Work Text:
1.
"Sorry, I’m… straight."
This must be the worst rejection possible of receiving in the history of rejections. The tray in Chiquita’s hands quivers dangerously. Ahyeon’s eyes dart up and widen, her hands moving towards Chiquita’s as if to help her steady it, after just breaking Chiquita’s heart into two clean pieces.
Of course, Ahyeon probably doesn’t want her icy Americano with 2.5 shots to be spilled all over her papers and attractive outfit; after being confessed to by the creepy gay barista at her favourite coffee shop.
With a great effort, Chiquita manages not to drench Ahyeon (though an accident might not have been that bad — at least Ahyeon would look as humiliated as her). She slams the plastic cup on the table too roughly — not angry, just wanting to get away as fast as possible.
The last glimpse she catches of Ahyeon’s face is a mixture of bewilderment and embarrassed apology. At the last minute, Ahyeon opens her mouth, seeming about to say something, but Chiquita has already rushed away hugging the tray to her chest. Her ears are burning.
It’s only when she bolts herself into the staff kitchen that she remembers today’s personalised cardboard sleeve is still right there, on Ahyeon’s sweating cup.
There’s literally nothing else on the piece of cardboard except Ahyeon’s name in Chiquita’s writing, and a hand-drawn emoji; but for some reason, this is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
Haram clears her throat from where she’s standing at the dishwasher, and Chiquita realises she’s not alone. Haram takes off her headphones and soapy gloves, wiping her hands on her apron. Chiquita rips off her own apron, and resumes hitting her head methodically with the tray she hasn’t let go of.
This makes Haram approach her with concern.
"Hey, what happened out there?"
“Unnie,” Chiquita whimpers, crumpling her apron up, “Can you please, please go out and take the rest of my shift? I’ll handle all the dishes and cups, I promise."
At that moment, Ruka’s inimitable holler drifts into the kitchen from the front counter, laced with silky warning.
“Chiquita Riracha, you’re needed!"
Haram shoots her a flustered, harassed look, but doesn’t refuse as she tidies her perspiration-matted hair in the small mirror by the swinging door. Ruka’s face suddenly pops up in the window of the door, and Haram almost jumps out of her skin.
"I’m all alone out here!” Ruka whisper-yells dramatically, pointing a menacing finger in at Chiquita. Haram quickly bustles out, nudging Ruka away helpfully, murmuring some explanation to her.
Once alone, Chiquita slumps back against the whooshing dishwasher. Her face is still warm when she covers it with both hands and digs the heels of her palms into her eyes. Is Ahyeon still out there, or has she left, uncomfortably? Chiquita wants to peep through the window, but doesn’t dare.
Nah — she probably won’t ever see her favourite customer again. Since Ahyeon had started being a regular at their cafe, a month ago, she thought they were getting to know each other pretty well.
Apparently that had been all one-sided on her part.
The very first time she saw Ahyeon is still etched in Chiquita’s mind — how the breathtaking college student with wire-rimmed glasses, straight brown hair and a ream of English textbooks had stepped into their front door, and Chiquita was gone.
On that first afternoon, though she couldn’t stop shamelessly stealing glances while working; she hadn’t had the guts to make Ahyeon look in her direction.
Until Pharita — who was sharing the shift with her that day — effortlessly struck up a conversation, in English no less, with the most gorgeous stranger Chiquita had ever seen. When Chiquita’s ears were blessed by how hot the girl sounded speaking English — that officially sealed the deal.
She had a raging crush.
It didn’t matter that the girl stayed for two hours, seriously doing her homework — when she left, she still hadn’t noticed Chiquita a single time.
It felt like her heart was wilting when the girl — Ahyeon, Chiquita had heard from her eavesdropping on Pharita's chat — stood up, toted her tray to the garbage bin, then slung her stylish bag over her shoulder and left quietly.
She might’ve given up, then. But — the next day, her stomach leaped into her throat when a familiar stunning face materialised in their doorway, walking into the cafe with a small smile lacing her lips.
This time, Pharita wasn’t around, and Chiquita was the only one minding the counter. She didn’t have anybody to hide behind, or ask to take the hottie’s order while she bolted to the back room.
The last words she had expected to hear first from the stranger were: “Working again today?"
