Work Text:
It's a little depressing that the highlight of Momo's day is the free smoothie she gets at the end of her shift. It's even more depressing that she agreed to spend her summer working minimum wage, but if Jeongyeon was anything, it was persistent. And a pain in the ass.
("You'll love it, I promise. Plus, another three months with me as your roommate? Who can deny such fortune?" Jeongyeon bats her lashes so passionately she might've taken flight right then and there.
Momo gags. "I can." But then there are claws on her wrists and hot desperation in her face.
"Please , " Jeongyeon pleads. "I can't deal with another filthy subletter. Please. I'll do anything. Anything. "
Momo wants to vomit at how easily she caves. "You pay sixty percent of rent."
And the demon recedes. "Deal.")
Just the memory sends a shiver down Momo's spine, but with the sun bringing down high nineties nowadays, it's not the most unpleasant feeling.
Humid summer air rushes into the store when more customers enter. Jeongyeon is busy manning the mobile orders, so Momo sighs and heads to the register. There are fruit stains on her uniform, and despite cranking the AC as low as it could go, the company hat all but guaranteed the strands of hair glued to her face. Not that she cared though. She wasn't paid enough to care.
But then Momo gets a glimpse of the upcoming customer and, well, fuck. The heat that flushes her cheeks is completely reflex, but for once it's not because of the weather. She quickly wipes the sweat off her brow and plasters on a smile so friendly she's sure to win employee of the month.
"Welcome to Blenders! What would you like today?" Momo doesn't get a reply, however, when a grown-ass woman forces herself into the front of the line.
"Sorry hon," she spares, "but I'm in a hurry. One carrot juice, please. Actually, make that two."
Momo blinks. "Um," she drawls, eyes darting between the woman and the customer she so blatantly cut, unsure how to proceed.
"Hello?" As if her grating voice wasn't annoying enough, the woman takes it upon herself to literally snap Momo out of it, crashing her middle finger against her palm directly in Momo's line of sight. "That's two carrot juices, large. And put a rush on it, will you?"
Momo's eye twitches, and it's here she contemplates exercising her right to refuse service. But behind this figure of irritation incarnate, Momo catches a glimpse of a faint smile and a hand gesturing for her to continue. She sighs and plugs in the order.
"That'll be $11.25. Follow the instructions on the touchpad for payment."
Thankfully, the rest of the transaction proceeds smoothly (read: the woman doesn't speak), and Momo hands her the receipt.
"Wait by the counter for your number to be called." Momo leaves the cussing to her internal voice and prepares to take the next order. She nearly bites her tongue off when she remembers who's next in line. "Beautiful," she mumbles.
"Sorry?"
"I mean," Momo wants to quit right here and now, both her job and her life, "it would be too…foolish of me to not make this order asap. Would you mind waiting a bit longer?"
"I think that'd be for the best." This time, a faint chuckle. "Take your time."
Momo nods in thanks and races to the workstation, nudging Jeongyeon with just enough force to pique her interest. There are a total of three ingredients in the blender: carrots, ice milk, and a whole lot of water. Arguably too much water. Definitely too much water.
Jeongyeon snorts. "You got a vendetta or something?"
"Or something," Momo says as she turns the knob all the way.
"Alright, but don't be surprised when she comes back demanding to speak to our manager." The whirs of the blender mask her words, though, so Jeongyeon shrugs and returns to her post.
"Number 63!" Momo slams the drinks on the counter with the thinnest of smiles. "Enjoy."
The woman picks up her straws as Momo heads back to the register, wiping her hands on her apron and meeting perhaps the most patient person on the planet.
"I'm so sorry about that. Now," Momo takes a deep breath to clear her head, "what can I get you?"
"A large tropical mango, please."
Momo taps in the order, but before she confirms it, she spots the rude woman about to exit, and she blurts her idea before it's fully formed.
"Congratulations! You're our," Momo checks the screen, "64th customer. Your order is on the house. Would you like anything else?"
