Work Text:
“Man, I’m bored as hell.”
Pureum looked over at her coworker, who was splayed over the couch and stargazing at the drywall ceiling.
“Do you want me to make you a drink?”
Seonhui hesitated. When Pureum couldn’t tell she was being directly talked to, she was utterly quiet, so she hadn’t expected her to say anything to her outburst. She eventually replied, “You know what, sure. An IVL, please.”
“Okay.”
Pureum had asked because she was planning to make her own drink, too. No one had come in to order since she’d first clocked in, so it was starting to feel a little idle, even when she had done a sweep of the place a whole hour before.
As little activity as there was, in the back of Pureum’s mind, she thought it fortunate that she found a job at another cafe. There was a familiar rhythm to the procedure of working a coffee machine to brew a drink; it faintly resembled the way she was taught to use a paintbrush. There were common patterns, standard motions, room for freedom left when places were worked over tightly enough.
It was easy to leave half her mind invested in the work, letting the other half roam free in other thoughts. Over the paintings hung on the wall across from her or the girl splayed across the couch.
Pureum knew it wasn’t right to be nosy in the affairs of her associates, but she couldn’t help but wonder, why exactly did Seonhui work here? She could tell she was close to the manager (Somang), but beyond that, she wasn’t very good at brewing, and she didn’t seem to enjoy it much either.
For the few days Pureum had seen Seonhui walk in to work, her unenthusiasm showed in both her appearance and behaviour. The cherry-haired girl stood, sometimes lounged, around the place passively, surrounding her a haze of dull grays, seeming as though she was only here to bide her time, waiting for something to happen to her.
Today, however, her hair boasted an extra shine, as if she’d washed it more thoroughly. Pureum wondered if that meant anything, but didn’t bother to ask.
Seonhui was, as she had said out loud, still bored out of her mind. She had no idea why–normally she’d turn on some show on her phone or play a mobile game, but she wasn’t in the mood for that either. It felt as though her subconscious was anticipating an event that would knock her out of her ennui. Nothing had happened today to even imply such a thing. Today.
She scanned the empty cafe, dimly realizing that their most dedicated customers hadn’t shown up yet. Maybe that was contributing to this boredom–as much as Gyuri rolled all over Seonhui’s nerves, the disturbance at least stimulated some of the neurons in her brain.
Her eyes eventually landed on Pureum, who’d engrossed herself in brewing Seonhui’s latte. Besides when Somang was here to open the cafe and now, she hadn’t spoken a single word all day.
After meeting her, Seonhui had slowly realized that truthfully, she didn’t do very well with taciturn people. Heck, the ones closest to her in her life were all social butterflies. At first, she thought that it was just Jinyoung and his perpetually unabashed energy that irritated her so much, but Pureum’s complete, unassuming silence made her just as antsy sometimes. Apparently Seonhui’s receptors for discomfort didn’t understand the difference between lazing around while someone else was doing all the work and thinking that an empty cafe was possibly being haunted.
When Pureum finished making her drink, she strolled up to her in that eerie silence and took a sole drink off of the tray to place on her table.
“You even used the tray? So meticulous,” Seonhui muttered as she sat up. “Thanks.”
“It’s still a little hot,” Pureum informed her. Imitating Seonhui’s earlier action, she glanced back at the door to the cafe. “Where are those two?”
Seonhui noted the girl’s tendency to leave out context, but she could hazard a guess as to who she was talking about.
“You mean Gyuri and Dongchae?” Pureum nodded. “No clue. They’re usually here all the time.”
Seonhui realized there was something else unfortunate about their missing presence–her guinea pig, er, Dongchae, wasn’t here to test her drinks today. If he was, at least she’d be able to occupy herself with practice.
Pureum, meanwhile, blankly remembered that all the couple did at the cafe was study. Maybe they’d gone on an actual date. After having assuredly come to that conclusion, she shrugged and returned to the counter to brew her own coffee.
Going through the motions until all she had left to do was wait for her drink to cool, Pureum took to examining the artworks on display. Pureum had gotten closer looks at the signatures earlier, so she knew which ones were painted by the manager and cafe owner. She also had plenty of free time to have already finished visually dissecting every individual brushstroke and colour mix, but doing it again never hurt.
The general styles of the two were distinct in their own ways, but shared the same vibrant, animated tonality. There was more deliberation in the cafe owner’s brushwork, more obvious patterns to her choice of palette, most likely built up from years of practice and the confidence she developed in her personal style. Hardened and wisened, but still carried heart and care. From what Pureum had noted in the brief period of training she received from the cafe owner, her work seemed to reflect her personality adequately.
