Chapter Text
Five minutes.
Its just five minutes that Jihyo could look and get everything over with.
Five minutes her life might change as she knows it.
But, to be truthful, she’s not quite ready for that.
She’s got two minutes before her shift officially starts and only one more before everything could change.
All she needs to do is look.
Jihyo decides maybe it’s okay to clock in a few minutes early.
She exits the convenience store restroom, its 9:58 PM and she pulls out her punch-card. No one is really going to care about a one minute difference, and she doesn’t care enough to actually be paid for that extra minute, so she punches in.
The radio in the break room is playing some random station, the music is a little hard to hear through the white noise and the sound of the fam running, but even with all the noise Jihyo feels blank.
“Here,” She tells the midday shift, who rubs his eyes in exhaustion.
“Thank god,” he nods in relief and gathers his things, throwing on his coat and tossing his cap onto the worker’s coat rack, “See you later Jihyo,” he waves off and punches out, “Good luck,” he adds with a scoff.
Its not supposed to be genuine, its more sarcastic than anything, but Jihyo is relieved he’s walking out the front doors because her eyes begin to water. With a shake of her head, Jihyo pulls her hair into her ponytail, turning the radio up the slightest bit, and decides there’s nothing better to do than her stupid job.
And suddenly, Jihyo is doing her job like nothing. She restocks the areas he obviously missed, like extra chip bags and ramyeon in random sections. She empties the trash cans and waits for the new alcohol order to arrive. She restocks the beers and cocktail mixes, she checks out a few people who shuffle in, each becoming more and more inebriated as the night goes on.
“Slow night?” A woman questions, sliding over a pack of low-grade cigarettes Jihyo would never want to try.
“Something like that,” Jihyo mumbles and scams the items like second nature, even if she’s only been working here for four months. “Sunday nights are usually like this.”
“You look quite young,” the woman points out, though not of concern but of observation, “Shouldn’t you be in school tomorrow morning?”
Jihyo frowns. “School isn’t what I have to focus on right now.”
That’s all she can say before the lady gets a specific scowl on her face, the one Jihyo always sees. The one of judgement because Jihyo is working at the damn convenience store to supply this hag her fix of dirt-cheap cigarettes on a Sunday night, instead of preparing for school. It didn’t even matter to ask her position, or why she was working an overnight shift, that never mattered. They never actually cared.
“Good luck then,” the woman snatches the receipt before Jihyo can even offer it, walking off with a look back of disdain. This time, the tone is condescending, its looking down at Jihyo in a hierarchy, she’s the younger, inexperienced, immature class. She’s foolish and being reprimanded for it. Again, she feels the way her stomach twists in uncomfortable knots, her heart thumping and threatening to beat out of her chest.
The door dings, finalizing the woman’s departure, and everything feels as close to normal as it can be in this moment.
Jihyo’s still alone, the convenience store won’t get busy any time soon, and its simply just her and her thoughts. She stares to her backpack, the contents still overwhelmingly tempting to look at, but its not the right time. It might never actually be the right time, she thinks, shaking her head. Maybe another area needs to be mopped.
She checks the time, only three hours have passed. The shift is the slowest she’s ever been a part of, its barely about to skim past 1 AM, she still has the rest of her shift ahead of her. Beside her, behind the register, there’s a small television that plays local news, its all Jihyo has right now to fill the silence as she turns it up slightly, listening to the latest politics and discussions. Nothing that actually clings to her, its all white noise.
Its all going to stay white noise, maybe for the rest of her life because everything is going to change soon, Jihyo realizes.
Its 4:38 AM when all the lights on the block go out, Jihyo is arguing with a guy about a brand of beer they don’t sell, and she’s almost relieved that this happens as the man grumbles and leaves. Its protocol to lock the doors, she attaches the padlock, and stares up onto the electrical lines, where a few construction workers are beginning to tweak it.
“What happened?” She questions, pulling the sleeves of her long-sleeve down past her hands, blowing warm air onto them with her breath.
“Snipped a line on accident,” The man calls from below, shrugging, “I doubt this block will get power any time soon. Just call it a night.”
Its not really time to call it a night, Jihyo holds her bag close, because now the sidewalks are clouded in darkness, because even though its the dead of night, she has a few clothes that need to get washed, and she feels she might not be able to really sleep any time soon.