Potential repercussions fly out of consideration when Momo sees the 63rd customer stop, scoff, and scurry away. She never even got a taste test of her basically water juice, but it was probably for the best. Momo grins. So this is what victory feels like.
"What's so special about that?"
Momo short circuits. "Huh?"
"The 64th customer," the 64th customer clarifies. "What's so special about it?"
"Does it matter? It's a free order. What's more to question?" Momo audibly laughs. It does not lighten her mood whatsoever.
Customer 64 only giggles.
Momo feels the walls caving in. Not the store walls, or metaphorical walls of the box she's locked herself into, but rather the walls of her heart, because she's never heard a sound that rivaled the magic of birdsong so effortlessly.
"If you must know," Momo continues for literally no reason, but feels compelled to explain herself nonetheless, "64 just happens to be my favorite number!" (Surprisingly, not a lie.)
Another heavenly giggle. "Well then, thank you for the treat. And no, just the smoothie will be all," she says, as if she knows there's more to the obviously made-up promotion, but accepts it anyway.
Momo exhales a sigh of relief, grateful she didn't end up giving away a massive order (she would have, for the record, if Customer 64 asked), and pulls out the receipt. The balance reads zero.
"Um, and who can I make this order out to?" A weak request, and Momo clears her throat to get the cowardice out of her system. "So I know who to call when your drink is ready." A terrible excuse to get a name, because they both know a number system is used, but Momo's shame left the building a while ago.
Customer 64 smiles. "Mina. What's yours?"
And Momo knows she's wearing a name tag, but something about being asked directly honors her greatly. "Momo. Now, if you'll wait by the counter, I'll have your order ready shortly."
This time around, Momo blends with care. Picks the freshest ingredients. Measures with scientific precision. Follows the recipe to a T. The smoothie turns out gorgeous. Truly, her finest work, so fine she's almost sad to part ways with it. Alas, duty calls.
Momo secures the lid on the cup and cleans off any excess liquid. Walks up to the pickup counter. Tries her hardest to hide her budding excitement. (Why is she excited? Irrelevant.)
"Number 64! Shit, I mean," Momo grins through the pain, "order for Mina."
Mina approaches gently, forever endearing with her default smile and uncontested patience. "Thank you."
Their fingers brush when Mina takes the drink because Momo was too starstruck to fully release her grip. Momo's core temperature shoots to deathly feverish. She tells herself it will pass soon. That Mina will leave and never return because of her terrible customer service and lacking conflict resolution.
The entire scene turns into a horror show as Mina inserts her straw and takes her first sip. Momo holds her breath, hears her heartbeat hammer her ears, and achingly awaits her verdict. Somewhere amidst her swarm of thoughts, she resolves to never audition for a survival cooking show. The pressure is just ungodly. Was a part-time gig ever supposed to be this stressful?
Mina concludes her tasting with a satisfied ah. "Wow. That was definitely worth the wait."
Pride swells in every cavity of Momo's body. "Thank you for waiting."
Mina's smile remains true, but she lingers by the counter a little longer, as if waiting for something. More hot air rushes in as a large group of teens enter, and Momo is quick to attend to them before Mina can get in another word.
Mina sighs and heads for the exit.
"Have a good day, Mina!"
Hand on handle, foot on pavement, Mina turns around just enough to get a glimpse of Momo waving goodbye.
"You too." Mina smiles into her straw and savors every sip. She prays her blush can pass off as the doings of the sun. (In some ways, it is.)
Jeongyeon leans over after Momo finishes serving their last customer. "So you gonna tell me what that 64th customer thing was about? You know that's coming out of your paycheck, right?"
Momo merely waves her off. Unlike anything that came out of Jeongyeon's mouth, the end of the workday was greatly welcomed. "I'll just input it as my freebie for today."
Jeongyeon rolls her eyes. "Since when were you so generous?"
