One Day At A Time

by ethan_eefan

Summary:

Jean Loo had always hoped he would make it big one day. Though after gaining and losing it all, those dreams were starting to fade and so were majority of his connections. Until an annoying coworker decided to ask (beg) him to hang out with them for one Saturday.

Notes:

This isn't my first fic I've written but it's definitely one I'm scared to show. This was reworked from a self-insert fic I wrote with the same stuff that I was too scared to post but I also wanted others to have more Jean Loo... so here this is, I really hope this is good (also apologies if he seems OOC)

Chapter 1: Night Shift Nudge

The two were still at the office late at night.

 

A setting many people found themselves in. Whether it's for extra money or to secure those extra hours to meet a deadline.

 

It was cold, quiet, and so very corporate. The air? Stifling. The only light came from the dim glow of their computer screens, casting long shadows across the empty desks. The silence was broken only by the occasional click of a keyboard or the distant hum of the air conditioning.

 

Jean Loo was steadily and slowly typing at his computer. Answering phone calls from clients and working on making documentation of them. It was monotonous work for pay that he truly needed to make ends meet. He never pictured he'd end up this way after everything he worked towards.

 

An aspiring rap career.

 

Dropping hit after hit.

 

Even winning two porcelain records…

 

Yet once the hype around him died down, all he was left with was the silence of a once vibrant crowd. So he had to find work somewhere—someplace—that would hire him for good enough pay by his own accord. He applied to various jobs, eventually landing a position as an accountant. It wasn't glamorous or exciting. Much more mundane compared to the life he was once used to.

 

But it paid the bills.

 

Though he still felt a sense of emptiness within him.

 

A sense of disappointment.

 

If he couldn't even achieve his active dream, what could he actually do?

 

It was a thought that had circled his mind ever since his limelight faded.

 

But he was brought back to reality as the ring of a phone sounded off, sending him back into the monotonous routine that had been set up.

 

On the other side of the office lay one of his coworkers.

 

You.

 

Jean Loo had seen you around the office a few times. He didn't have much to engage in small talk like the others; he had a job to do for money. Not like he actively decided to engage with them anyway, preferring to keep to himself since many others weren't even worth his time.

 

Jean Loo observed your interactions with others from a distance.

 

Not in a weird or wrong way, just being the casual observer. You always tried to include him in events or activities the office holds, even the occasional lunch invitation. He always turned you down in a rather harsh manner—did you not understand he wanted to be left alone in his work? After a few of these attempts, you admittedly gave up, or more so, started to let him be. You can't really convince someone to socialize if they don't want to, right?

 

Though tonight it may take a turn.

 

You had noticed he always stayed late when everyone else left the office. It left a pang in your chest and a bit of curiosity… It also didn't help that he was kind of cute, but he shouldn't be here slaving away! At least not without company. You asked your boss to switch to the late shift so you could at least have the excuse to talk to him.

 

You slowly stood up from your desk, framing it as if you were going to the printer. Thankfully, you found Jean Loo still at his desk, buried in work. You felt a bit of pity for him in this state; it was clear he didn't enjoy this routine—nobody would or even does—but there was a look in his eye… something behind it even more than exhaustion.

 

More than the look many others have when working late.

 

He never even looked excited to leave work—when he got the chance, that is.

 

It was like he was trapped. Like there wasn't anything that could even help him out of this stupor.

 

You wondered if there was anything deeper in Jean Loo. There just had to be. Fiddling with your clothing, you walked toward him. Lip caught between your teeth—this whole thing made you so nervous.

 

"Hi."

 

The first word spoken.

 

Jean Loo turned his gaze to you, leaning back in the chair to let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the office. His computer illuminated your face with a soft glow. Your eyes darted everywhere except for his. The tension was thick. It always was when it came to interactions with Jean Loo.

 

You cleared your throat. It was so awkward that you didn't know how to continue. Small talk didn't feel right, and there wasn't any active reason for you being there, so the tension kept drawing out further.

 

"If you have nothing of purpose to say to Jean Loo—I suggest you leave."

 

He finally broke the silence. Voice dripping with contempt.

 

And what a voice it was.

 

You had never heard him speak, at least not up close. His accent was thick, and he sounded like he was an alto. It was smooth and melodic, but with an underlying edge that made you shiver.

 

But you caught something when he had spoken.

 

Did he start talking in the third person?

 

You couldn't help the snort that came out of your nose.

 

"Quoi?"

 

Jean Loo's face was riddled with confusion. Were you laughing at him? Was it his situation or the way he spoke? You quickly composed yourself, realizing you may have offended him unintentionally. It didn't matter to him, yet it was still insulting. You saw the shift in his face and immediately regretted the slip.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to laugh at you like that. It's just… well… I found it funny when you talked in the third person. Did you do that a lot?"

