Work Text:
Though MDR was infamous for getting in trouble since Petey’s resignation, it used to be quite peaceful. The MDR office was usually full of chatter. Petey and Mark especially, though they had banter and teased each other, were able to finish their work. They rarely got in trouble over their actual jobs. Sometimes, while they were working, they would theorize about what their lives on the outside were like.
“I think I live in a big house,” Mark said. “A big house with this huge garden out front.”
“Uh-huh,” said Petey, who twisted his chair around. “And who’s maintaining that garden? You’d be too lazy to.”
“I’ll be rich enough to hire a gardener, obviously. I bet they’re doing the grass right now.”
Petey scoffed and adjusted himself in his chair. He tapped his chin thoughtfully with his finger.
“I think,” he began. “That I’d have this really cool wife and daughter, and we hang out all the time to go on roadtrips.”
“Aww, what a family man,” Dylan chimed in from across the divider in between their desks. “You fucking wish. Your outie’s definitely Mark’s gardener.”
Petey stood up, and pretended to lunge at Dylan, who only taunted him further from his chair. Irving lifted his tired gaze up from his screen, watching Petey and Dylan as they continued their playful banter. When Petey settled back down to his chair, Dylan proudly ran his fingers through his hair.
“I know my outie’s having successful hookups with MILFs every night ” he leaned back on his chair. “Everyone wants to know me carnally. I bet you bastards do too, but no one here will be lucky enough.”
“MILFs?” Irving tilted his head.
“Mother I’d Like to -”
“Oh.”
He should have known that it would be something like that. Irving also thought he probably had asked before. He’d forgotten.
“What about you, Irv?” Mark asked, tapping the corner of Irving’s desk. “What do you think your outie’s like?”
Irving thought he had a room dedicated to tall shelves of books and had beautiful paintings hung up on the walls. He wished he was spending a productive day off on weekends, where he had friends to invite over for deep talks over coffee. He didn’t need much, nor did he really wish for his outie to have a lot. Just the thought of being able to fill his lungs with fresh air seemed beautiful.
“I don’t know,” he simply replied. Too embarrassed to have such small dreams. He lived here in the office, anyway. Any life outside was a distant dream. And it’s not good to yearn.
“You don’t know? That’s no good, Irv. Where’s your imagination?.” Petey had gone back to his screen, doing the usual sorting of the numbers.
“It’s not for me to know.”
I hope I own a lot of books.
The only things Irving had ever really read were the books from Lumon. Though all of the eloquent writings about the history of the company and the rules they must follow deeply captivated him, he wanted to read more. He read every book available multiple times. He reread the handbook every week and could recite it. Everyone in MDR was tired of how easily he could quote an excerpt when someone broke even the smallest rule, or when someone needed to be motivated.
And if he could read something else for a change… If only he could expand his knowledge and admire other authors’ skills… but these were thoughts he wasn’t supposed to have.
When Helly joined the team, it was also a go-to conversation topic to get her to open up to them, though Irving disapproved. She initially didn’t join, as she didn’t with many of their conversations, and only gave judgemental looks as each shared their ideal outside life. But one morning, she started the conversation herself.
“You know what would be cool? If my outie was a musician.”
“Definitely,” Mark nodded.
Irving’s eyes lit up when he realised that Helly was initiating a conversation with them. He had hoped she felt comfortable by now. Or at least, try to let them build a friendship with her.
“Being able to play bass would be cool.”
“That would be very impressive,” Irving nodded, glancing at Mark to encourage him to join the conversation.
“Wow, yeah,” Mark nodded deeply, his body stiff and his voice unnatural. He made circle motions with his hands, trying to tell her to continue. “What… kind of songs would you play?”
“I don’t know, whatever requires a bass?” Helly glanced between Irving and Mark with a raised eyebrow and an uncomfortable smile. “Okay, no. You guys are acting weird. This conversation is over.”
