*****
Maybe it’s due to the click of her heels or the fact that her blouse is buttoned right up against her neck, but for whatever reason, Jinki thinks Eunbi is upset with him.
“I think we should have taken his advice.”
Ding ding, the passive aggressive reminder and his skills of deduction are still right on the money.
“Whose advice?” But Jinki feigns ignorance anyway, hands in his pockets, walking exactly three steps behind Eunbi. Her pace is particularly brisk today.
“Minho-ssi’s,” Eunbi answers plainly, not even bothering to look back at him, black hair framing her pale neck.
So no less than a week later, it’s this issue, Jinki scowling openly behind her back, contrasting the oblivious tone of his voice. “What do you mean?”
Sadly for him, Eunbi appears to know that his act of innocence is bullshit, still refusing to give Jinki the opportunity for eye contact. She replies to him all the same. “I mean doing something new or exciting during our routine.”
Her back is stiff. Jinki can see it through the sheerness of her blouse, sharp shoulder blades locked into position. She’s more than upset, exhausted he surmises, and that signal alone makes Jinki’s frustration shift to guilt. Chewing his bottom lip, he gives into instinct, reaching his hand out towards her. He should close the gap.
One millisecond too slow and a familiar chime rings out as she suddenly shifts, Jinki’s hand barely brushing the white fabric before jerking his hand away. Eunbi finally turns to look at him, face blank and unaware, motioning for him to enter first. Jinki does so, head tilting down as he puts his hand discreetly back in his pocket.
He’s not met by the expected presence. Instead, his eyes fall upon a shockingly pretty young man, short red hair and a rehearsed but sweet smile. *
“How many?”
“Two.” Jinki lifts his hand, giving a v.
The man nods and seats them by the window.
“Well that’s new.” Jinki cracks a light-hearted joke as he removes his sweater. “We weren’t greeted by Minho-ssi and we’re sitting near the front today.”
Unfortunately for him, the joke isn’t funny, Eunbi’s lips pressing into a slanted line as she seats herself.
Not smooth Jinki.
Thankfully for him, the server is back, interrupting the developing state of awkwardness. He pours ice water into two glasses before giving another sickeningly sweet smile to the two of them. “Are you ready to order or would you like some time?”
“Uh.” Jinki swallows, glancing at Eunbi and her blank expression before looking back to their too-well-rehearsed server. “No we’re ready to order. One kimchi jigae, an order of jaeyuk bokkeum, and... one ulmyeon.”
The server nods, jotting the order down before walking away. Jinki can’t put his finger on it because honestly, the guy hasn’t done anything wrong, but for some reason the atmosphere feels much colder than usual.
And of course, she isn’t making the situation any better, Eunbi looking up sideways at Jinki, her chin resting against the back of her hand.
“Trying something new?” Sarcastic and curt.
“I thought it would be exciting.” And probably not best time for him to reply with the same intonation, but Jinki fails to censor himself.
As expected, the comment earns him a small but wicked glare, Eunbi rummaging through her purse and withdrawing her phone. She scrolls through the touchscreen quickly, nails clicking away at the surface. It’s the most effective form of ignoring company: text messaging.
Jinki sighs, sitting back dejectedly as he looks out the window, staring at the people walking by. He hasn’t been very thoughtful lately.
If anything would go his way this day, he would continue to mope some more. Except, in the span of one blink, Jinki’s thoughts are interrupted, a tall blur streaking across his vision.
Following shortly thereafter, the bell at the front door rings out violently, Jinki’s mouth agape as he barely manages to connect the dots.
Tousled black hair, “gorgeous and handsome” – Eunbi’s words from the previous week, not his – sprints through the door to the back of restaurant. He returns only moments later, changed and ready for work, more specifically a simple uniform: a white v-neck shirt, albeit slightly wrinkled, with legs half-covered by a black apron (was it really necessary to be that tall?). Frankly, for this rushed effort, the guy should look like a hot mess, out of breath and sloppily composed, but instead, it’s a tragic irony as Jinki’s left feeling kind of jealous; Minho looks good.