 

The man eyed you; it was obvious that you weren't doing something like this out of malice, but you did want something. He could easily tell that you were curious, that there was something deeper within your question. He just couldn't figure out what. Despite his apprehension towards you, he knew he could at least drop the act and talk in the way he was used to.

 

"Oui, it is something that Jean Loo does in… certain situations or with the ones he is close with."

 

Your ears perked when you heard the words 'close friends.' Does this mean you two could become close friends? Or was he just stating a fact? You tried to keep your cool and appear nonchalant, but inside, your heart was racing. You had always wanted to be close friends with him, to get to know him better, and to develop a deeper connection. This could be your chance, you thought to yourself excitedly. You decided to take a risk and ask, "Would you consider me, you know, as a close friend? Or even a friend?"

 

"Non."

 

Well, that simple word caused you to deflate. Yet you weren't going to give up. You stood up straighter, fists clenched at your sides. You refused to let one rejection destroy your hopes of building a friendship with him. Tonight was a different approach—one of your many other approaches—and you were starting to realize that she may need a whole new strategy for this.

 

Thankfully, one came easily.

 

"Y'know, I’ve put in a lot of effort," you began, your voice gaining momentum. "I’m trying to get you to open up, to be my friend, or at least to interact with someone in the office. I totally get that you prefer solitude; it’s understandable. But what I don’t get is why you keep shutting me down every time."

 

As you spoke—or more so passionately ranted—Jean Loo couldn't help but feel how you felt. You reminded him a bit of his friend Johnny. It was endearingly insufferable. Just in a different way. Frustration. Frustrated by the fact that you decided to take him away from his work, that you wouldn't give up when he so clearly wanted to be left alone. His annoyance was evident as he crossed his arms and turned back to his computer, obviously done with the whole conversation.

 

Still, you weren't going to back down from your own goal.

 

Your annoyance was obvious; it was even a bit funny to him. His smirk wasn't evident on his face, but it could be seen from how his body started reacting to your rising rage.

 

Your determination grew stronger as you watched him grow smug. It slowly became a challenge to you, and that made you more determined than ever. You took a deep breath, once again grounding yourself before speaking again. "Y'know, you shouldn't be this alone."

 

Now that struck a chord in Jean Loo.

 

He didn't possibly entertain your idea of a conversation with him to just sit by and get insulted. He felt a strange mixture of emotions bubbling up inside him—surprise, anger, and a hint of shame. For a brief moment, he felt a flicker of vulnerability, a crack in the armor he had carefully built around himself. And in that moment, Jean Loo realized that maybe you were onto something. He wouldn't want to admit or even show it to you, himself, or anyone, but deep down he did think it would be nice to have other people to actually talk to than the ones he already did.

 

Someone who could probably understand on a deeper level.

 

But he wasn't going to let her have the satisfaction that easily.

 

He sighed heavily, turning to face you directly, his expression remaining stoic. “While Jean Loo appreciates the sentiment, he is perfectly fine being alone. It is how he prefers it.”

 

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “But is it really how you prefer it? Or is it just what you’ve convinced yourself of over time?”

 

Your question lingered in the air, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of uncertainty in Jean Loo’s eyes. It was a fleeting crack in his demeanor, but it was enough to plant a seed of doubt. You knew you had struck a nerve, and you could see the internal struggle playing out in Jean Loo's mind. You waited patiently for his response, sensing that there was more to his solitude than he was letting on.

 

“Look, I’m not asking you to give up whatever it is that you don't want to give up,” you continued, voice softening. “But maybe… you could at least come out with me? This Saturday. What’s the worst that could happen?” You smiled slightly, hoping to ease the tension in the air.

 

"Yes, well—"

 

"Don't make an excuse either; we're both free." You interjected while pointing at a calendar near his desk. The blank squares spoke enough volumes without him having to say anything more.

Suddenly the office became colder as the silence washed over you both. You could tell Jean Loo was considering his options carefully, weighing the potential consequences of agreeing to go out with you. You held your breath, waiting for his response, hoping that he would take a chance and step out of his comfort zone for once.

 

Jean Loo hadn't had many interactions. This one had shown him a few things, though. That you seemed increasingly annoying and persistent, but also intriguing in a way that he couldn't quite explain.

 

As he opened his mouth to speak, he considered his choices. Maybe he could see where this'll lead, possibly out of amusement or just to get you to shut up.

 

"Jean Loo… He will consider it."

 

Consider it.

 

He would consider it.

 

The words rang in your head, and then a smile began to form on your features. A small victory in your eyes. You looked around his desk for a small piece of paper, quickly taking the first one that you found and writing down your number. Once you were done, you handed the paper over to him with glee. Progress was progress in your eyes, and if you could get him to consider, who knows how far it could be taken?