Dylan’s divider was up, but Irving could hear a snort from his side of the desk.
“I thought it ‘wasn’t for you to know’,” Dylan said in a mocking tone.
“Well, I thought if Helly wanted to talk to us, I should encourage her. It’s always good to bond. Kier would have liked us to work with a sense of unity-”
“Okay, okay.” The divider came down, and Dylan appeared from behind it. He had been fidgeting with his finger traps. It flopped lifelessly around as Dylan used it to point at Irving.
“I didn’t know you were such a hypocrite.”
“I am not a hypocrite! I have a good reason to join in some conversations. Of course it’s not ideal but…”
He still believed that it wasn’t right to think about their outies, but as time passed, his mind wandered towards it. Maybe it was because he heard people discuss it so frequently. He had found a hole inside him that he wanted to fill. He was happy, but he wondered if that happiness extended beyond the severed floor.
He hoped so.
Irving had even asked Burt what he thought his life was like. He said he had never given it much thought, and was silent for a while. Irving wouldn’t have either if it weren’t for Dylan constantly bringing it up. When he thought of an answer, Burt had only had one thing to say.
“I don’t know, I can’t really imagine it. I just hope I know you on the outside too.”
It made Irving flush. He had wanted to hide his face, but all he could do was to look down and try to conceal his smile. Irving knew that he saw, and Burt chuckled at his reaction. Irving looked up at him, hiding his smile with his hand. Their laughter grew, and all the response Irving could manage was to gently put his hand on Burt’s shoulder, which he snatched back before his palm could brush the fabric of Burt’s jacket, suddenly nervous to touch him.
He did think about that too. Irving became wistful when he wondered if they knew each other as outies. His cheeks always hurt from his smiles by the time he headed back to MDR. He wondered if his outie also smiled as much as he did after he went home from meeting Burt’s outie too. He knew the chances were slim. But was he not allowed to live in his fantasies?
Irving had been conscious for three years, and never in his life, had he seen past the elevator door. He had been alright with it. He was where he was finally able to smile from the bottom of his heart since he met Burt. He left the severed floor looking forward to seeing him again, and his outie must feel that excitement that he entered the elevator with.
When they installed the doors in the MDR office and he was unable to see Burt, Irving had never felt so uneasy. He couldn’t imagine that Milchick would let O&D go free. He could easily guess that they were all sent to the Break Room. Irving would weep if he ever had to see Burt in there.
He felt as if something was crawling all over his heart throughout the day, and when the doors opened, he couldn’t join the others to look for the security room. If anything had happened to Burt it was his fault. He couldn’t keep himself away from him. If only he hadn’t led the others to O&D. If only he hadn’t spent so much time with Burt in the first place.
It was an indescribable sense of guilt. He wasn’t wrong for wanting to be with Burt. He had sometimes left conversations with him feeling like he would one day feel a tap on his shoulder and be forced to be face to face with the consequences. All the glances and subtle touches were all being watched and counted. One day, he will be shoved in a deep dark corner away from Burt forever.
He would one day have to apologise for his first kiss. He would have to apologise for that time he dared to reach out to touch his hand. He would cry and take back any romantic compliments, and he will leave the Break Room empty of all affection. He shouldn’t have to apologise for wanting. He would always return to visit Burt, overcome with loneliness. He craved the sense of pure happiness when they were together, that the guilt melted away. And now knowing that Kier himself met his wife as co-workers, he felt blessed to have found him.
That day when he saw Milchick open the door to the O&D backroom, he felt his anxiety catch up to him. MDR got in trouble again.
Even worse, he thought. Burt was now in trouble too.
He couldn’t do that to him.
How dare he do that to him.
To rush to him to realise that Burt had entered an early retirement was nothing but confirmation that he had done something awful. The way it twisted his heart and stomach when he walked into O&D.
He will never see Burt again.