Although, it’s not like this fact is surprising, Jinki having become accustomed to what was basically, a high fashion model serving him food every Friday for the past year. Eunbi seems to think no differently either, Jinki catching her from the corner of his eye. He witnesses her undivided attention on their regular server, phone abandoned on the table. The sight makes him bites the tip of his tongue, sliding it against his front teeth, not an act of anger but one of indifference.
The brief thought is terrifying; he should be upset but he isn’t bothered, not in the slightest.
Jinki shakes his head, refusing to comprehend the thought further. Instead, he lets his interest wander back to Minho, the man apologetically approaching his also fairly attractive redhead coworker.
“Taemin thanks for filling-in.” Minho inhales quickly, catching up on oxygen, his voice resonating softly. “They really gave me that project last minute.”
Jinki thinks it might be a little creepy that he’s listening in on the conversation, but considering the state of his own social relations, there isn’t much else to do.
The pair take no notice of him anyway, the man named Taemin smiling with an almost devious glint in his eyes – the first human reaction he’s seen from the guy, not robotic like the first impression.
“You owe me hyung.”
Minho laughs, punching Taemin’s arm.
The room feels warm again.
“Are you interested in what Minho-ssi is working on?”
Jinki halts, eyes turning towards his girlfriend. So those two may not have noticed, but Eunbi certainly did, eyes inquisitive and unfaltering.
“Not really.” Although Jinki has no reason to admit anything, turning his body forward while leaning one arm relaxedly against the back of his chair. “Eavesdropping because I’m bored.”
It flashes by in a brief second: disappointment.
Jinki feels a simmering guilt bubble up, eyes opening wider as he sits up properly, arm reaching out to Eunbi, her pale hand resting against the table, blue veins visible.
“How are you two? Trying some new dishes I see.”
It’s Minho, a tray balanced on his hand along with a friendly smile. He smiles politely, placing the food onto the table. “I still think Jonghyun’s japchae is the best in town but you won’t be disappointed with what you’ve ordered today either.”
“We’re expecting good things then Minho-ssi.” Eunbi laughs brightly, a stark contrast to her dark demeanor just prior. Jinki then notices that another opportunity has eluded him; her hand is no longer within reach, withdrawn to her side.
“Well then, I’ll be sure to come back and get your report.” Minho smiles softly once again, fingers wrapped around the top edge of the emptied tray.
“Thanks.” Jinki awkwardly mumbles out his appreciation a second too late, Minho unable to hear as he swivels his back towards them.
She’s looking at him curiously again, Jinki and Eunbi locking eyes for a few passing moments. She then breaks the trance, hand brushing against his as she reaches for his bowl, spooning in some white noodles and a thick seafood broth.
“Let’s try it.”
Jinki nods, taking the bowl back and slurping some noodles into his mouth. Meanwhile, he watches Eunbi, busying herself as she cuts the kimchi with a pair of scissors, carefully mixes the pork belly and sauce, then ladles herself a bit of red broth in a bowl full of rice. Every action is careful but deliberate, a reminder of Eunbi’s charm ever since middle school.
But it isn’t the same.
By high school, the time when Jinki finally had the balls to ask Eunbi out, they had already fallen into a comfortable routine. Eunbi would portion out their food – because she liked things to be under her control – while Jinki ate and talked away, making lame and hardly laughable jokes. Eunbi smiled all the time then, sometimes leaning her head against Jinki’s shoulder, pressing pink laughter against his skin.
That was love.
This isn’t.
The extended silence between them, eyes and mouths focused on food, not the slightest bit of contact, Jinki isn’t sure how to fix it.
“I’m not feeling well.”
The abrupt clink of chopsticks against the bowl’s edge, Jinki lifting his head as he recognizes the code for, I don’t want to be around you.