"I saw you yesterday,” Ahyeon had explained, when she was too dumbstruck to reply. She looked a bit embarrassed, and Chiquita quickly took her order on autopilot, stuttering over her Korean.
She got the order wrong, her head a mess, but Ahyeon didn’t seem to mind. Chiquita’s hands were clammy as she wrote the name she’d been thinking of since yesterday on the cup holder, wanting to tag on a smiley face at the end but not daring to. Which was ridiculous because she usually added smiley faces for everybody.
Ahyeon had laughed when she botched the order, like it was cute. She adamantly refused Chiquita’s offer to remake the drink, and settled into a corner table to spread out her essays and course books again. Chiquita noticed a pretty thick English novel sticking out of her backpack, and felt a kick in the gut at this for some reason.
After an hour, she had screwed up the immense courage needed to carefully walk up to Ahyeon’s table, carrying a slice of the cafe’s most popular angel cake. She hovered by the edge, shyly, until Ahyeon looked up, a questioning smile tugging at her pretty lips when she saw Chiquita.
"I, uh, sorry for the mistake with your order just now,” Chiquita stammered, practically dropping the plate on Ahyeon’s table before whirling around and brisk-walking away. For the rest of the shift, she studiedly didn’t look in Ahyeon’s direction, but another hour later it was impossible not to feel it acutely in all her senses that Ahyeon was walking up.
"Thanks — the cake was really good, though you didn’t have to,” Ahyeon said in the smooth drawl Chiquita was falling hard for, with the smile that reached her catlike eyes.
Ahyeon’s eyes moved down from her face to her uniform, slowly, and her heart almost stopped. Could it be?
But Ahyeon just tilted her head a little to read Chiquita’s name tag, then met her eyes again. “Chiquita-ssi,” she said, crinkle-eyed, and Chiquita died a little inside.
In the following weeks, Ahyeon would make her wildest dreams come true by proceeding to faithfully visit the cafe at the same time every few days, on her way home from school. She would spend hours finishing up her homework, large eyes narrowed with concentration behind her spectacles as Chiquita screwed up order after order just losing herself in dazes of admiration.
Ruka was threatening to fire her every few drinks, and Pharita was shooting her dirty looks for being totally useless. Haram was running back and forth from the kitchen quietly picking up the dirty cups Chiquita was supposed to help her carry in.
Chiquita was in heaven.
Part of the reason she was on Ruka’s shitlist now was that Ahyeon kept ordering Americanos with 2.5 shots, a drink which didn’t exist in the menu; and Chiquita kept wasting a whole half shot — as Ruka ranted — and a ton of time getting the exclusive drink just right.
Pharita had chatted with Ahyeon a few more times by then, but Chiquita didn’t care as long as she didn’t clue Ahyeon in on what a train wreck Chiquita had become since Ahyeon sauntered into her workplace and her life, and how she’d become Chiquita’s special customer.
She’d gotten so deep in, so presumptuous and arrogant, all by herself, that she’d gone and confessed on impulse, this very afternoon while delivering Ahyeon’s drink to her table.
"Does unnie have a boyfriend?” was how she’d blurted out the first disastrous words.
When Ahyeon shook her head, looking bemused, then asked “Why?” the confession had just tumbled out of Chiquita’s mouth, unthinkingly.
"I like you."
A lifetime passed. Ahyeon blinked up at her, as if she’d just spoken alien language. Chiquita was still holding the tray of melting Americano.
Then, contrition scrawled on her beautiful features, Ahyeon had spoken the earth-shattering words.
2.
"Sorry, I’m… straight."
The moment the few thoughtless words left her mouth on autopilot, Ahyeon regretted.
She’d been confessed to a handful of times in her life thus far… but this is the first girl who’s been brave enough to say those gutsy words.
And… she’s one special girl.
Chiquita’s special.
Ahyeon is straight. As far as she knows, she’s been straight for nineteen years.
But it’s an equally true fact that for the past month, she’s been returning to this nondescript cafe, again and again; just for one thing — to watch an adorable barista slightly younger than her making the most endearing blunders; smiling as she loses herself in brewing coffee and designing drinks; her eyes disappearing shyly every time Ahyeon makes a stupid joke just to hear her addictive laugh.
