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The first time she sets foot in a bar, it’s after weeks of essays, night shifts, and bad co-workers—not to mention her (almost ex) boyfriend, who takes and takes and never gives back. Nayoung is tired of it, but she’s tired of everything, so it doesn’t matter.
“Rough day?” says the bartender, while Nayoung stares at the shiny tabletop, eyes burning. “I’ve got just the thing.”
Halfway into her first drink, she bursts into tears. It’s not fair, none of it is fair. Why does love have to be so difficult? It’s a game she’s never won, led on by selfish pricks and controlling players, all dumping her when they learned that Im Nayoung, first in her class, wasn’t everything she was cracked up to be.
It’s not her fault she’s so boring. It just happened that way, like all things in her life.
Somebody hands her a handkerchief—maroon, with the letters “C.SC” monogramed in the corner—and she takes it, tearfully, to blow her nose. Crying was something she never wants to do, least of all public; it’s dramatic, ugly, and doesn’t help anybody’s mood.
There goes her New Year’s resolution, and her birthday wish, too. Better luck next time.
---
Eight days later, her boyfriend is gone—frankly, she surprised they even lasted that long—her bank account almost empty, and nobody’s home to vent to, so when she drives past the bar on her way home from work, she takes the plunge.
“What’s the strongest thing you’ve got?” she asks, plopping herself down into the nearest seat, exhausted.
“Depends, what are you looking for?”
“I’ll take this,” she says, pointing blindly to something on the bill through a haze of tears. Her head hurts.
“Coming right up.”
Sniffling, dabbing at her eyes with an oddly unfamiliar handkerchief, Nayoung takes her first good look around the place. It’s mostly empty, with a few small groups of people in their corners, chatting over some food and drink. Friends aren’t something she makes easily, and time isn’t something she can afford to lose. Therefore, she doesn’t have very many friends—providing that they still count.
Loneliness is bitter, but she’s gotten used to it. That breakup just confirmed all of her worst fears—she’s better off alone.
“Here you are,” says the bartender, sliding a drink towards her, and she takes it gratefully.
“Thank you—oh, I never got your name. What is your name?”
The bartender chuckles—the sound makes her heart ache, because people only laugh like that when they’ve got nothing to lose—
“Seungcheol. Choi Seungcheol.”
—and Nayoung has plenty to lose.
---
“You don’t look so good.”
The concern in Seungcheol’s voice is strange, like a song she hasn’t heard since childhood.
The truth in that makes her squirm—she should, by all means, get back to her mother’s texts and missed calls, but nowadays she has barely a free moment to eat, let alone talk for hours.
Liar. You’re just scared of the questions, the feelings, the commitment. You don’t deserve such love.
Liar, liar, liar. How much of a coward is she, too scared to ask for help, but too weak to do it herself?
“Hey, now…” There is a hand on her check, thumb wiping away the tears slowly trailing down her cheeks, and Nayoung hiccups, and catches her first sight of starry eyes and warm skin and dark curls.
Needless to say, it leaves her speechless.
“Every time you’ve come here, it ends up with you crying your eyes out,” Seungcheol continues, oblivious to her internal collapse, hand still warm on her cheek. “So, tell me. What’s your deal? Life gets us all down, no worries.”
She feels like a child, with the way Seungcheol looks at her—like a worried father, ready to listen. Nayoung wonders if her father ever did that to her, when she was little.
The image is comforting, if not a little unnerving. But she is still so scared, so scared of it all that she brings her gaze back down to the counter and refuses to speak.
“We’ll work on it.”
---
We should get together sometime.
Jieqiong’s words still ring in her mind, accompanied by her bright, cheery smile and perfectly beautiful face. Nayoung has never felt so unworthy of affection before, so undeserving of love and friendship, so she does the only thing she can—she has a drink.
And another.
And another, and another, and another, until Seungcheol persuades her talk a little—only a little!—about what’s troubling her.
“I feel sooo… lost,” she confesses, cradling her cocktail lovingly. It’s the only thing keeping her alive, at this point.
“We all do, sometimes. It’s… It’s a stage that everyone goes through, you know?” Seungcheol responds, thoughtfully, hanging up glasses for the night, and Nayoung has an idea.
“Seuungcheooll. If there wasa girl… who wanted to be friendss… wha would you do?”
