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It takes real effort to build a cafe, you learn eventually. Yoosung marvels aloud on your behalf, lamenting the fact that the entire process does not merely include chucking tables and chairs into place, getting a hold of a working cash register and locating coffee machines.
Ah, the coffee machines.
Jaehee’s brow remains permanently furrowed for all forty-five days everyone takes to put this project together and bring it to life. Even Jumin swings by with potential vendors, each of them nodding patiently at his side as he makes the recommendation. No, she says this one time, shaking her head. The espresso machine would have to be automatic, not semi-automatic or super automatic. You don’t quite understand what she means and why there even needs to be a distinction, but then she looks over at you and smiles and suddenly the question in your mind dissipates. Yoosung is tugging at your sleeve, insisting that you continue before the wall paint dries, and that is exactly what you do.
You paint the walls with care, watching how colour brings life to the small, empty space Jaehee had somehow acquired without your knowing. She emerges from the back room and brushes past you, hand on your back, to check on progress: how are things?
Her gaze is warm and bright. You see her in colours, now, stretching across the canvas of your mind. It’s all you can think about. Yoosung answers with a grin, and eventually she withdraws her hand once her phone begins to ring. Busy, busy, busy. It’s hard to believe you own half the business--Jumin says this every time he comes by, still struggling to fill the hole Jaehee left--but there is a sense of rightness even in watching paint dry.
Yoosung hands you his bag of honey buddha chips. You accept, happy to indulge.
Zen comes by to check on things and greets both of you with a hug. He looks tired, so you let him sit while you check on incoming inventory. The list is neat and precise--Jaehee’s doing, of course. Light scribbles are scattered across the document, annotated dutifully by capable hands and a mind you haven’t even begun to unravel quite yet. It’s been a month after the RFA’s party, and you’ve seen Jaehee’s change, but you remember what she said about encountering a universe in someone new.
“Here, Zen. Try the coffee I made,” Jaehee offers, sitting across you as she sets down the cup.
“Oh? Am I the first one to try your masterpiece?”
“Fat chance,” you both say. There is a brief moment of silence as your eyes meet hers--brown, warm, like the coffee she so adores--and you swear there’s the slightest twinkle of starlight in them. If you could map them out into constellations, maybe you’ll figure out why her shoulders have instantly relaxed and she’s running a hand through her hair with a laugh.
Zen sighs with an air of melodrama. “Thought so.”
Her hair is beginning to grow at the edges. It tickles more than just the back of her neck, and she’s absently brushing her fringe from her eyes as she pores over papers in the evening. The sun has set, and you’ve turned on the lights in the cafe to allow her to work just a little longer before you go home. You watch her from behind the counter: every line of her body is still with concentration, and you can hear the barest sound of her muttering as she speaks to herself, reading out information and digesting it, as one does.
“I should try making coffee for you sometime,” you blurt, chin resting atop your hands. She looks up, straight ahead, before glancing over her shoulder at you with a smile. “Not that I know the first thing about making good coffee, though…”
“I appreciate the thought,” she says, closing the file before her. “Maybe I could teach you.”
“Could you?” You’re hopeful, for one reason or another. Coffee has never excited you much, but you know how to relish a good cup when it comes to you. “I think I’m a quick learner.”
Jaehee steps behind the counter and starts up the machine. It growls, a ferocious contender of sorts for her attention and affection, and you shrink just slightly.
“You don’t want to be quick, though,” Jaehee says seriously. “You want to learn at a good pace, slow enough so every part of the process sinks in.”
You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “Well, I have all the time in the world. And Kang Jaehee to spend it with. Let’s go slow, then.”
Pink spreads across her cheeks. You think distractedly of evening skies and the setting sun.
There’s nothing quite like opening day.
Seven fails in a valiant attempt to commandeer the espresso machine and falls into place beside Yoosung, shrinking beneath Jaehee’s disapproving gaze. You hide your smile behind a hand and tend to the guests, including Jumin’s father, who seems quite enraptured with the cafe’s concept and styling. The young director’s eyes are haunted as he meets your gaze from behind his father, and you’re about to ask why when a woman sidles up to Mr. Han and extends a hand bedazzled with rings toward you, introducing herself as--ah, you forget the name as soon as you greet her with a smile and shake of the hand.