She’s been somewhat fascinated with the way Chiquita’s so transparent, jumping in a fluster every time Ahyeon nears, trying to hide it, then directing the most puppy-like eyes Ahyeon has ever seen towards her.
She’s not stupid — though she tried not to let on, for fear of making the other girl feel awkward, she could tell Chiquita likes her, for whatever reason. But every time she tried to extend the conversation, get to know the barista better, Chiquita would rush away in a nervous tizzy — which was cuter than it had any right to be.
All this — although she still can’t figure out the reason — had piqued Ahyeon’s interest, enough for her to keep coming back doggedly every few days.
To be quite honest, she would prefer to show up every day, but upon thinking about it, Ahyeon felt that would make her appear a bit pathetic.
So she tried to stay away for days on end, but always finds a gravitational force pulling her back to the same stopover on her way home.
She had not expected to hear these bold words from Chiquita’s mouth on a random, sleepy afternoon like this one. It came as a shock that the other girl had apparently wanted to be more than friends with her, this whole time.
So the answer that fell from her lips automatically ended up being the stock rejection she always thought she would use in the off-chance that she received a confession from the same sex.
It’s literally only as she says the words that she realises how completely artificial they are.
But Chiquita has already tossed her painstakingly made and hand-delivered Americano down, and disappeared into the back of the cafe, making frustration bubble up in Ahyeon’s chest.
Fingers trembling a little, she gingerly touches the cup covered with condensation. It’s icy cold, and she can already taste Chiquita’s signature Americano on her tongue — bitter but somehow sweet at the same time.
Ahyeon squints at the cardboard sleeve, seeing her name in Chiquita’s familiar endearing writing she’s come to recognise, and find quirky. There’s nothing else on it, no message or anything, besides a cheeky emoji. Ahyeon wonders if she’d misunderstood Chiquita’s confession of like.
Discreetly, she glances towards the counter. There’s a queue forming, and her heart leaps hopefully when the manager calls Chiquita’s name with impatience.
But after five minutes of hidden glances, the pretty girl who emerges from the back is distinctly not Chiquita.
Where has she gone? Ahyeon is suddenly worried.
It takes her some time to muster up the courage to approach the counter, where the manager and another staff are working together to systematically demolish the queue.
Ahyeon peers into the cake display and sees the slice of angel cake Chiquita gifted her for free, the second day they met. It’s the cafe’s bestseller, and the most expensive one, she realises.
She’s trying to get a look into the kitchen beyond the display case, when the door opens and Pharita appears.
"Rita-yah!” The manager cries out in relief, and Pharita's attention is stolen before Ahyeon can catch her eye. She sighs and gives up staring at the closed kitchen door, joins the tail of the snaking queue.
With Pharita joining in, smoothly processing the queue, it’s soon Ahyeon’s turn.
Pharita recognises her and grins broadly.
"Ahyeon-ah! Another cup of today’s brew for you?"
Beside her, the manager scowls without bite and whispers something into her ear. Ahyeon catches something about being “prissy” and “only drinking special Americanos”, and Pharita gives her a laughing look.
Ahyeon flushes, feeling a bit like she’s being made the butt of a joke she doesn’t know. She leans over the counter.
"Actually, I was just wondering where Chiquita is?"
"She quit,” the manager answers flatly.
"Wasn’t she fired?” The pale, pretty blonde pipes up from the side.
The manager shakes her head. “That girl just texted me she’s quitting like, five minutes ago."
"What?” Ahyeon exclaims, louder than she intended. They all stare at her.
Ahyeon squirms under the scrutiny but forces out, “Where is she now?"
The manager rolls her eyes. “Duh. Of course she left after quitting."
Looking distressed, she adds to Asa, “Please go wash the dishes, hon, there’s no one in the kitchen now.” She takes out her phone and opens her contacts, sighing. “I’ll have to call somebody to take her place."
Take Chiquita’s place? Hold up — Ahyeon hadn’t imagined the series of events she had set into motion, just with a stupid sentence she had blurted without using her brain first. For all she knows, Chiquita may need this job badly.
"Are you sure she quit?” Ahyeon taps the manager’s shoulder gingerly, but the other girl is already on her first call and makes a shushing motion.