Seungcheol stops to think, Nayoung watching him expectantly. This was a good idea. Seungcheol is smart, funny, and not too bad-looking, either. If she wasn’t committed to being single and sad till the day of her death, she would definitely take him.
“I would go for it,” he finally answers, shrugging. “Why not? If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. You’ve got nothing to lose—or do you?” He looks at her, holding her precious cocktail close, and shakes his head. “Probably not.”
“I don’t wanna be aloone,” she whines, eyelids heavy. “I try to get friendss, buut they alwaaays leave me. I’m too boring…”
“Believe me, you are not boring,” murmurs the bartender, under his breath, then clears his throat. “Alright, closing time! Ma’am, do you have somebody to take you home, or should I call a taxi?”
“Minkyuung.” Nayoung puts her head on the table, then pops up again. “So you’re sayiiing… I should?”
Seungcheol smiles, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, and Nayoung fancies she can feel her heart flutter.
“Go for it.”
---
“Hey, Nayoung! I’m going out to dinner with a few others, wanna tag along? You can bring your roommate, if you’d like.”
Jieqiong continues to be bright, happy, and superbly well-adjusted for somebody so young, and Nayoung doesn’t have it in her heart to say no.
“I... I’d love to, Jieqiong.” The words aren’t completely true, but they aren’t entirely false, either. Maybe one day, she can get to the point where a night out with friends is a blessing, not a curse.
“Okay! Let me pull the address up… It’s sort of a bar and restaurant, is that alright?”
Nayoung thinks of late nights and strong drinks and a certain bartender with warm hands.
“Of course.”
Minkyung pulls on her overcoat, all dressed up and ready to go, while Nayoung searches for her bag.
“It’s good that you’re getting out more,” she says, smiling fondly at the picture of Im Nayoung, dressed in her best, worrying about something so trivial as an evening bag.
“Is it?” Nayoung says absentmindedly, grabbing the elusive clutch from behind the couch and standing up. “Alright. I’m ready, I think.”
“You’re fine,” Minkyung agrees, opening the front door. “Let’s have a good night. Promise?”
Looking down at her dress, her high heels, her jewelry—it would be a waste of time, if she didn’t enjoy it. Nayoung fingers her silver earrings nervously, feeling the old, barely-remembered mixture of expectation and anxiety bubble up in her chest.
“Promise.”
---
Jieqiong brings friends. Many.
Nayoung is introduced, one by one, to the small crowd of girls in cocktail dresses, smiling and laughing at some joke that she couldn’t quite catch. Minkyung nudges her, gesturing that she should start walking into the restaurant with the others.
She doesn’t look at the name. At this point, she knows it by heart.
“Hello, and welcome! What can I get you beautiful ladies?” Jieqiong sits herself down at the bar and Nayoung scores her usual seat, for once actually looking at the menu.
“Pasta. Pasta, I want pasta,” one of them says, bending over her menu comically. The bartender laughs. It’s not Seungcheol’s laugh, so Nayoung doesn’t bother to look up.
“Alright, well, we have this…”
The voices fade into general chatter as Nayoung closes her eyes, breathing in the familiar scents of alcohol, of marina sauce and seafood, of—
“Miss me?”
It’s getting harder for her to catch her breath.
“Seungcheol.”
Her greeting comes out softer, sweeter than she meant it too—less “friendly acquaintance” and more "secret lovers."
The thought makes her blush—what if the others take it as such? It’s true, Seungcheol treats her like an old friend, not a customer. It would be easy to mistake.
“You look happier today, you know.”
Love isn’t that easy. Nayoung knows, from countless experiences, that happy endings are far harder to find then they seem. After so many dead ends and false promises, the thought of trying again frightens her.
“…Do I?”
So much of her life is spent telling herself she’s not ready, letting things pass her by. She’s tired of waiting, but at the same time, she’s scared of messing up.
“Yeah. It looks good on you.”
Love scares her, but Seungcheol is the opposite of scary.
---
She doesn’t visit the bar for a while after the dinner. Things pick up again—family calls, holidays spent catching up, vacations in warm places. Thanksgiving is a lavish affair, Jieqiong inviting her over so she doesn’t have to eat alone—Minkyung is home with family, and Nayoung accepts gratefully. Not surprisingly, a small mob of people attend as well, leaving her feeling a little out of place in a crowd of social butterflies.