"She got cut in line by a rude customer and I felt bad." Momo shrugs and busies herself with wiping down, staring daggers at the tabletop. The sun had set by now, so really she has no reason to be as red as she is. And she sure as hell isn't about to show face now.
It was a nice gesture. Did she really have to justify her actions? Plus, it wasn't totally unfounded. After all, there was a lot to admire in Mina. Not a drop of sweat despite flesh-burning heat, not a hint of indignance despite slight inconvenience. It showed good character. And charm. Just the memory sends a shiver down Momo's spine.
"You felt bad ?" Jeongyeon takes note of Momo's body language. Tense shoulders, tinted ears, really aggressive cleaning. "You feel anything else?"
Momo isn't a fan of the implication. "Nope. Just guilt," she lies.
"Uh huh" is Jeongyeon's concession, laced with tangible sarcasm. "Well, aren't you a saint?"
What most definitely would've been a killer comeback is interrupted by evening breeze. Momo doesn't look up. "Sorry, we're closed for the day."
"I'm actually here for something else."
Momo freezes.
Jeongyeon squints. "And what would that be?"
"To leave a tip." Mina takes bold steps across the tiled floor. "I would've left one earlier, but I didn't have any cash on me. I didn't exactly get a chance to do it with card, either."
Jeongyeon perks. "Oh, well then go right ahead."
Momo sets her rag down and stumbles to the register. "Sorry, be we can't accept this."
Mina looks as calm as ever, though slightly amused. "Why not? It's just a tip. I'm sure your excellent service is rewarded often."
Jeongyeon scoffs. "I wish."
"It was just a free drink." Momo clasps her hands to keep them from sweating. It doesn't work. "Nothing special. I promise."
Mina falters. "Is that so?"
Momo frowns. Why does she sound so disappointed? Shouldn't she be happy I refused? She shakes her head and throws on her customer service smile. "Sorry again for the inconvenience today. I shouldn't have let you get cut."
"Please accept my tip anyway," Mina sighs. She slides the bill across the counter instead of stuffing it in the jar. "I insist. If anything, it was a really good fucking smoothie."
Momo's polite smile turns genuine at the compliment. "Thank you! Um," she struggles for a follow-up. "Have a good night then, Mina."
"Right." Mina waves to both of them and turns her back, as if without second thoughts. "Good night."
Jeongyeon waits precisely until the door swings shut to snatch the cash into her own paws. "Twenty bucks," she whistles, "nice." She inspects the bill more, pulls at the edges until it's flat and crisp, turns it around and— "Oh. You really fumbled this one."
Momo doesn't take her eyes off the door. "What are you talking about?"
"Take a look for yourself." Jeongyeon hands the bill to Momo and pats her back while she's at it.
It's nighttime, it's chill, it's dark, and yet somehow Momo's face becomes the carbon copy of a stovetop fire. There, on the back of the twenty, a pretty line of numbers inked across in black pen. Momo wants to die. "I'm such an idiot."
"You think?"
"Shut up." The limp green bill flails and taunts Momo and she desperately pats down her pockets. "Shit. Where's my phone?"
"Why do you need your phone?"
"Are you dumb?" Momo slaps the twenty against Jeongyeon's cheek. "I have to call her!"
"Are you dumb?" Jeongyeon slaps the twenty back. "Why would you call her when she's literally right outside the store?"
Momo pauses. Stares at Jeongyeon, then the silhouette by the door, back to Jeongyeon, whose eyes all but bulge out of their sockets. It's rare to see her so emotional. Momo almost wants to stay like this. But then the little shit kicks her shin and Momo gets a grip. Time was running out.
She rips off her apron and cap at lightning speed, throws them into Jeongyeon's face, runs sweaty fingers through her hair, and vaults over the counter.
"Hey Jeongyeon?" Momo asks with her heart in her mouth, fire in her veins, and just enough vision to make out the edges of a smile against the silhouette. "Let's do this again next summer."