Clock In

Part 1

Before Joong could press further, Phuwin shifted gears completely.

"The deadline for the project is approaching. I need the file today. Are you finished with it?," he asked firmly, his tone changing.

Joong's smile flattened into a tight line. "Yes, I'm working on it," he replied, nodding slowly.

Phuwin didn't say anything more. He just gave Joong a judgemental glance before turning back to Fourth, the intensity in his face softening almost instantly.

"Had your breakfast?" he asked, his voice suddenly quiet, almost caring.

Fourth blinked, caught slightly off guard. "No," he answered softly, shaking his head.

"Let's go," Phuwin said, smiling again. He tilted his head slightly, then turned and walked ahead, expecting Fourth to follow.

//

Fourth followed behind Phuwin as they made their way to the elevator. He stood a little off to the side, his steps slightly behind, not really sure if it was intentional or just out of habit. Phuwin stood in front, tall and composed, his presence somehow sharper now than it ever was back home.

Fourth's eyes lingered on him. Everything about Phuwin looked tailored, his pants fit just right, his shirt tucked and pressed with not a crease out of place. Even the way he stood, hands tucked neatly into his pockets, looked like something out of a magazine. It wasn't just clothes. It was how he carried himself. Like he belonged here.

Fourth glanced down at his own shirt, his off-the-rack pants, the slight wrinkle he'd tried to iron out this morning but clearly missed. A tiny flicker of insecurity crept in.

He looked alright, just... not like him.

The elevator hummed as it moved down. Somewhere between the floors, Phuwin finally turned to glance at him.

"So," he asked casually, "how are things back at home?"

Fourth perked up a little at that. "Good, Phi. I'm planning to go back in a couple of weeks. Visiting my mom." Phuwin nodded, but there was something unreadable in his face, like his mind was already racing ahead, somewhere beyond what they were saying.

After a moment, he asked softly, "How's the neighborhood?"

Fourth met his gaze, feeling his expression soften. Phuwin hadn't set foot there since he graduated. From what Fourth's mom said, Phuwin only sent money every month without much else, no calls, no visits, just a quiet, steady support from afar. It made Fourth think how different they'd become, even though they came from the same streets.

"Still the same," Fourth said with a warm, almost nostalgic tone. He pictured the streets, the corners, the familiar sounds that had been a constant in his life. "Satang's family moved away, actually. They found a new place somewhere else, and there's a new family living in their old house now." He looked at Phuwin, curiosity mixing with a hint of sentiment. "Do you remember Satang?"

Phuwin's brow furrowed slightly, like he was digging through old memories. "Is that the boy who was bad at math?" he asked, sounding almost surprised that the memory was still there. Fourth chuckled, a light laugh that came from a place of fondness.

"Yeah, that's definitely him," Fourth said, giggling softly. The thought of Satang struggling through math homework somehow made the past feel more alive, more real.

Then, after a brief pause where the air between them shifted, Phuwin's tone turned quieter, more serious. "Fourth," he said carefully, like choosing his words with care, "I think it's better if the team doesn't know we were neighbors." There was weight behind those words, like a boundary was being drawn, unspoken but clear.