“Nayoung, right?” Asks an older girl, hair cut into a bob, drink in hand. She nods. “I’m Kyungwon. Big party, huh?”
“Indeed,” Nayoung murmurs in response, watching a man pop a bottle of champagne across the room. “It’s… not what I imagined for Thanksgiving, but I’m thankful for the company.”
“I know what you mean,” Kyungwon agrees, taking a swig from her glass; “It gets pretty lonely, with everyone back at their families, and no significant other to make ya feel loved.”
“Oh, believe me, I know.” She says it before she can stop herself, words tumbling out with none of her usual monotone. “I’m glad I could make it. Usually, I just mope around on the couch and watch Netflix or something.”
“Ha! Yeah, that sounds about right.” Kyungwon grins, then turns around and yells to somebody in the room. “Hey! Soonyoung, another drink, will ya?”
“Coming right up!” A short, round-cheeked boy hollers back, grabbing a bottle and making his way over. Once the drink is poured, Kyungwon hands it to Nayoung with a smile on her face.
“Take it. You don’t look drunk enough,” she says, and Nayoung takes it gingerly. “Thanks, Soon. One for me to, while you’re at it.”
Soonyoung nods, handling the bottle carefully while his eyes settle on Nayoung. At once, he brightens.
“You’re Nayoung, aren’t you? Seungcheol’s—” He bites his lip, cutting himself short. “U-uh, I mean, I work in the kitchens. Seungcheol talks about you sometimes.”
“…He does?” Nayoung asks, downing her drink quickly—it feels like she’s going to need it. Soonyoung shuffles his feet nervously, looking at the floor.
“I wasn’t supposed to say that. Sorry. Don’t tell Seungcheol, please?” He looks at her pleadingly, and she can do nothing but nod, bewildered. She didn’t have many expectations about the party, but this wasn’t one of them.
“Alright, Soonyoung. Time for you to stop talking,” Kyungwon laughs, pushing the boy off to somewhere with more drinks, probably. Nayoung decides she should think about leaving, but—
“What does he say about me?”
Soonyoung looks back with wide eyes, reflects, and shrugs.
“You’re a strong drinker?”
…Yeah, she should’ve seen that coming.
--
One winter afternoon, Nayoung stops by the bar. It’s not because of stress, or anything happening; she just wants a drink, and a conversation.
He talks about you sometimes. She’s not certain why it makes her happy to hear those words, but imagining the bartender behind those doors, bragging about some customer of his—it makes her heart do strange things in her chest, like a lovestruck schoolgirl. Nayoung’s not sure she likes it, but she might.
It’s a very Seungcheol thing to do, really. She shouldn’t be surprised.
In the place of him, though, is a short, grumpy-looking man polishing glasses, who says flatly, “Welcome. What’s your order?”
“…Um…” Nayoung flips through the pages, unable to make up her mind without Seungcheol giving her a mini questionnaire to fill out or some other ridiculous idea of his.
It can’t hurt to ask, right?
“…Excuse me.” The man looks up, expression bored, but at least he’s listening. “Where is Seungcheol?”
“Seungcheol?” He considers it, hands stilling on his current glass. “He’s off on vacation, I think. Some sort of Christmas thing? I dunno.”
“I-I see.” It’s a logical answer. Of course he doesn’t spend every moment inside a restaurant. Of course he goes places, has friends—he’s not Nayoung, not by a long shot.
It feels empty without him. Without his laugh, his smile, his voice, those bright and beautiful eyes—
She misses him.
---
Somehow, between coffee dates and dinner parties, Jieqiong has invited herself and her friends—Nayoung’s friends, now, it’s like she’s part of a gang—into the humble abode that Nayoung and Minkyung call home. Right now, Eunwoo and Yewon are in the kitchen, pulling out bowls and mixing batter to their heart’s content. Pancakes sizzle on the grill, and Nayoung finds herself in the middle of a pile of throw pillows and laughing girls.
“To living!” Announces Jieqiong happily, raising a glass of apple juice into the air, and the others follow suit. “To family, to friends!”
“To falling in love,” Nayoung says, surprising even herself; “to second chances and finding happiness.”
As the others agree and cheer loudly, she sees Kyungwon in the corner of her eye, grinning. She knows, they know—but Nayoung is done with keeping secrets.