That was how she could differentiate her style from the manager’s, Somang’s, which divulged her youth and naivete and sufficient experience, but only from someone who had been practicing for a decade and not multiple. There was a sweet, mellow air to the manager herself, varied shades of pastel pinks. A saturated blue-green, Pureum decided, suited the jocular aspect of her character well, because the hard contrast it provided continued to illustrate the liveliness of her demeanour.
Like any young artist, because they were more likely to have thoughts and desires they struggled to find direct ways to communicate, Somang’s work represented herself openly. There were more blatantly unintentional flaws, but Pureum felt that she liked it more for that reason. The marks of hesitation and panic were always evidence that the artist had tried to use their room for freedom. It resonated with her own youthful, naive heart, she decided.
She jumped, almost spilling her cup, when Seonhui slapped her forehead, groaning as she ran her hand roughly down her once well-groomed hair.
“What’s wrong?”
Seonhui turned to look at Pureum with a dark expression. “Nothing. I remembered something.” Something very unpleasant, indeed.
Seonhui had been trying to push the thought of her ex out of her head, pretending that she had no idea he was living rent free in her subconscious since a few days ago. After leaving him back there for so long, though, it was with miserable clarity that she realized that the first time he’d seen her in months, it was when she was in such a drab state and a stupid apron.
She had once been so determined to face him only after she’d gotten into college. The thought of it made her want to retch.
Seonhui also remembered, oh so clearly, that just before he’d left the cafe he had said something that was exactly like ‘See you later’.
See you later, you know, the words that people only say when they plan to come back.
At least, Seonhui had hoped such words were for the group, but her cruel memory told her that Jaehyun had made direct eye contact with her. So, in short, what her subconscious seemed to be waiting for, against her pathetically weak will, was…
She brushed down her hair before sighing, more to herself than Pureum, “It’s nothing. You know what, I haven’t had my drink yet.”
Seonhui brought the cup to her lips with more caution than she really needed to. Maybe she was used to having her own bad drinks, but of course, no one could be a worse barista than her. In fact…
“Wow, this isn’t bad,” she awed. “No, it’s really good. Man, vanilla lattes are the best.” The sweet flavour melted on her tongue, and the cold milk rinsed down all of the bile that’d built up in her throat. Maybe she was just peevish from not having had morning coffee.
When she finished downing the drink, which had happened rather quickly, Seonhui got up to wash the cup herself, nodding to Pureum with solemnity as she met her gaze.
“The boss did good hiring you. You’re going to save this cafe.”
There was a moment of excruciatingly awkward silence in the midst of their eye contact. All Pureum did was nod and turn back to her drink, and Seonhui gaped at the action.
“You…” She stifled a laugh that was either out of surprise for the audacity or the idea that the girl had no idea how to respond to her.
Upon hearing the sound, Pureum slowly, confusedly, turned back to Seonhui. “Did I do something wrong?”
Seonhui looked up at the girl and her furrowed brows, seeing the genuine sincerity in her otherwise blank expression. So she really didn’t know.
Struggling to keep her voice level, and failing to hide the sarcasm in her tone, she pointed out, “Um, well, normally this is the kind of thing you say ‘thank you’ to, because it’s a compliment.”
Pureum blinked; the realization hit her as if it were a gust of wind. Right, that was a compliment. A positive statement. And those were the kinds of things she should have a verbal response to.
For some reason, Pureum found it hard to remember that, and she was well-acquainted with the consequences of making similar mistakes—it was probably what got her fired at her last job. She was grateful for Seonhui having reminded her before it could happen again, and for that in itself, she replied instantly, “Oh, thank you.” She was baffled, though, when seeing as that only made her laugh harder.
“Priceless…” Seonhui couldn’t help it. It was obvious from the first day she had seen Pureum, but someone like her really was right up the director’s alley. She peeked up to see that Pureum wasn’t even inclined to ask her why she was still laughing, setting off more of the giggles. “You, you’re terrible at—”
Seonhui was interrupted by the door to the cafe ringing its familiar jingle. She, along with Pureum, turned to look at who might have entered, Seonhui still taking the time to wipe a nonexistent tear off her face.
Her expression stiffened, however, once she’d instantly processed the face of the visitor.
“Is the place always this empty?” Jaehyun remarked as he walked towards the counter.
Seonhui reflexively backed up, barely noticing that she’d unintentionally pushed Pureum forward. The vanilla latte was starting to come back up her throat.
Luckily for Seonhui, Pureum didn’t question it. She simply asked the customer, once he’d walked up to the register, in her innately professional tone, “What would you like to order?”
He paused; Pureum faintly noticed that he had looked behind her. With a polite smile, he eventually said, “A strawberry ade, please.”
As she entered the order into the POS terminal, he brushed his hair back and slowly added, “Also—could I have Seonhui make my drink?”
What?
The two part-timers, for the first time today, were aligned in their thoughts.