How was he supposed to live with that? He hoped to come back to work again to see him. He walked the hallways that were built like a labyrinth every day. On his walks there, he had thought many times to himself that today, he will make a move. And he is constantly defeated by his nerves. He will never know what it would be like to win against it. To be the one to take his hand first and surprise him. He would never get the chance to flirt and charm him and make Burt flustered.
Burt seemed at peace with his fate. He had accepted all of the turns that were in his path, but Irving’s rage crawled up from deep inside him. As his thoughts spiraled and body tensed, there was also the knowledge that nothing could be helped.
He was merely an ant in the eyes of Lumon. He couldn’t hurt them alone.
Irving left the retirement party with glassy eyes and something still stirring in his chest. His co-workers - his friends - must have been wondering what had happened. But when they saw him, they knew. They could see that grief and rage had engulfed him completely.
A thought emerged. I couldn’t even protect the one person I care about.
Irving did think that. It wasn’t a thought he could wipe away, nor did he think he deserved to forget his pain.
But what did he need to protect Burt from?
A workplace shouldn’t be an antagonistic force. They worked for Lumon, they were supposed to be appreciated. Protected.
When his friends spoke against Kier’s beliefs and Lumon, Irving used to flinch. Sometimes he thought that of course, the company wasn’t being very kind… but it was for their good. They followed Kier’s words, like Irving did very closely. Like Burt did. They were on the same side. When the company created rules and punished wrong-doing accordingly, he once saw it like how a mother scolds and protects her child.
And what was Lumon protecting by killing Burt?
Eyes aflame, he looked at his friends. Mark, Helly and Dylan, who he had never entirely understood - until now.
“Let’s burn this place to the ground.”
The three looked at Irving.
Lumon wanted their workers to see each other as family, and a family Irving has made, all united by the rage and pain behind their eyes.
-------
When Irving heard about the overtime contingency, his mind was elsewhere, thinking about Burt. Now that their plan was in motion and Irving stood with his friends with newfound determination, he had no concerns anymore. Just a day ago, Irving would have paced back and forth in the office with his hands behind his back.
“What if we’re caught? What would we - What would happen?”
Irving didn’t worry about such things anymore. If they’re caught, they’re caught. Even a single breath of the outside air would have been a victory. His foggy mind was cleared and he saw through all of the falsehoods.
When he looked into the eyes of Kier’s portrait, he no longer felt the divine and loving gaze of their founder. Irving could have let out a laugh at his own ignorance. Kier’s eyes had never looked so devoid of warmth. This had always been the heartless gaze that had watched over MDR all these years.
Irving once turned to Mark, who was still a newcomer, about what should be in the heart of a good Lumon employee. He had said with great confidence that it was for the love of the company and Kier. The love for their work, their achievements and how they should feel honoured to be able to contribute to it. He pulled out a book from a shelf under the portrait for Mark to hear the wise words of their founder.
“Endow in each swing of your axe or swipe of your pen the sum of your affections, that through me they may be purified and returned. No higher purpose may be found than this. Nor any higher love,” Irving read aloud. “Don’t you find that inspiring?”
How ironic was it, that he had found a higher love because of Kier Egan. Opening the book again, Irving left a gift inside, for the next reader to find. A gift in return for Kier’s words of wisdom. The highest form of love may have been present at the severed floor of Lumon, but Irving could only find it within himself now.
You are wrong, but thank you for letting Burt find me.
He closed the book shut, and with that, he turned his back on Lumon.
When he goes on that elevator and opens his eyes next, he will become closer to ending them. Closer to Burt too, he hoped. He wished he would be able to see him again - even just a glance from afar. He smiled with triumph. He felt like he could fight Kier himself.
-------
When Irving opened his eyes, he didn’t see what he had expected to see.
A canvas smothered with black. A painting of a corridor he didn’t recognise. An elevator at the very end, perhaps.
Okay.