“Hey, kids! Food’s ready, come and get it while it’s hot!” Eunwoo calls, and the crowd progresses to the kitchen, slowly but surely.
“I knew it.” Kyungwon whispers as she passes by, and Nayoung, fueled by red wine and chocolate, laughs louder than ever before. It’s strange—just as life seems hopeless, things turn around in the oddest way possible. She’s never felt so alive before, like she can run across the world, happiness spreading like heat, filling every part of her. She loves it, loves her life and her friends and—
—and Choi Seungcheol, creator of drinks and owner of a certain Im Nayoung’s heart.
Yes, she can say it now. Fear only wins if you let it, and Nayoung is done with losing.
She doesn’t love many, but the ones she does are the luckiest, it’s said—because Nayoung is cold on the outside, but warm on the inside. Once you thaw through her insecurities and social awkwardness, she will love you, well and truly.
“Nayoung, get some of the bacon! It’s gonna run out if you don’t grab some!” Somebody scolds her, and Nayoung doesn’t even care if she gets bacon, or that they’re ruining all four of her mother’s gifted aprons—she made a promise to live “in the moment”, like some tv commercial.
She’s trying. It’s been awhile since she last tried.
“Yewon, don’t take all the syrup!”
“Calm down, will you? It’s not that much!”
“Yeeewwonnn!”
“I can always buy more…”
“I love you.” Nayoung says, not to anyone in particular. The girls smile, looking fondly at their oldest and coldest, smiling like she hadn’t a care in the world.
“We know.”
---
Unexpectedly, her next meeting with Seungcheol doesn’t happen in a bar. Rather, it’s between the aisles of the local supermarket, Nayoung trying to open the door of a stubborn freezer. Warm hands close around hers and the door opens with a pop, the warmth disappearing as quickly as it came.
Nayoung spins around, and Seungcheol stands there in all his handsome glory, a sheepish grin on his face as he rubs his wrists.
“You looked like you were having trouble, so…” his voice trails off, cheeks a little bit red and Nayoung’s heart skips a number of beats, creating their own rhythm. If she could sing to the beat of her heart, it would, no doubt, be a love song about Seungcheol’s warm hands and lovely eyes, about the hope that he’s given her.
“Thank you,” she says, with as much heart and honesty as she can muster, and Seungcheol looks a little taken aback.
“Y-you’re welcome,” he stutters, cheeks reddening to the point that he resembles a ripe tomato, and Nayoung finds herself more in love than ever. He’s cute, he really is. She doesn’t feel so brave as to tell him that, but she takes another step.
“Something wrong?”
“I-I’ve never seen you so… vibrant. It’s like you’re a whole new person,” Seungcheol confesses, lowering his eyes to the ground, as if Nayoung was too dangerous to be looked at right in the face.
“Is that a good thing?” She questions, and he snaps right back up again.
“Yes, yes! It’s… It’s very good. Just took me by surprise, that’s all.” Seungcheol slowly regains control of himself, voice stabilizing and taking on its usual teasing lilt. Nayoung isn’t so in love that she would say it’s her favorite song, but it’s music to her ears.
“What happened?” His voice shakes her out of her thoughts, and she blinks. Time to set the dreams aside, she tells herself. You’re in the middle of the grocery store, buying milk because Sungyeon somehow spilled a whole gallon on the floor while singing “Fantastic Baby” on the top of her lungs.
“Come again?” she questions politely, and Seungcheol gestures to her.
“You’re smiling more than I’ve ever seen. You aren’t holding yourself like a labor worker anymore. I’d say something went down to change this.”
Nayoung thinks of Jieqiong, and Minkyung, and countless parties and food, and Choi Seungcheol once again, even though he’s right in front of her; it’s amazing, it’s wonderful.
“A lot of things happened,” she answers, mind a thousand miles away. “And in part, it’s all because of you.”
“Don’t flatter me like that! All I did was give you alcohol…” He sounds regretful about it. Nayoung doesn’t regret it at all.
“And that’s exactly what I needed. A drink, and a friend.”
Seungcheol laughs, his warmth surrounding Nayoung like a blanket, and she takes the chance and hugs him tight. This is enough. She has no plans to go any further, not at the moment.
“I missed you,” she murmurs, breathing in the smell of smoke and Seungcheol. “Thank you.”
Seungcheol’s arms wrap around her, keeping her close.