The laundromat is about five blocks away, all Jihyo really needs to wash is her work shirt, some pants, and undergarments. She carries the change deep in the pockets of her bag, its somewhere buried deep but she won’t actually look for it until she feels safe enough to. Not too many people are out around this time, but the ones that are are watching her from street corners and sidewalks with hungry looks in their eyes. Jihyo shrinks, eyes focused only on the neon signage she can see from her view.
“Suds,” it reads, its glowing white with blue soap bubbles floating. The windows are worn out and a bit dirty, but Jihyo can still see the inside clear enough. The tile floors look like they’ve just been freshly mopped, there’s a row of dryers, they’re all colored a specific shade of deep mint. The white walls look a bit yellow with age, there’s a couple posters of movies Jihyo has heard of but has never seen. The washers are in the middle of the building, set in rows, all the same shade of deep mint.
She pulls the door open, its probably about 5 AM by the time Jihyo makes it inside, its significantly warmer inside and the whirring of the washers and dryers feels almost comforting.
The door causes the bell to ring, a woman at the front desk takes a quick glance to Jihyo. Her hair is a bit frizzed, and she’s holding a mug of fresh coffee in her hands, the steam still rising off of the fresh liquid. She looks like she may have just woken up and rushed over here, after all its 5 AM and this may just be the start of her shift.
“Morning,” she greets with a hoarse voice—oh yeah, Jihyo can tell she really did just wake up.
“Hello,” Jihyo greets politely, but avoiding more contact than that, hurriedly walking over to a lone machine somewhere on the other side where she can’t be seen too much.
Quietly, Jihyo pulled out the discarded clothes from her backpack, shoving them into the washer and pulling out the small nearly empty bottle of detergent she carried. Taking off her work shirt, but leaving her thermal on, she tossed that in as well, sighing and dumping the remaining detergent into the washer before starting it up.
Stifling her yawn, Jihyo shuffled to the plastic row of see through, orange tinted seats, they were uncomfortable and she felt herself slide around in it until she somewhat had a grip. There was two elderly women attending to their laundry right now, folding through their clothes hurriedly before the sun rose.
Something in Jihyo’s heart dropped. She watched them move with such ease, hanging all the button up shirts, folding all the slacks and jeans, rolling up all the socks and underwear. She wondered how long they had developed this routine, how long had they begun to wake up before the sun even shone, splitting their laundry from their husbands and children by color pile, before folding it all up and taking it back home. Just to most likely have to leave to work, these women looked exhausted beyond their years, they had to be working to have those specific lines through their faces. Maybe factory workers, maybe secretaries, Jihyo could never know. But their hands were calloused, their hair tied back and frizzed, strands of gray mixed into their once dark luscious hair. Exhaustion lining underneath the skin of their eyes, trudging to the door when they finished.
Jihyo watched them use the carts to wheel the clothes out to their cars, the way they shuffled and limped from being on their feet, and in that moment, Jihyo understood.
Nothing in her life would ever be the same again.
She wouldn’t simply stay up all night, working at a convenience store to survive, and spend the day asleep. She could no longer avoid the ache on her left molar nor could she pretend stealing ramyeon packets from work was a sufficient diet for someone her age. Jihyo couldn’t ignore that she had no car, and virtually no way to protect herself from the outside world. She couldn’t ignore that she was uneducated and may never have that chance ever again for the rest of her life.
Nothing was ever going to be the same, everything was going to be different, it would no longer just be Jihyo against the world.
Jihyo held her breath, reaching into her bag once more, feeling the plastic sandwich bag crinkle under her grip. She held the contents tightly, feeling the way her heart continued to pound as she pulled it out, clutching it tightly against her chest. Her fingers felt tingly, she could feel the way her throat wanted to close up but she absolutely refused to do that, instead swallowing down whatever nerves she could.
Park Jihyo has essentially nothing to her name. She was just 16, just turned actually, a few days prior. She had an under the table job at the convenience store down the road. She had maybe about three pants and two shirts. Her nails were short and broken, dirt underneath from constantly working.
And somehow, everything she was working for was about to go down the drain.
‘Just do it,’ she tried to hype herself up, ignoring the shake she was developing, the laundromat suddenly feeling so much warmer.
It was now or never, Jihyo decided, but it would be inevitable.
She brushed her thumb away from the label, still staring straight ahead at the news playing. The early morning weatherman announcing dreary days to come. Jihyo scoffed.
'Now or never,' Jihyo decided on again, feeling an odd sense of warmth in the pit of her stomach. Almost like acceptance.
Finally, she tore her eyes away from the handsome man with brushed gelled hair on the television, bringing them down to her lap.
A plus sign, slightly faded, but visible all the same.