“Do you want me to take you home?”
Eunbi shakes her head, purse already hanging off her shoulder as she places a few thousand won on the table, her half of the bill – unusual since Jinki is the one who customarily pays for their dates.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She’s handing him an ultimatum, there’s no question of that.
“Eunbi.”
The chair rattles as Jinki steps forward, fingers on her wrist, pulling her forward. It’s fleeting and chaste, the soft press of lips, as he turns his body to cover her from intruding eyes.
For once he doesn’t miss the opportunity, Jinki withdrawing slowly. “See you tomorrow.”
She merely nods, cell phone pressed over her lips as she makes her exit, bell ringing behind her.
And then he’s alone, Jinki ignoring the few hushed judgmental whispers of conservative prudes who couldn’t handle the slightest of pdas. They’re not worth his attention anyway and Jinki sits back in his chair, slouching against its frame. He’s confronted by a table of food, lukewarm soups and a half-eaten bowl of rice. For once in his life, he doesn’t feel like eating.
“Did Eunbi-ssi leave?”
Jinki doesn’t need to lift his head; he knows who it is.
“She said she’s not feeling well.” Jinki makes a noise, sucking his tongue in at the bitterly accented speech.
Accordingly, he expects the typical response, a shared empathy between two guys jeering about unreasonable partners. Yet, in the span of only a second, Jinki can see it, his effort at making the stressed intonation going completely unnoticed. Minho’s response is instead a naively understanding but deflated smile, embarrassingly oblivious.
“I hope she feels better. It’s been getting colder lately, especially in the evening.”
Apparently, his hot model server hasn’t heard of the code before.
“She’s angry at me.”
So Jinki gives the direct translation, somewhat surprised by his own candour.
This surprise however, can only be mirrored ten fold by Minho, the man looking shocked by the sudden confession, an unexpected ambush. Silence follows, Jinki practically watching the gears spinning in Minho’s head, the server rapidly trying to formulate a half-decent response.
It’s not really fair of him.
Jinki’s mood suddenly shifts as he laughs, waving a hand back and forth in the air. “Sorry. I was just venting. Don’t worry about it.”
“But I think it’s time to go.” Smiling is easy. “Can you pack the food and bring the bill please?”
Minho nods and hoists the dishes onto his arms, walking away dutifully, expression still lined with the traces of shock. It could be worse however, and Jinki is just thankful that he hasn’t been questioned or given forced words of advice. Consequently, his exit is relatively clean, Minho ringing his bill up (albeit with a slight shift of nervous eyes), producing an exchange of money, and offering the friendly but obligatory Please come again!
It’s only when Jinki returns home, positioned in front of the fridge, that he notices it: an extra box. Considering what was left behind from the failed date, he did have a lot of leftovers, but not enough to justify the weight of the bag. Normally, he would have realized it, if it hadn’t been for him being so distracted, subway ride home and five minute walk a complete haze.
It’s gonna be okay. ㅍ_ㅍb
But for his careless mistake, Jinki can’t help but smile, fingers brushing over the neatly penned black ink on white cardboard. He opens the box, inside a serving of clear noodles and fried chicken doused in red sauce.
His stomach rumbles.
*****
“What’s up Choi?”
Minho jumps as he receives a swift slap to his ass.
“You’ve been acting kind of weird these past few weeks.”
“Especially on the Friday shift.”
Jonghyun’s eyebrow is a mile high and Kibum’s inquisitive stare is not far behind, the two a deadly duo as ever. It was one thing for Minho to handle each of them separately, an entirely new endeavour to deal with them together.
“Are you unhappy?” Jonghyun circles behind him, hands on his hips as he peers up at Minho. “Need some time off?”
Before Minho can respond, he swivels on his toes to get a face full of Kibum.
