolted to the floor as he watches Sehun’s fingers scurry across the keyboard. As much as Jongin wants to ask about the random paper cranes strewn across the kitchen, as well as if Sehun wants to join him for lunch later, he can’t bring himself to choke out the words. His head is spinning so badly that he contemplates plopping down on the small couch next to the coat hanger, but he forgets all about it when he opens his mouth to speak.

”Mom called,” Jongin says while staring at his loose shoelaces.

Sehun opens up his inbox. ”Did she,” he hums without taking his eyes off the screen.

”Just now, that is,” Jongin dumbly says. ”She said…I mean, she said you told her something and I wanted to…know what she said, I guess.” 

Despite the air being filled with all kinds of noises, the silence is so thick that you could cut it with a knife. It makes Jongin want to cry as he stares at Sehun’s back. It’s not until he hears the sound of his boss surveilling the second floor that Jongin bites the inside of his cheek. He suddenly feels an overwhelming urge to walk over and ask Sehun to hold him before he can pass out from vertigo, but he opts against it when they continue to bask in the silence.

”I’m planning on eating soon,” Jongin blurts out. He’s only half fibbing, because even though he’s forgotten to bring a lunch box again, he could always just swipe an apple from the fruit basket. ”I was wondering if you’d…uh, like to join me.” 

Sehun spins around in his chair, an unreadable expression plastered across his sharp features as he runs a hand down his face. ”Nice to see you’re doing dandy, at least.”

Once again, Jongin racks his brain for anything that might help him make sense of what he’s hearing. To his frustration, he turns up empty handed. He sort of wants to laugh, but the ice cold glint in Sehun’s eyes makes him unable to.

”What do you mean?” Jongin asks. ”Is that what she told you, or what?”

”You need to get your goddamn act together, Jongin,” Sehun says in a tone so sharp that Jongin nearly flinches. ”Not for my sake, but for your own and everybody else's.” He sighs. ”And I appreciate the offer, but until you do, I don’t think I want anything to do with you.” 

Jongin clenches his jaw. His nausea is so strong that it’s threatening to take him under. ”What are you even talking about?” he growls.

Except Jongin doesn’t get an answer before Sehun’s work phone rings, and he can only watch as Sehun picks up with his usual polite tone. For a second, Jongin wonders if he should sit down on the couch and wait for the conversation to be over, only to opt against it when Sehun retrieves a blank post-it note from his drawer. The smell of microwaved food is already starting to reach him, but Jongin can’t bring himself to even think about lunch in fear of upchucking all over Sehun’s carpet.

It’s not until Sehun turns his head and mouths for Jongin to please get out that Jongin trudges back into the hallway. The pain in his chest is so strong that he fights an impulse to double over, only to scramble back downstairs when his boss impatiently calls his name.  

What the actual is going on???