“I missed you too.”
--
Nayoung finds that life isn’t always sunshine and roses, but sometimes, it comes close. Paradise is what you make of it, and she shapes her own future. Her friends are much more supportive than she gives them credit for, staying with her even in her hard days, through deadlines and late nights and stress. But things are much better than before; she’s found herself, finally. It’s a relief.
Her house is now regularly populated by crowds of girls and, occasionally, their lovers. Nayoung’s heart aches whenever she sees the pure happiness in their eyes, because they deserve this.
She visits Seungcheol on occasion; it’s harder, now that work has picked up again and she’s busy with all the dreams she’s decided to chase.
It’s been awhile, but she still remembers everything, safely locked away in the corners of her heart. She still thinks of his hands around hers, and still dreams of his smile in the late hours of the night. Nayoung loves him, this she knows—him, she’s not so sure.
It’s alright for her to take it slow. She’s not going to rush. Seungcheol will wait for her, she knows.
Seungcheol has always waited, whether it be late night shifts or just a word of encouragement. Somehow, they’ve progressed into the land of awkward flirting and sideways glances, soft touches and comfortable silence and it’s all okay, with him and with her.
The only question left to ask—and it’s not much of one, really—is “what are we?”
She wants to ask that soon. If all goes according to plan, she’ll steal Choi Seungcheol’s heart just like he stole hers.
The thought makes her shiver. She’s past needing love, long past—but a relationship, healthy and stable, doesn’t sound too bad. It would be nice, very nice, to see a familiar face at the end of a long day, even nicer to share a few words and a hug.
Or a kiss. Either. She’s not picky.
In fact, that sounds even nicer.
---
Confetti falls down around her, settling on her shoulders and nestling in her hair. Smiles greet her, friends and family gathered around a cake that reads Happy Birthday, Nayoung! in bright pink icing. In the corner, presents are stacked upon presents, and she’s honestly shocked at how many there are.
She never expected to get this far. Not in her wildest dreams. Sure, she’s not a superstar or a genius, but she’s happy; happy with what she is, happy with what she’s done.
It makes her warm. The doorbell rings, and Minkyung gives her a mysterious smile and a thumbs up.
Nayoung opens the door.
“You look amazing.”
Seungcheol has his hands wrapped around a large bouquet of roses, dressed in a full suit, hair brushed back in a style Nayoung’s never seen before.
She loves him. Every bit.
“I should say the same to you,” she answers, letting a grin break out across her face. “Won’t you come in?”
“Ah! Yes, thank you.” He crosses the threshold and suddenly, Nayoung has her arms around his neck, Seungcheol wrapping his own around her waist to pull her closer.
Her heart thumps in her chest and she decides this is a good of a time as any.
“Seungcheol, I—"
He stops her with a kiss, light and gentle. “No. Let me go first, okay?”
“…Go ahead.”
Seungcheol clears his throat, grinning a bit nervously before he starts.
“I love you, Im Nayoung.” his voice is soft and tender, little more than a whisper in her ear, though he maintains eye contact. “I love you, and have loved you since the day we met, such a long time ago. I thank my lucky stars that I met you, because I couldn’t imagine a life without you and your soft smiles and gorgeous laugh.
There’s not really much I can say, except that I’m so proud, so happy to see you’ve attained that happiness you’ve been searching for. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, whether as friends or lovers or husband and wife.”
His voice quavers for the smallest of moments.
“I love you. More than anything. I—”
Nayoung presses a kiss against his lips, and when he pulls her in, she knows it’s finally—over, one chapter. A new one, beginning.
It’s okay. Everything is okay. Life might never be perfect, but with Seungcheol by her side, she knows she can take it.
“There’s not much I can say after that, Cheol,” she teases, wiping her tears away.
“Say it anyway.”
Nayoung takes a moment just to breathe, letting herself relax in his arms. She has never, never been one for fairy tales, but Seungcheol makes her feel like a queen, and that’s better than any happy ending.
She focuses on his eyes, drinking in the sheer amount of love she feels, that he gives her, from his adoring eyes to the way he holds her and she is, she is—
“I love you, Choi Seungcheol.”
She is happy.
:) (Guest) Sat 10 Jun 2017 06:05PM UTC
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Last Edited Wed 14 Jun 2017 07:22AM UTC
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