“Or maybe you need more money.” Kibum looks at him intensely, a sharp frown delineating his features as he backs away and sighs forlornly. “I knew we should have enforced tips. It works in the U.S. so why not here? Most of the customers should pay up anyway, since they get decent eye candy as servers—”
“That isn’t it.” Minho rolls his eyes as he inhales a steadying breath, throwing his change of clothes in a locker. “I’m fine.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” Jonghyun glowers at Minho, pulling Kibum to his side to initiate the twice as powerful suspicious glare.
Minho resists the urge to pull a strand of hair from each of their blond heads.
“I’m telling you it’s nothing.” Minho ties his apron around his waist, shrugging as he shuts his locker. “It’s probably just a bit of stress from the morning classes I’ve been taking.”
“But those classes are on Tuesday and Thursday, not Friday, not today.”
One of the best and worst things about Kibum is how perceptive he is. That trait combined with Kibum’s inability to keep his mouth shut, often leads to the worst for Minho, accusation after accusation with no chance for escape.
“Maybe the stress just adds up at the end of the week.” But be damned if Minho doesn’t try his best.
“He’s been worrying over that couple that comes in on Friday nights.” And be damned if he can live a day where his roommate doesn’t screw him over.
Minho frowns at Taemin, the red-head smiling helpfully while slipping on a black t-shirt. It makes Minho almost regret the fact that Jonghyun actually listened to his suggestion to have more than one server on Friday nights.
“Couple?”
But honestly, that is the least of Minho’s worries as the realization dawns on him, turning towards a smug and almost gleeful face.
“So. I. Was. Right.”
Minho groans internally, Kibum propping up his arm as he pats a knowing finger onto his dimpled cheek – yes, that’s how hard the man was grinning.
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Jonghyun steps in, arm on Kibum’s shoulder, not wanting to be excluded. “Couple?”
And it hits off, the two whispering and snickering like a pair of teens, occasionally glancing up at Minho, shitfaced grins on their dumb mugs. Only enhancing the act, Jonghyun makes an astonished gasp, as if an epiphany has hit him, Kibum’s smile growing wider while watching Minho cautiously.
At this point, Minho is ready to grab their collars, demanding just what the hell they found so interesting but Kibum has already seen the signs a mile away, dragging Jonghyun away to continue their discreet conversation. If anything, the high-fashion partners are likely going to talk about him and other plans to watch the couple ‒ spicing up life in the restaurant so to speak.
This public revelation, of course, is going to eventually come back and bite Minho in the ass, Minho not wanting to imagine the gossip that his two bosses, supposed friends, are conjuring up. More so however, Minho feels sorry for Jinki and Eunbi, knowing full well that they were going to become Jonghyun and Kibum’s new spectator sport.
“It could be worse.” Minho is startled from his thoughts as Taemin pats him on the back, smile still as clean and deceptively innocent as ever. “I could have told Kibum hyung that you’ve actually been obsessing over the guy.”
“Obsessing?”
Before Minho has a chance to grab the red head to interrogate him further, Taemin is already out on the floor, door swinging behind him. Tactful little snitch.
Although, to be fair, he couldn’t quite say Taemin was wrong, only issue being that the word choice was a little strong. It wasn’t like Minho could avoid it anyway, drawn towards observing Jinki and Eunbi a little more closely, after Jinki’s abrupt admittance. And boy, even Minho could not deny, after witnessing a few dates, that whatever their problems were, they were still hanging over the pair like a dark cloud.
Minho soon follows after Taemin, greeting guests and serving food, performing the tasks expected of him. After all, he was on shift, and it’s not like he could spend the whole day rehashing the topic. Still, Minho is unable to stop the lingering thoughts during the inbetweens, moments that require less executive functioning; he recalls every Friday night date after the fact. The first one – after sacrificing his free daily order of food for Jinki the week prior – upon entering the restaurant, the man had smiled at him softly. Then, that smile was all but gone, Minho watching the two pick at their food, back to the regular order, a quiet and awkward date as ever.