Next to him was a machine that was playing music, playing a genre he had never heard of before. Such aggressive instrumentals and vocals, with each member of the band giving it their all, Irving stared at it in bewilderment. He scanned his room, and he had realised that he was in a small apartment, with an ominous wall of his own mysterious paintings. The blackness of it all felt like it was looming over him.
Irving put the palette down, and followed a sound coming from another room. The soft sounds of panting and the jingle of light metal hitting metal. He crept towards the doorway and leaned in to look. There, on a bed, sat a dog.
I own a dog?
“Hey. Hi. Hi.” Irving rubbed the dog’s neck. He had never pet a dog before, but the sensation of the short fur rubbing against his hands felt familiar. He checked the collar for their name.
“Radar.”
“Your outie likes the sound of radar.” When Ms. Casey said those words to him all those weeks ago, Irving had been confused as to what kind of person his outie must be. Now, the pieces clicked inside his brain. Of course, anyone would like the sounds of a dog walking on the flooring, scratching themselves, yawning… Irving was delighted to meet Radar.
He looked around his apartment. It was small, comfortable, and empty. He lived alone. He must have some clues as to who he was. He wanted some sign of someone to talk to, but there was no sign of any other person he was close to. His house didn’t look like how he hoped it would, either. No tall shelves full of books and no beautiful paintings all over the walls, except for the strange ones he painted. A trunk caught Irving’s attention. He pushed it to somewhere he could open it, and scavenged through its contents. Irving saw a photo of a man, his father, and a uniform. The fabric was tough and cold under Irving’s fingers, having been unworn for who knows how long.
Irving had never thought about his parents before. He thought about his current life, but the thoughts of parents, extended families… his childhood… that was another story. He wondered if his father was kind. Or an admirable man. What about his mother? They must be wonderful. They raised Irving well. He would have to sit and think about that later. Who knew how much time he had left?
What shook his core however, were the papers. The reports. His research.
While he was spending his time within Lumon worshiping the ground Kier had walked on, he was out here… trying to take it down? At least his outie wasn’t blind like he was. He wished that he would have opened his eyes sooner. His outie may have found him ridiculous. He scanned through the papers and found pages of information he could not take in. There were articles upon articles of scandals. If only he could split himself in two. He was the most trustworthy person to tell about his experiences to.
His hands stopped, as he saw the list of severed employees. It was names upon names of employees he had never seen. Were they all downstairs with him? Had he been working with them all this time? It hit him again, how vast the mysterious severed floor must be. He may go on with his career there, never meeting any of these people.
His eyes wandered to search for a name.
There you are.
Burt’s name stood out to him, as if it was calling out to him. It felt ridiculous, that some texts could be comforting. Just seeing his name - Goodman - sparked so much joy within Irving. He couldn’t have thought of a more fitting last name for Burt. When he saw the address scribbled hastily next to his name, it suddenly hit him. This door was suddenly opened to him, and he had to go through it. He could see him. Tell him everything.
Burt was too kind for his own good - he will believe him.
Irving surely had a car. He absolutely had no idea how to drive one, but he wasn’t about to walk all the way to his house. He had a vague idea how to work one, and he decided that that would have to do. He took his keys.
His mind was entirely occupied by the hope that he will get to see Burt again, that the first touch of the cold winter wind didn’t hit him. The leather jacket he hastily put on barely protected him. It was his first inhale of the fresh outside air, but he didn’t care. All the scents of nature had completely gone unnoticed. Irving had no plans. He had no idea how he was supposed to go up to his house and explain everything from the very beginning. What was he supposed to say? What was the most believable? None of these things seemed like an issue for him. Burt was patient. He will take his hand and quietly listened until Irving finished.
Irving sat in the driver’s seat and stared at the technology before him. He was immediately lost. He took a deep breath, and started the engine. He had no other choice but to do this.