Everyone congratulates the both of you with approving well wishes, and you’re exhausted by the time the festivities conclude themselves and people begin to file neatly out of the little cafe. Jaehee places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it encouragingly as you both bid farewell to the rest of the RFA. It grows quieter and quieter as Seven gets further from the establishment, and you finally remember how tired your legs are and retreat behind the counter.
Cleaning up falls to the both of you. You’re more than happy to do it, exhilarated with how well-received the cafe and its concept is, and the both of you stay long into the evening, until it’s dark outside and you forget you have a home and a bed to return to.
You take the chance to get to work while Jaehee rearranges the furniture, and begin pulling practiced shots. She looks up at the sound of you working away, but only watches with amusement after you warn her off with a finger to your lips.
Of course, your first cup of coffee is dedicated to her. Predictably, you go with the heart design and push it gently across the counter towards her. She gazes into the cup as though there’s something else other than coffee inside it, before picking it up and bringing it to her lips.
A second passes. Two. Three. She takes a sip, and then a mouthful. It’s hot, you want to yell, but then she’s looking at you with wide eyes and you decide to admit defeat--not everyone is talented with pulling great shots, and you’ve seen how her hands deftly work the equipment--
“This is… excellent, actually.”
--eh?
You tilt your head, puzzled. “You mean… you like it?”
She mimics you, tilting her head to the side. There is a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “Of course I do. You paid attention and did it exactly as instructed.”
“Huh. In light of my low self-esteem, do you mind if I try my own coffee?”
She shakes her head, laughing, and brings the cup over to you. You take a sip, and then throw your head back in surprise when the flavor hits. “Holy shit, it’s not bad!” You set the cup down on the counter with a laugh. “Maybe I can double up as your barista on busy days, huh?”
Jaehee’s grin emerges in full. “Maybe. We can discuss remuneration tomorrow, if you’re serious.”
“Half-serious, really,” you wave it off, dizzy with delight. “I’m just glad I get to do this with you and learn new things. You… teach me a lot everyday, you know.”
“Do I?” She lowers her gaze, uncertain. “I beg to differ. You’ve taught me much more.”
Something arrests you, heavy and insistent, and you lift her chin, gentle. Your fingers ache where you touch her, as absurd as it is. You’re relieved she hasn’t pulled away from the contact, yet. “Give yourself a little more credit.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs, eyes almost fluttering to a close, as though she is thinking of something. “...What a strange feeling.”
“Strange is not the word I’d use,” you say, withdrawing your hand at last. She blinks as if rudely awakened, and you’re finally all too aware of the gap between you both. Silence reigns, until you quickly add: “Your hair’s growing pretty fast.”
She brings a hand up to the back of her neck, gaze softening. “It is, isn’t it? It hasn’t even been two months…”
The conversation trails off by itself, and you’re left staring at the ground while she clears her throat and begins--almost mechanically--arranging things behind the counter and around the cash register. You almost want to tap your feet to the drumbeat inside your chest. You are not a dancer by any degree, and the imaginary music in your mind is starting to intimidate you a little.
“We should go home,” Jaehee suddenly says, and turns to step around the counter to get her bag. You look up to see her hastily stepping away from you, and for one reason or another you think it’s completely acceptable to snap your hand out and grip her wrist--she stops, nearly stumbling, and turns just as you pull her close, closer, until the gap no longer exists and you’re kissing her softly in the silence.
There’s the faintest trace of the coffee you made on her lips. Your mind spins with it, memorising the taste of her lips as well, and then she’s kissing you back, fingers tangling clumsily in your hair as you feel yourself being pushed up against the counter. Jaehee is precise by nature, quick to spot loopholes and bad ideas, so you’re naturally charmed by the way she doesn’t quite know how to compose herself in your arms--you fail to stifle a laugh between kisses, and she draws back, concerned.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asks, her voice impossibly small.
You run your fingers through her hair, now, and regain some sense of balance. The taste of coffee--and Jaehee--is still on your lips.
“You’ve never screwed a thing up in your life, Kang Jaehee,” you murmur, touching your palm to her cheek. “Don’t worry so much.”