 

You watched as he took the paper, his expression unreadable. But you couldn't help feeling a surge of hope. "I'll hopefully see you Saturday." Your voice filled with glee. As you walked away from his cubicle, your heart raced with anticipation. Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something new and exciting.

 

Jean Loo couldn't help but stare at the paper in his hands. Did he agree to go with you just to get you away from him? Partially, yet he couldn't deny that there was a flicker of interest in his eyes as he scanned the number. He rolled his eyes and stuffed the paper into his pocket, trying to push away the unexpected feeling of curiosity that was beginning to bubble up inside him.

 

He had to get back to work anyway.

Chapter 2: Can't Turn Back Now

Notes:

sorry this like took so long and this has a lot of jean loo... and reader doesn't really get mentioned or brought up till the near end i got a bit carried away but can u blame me

Jean Loo couldn't believe that he convinced himself to do this.

 

After leaving the office that morning, he was more than eager to get home and rest. He walked inside his apartment and immediately collapsed onto his couch. He felt so mentally and physically drained that sleep was easy to consume him. As he drifted off, he couldn't help but think he had forgotten something, though he didn't care to remember—he was too exhausted to dwell on it.

 

When Jean Loo stirred, the apartment was cast with a faint yellow glow. It was comforting and warm, showing that it was around late afternoon. He slowly adjusted to the light; a sense of relief flushed over him once he realized that the rest of his week was free. He sat up gradually, stretching his body, savoring the feeling of his joints popping back into place.

 

“Eugh, Jean Loo needs to shower," he mumbled to himself; the faint scent of sweat was beginning to drive him crazy. The thought of hot water soothing his tired muscles was enticing, and he pushed himself off the couch, eager to feel refreshed and clean.

 

Rising from the couch, he shuffled toward the bathroom. As he entered the shower, the cool tiles sent a jolt through his weary body. The hot water cascaded over him, and he closed his eyes, allowing the steam to envelop him. With every drop that fell, he felt a little more weight lifted from his shoulders. As he washed away the remnants of the day, clarity began to seep in, nudging at the corners of his mind.

 

Had he forgotten something?

 

The thought continued to prick his mind as he finished his shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. As he was consumed by it, his phone buzzed. It never really rang or pinged with notifications aside from the random ones he didn't care about. He assumed it would be another spam notif; he picked up his phone ready to swipe it away before he had read the names.

 

It was them again.

 

He hadn't seen their names or this group chat pop up in less than a year. He thought he had it silenced… Maybe he unsilenced it in a drunken stupor. He couldn't remember, but he does feel the dread and anxieties creep in.

 

He quickly moved to put his phone away, but somehow his finger slipped and opened the text. He didn't want to look. Couldn't look at all.

 

But the terrible human emotion of curiosity won over instead.

 

He glanced through the texts and a few of the old ones too, and he remembered the reason he was trying to avoid looking at them in the first place.

 

All the success.

 

Even close to success.

 

Achieving all their dreams.

 

When he couldn't even achieve his own.

 

Yeah, the phone had to get set down.

 

Maybe powered off for a bit too.

 

His head fell into his hands; it felt like it was throbbing with the weight of comparison and self-doubt. He fell back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling in a state of numbness. He had been in this sort of limbo before, but it always hit harder when he was already feeling vulnerable—feeling inadequate, as if all his efforts had been for nothing. That didn't mean he gave up his crapping entirely; absolutely not, never. But it was more for himself than the wider audience now.

 

He sighed. Sitting up straight and wiping the tears from his eyes, he didn't even realize had begun to fall, only accounting for the wet warmth he felt on his cheeks.

 

Jean walked over to his dresser; he couldn't stay in the towel forever. Especially after reading that group chat. Somehow towels would remind him of Tyrell, always willing to be there and help and clean up a mess, with the comfort coming right after. Jean Loo didn't need that reminder right now. He just needed to get dressed or at least put on some boxers and pants.

 

He found a suitable pair and quickly got dressed, trying to push the thoughts and memories of everyone else out of his mind, not wanting them to take permanent residence. Running a hand through his hair, it felt comfortable to finally calm down. The breath he released without thought felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Jean glanced around his room, making a note to clean it fully and possibly buy some groceries while he was at it.

 

Kicking the pair of pants he was wearing a few hours ago, he saw a tiny, crumbled paper fall out of it. Jean picked it up and unfolded it.

 

Oh.

 

That's what he had forgotten.

 

You invading his space, forcing the both of you to 'hang out' this Saturday, and you giving him your number. Jean sighed, realizing he had been avoiding the inevitable. He really didn't feel like doing so, but seeing your previous interactions, you're the persistent type.