She was only 16…just turned really. And yet, everything about her life was about to completely change, it was inevitable. It was always going to happen, to someone like her. Jihyo had learned that a long time ago.
And it was life-changing, a life she barely lived, a life she barely had. She hardly knew what it meant to have a proper home, and warm blankets. She lived off of convenience store ramyeon and water bottles and soda. She couldn’t do anything more about it, she couldn’t find a reason to panic. It felt fitting, the looks of disdain and condescending comments. People feeling as if she was never going to amount to anything. She supposed they were right, all this time. She couldn’t even really bring herself to fully cry, but she still felt the way the tears stung her eyes, making her vision blurry.
All she really felt was anger. A strong surge of anger from the center of her chest threatening to crawl up her throat. Biting her tongue tightly, scoffing, Jihyo resisted the urge to throw the stupid test on the ground and beat it senselessly with her boot. That would be inappropriate, and the last thing she needed was to be kicked out of a 24/7 establishment that felt much warmer than other options she had.
Slowly bringing a hand to her stomach, Jihyo held herself, as if protecting it from the rest of the world. The plus sign was surely visible, she had a sinking feeling no matter how many more pregnancy tests she took, the results would be the same.
Park Jihyo was 16 and pregnant. It was inevitably so.
…Her mom was going to kill her.
*********
Im Nayeon owned a laundromat. Well, partially owned. Co-owned, was the actual word.
Was this the life she had planned for herself, when she was 13, young and with aspiring dreams? Well…no, not really. She assumed no one ever really dreamt about having to air out other people’s dirty laundry. In a literal sense at least…
But, the situational events that led her to getting to where she was was enough to make her want to settle down in the routine of it all for the next forty years.
Was owning a laundromat ideal? Probably not, but in this economy, Nayeon was lucky enough to have enough income to afford the one bedroom apartment she lived in with her…ahem…business partner. That whole thing was another can of worms.
At 26, Nayeon felt like maybe her whole life had shifted a bit too far astray from what she wanted, but along with that came things she didn’t know she needed.
Profit. It was certainly not the most successful business on the east side, but Nayeon knew laundromats were a growing market. Not everyone could afford proper machines and most apartments didn’t give the space to store them regardless. The profit was helpful, as a sort of passive income, because Nayeon had an insatiable thirst for education, and working towards a PhD was no joke. Extra money was always helpful.
Hours. Being co-owner meant if she couldn’t be around, and neither could her partner, they could just close. Though it was poor business practice, sometimes, Nayeon liked having the holidays off. And the occasional Sunday morning after getting blackout drunk in the clubs the night prior.
One final thing, Nayeon came to understand she absolutely needed the sociability that came with business. She loved small talk, she loved learning things about customers and adored her regulars. The lovely elders who came in before dawn, the midday newly wed mothers hauling their children around, the far and few husbands doing their duties while their wives cleaned the homes. This helped her relax, she was always the social one in school.
With this benefit, Nayeon saw fit to try to befriend every customer who came in more than three times (the rule of threes, after all). It usually meant they’d be coming for quite a while.
There were a few exceptions to this rule, though.
This one fateful night being one.
“Nayeonnie—,” Her partner’s voice was nearly a whisper, the bed creaking slightly as Nayeon cracked an eye open.
“Huh?” Nayeon practically snored out, becoming aware of the wet spot on the side of her cheek, laying on her pillow. Hurriedly, she sat up, wiping whatever saliva she could to save herself the embarrassment, squinting to her alarm clock.
“Its 4:38 in the morning,” Nayeon whined, “Why are you waking me up so early?”
“Settle down, princess,” Her partner, Yoo Jeongyeon, clicked the lamp on her nightstand on, the dull, yellow light making Nayeon’s eyes burn, “I wouldn’t have awoken your beauty sleep for no reason.”
Nayeon chose to groan and rub the sleep away from her eyes as best as she could.
“Seulgi called,” Jeongyeon explained, her self-cut hair was starting to grow unevenly, kind of like a mullet, as she brushed some away, “From the payphone up town in the Southside, at some random convenience store. Her car broke down and she can’t figure out why.”
Nayeon frowned. “And let me guess,” she yawned, “You’re going to grab your tools and be her knight in shining armor?”
Jeongyeon rolled her eyes, grabbing her backpack from the floor and slinging it over one shoulder, “I’m going to be a good Samaritan with morals and help her out. Its dark and that side of town is dangerous, we know this.”
“I know,” Nayeon sighed, “I’m up. You need me to cover the rest of the shift?”