Thankfully, the person on the other end of the line refuses the offer. When the manager hangs up, Ahyeon immediately says, “I’ll take the job."
"You?” All the staff stare at her again in unison with bug eyes.
"Yeah, why not?” Ahyeon tries to sound casual. “I needed a part-time job, anyway."
"Chiquita works here full-time,” Pharita informs her, then corrects herself, “Worked,” at the manager’s look.
It was no wonder that Ahyeon had been so lucky to see her every single time she came randomly. She’d taken everything so for granted, that she could waltz in here anytime, forever, and see Chiquita’s breathtaking sweet smile lighting up the whole cafe. She’s more than certain now she can’t allow Chiquita to become jobless on account of her; especially after rebuffing her so insensitively.
"I can get her back,” she promises, faking confidence.
The manager sighs long-sufferingly and glares at her, but shoves her phone into her pocket. “I’ll give you half a day."
In relief, Ahyeon makes the ok sign with her fingers and hurries to gather her stuff and leave. On her way out, the other employee stops her.
"How are you going to find her?"
Ahyeon shrugs, and she smiles faintly. “I’m her roommate. I’ll text you our address."
"Holy shit,” Ahyeon gushes. “Thank you so much."
The girl smiles sweetly, but even before the door closes Ahyeon hears her gossiping with the manager behind the counter already.
"Isn’t that Ms 2.5 shots?"
"Yeah, Chi doesn’t even allow anybody else to make her drinks because she’s weirdly possessive.”
This is news to Ahyeon’s ears. Something in her stomach fluttering, she pushes out of the door, suddenly desperate to see Chiquita again.
3.
She follows her phone’s GPS to a modest apartment building in a homely neighbourhood. She’s never pictured Chiquita outside of her job, her uniform — how she looks; what she does in her spare time. Now, Ahyeon’s heart quickens for reasons unknown as she takes the elevator up to Chiquita’s floor.
Drawing a deep breath, Ahyeon hesitates before rapping on the door. There’s a sound of flurried movement inside, and faster than she expected, the door flies open and Chiquita throws herself headfirst into Ahyeon’s arms.
"Haram unnie!” Chiquita wails, then lets go of Ahyeon’s shoulders as if electrocuted the moment she realises who it is. Ahyeon stares, feeling heat creep into her face, her jaw slack. What relationship does Chiquita have with her roommate anyway?
Chiquita is gaping at her, equally saucer-eyed. She looks rumpled and smaller than she usually does in the cafe’s long-sleeved uniform shirt that shows off her petite frame; now wearing an oversized Gundam sweatshirt. Ahyeon swallows.
Then Chiquita shuts the door abruptly, just as Ahyeon gets a glimpse of all the blood rushing to her face.
"Go away!” She hears the familiar girlish voice sounding pained from behind the door. “Why are you here?"
"You — you quit… because of me?” Ahyeon chokes out.
There’s a silence, then Chiquita’s wobbly answer. “Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t want to work there anyway."
"Don’t you need the job?” Ahyeon taps the door again. “Can you come out and talk."
"Don’t wanna."
Despite herself, Ahyeon rolls her eyes and just bangs louder on the door.
"We haven’t finished our conversation,” she says, and thinks she hears a muffled yelp from inside.
"It’s finished! Just go, okay? I’ll ask for the job back. Just — don’t show up at my work anymore."
Oh, wow. Ahyeon’s kind of glad Chiquita can’t see her now because she probably looks like she feels — like she’s just been kicked.
It’s become part of her routine to drop by the coffee shop for the past month, and she feels a sense of loss just thinking of not being able to do that anymore.
But she also knows it would be cruel to continue visiting, after she’s hurt Chiquita like this. And, if Chiquita isn't going to be there, what meaning would there be in her going anyway?
There’s the longest silence. Chiquita doesn’t say anything else, but for some reason Ahyeon feels like she can hear her breathing on the other side of the door. She’s frustrated, and embarrassed in a way she hasn’t felt in ages.
She forces herself to speak up, answer.
"Okay,” she promises. “But only if Chiquita-ssi comes out and let me see you one last time."