 

He didn't remember the entirety of the conversation with you, seeing as the two of you only exchanged a few words before finally settling—more so forced—into this situation with you.

 

And he mulled it over for a bit subconsciously, seeing as it wouldn't hurt to get out of his apartment and possibly have a new routine to fill it with, yet that would be added to the list of things he'd dare not admit and most definitely not show to the likes of you. He couldn't deny the slight intrigue that came with the idea of a new routine, a slight change to what had become his pathetic normal, even if it meant interacting with someone like you. In the end, he decided to give it a shot, if only to break the monotony of his daily life.

 

He turned his phone back on and tried to avoid gazing at the contacts of his previous friends, acquaintances, comrades—he didn't know what to call them anymore. Jean Loo typed in your number with precision, wanting to get this over with and prepare for whatever could come next.

 

He pressed the dial button, hesitating a bit before fully committing, and let the phone ring.

 

And ring.

 

And ring.

 

He was close to giving up on this idea already—now you wouldn't even pick up? He understood that you shouldn't answer unknown numbers, but he at least expected you to recognize his number.

 

Yet while Jean was silently fuming, the dial tone stopped. He thought it had gone to voicemail and was ready to hit the red button with the upside-down phone with glee, but the staticy voice he heard from the other side had made him forget those plans.

 

"Hello?"

 

You had said hello.

 

What was he supposed to do now?

 

He hadn't talked to many people on the phone, and since he wasn't much better with interacting with people in person, much less continuing typical small talk. He hesitated for a moment, still very unsure of what to do and continue this; he really should've hung up when he had the chance. He shouldn't have even called at all.

 

"Could you please talk? Or else I'm fully prepared to hang up."

 

"Non! Non… Do not hang up."

 

If this didn't confirm to you that it was Jean Loo calling, it surely did now. And was that embarrassment that tinged his voice? The Jean Loo? Mysterious, cold, seemingly arrogant, and possible loner Jean Loo? You couldn't believe it. Was he taking you up on your offer?

 

The tip of your mouth curled into a smirk, hand on your hip, looking smug even if he couldn't see it. You were intrigued by the sudden change in his demeanor and couldn't help but wonder if he was even going to mention the reason you both knew he was calling for. "So did you add my number and call for any particular reason?" You said annunciating the word particular to add emphasis.

 

"If you are going to mock Jean Loo, he will forget your invitation and find another department to work in." You chuckled at his warning, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry; that wasn't the intention." You replied, trying to sound sincere while feeling a bit guilty for potentially causing trouble. You heard his sigh on the other end of the line; it seems like he wasn't amused by your antics in the slightest.

 

The call took a rather pregnant pause after that, making you wonder if you had crossed a line. Finally, he spoke again, his tone more unsure this time. "Jean Loo was calling about this Saturday actually," he said, his voice trailing off slightly. You felt a pang of excitement in your chest, so he was accepting your offer to go out this weekend after all.

 

You couldn't help but smile at the thought of spending time with him outside of work—and being able to get him outside of work in general. "That sounds great," you replied eagerly, trying to contain your excitement. "I'll make sure to plan something fun for us to do." With that you began listing off simple places you both could go, like a local park for a picnic or a nearby museum for an exhibit. You were determined to make this weekend memorable for both of you.

 

Though as you continued to ramble off, it felt like you were talking more to yourself than to him. It wouldn't be shocking, considering that this could be overwhelming for him, so you checked in, trying to see if he was still there and still available. Though the next words you hear out of him surprise you:

 

"The aquarium."

 

You were taken aback by his suggestion but pleasantly surprised by his engagement in the conversation. You hadn't known he liked those sorts of things, but the little fish memorabilia and ocean knick-knacks around his desk should have clued you in, and you're all the more excited to see a new side of him.

 

"Okay! That's a great idea! There are so many things we could both do, like—" You were stopped by his voice cutting through the phone once again.

 

"One hour. You, little petit être humain, still only get one hour with Jean Loo, and do not be late; he has no time to wait for something you planned in the first place. He is just your guest."

 

Oh right, he did put you on a time limit for this. Though you quickly agreed to the terms seeing as it was only Tuesday, you still had plenty of days to plan the upcoming Saturday. After your agreement, though, he promptly hung up the phone. A bit rude, but that's what you've grown to expect from him.

 

Thankfully you had enough energy to begin planning for the little meet up right away.

Notes:

again.. like last chapter: thank you all for reading and im open to any and all (CONSTRUCTIVEE) criticisms :3

Notes:

If there's any feedback you'd like to give, I am SUPERRR open to it!! Thanks for reading!!