Comrades In London

1.

If Jae-Yoon was being entirely honest, he hated British culture.

The cities were dense with pollution, everyone was rude and miserable, and the amount of alcohol one person was encouraged to consume had to be detrimental to their health.

He especially hated that last part. The drinking culture of English folk was so jarring to what it was in Korea. Some of his coworkers would go for a drink at the local pub after the late shift, and sometimes would even show up drunk or hungover. Jae-Yoon knew their job wasn't fancy like the newspaper editors or scientists, but he didn't think drunkenness and dangerous tools mixed very well.

Jae-Yoon wasn't opposed to drinking. When he lived in Seoul he loved to go out for soju and beef with friends on occasion but it had never been a daily ritual.

The sound of metalwork already caused him a headache. Why did these white people have to worsen it by drowning themselves in beer and vodka?

He was on his lunch break, eating hearty leftover tteokguk from his personal New Year's celebration. That was one of the acceptable occasions for alcohol, and he hadn't been afraid to pair the dish with a good glass of champagne.

Jae-Yoon put the spoon in his mouth, quietly moaning as he savoured the taste. His umma gave him this recipe and he cherished it so, cooking it only on the special event of a new year just like she did.

He made to take another spoonful when his lunch was knocked out of his hand and onto the floor in an embarrassing mess.

Jae-Yoon looked up with a frown. That was most certainly uncalled for.

"Those are some nasty eyes, pal," John said, smirking. "Better get that glare under control."

Most days, Jae-Yoon couldn't care less about the man, but today he couldn't believe he was letting himself get pushed around by a man who somehow managed to receive more workplace injuries than everyone else combined.

He was mostly angry about the fact that he had spilled his umma's delicious ttaekguk.

Jae-Yoon sighed and got off the bench. He dropped to his knees and began to brush the solids back into the container with his hands.

John growled above him and kicked his hand, making Jae-Yoon drop his lunch again.

"Please stop," he said, trying to be polite. "I don't want to cause any trouble."

John stared at him incredulously, then broke into an unattractive guffaw. "What did you say, you yellow?"

There it is, Jae-Yoon thought.

"What right do you think you have to speak to me? Just because you're allowed to work beside me does not make us equals, Wong," John said with a snarl. "Know your place." With that, he spat on him, laughed, and walked away.

Jae-Yoon sighed. He had tried to stay under the radar for some time, but it was quite hard when people felt the need to attack him for simply existing.

He used the corner of his shirt to wipe off the spit, and continued to clean up the spilled lunch.

"Need any help?" a strong, accented voice said.

Jae-Yoon looked up to find a tall man with bright blond locks firmly slicked back and equally bright eyes blue as the sky. He had a warm smile on his face and an inviting aura around him, regardless of the stains of ash and oil on his face.

"Um, yes, actually," he said. "That would be great."

The man's smile widened. "Good, because I've got some rags in need of using," he said, pulling them out from behind his back.