Being in a giant moving box of metal was certainly terrifying. With each turn of the handle, he had turned it too little or too much, and dangerously swerved close to the curb. The sweat from his palms made his hand stick uncomfortably to the leather handle. He fumbled with the map as he desperately tried to search where to go next. Who knows how much time he had left. He hoped that Dylan would be able to hold on just a bit longer. He was so close to his love. If he knew about his plan, Dylan would have disapproved. Even then, Dylan would hold onto those two switches and yell at Irving to “hurry the fuck up and get to that house”. He supported Irving’s happiness. Or he didn’t like that he would make him upset. Though it was all done with heavy sarcasm and false bitterness.
Irving was surprised that he was able to make it without barely a scratch on the car. It shocked him how well he could drive. Thank goodness his muscle memory took over.
Irving turned to his left. There was the house. The lights were still on, and the curtains were not drawn yet. Irving sat, and stared through his window, to catch a glimpse of Burt. Not just to check that this was the right house - he just wanted to see him. Just to catch a glimpse of him was enough. Then he will go up to him and complete his mission.
Maybe he should have known. In retrospect, he definitely should have.
All of the “what ifs” that Irving had fantasised during his time at Lumon, were all simply, “what ifs”. It was always too good to be true that Burt and him would be together on the outside. Or even friends. Irving could have guessed that they each had a life outside of each other, but it had never hit him what that would mean.
Irving watched as a man he didn’t know put a blanket on Burt’s shoulder, and looked at him with the same loving eyes Irving thought only he could look at him with.
Irving’s vision began to blur as the tears welled up in his eyes, but he tried not to let any tears fall. He felt that he had no right to really mourn what could have been, when he never even knew him. The Burt he was seeing through the window was not the Burt he bonded and fell in love with. He didn’t know him. Irving couldn’t pretend that if his outie walked past him, the most he would do is to admire him like he would eye any attractive man he came across.
He didn’t know him.
He didn’t know him.
But he felt his heart sink.
This Burt did not love him. And the Burt that did no longer existed.
He will not blame anyone here. How could they have known? Burt didn’t know he was married - his innie definitely wasn’t. Irving had no way to know this either. Things would have turned out different if they had known, but he wasn’t sorry that he fell in love with him. It was very difficult not to, and it made his days his personal Heaven.
He should have been happy for Burt that he had a warm house to come home to and loving arms to hold him. His husband seemed lovely.
But was it too much to wish that his apartment wasn’t so empty?
He had Radar. At least he had his dog, but Irving wished he had awoken in his apartment with someone there. A faint sound of sizzling of the food being cooked in the kitchen. Footsteps that didn’t make him feel uneasy. Loving arms that wrapped around him from behind. What he would give to look through the door to find Burt there. Perhaps that was asking too much.
Irving lied before.
He did want one thing. He wouldn’t ask for any more. He had just wished that this one dream of his to be true.
Irving couldn’t stand to look at them. He missed what he used to have. What he thought he had. His stomach was in a knot. He had wanted to stay in his car and sob for a little while. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself.
But he didn’t have time.
Irving gathered up the shattered pieces of his heart off the floor, and exited his car. His feet were heavy, and with each step, he dragged it behind him. He was dizzy, too. He wanted to leave, but he had come all the way here, and he had friends he didn’t want to let down.
He pounded on the door, yelling. His voice was hoarse. He called out for him. What would he do when he answered? He still had not prepared what he was going to say.
Now, at his most shattered, he wanted the comfort of seeing his face. To hear his voice. Oh, how he would break into tears if he heard Burt’s voice. But with each thundering knock he made with his tightened fists, he found himself selfishly begging that he wouldn’t have to face him.
“Burt!” Irving called. Never had he heard his voice sound so shaken.
He shook his thoughts away. He had to see him. He had to tell him everything. He needed Burt to see him, even if it would destroy Irving. Just a glimpse of those blue eyes may just turn his world around again. Even if they were not the eyes he fell in love with.
He wanted to see Burt again. To talk to him again.
Irving only had this one wish.