“Please,” Jeongyeon grabbed her keys, “I’ll try to be back soon. I know its not your turn for the early shift but your lady friends are here and they always ask for you even though they already know your schedule.”
Nayeon smiled a little, “Sweet ladies,” She chuckled, “Makes me feel good to know they miss me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jeongyeon teased, “You certainly won’t miss me too much while I’m gone.”
“Just hurry idiot,” Nayeon waved her off, “But don’t you dare come any closer, the garlic noodles we ate last night—“
“Don’t need to lie, I know you didn’t brush your teeth,” Jeongyeon finished the statement, “I know. I could smell it all night.”
“Leave—“
“Going~”
It gave Nayeon almost no time to get ready. Just enough to brush her teeth, do her basic skin care, and throw on her clothes for the day. A pair of simple denim bootcut jeans, a loose black button up shirt, and a pair of slippers, hurriedly rushing down the stairs.
The other benefit of her business? It was right below her one bed, one bath apartment.
Pushing open the emergency exit doors, Nayeon was greeted by two familiar faces, two older women who had been coming since before the sun rose.
“Good morning you two,” Nayeon greeted, giving as best of a smile as she could despite the tiredness in her bones.
“She has woken,” one of them chuckled, “When Jeongyeon said you’d be down, I thought it’d take at least another hour.”
“And miss my two favorites?” Nayeon complimented, “I could never.”
“You’re too sweet, Nayeon,” one of them chuckled, “How has no man put a ring on it, yet?”
Nayeon pursed her lips, feeling the nervous energy jolt her awake. “You know…” She sighed, going to her station at the front desk, where Jeongyeon has left a freshly made pot of coffee, with a small sticky note. “Most men don’t like a women who purses education first.” She shrugged, her usual defense for dodging questions like those.
She quietly gazed at the note, reading what Jeongyeon left in slightly sleepy, sloppy handwriting: “Enjoy your coffee. Sorry my princess didn’t get her full beauty sleep. You didn’t really need it anyways.”
The note made her smile.
“Lots of men are more open nowadays,” The other chimed in, as the two made their way to the dryers, pulling out their loads, “Many would appreciate an intelligent wife. As long as you cook!”
“Maybe later,” Nayeon felt the awkwardness in her bones, “I’m still young.”
“Gah—,” One of them rolled her eyes, “The youth and their insistence! In my years, when I was your age, I was already raising three kids and married for eight.”
“I just don’t think I was meant to be the motherly type…god forbid a fool like me raises a child.”
“Nayeon!” One scolded while the other laughed, “Don’t speak in such terms!”
“Coffee as an apology?” She grinned, holding up the fresh pot, “On the house?”
The two elders had sipped their coffee relatively quietly, when the door chimed again, and Nayeon barely turned her head from the pages of her book to see a young woman-
…Woman might be a stretch.
Girl was more like it. A young girl, certainly not over 18 at least. Wearing the uniform Nayeon saw the convenience store workers up the street wear, the shirt a bit stained and swallowing her figure. She looked a bit pale in the face, cheeks flushed from the chill, pulling the sleeves of her long sleeve shirt further down, over her hands.
Nayeon watched her enter in, holding her coffee mug in both hands and giving the girl a small, welcoming smile. “Morning,” Nayeon tried to greet politely, feeling the hoarseness in her tone from the early hour. Nayeon watched the girl give a closed, tight-lipped strained smile back, obviously looking exhausted.
“Hello,” The kid greeted as best as she could, smile so fake it was never meant to even try to reach her eyes.
Nayeon watched the kid shuffle in, careful to avoid eye contact with the two elders, who obviously made it known they did not enjoy the girl. Nayeon observed as the kid absentmindedly began to throw a few items into a small washer, not even caring of the stares.
Looking back to the entrance, Nayeon had a sliver of expectation that an actual adult would walk through the doors, maybe carrying a bin full of clothing, and walking over to the kid and begin to scold her for not helping her mother. Maybe they’d argue like how most teenage girls and mothers do, when the girl gets rebellious. It’d bring a sense of relief that was twisting in Nayeon’s chest, watching as the girl removed the current uniform shirt she was wearing, throwing it in the washer before opened a small bottle of detergent.
Nayeon stared back at the door, still waiting for her parent.
No one showed, not even when the girl made her way to the seats, sitting onto one with a grave expression, backpack on her lap, zoned out.