Then there was the Friday after, Eunbi once again leaving early, Jinki staying behind with an order of three bottles of soju. Minho can’t erase the imprint of the moment, Jinki’s head thudding dully on the table, eyes skimming over the ingredient list on the green bottles: once, twice, thrice. Minho may or may not have ended up paying for one of those bottles.
Now, Minho can’t even imagine what may happen, but he holds this dreadful anticipation, a remorseful tightening in his throat.
Couples like this are supposed to last.
It’s lucky for him that when the two culprits of his distress finally appear again, bell ringing loud and clear, Taemin appears to take pity, offering himself up to be their server. Minho’s gives a thankful look to his roommate, biting the inside of his lip as he heads towards the kitchen to grab the next order. The last thing he wants is to make eye contact with either Eunbi or Jinki. It almost feels like running away.
“You’re too nice Minho.”
Minho freezes as he reaches the kitchen, watching Jonghyun fire up another sizzling wok behind the counter. The sweat drips from Jonghyun’s brow as he focuses on cooking, a comforting smile on his lips. No doubt, the man had been filled in, now up and ready to offer advice.
“You know, Kibum and I have fun with this.” Jonghyun drops a dish filled with veggies into the hot oil. “But we still wanna look out for you.”
Minho listens silently, loading up a tray with food and side dishes.
“Remember, you don’t know them.” Jonghyun smiles nonchalantly, one eye now peeking up at Minho, flames dancing beneath him. “Don’t let yourself get too involved. It’s inevitable that we’re going to watch, but let’s just keep it at that.”
Jonghyun snorts. “We don’t need you crying like you did for Yang halmeoni.”
“Hey, you cried for her too.” Minho side eyes Jonghyun, lifting the tray onto his arms.
“Exactly.”
Minho blinks as Jonghyun pauses briefly, giving a pointed stare.
“I know how much it sucks.”
There is a quick and strained smile before Jonghyun returns his focus to cooking, effectively ending their brief conversation. But it’s enough for Minho because he gets it, looking over at Jonghyun with a small appreciative glance. Heading back to the front, Minho returns to helping customers while continuing to reflect silently. It’s not like he would argue with Jonghyun because Jonghyun was right. Ultimately, no matter the person, they were his customers and he was their server: no more, no less.
“Minho oppa!”
Albeit, he was allowed to let the occasional cute one slip through the cracks right? Minho smiles at the little girl bounding towards him, armed with a pair of Pororo chopsticks.
“You said you’d help!”
Minho laughs and nods, holding onto Sae’s hand, leading her back to her parent’s table. This was a much simpler relationship to maintain with the regulars, close but not too close, Minho helping Sae cut her food into smaller and manageable pieces. Unfortunately for him, Minho’s simple peace can only last so long. Not even two minutes into helping Sae, Minho hears a sudden noise that turns into a spectacle for the whole restaurant.
There is a splash of water followed by the punctuated slap of splatters against the floor.
Minho turns around, eyes widening at the realization that a bad situation had turned for the worse. Jinki stands meters away, drenched from the head down, Eunbi wielding a near empty glass, still tilted in his direction. His eyes are empty and she’s shaking, silence from the shock of the moment, only to be slowly interrupted by the hushed whispers and astonished remarks of customers.
That’s when she bolts, Eunbi turning a quick heel, rushing out of the restaurant in a blind rage with her purse at her side.
Jinki on the other hand, makes no move to chase her, eyes merely scanning the vicinity before him. He then reaches an arm out sluggishly, napkin grasped in his hand, making a pathetic attempt to clean the mess before him. Jinki wipes the spilled food and water, reminiscent of the action Minho once thought was endearing and sweet. Now, it just resonates bleakly, unfairly.
“Come.”
