The depot was quiet now, the vans tucked in their spots and the warm lamplight casting long shadows across stacks of parcels. Min Hyun was still at his desk, pen in hand, scribbling notes for the next day's deliveries. His mind, though focused on the numbers and routes, kept drifting — as it had all week — to Jihoon.
It had been nearly a month since he last saw him. Work had swallowed days, leaving little room for visits, calls, or even messages. And yet, in the quiet moments, Min Hyun felt the absence keenly — a hollow space behind every parcel checked, every route planned.
A soft knock at the office door broke the silence.
"Hyun?" a familiar voice asked.
Min Hyun looked up, startled. The dim light framed a tall figure, hair slightly tousled, eyes warm and familiar. Jihoon.
"Jihoon..." The name left his lips quietly, almost in disbelief.
Jihoon stepped in, holding a small tote bag, the smell of fresh bread faintly clinging to him. "I thought I'd find you here," he said softly. "Seems like your office is your second home now."
Min Hyun closed the ledger slowly, rising from his chair. "I didn't... expect you. How did you—?"
Jihoon shrugged, smiling faintly. "I called first. You were busy, probably buried under a pile of parcels and route sheets. So I came anyway."
Min Hyun's chest tightened. "You shouldn't have..."
"I wanted to," Jihoon said simply. "It's been too long."
For a moment, they just looked at each other, the hum of the small fan filling the silence. Min Hyun felt a rush of conflicting emotions — relief, guilt, longing, and a quiet joy he hadn't allowed himself to feel in weeks.
Jihoon walked closer, setting the tote down on the desk. "I saw the newspaper," he said, nodding toward the page still open. "You've been busy. Big changes, huh?"
Min Hyun gestured toward the neat rows of parcels and stacks of invoices. "Yes. We've taken on new clients, expanded routes... but it's been relentless." His voice softened. "I've been so focused on the company, I—"
"You missed me," Jihoon finished for him, a teasing lilt to his tone.
Min Hyun's lips twitched, caught between a smile and the weight of confession. "...Yes."
Jihoon leaned against the desk, eyes scanning the maps and route sheets. "I can see why. You're thriving here. But... you're serious. Too serious, maybe."
Min Hyun laughed softly, a sound that carried a hint of relief. "I have to be. This company... these drivers... the clients. Everything depends on discipline and structure."
"And yet," Jihoon said, tilting his head, "you still have a corner of your mind saved for me."
Min Hyun felt warmth spread through him, a fragile thread connecting the hectic world of delivery routes and ledgers to the quiet, steady presence of someone he deeply cared about. "It's... hard to admit, but I do. I miss the mornings we spent without schedules, the quiet talks, the laughter."
Jihoon smiled softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "You're human, Hyun. Even with all this... business genius stuff, you still need people who remind you of what really matters."
The weight of weeks spent buried in work seemed to lift slightly, though it did not vanish. Min Hyun looked at Jihoon, at the calm patience in his eyes, and realized how much he had yearned for this — a quiet presence amid the chaos of responsibility.
"I'll make time," Min Hyun said, voice firm yet tender. "I've been so focused on growth that... I let other things slip. That won't happen again."
Jihoon chuckled. "I don't need grand promises, just moments. A day, an hour, a coffee. That's enough."
Min Hyun nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time in weeks. "Then let's start with tonight," he said softly. "No work. Just us."
For the first time in weeks, the office felt warm not just from the lamp, but from the presence of someone who reminded him that life wasn't only measured in routes, schedules, and parcels. Outside, the city lights blinked steadily, oblivious to the quiet reunion in a small depot office. But inside, Min Hyun allowed himself to feel something he had set aside for too long: relief, happiness... and the comforting knowledge that he was not alone.
Jihoon reached for the tote, pulling out two small sandwiches. "I thought we could share dinner here. You've been eating at your desk too long."
Min Hyun couldn't help but laugh, a genuine sound that mixed exhaustion with warmth. "You're impossible."
"Maybe," Jihoon said, smiling. "But I think you needed someone impossible tonight."
They sat side by side, the hum of the depot a soft backdrop to quiet conversation, shared laughter, and the first small taste of balance between work, ambition, and the simple human connection Min Hyun had missed far too long.
Even as the night deepened and parcels awaited tomorrow's deliveries, Min Hyun felt a subtle shift — the steady, cold weight of duty had softened just enough to let warmth seep in. And for the first time in weeks, he felt that he could have both: the life he was building, and the person he was missing.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of asphalt and freshly baked bread from the small bakery near the depot. Min Hyun arrived early, as usual, but this time, he wasn't alone. Jihoon walked beside him, slightly flushed from the brisk walk, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Don't tell me you're coming to work with me," Jihoon teased, glancing at the stacks of parcels and vans.