Nayeon frowned, bring her mug to sip as she quietly studied the girl, and the way the girl watched the two elderly women. They had their own routine, clothes already finishing their folding and hanging, hurriedly checking the clock occasionally to ensure they remained on task.
She looked pale, grief-stricken nearly, eyes never once tearing away as the elders gathered their belongings and began to make their leave, exchanging a friendly glance with Nayeon before one stopped, taking her hand over hers and leaning in.
“Keep your eye out on that one—,” she glanced to the girl, who remained nearly statuesque, staring up to the weatherman as he began his segment, “No kid should be out right now. She should be in school—you may want to contact authorities.” Her tone was not one of worry, but of disgust, as if she could not fathom a child so openly playing hooky. Though, given her work shirt, Nayeon had a sinking feeling this kid wasn’t necessarily purposefully skipping out.
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Nayeon figured to ease the elder’s concerns, gracing her with a small smile as the woman patted Nayeon’s hand approvingly.
“Such a good catch,” she cooed, following the other to the doors, “Your prince will come—fast! You just need to put an effort—!”
“Have a good work day!” Nayeon waved them off, sighing at the slight throb in her head. 5:27 AM and she was already getting the wife talk— and it was supposed to be her turn for the night shift, not the early morning.
Huh, 5:27 AM, Nayeon thought, glancing over to the girl. She was fiddling with her bag, whatever she was taking out was beyond Nayeon, she supposes she should have taken her glasses with her but she was in haste and she also didn’t quite enjoy them. They would have been incredibly helpful now though, watching the girl stifle through whatever she had, on the far side of the building.
Whatever she was going through, it wasn’t necessarily Nayeon’s business, but something about the aura of her piqued Nayeon’s attention. Even if she had never seen the kid before, something about this whole thing seemed…off. She peeked as the kid looked around, obviously trying to see if anyone was around. Nayeon pretended to open the book she had been chipping away at, a Spanish tale in its original language was more challenging than Nayeon expected.
Keeping her eyes low, she watched as the kid stared at something in her hands.
The air seemed to shift.
Nayeon bit her lip, careful to not stare too long, deciding maybe it wasn’t her place right now to confront a kid on the loose. Not yet, anyways, surely, this kid had to have a home, maybe she got into a major argument with her parents, upset at how they wanted to control their life. Maybe she buckled her boots and stalked off, maybe the convenience store shirt was her boyfriend’s, he let her wear it to further offend her family. Maybe she just needed to clear her head.
Lots of maybes, lots of what-ifs that made Nayeon stay planted in her seat, even when the kid abruptly stood up, throwing a few wrappers in the trash bin, and jogged off, careful to avoid Nayeon’s eyes.
The bell chimed, and Nayeon was alone. She would be alone, until the midday mothers began showing up at around 9 AM after getting their older children to school and cleaning up the breakfast mess. She had no idea when Jeongyeon would return, she could only wait.
That kid looked young, Nayeon couldn’t help but bring her thoughts back to her, eyeing the trash on the other side of the building, where she had discarded a handful of things.
A specific side of Nayeon grew curious, wondering what exactly she could have thrown away and why she seemed so distressed—
Ding!
Nayeon jumped, quite startled at the sound of a washing machine finishing, feeling a small yelp escape her lips. She was entirely thankful she was alone for no one to hear that.
Washing machine? Nayeon gasped, hurriedly going over and opening it up, seeing two pairs of jeans, some undergarments, and a convenience store shirt inside.
The kid forgot her damn clothes, Nayeon realized, pulling the damp shirt out and wringing it out.
It was a medium, but it fit the kid like almost an extra large, quite honestly.
Stitched on the front, Nayeon ran her fingers over the careful placement of her name. The only thing she could put to her face, Park Jihyo.
She wondered if she’d ever come back for them. Or if this was some kid’s revenge on her mother by getting rid of some of her clothes.
Nayeon eyed the trash.
“Don’t be weird,” She spoke out loud to herself, shaking her head and gathering the rest of the clothes into one of the carts. “Don’t dig through trash,” Nayeon repeated like a mantra. She’d never hear the end of it if she did.
The clothing pile was so small. Nayeon frowned, recalling how distraught the kid seemed. How upset Park Jihyo looked.
They didn't actually have a washing service. It was a self-washing laundromat, you came and went with your clothes as long as you remained mindful. But for this instance, maybe just this once, Nayeon could make an exception. She carted the clothes to the dryers, tossing them in with a few dryer balls. Maybe Jihyo would come back any minute now, she figured, remembering she had put a load in.
Nayeon would just have to wait.