She can hear Chiquita’s shock in the ensuing silence. Ahyeon covers her face; it’s warm. Her breath is bated, heart thudding. She’s so afraid Chiquita will plain refuse to see her, ever again.
But then — the door falls open, and Chiquita’s standing there. Her lovely eyes are pink-rimmed, and Ahyeon blurts out, “Did you cry?"
"No,” Chiquita growls, glaring at her incredulously, looking about to slam the door again. Before she can do that Ahyeon wedges a foot in the doorframe.
Chiquita eyes it, twisting her hand in the hem of her baby pink sweatshirt. “What do you want."
"I’m sorry,” Ahyeon starts, and Chiquita interrupts, “Ahyeon-ssi already said that."
Unaware of what she’s doing, Ahyeon has grabbed her hand on the door, and tugged her out physically. Chiquita’s less strong than her, and so caught off guard that she tumbles out of the house. Ahyeon immediately locks their fingers together, making Chiquita’s eyes widen as she tries to squirm out of her grip.
"W-what are you doing, Ahyeon-ssi?"
"You can’t go in until you answer my question,” Ahyeon states, attempting to meet her eyes without blushing.
"W-what question?"
"Why does Chiquita like me?"
Chiquita shakes her hand off roughly, but doesn’t go back into the house. She glares at Ahyeon again — it’s not much of a glare, like a puppy trying to act fierce.
"Why do you want to know?” The vulnerability in her voice makes Ahyeon feel like an ogre. “Unnie doesn’t like me anyway."
"I —“ Ahyeon swallows her words. “I just want to know. Please."
"Well.” Chiquita looks disarmed by her entreatment. She shrugs, trying to act casual, looking at the ground. “I think you’re hot. Your glasses… and your English."
Instantly self-conscious, Ahyeon feels herself pushing her spectacles up, her face emanating heat. She only wears them to see better, but — hot?
"Is — is that all?"
Chiquita looks straight into her eyes, her own unreadable. Ahyeon notices she has long eyelashes. You’re not so bad either, she thinks, surprising herself.
"It’s not,” Chiquita says after a moment. “I just like… talking to you. I like everything about you.” Then she corrects herself, reddening, “Liked."
"You still like me,” Ahyeon states, trying not to let it sound like a question. She smiles, hesitantly. Chiquita just stares at her.
"No,” she eventually replies. “I don’t like people who don’t like me.” Ahyeon must be going crazy, because the slight petulant tone in her voice sounds adorable.
Even when Chiquita’s trying to be all tough, like this — she’s still the most artless person Ahyeon has ever met. It’s kind of really charming.
"Maybe I do,” she admits on impulse, making Chiquita lose all her moorings.
"What? But — you’re not lesbian."
"I’m not,” Ahyeon tries to smile, chest tight under Chiquita’s intense gaze. “But I might be… bi-curious?"
Chiquita just continues gawping at her, flabbergasted, shaking her head.
Eventually, she mutters, “Don’t pity me."
This time, it’s Ahyeon’s mouth that falls open. Her words tumble out. “I’m not!
"It’s just — you’re the cutest person who’s ever confessed to me,” Ahyeon owns up, clenching her fists and closing her eyes at the cringiness of what she’s saying. “So… I’d like time to think about it, if you don’t mind."
Chiquita continues blinking at her, uncomprehending, until a small but irrepressible smile slowly transforms her beautiful face.
"You’re not joking, are you?” she asks after a moment, warily.
"Absolutely not,” Ahyeon swears. Up close, like this, without the sights and sounds and smells of the cafe around them — Chiquita’s presence is intoxicating. She can’t understand how she could have been blind to it before. The younger girl is right — there’s this charged current between them, making Ahyeon’s head a bit dizzy, like she’s going to fall.
"Oh,” Chiquita says. Her voice is aloof, but her eyes are bright below downcast lashes, curving into a familiar toothy smile before it reaches her lips. She scuffs her sneakers on the ground, and Ahyeon wants to hug her, take her hand again; but only dares to brush her delicate knuckles.
Chiquita looks up at her, with an awkward grin.
"You want to come in, Ahyeon unnie? I need to call Ruka unnie about the job."
"Sure,” Ahyeon answers, eagerly. “Will Chiquita... make unnie something to drink? Not Americano this time — something different."