In an instant, Minho is at Jinki’s side, curling a hand around the man’s wrist before pulling him towards the back of the restaurant. On the way, he gives a quick look to Taemin, an I owe you for leaving his dongsaeng to clean up the mess.
Minho has other priorities to handle, pushing Jinki into the back room, only leaving him for a split second before returning with a towel. He doesn’t even think, just lets the towel dangle in his fingers before wrapping it around Jinki’s head, scrubbing gently.
“I can do it myself.”
Minho pauses as a hand pushes his wrist away, suddenly all too aware of his carelessness.
“R-Right.”
Pulling away, Minho drops his hands, allowing Jinki to wipe himself dry. His cheeks feel absurdly warm, embarrassment seeping into his skin for his brash actions. Fortunately, it seems that Jinki isn’t offended – although admittedly, it’s hard to determine with certainty, Jinki’s face a complete blank, stony and hard. The damp hair and soaked shirt don’t help the visual either, Minho frowning sadly.
“If you’re okay with it.” Minho heads towards his locker, unlocking it and withdrawing one of his standard v-necks, along with a comb. “You can change into this.”
Minho then blows on the comb, brushing it free of any stray hairs. “This too. I uh, don’t have lice.”
Jinki looks up at him, pupils reflecting light, and in return, Minho oddly feeling as if he was five feet shorter than usual.
“Thank you.”
Pause.
“Is there a place I can change?”
Minho blinks, only then realizing his position, staring at Jinki for no apparent reason.
“Uh. The bathroom’s over there.” Minho points a thumb to an open door on the right.
“Thanks.” Jinki turns. "And, um, thanks."
The door closes and Minho stands frozen, only movement being his fingers slowly reaching to up to touch his forehead. He feels the warmth against his finger pads and suddenly all the pressure is released, Minho flopping down onto the nearest chair, exhaling a deep breath. Honestly, his comb doesn’t have lice? What kind of comment was that? Kibum would have surely awarded him with the smooth talker medal of the week.
Besides, beyond that, there was no reason to be so tense. Normally, Minho would be more thoughtful, careful and considerate with customers, not in a rush to fix things.
But.
The scene replays in his head, Eunbi quaking with emotion, normally pale skin flushed red; Jinki in contrast, still as death, wet bangs drawing shadows over his eyes. Sure, they hadn’t been getting along as well as they usually did, but something big would have to trigger that kind of reaction.
Minho sighs. “I wonder what happened.”
“I told her I was bored.”
Minho jumps for the one-too-many-eth time in a day.
Jinki is looking down at him, cleaned up, blackcomb extended towards Minho.
Minho takes it and sits up properly, face apologetic. “I’m sorry.” His fingers curl in and out. “It’s none of my business.”
“Yeah.” Jinki turns his head, focused on the wall as he sits across from Minho. “But I’m telling you.”
Minho swallows.
“She asked me if I was bored.” Jinki nonchalantly pulls at the white shirt, definitely one or two sizes too small, cotton clinging to skin, rippling against every curve of his body. “I said yes.”
A bitter smile follows, eyesight falling to the floor. “That makes me a bad person doesn’t it?”
Pause no. 2.
“Were you happy?”
“Pardon?”
Minho leans forward, throat dry and uncertain, but determinedly pressing the question.
“Were you happy?”
Jinki’s eyes are wide, looking directly at Minho for a few thoughtful seconds.
“No.” Jinki leans resignedly back in his chair, a hand tracing the hairs on the back of his neck. “No, I guess not.”
“That means something then right?” Minho isn’t so sure of it himself, but the words leave his lips anyway, two fingers resting beneath his chin.
“Maybe.” Jinki tilts his head, facing Minho directly. “Thank you.”
The warm voice resonates, milk and honey against his ears and Minho isn’t prepared for it when he sees it, a small but appreciative smile.
He’s speechless.
A smile, that smile definitely looks better.
Minho doesn’t know it then; it’s the last he will see of Jinki for a month.
