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He finds her in a secluded place at the back of the building. He has seen her here a couple of times, hidden within the building’s shadows, away from others. Somehow he knows, this time he will find her here, again.
Hayoung thinks that maybe she needs her solitude for now. What is the point of him being there anyway? He is not good at comforting people. In fact, aside from a few who really knows him, they will say he is hopeless at giving comfort.
But the heat of the sweet hot chocolate in his hand burns his palm, and reminds him that he wants – that he needs to do this. He reconsiders, for a brief moment, his choice of drink. He knows Taegu usually drinks coffee, but he also knows that coffee provides energy and gives you adrenaline kicks, while now -
Now what he thinks she needs is a comforting drink.
Warm chocolate always gives him comfort, evoking memories of his childhood where his mother would cuddle him and make him a cup of sweet hot chocolate everytime he felt emotionally overwhelmed.
If it can comfort him, surely this hot chocolate would be able to comfort her as well.
He lets the crunch of the gravel under his shoes announce his presence to her. She doesn't move, doesn't even look at him, but that's okay, he knows her.
He stops next to her who is staring off to a point that only she can see. He tries to follow her gaze but he cannot see it. Is she reliving what has happened, he wonders.
It is not usual that he is the one taking the first step like this. Usually if he feels someone is upset or sad or angry, he will try to avoid contact, because he doesn't know what do. Isn't it ironic, that he is an empath who feels too deeply what others are feeling, but at the same time he is absolutely at a loss on how to deal with those emotions.
But Taegu... she imprinted on him the first time he accidentally came across her, here in exactly this same spot. And because of that, he cannot ignore her.
He missed the commotion the first time because he has been out of the station the whole day, out in the street trying to track evidences in the cooling autumn weather. He only heard about it not thirty minutes ago, as he dragged his tired body back to his desk. And he listened the bits and pieces of the chatter around him in disbelief. Yoon Taegu? In the karaoke, like a common call girl for the head of the district prosecutor??
As he stood from his seat to look for Taegu, he wondered why these people never use their head properly, why these people are so quick to judge. If they’d only think, he thought exasperatedly. And wasn’t they supposed to be a team? Wasn’t they supposed to protect each other, to protect her? He would wonder where their team leader is, but in a split second, he had a heavy suspicion that Bongshik is one of the main reasons why this whole mess happen.
He thought about Taegu, that prideful, stubborn woman that has more integrity than the entire team combined. He thought about Taegu a few weeks back, proudly standing tall on the stage as the Chief gave her commendation for her bravery.
He thought about her, and suddenly felt an unexplainable urge to look for her.
But now that he is with her, standing not even an arm-length apart, Hayoung finds that he is without words.
Because what can he say to her anyway? That he is sorry? That he doesn’t think what the rest of them are thinking? That he believes she will be able to get through this? Everything he could possibly say sounds trite, even to himself.
Because Hayoung, more than anything, knows that despite the fact that he does not get along well with most people, he has privilege as a man. That people would still listen to him no matter how reluctant, that they will give him the benefit of doubt, that they would think twice before crossing him like this because he has his reputation already.
Taegu, on the other hand, is a woman in an organization teeming and catering to men, trying to break boundaries, trying to set examples, trying to be acknowledged in the same way like her male peers, but it is such a long and difficult road.
Hayoung has a lot of sympathy for her. Afterall, his mother is also a single parent trying her best in her job so she can provide to her only son. He watched how she struggles, but never giving up.
He sees that in Taegu as well. Taegu, his mother, even he himself - they are all only trying to do their best.
“What?” Taegu asks curtly, finally breaking the silence that has stretched for too long.
Hayoung considers his response, but in the end, he settles with, “I got you a hot chocolate.”
She huffs, sounding like she is on the verge of rejecting her offer. She turns her face to him then, half-hidden in the shadow but he can see her clear eyes, looking at him closely. He wonders what she is looking for on his face – smugness? Superiority? Condescension?
In the end, she takes the offered cup from his hand with a low thanks, her fingers cradling the cup for warmth. “It’s…very sweet,” she mutters after a sip.
“It’s supposed to give you comfort.”
She nods. “Yeah. Thank you, Hayoung,” she says, accepting his presence by her side, accepting that he is not like the others who yelled and shamed her earlier in the office.
They stand in silence, because what use are words in time like this. Nothing she says can properly express how upset and insulted she is at having her integrity questioned, and nothing he says can give her comfort and solace, at least not now.
After a while, from the corner of his eyes he can see her shoulder shaking. He looks at her and her short hair cannot hide the tears that roll down her cheek or the way her bottom lip trembles.
He averts his eyes again, and let her cry.
“It is so unfair,” she whispers, biting back her sobs and failing spectacularly.
He looks up to the sky. Nothing in this organization seems to be fair for people like them, who, for different reasons, are outcasts for being the way they are. They are trying their best, but the obstacles in their way seems to be never ending.
It’s not fair. How many times Hayoung wants to say that aloud? Perhaps he is just too used to suppressing his emotion, of swallowing down his pain, and the words just die down, dissolving in his throat before even have a chance to slip out of his mouth.
He lifts his hand, his fingers tentatively touching Taegu’s shoulder, waiting for rejection. There is none, so he rests his hand there, squeezing her shoulder gently in comfort, in reassurance.
“I know,” he says gently.
He lets his hand rests there as they stand together in silence, an anchor for her, to remind her that he is on her side, that this one person believes in her.
They stand there as the night rolls deeper, and the chocolate cools, and he is not good at words, he is not good at providing comfort but he can stand by her side.
Maybe one day, he would be someone who knows what words to say to comfort those who are important for him.
But for now, he hopes she understands, and he hopes this is enough.
[END]