"I said I'd make time," Min Hyun replied, his voice steady but soft. "Besides, I thought you might like to see what all the fuss is about."
Jihoon rolled his eyes, though the smile never left his face. "This is... intense. You really do treat every parcel like a treasure."
Min Hyun's lips twitched. "Every parcel matters. Every client matters. Every driver matters. That's how a business grows."
Jihoon nodded, quietly observing as drivers checked their vans, strapped parcels securely, and reviewed hand-drawn maps with precise notes.
"Impressive," Jihoon murmured. "But... it's exhausting just watching."
"It is," Min Hyun admitted. "Which is why I've been... bad at taking breaks. And bad at seeing friends." His eyes flicked toward Jihoon. "I've missed this."
Jihoon's expression softened. "I know."
By mid-morning, the depot was humming in that familiar rhythm: vans moving out, drivers communicating over radios, and Min Hyun coordinating routes, schedules, and unexpected obstacles. Jihoon stayed nearby, quietly helping by double-checking parcel lists, occasionally handing him a pen or sorting invoices.
"You know," Jihoon said, glancing at the busy drivers, "I didn't realize running a delivery business in the 90s could be so... chaotic."
"Careful," Min Hyun said with a faint smile. "I told you I hate that word."
Jihoon grinned sheepishly. "Right, right... organized, then. Extremely organized."
Min Hyun smirked. "Exactly."
As the day progressed, a call came in from a new client — a small chain of bookstores interested in weekly deliveries. Jaeho answered, excitement in his tone. "They want us to start next week. This is good. Real growth."
Min Hyun scribbled route adjustments on a sheet of paper. "We'll need to train a driver for these routes, check timing between stops, and ensure fragile deliveries are handled carefully." He glanced at Jihoon. "Want to help me make the schedule?"
Jihoon tilted his head, smiling softly. "Of course. I get to see your brain at work up close."
Min Hyun tried to suppress a laugh but failed. "Close enough to see, not to interfere."
Evening came, and the depot settled into quiet. Parcels were packed, vans parked, and drivers leaving with a sense of accomplishment. Min Hyun and Jihoon lingered behind, sitting at the corner desk, reviewing schedules and route maps.
"You've changed," Jihoon said quietly, leaning over a route sheet. "Not just the business... you. You're sharper, more focused... and yet, somehow... you miss things."
Min Hyun paused, pen hovering over a sheet. "Missing Jihoon is one of them," he admitted. "I've been so absorbed in the business that I almost forgot... some things are worth more than efficiency."
Jihoon reached over, gently touching his hand. "I'm here now. And I think it's worth more than efficiency too."
Min Hyun's chest tightened, a quiet warmth spreading through him. "I didn't realize how much I missed this... you."
Jihoon smiled faintly, squeezing his hand. "Good. Because you don't get to forget me again so easily."
They worked late into the night, not just on deliveries, but on small improvements — training plans for drivers, adjusting routes, and brainstorming ways to secure more clients. Between calculations and logistics, there were shared laughs, quiet teasing, and occasional moments of silence, comfortable and intimate.
Min Hyun realized that even as the company grew, even as new contracts and bulk deliveries demanded more of his time, this — the small connection, the warmth of Jihoon's presence — was now part of the structure he wanted to build, a foundation he could not ignore.
By the time they finally left the depot, night had fully fallen. The city lights glimmered like a sea of tiny stars. Jihoon walked beside him, fingers brushing lightly against his, a small but deliberate comfort.
"You'll survive this growth spurt, won't you?" Jihoon asked, smiling at the rows of idle vans.
"I'll manage," Min Hyun replied, his voice calm but tinged with quiet determination. "Because now... I'm building something worth balancing with you in it."
Jihoon nudged him playfully. "Good. Don't let the business ruin the rest of us."
"I won't," Min Hyun said softly, glancing at him. "I promise."
The city seemed calmer somehow, the lights less harsh, the hum of life softer. Min Hyun realized that success wasn't just about contracts, routes, or efficiency. It was also about the people he wanted to hold onto, the connections that reminded him of what really mattered.
And for the first time in weeks, he felt he could have both — the life he was building, and the person he missed more than he admitted.
Just when Min Hyun starts to believe he can have both the business and Jihoon, fate prepares a delivery he never scheduled.