Chapter Text
“Dude,” Minseok says from his position on Wooje’s couch, lazily dragging out the syllables as he rolls over and nearly falls onto the floor. “You need to go outside.”
Wooje is kind. Wooje is gracious. Wooje will ignore his friend’s aura loss and focus on the more important things. “No, I don’t,” he defends himself, sniffing as he shovels another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I went outside yesterday.”
Minseok rolls his eyes and continues jabbing at his phone. “Yeah, for classes,” he stresses. “When’s the last time you went out for fun?”
“Titration’s fun,” Wooje weakly offers. “Chemistry lab counts.”
Minseok shoots him a dry look. “Riiiiight. That’s still a class.”
Wooje has ranted to him about his shitty chem lab more times than Minseok has complained to him about his equally terrible world history gen ed — which is a very high bar, the number being upwards of fifteen at the moment if he’s remembering correctly. “Um,” he scratches his head. “I went out a while ago, I guess. I don’t really know.”
“When’s the last event you remember?” Minseok presses, intently staring at him. His hair’s messily parted, his bangs pushed to either side, forming a triangle.
Normally, Wooje would laugh at how stupid he looks, but his unintended hairstyle also has the unintended effect of exposing his friend’s eyebrows and making him look incredibly angry, so he swallows his laughter in fear. “When we went out for drinks with Hyunjoon,” he croaks. His spoon scrapes against his bowl.
Minseok sighs, placing a hand on his forehead in stress. “That was a month ago. Nope —” he interrupts Wooje, thrusting his hand forward before Wooje can defend himself. “I’m not hearing it. You’re going to go somewhere tomorrow. My treat. And you have to stay there for at least an hour or two.”
“What if I’m busy?” Wooje counters. He really isn’t, but Minseok doesn’t need to know that. “I have to submit my comp-sci project by tomorrow night.”
Minseok raises an eyebrow. “I watched you turn that in half an hour ago? And you’re not busy, remember? Your calendar’s still linked to mine.”
Shit, he forgot about that. “But what if there’s something I didn’t put on there? Like, like —” Come on, think! “— like what if I’ve got a date?” he blurts out. “I wouldn’t put that on my academic calendar.”
“But Hyunjoon’s got practice tomorrow?” Minseok says, tilting his head and placing the side of it on his hand. His legs swing back and forth, the heels of his house slippers jabbing into the sofa every other second with impressive force.
It’s Wooje’s turn to stare at Minseok. “What does Hyunjoon have to do with anything?”
His legs pause mid-swing. “I didn’t say anything,” Minseok stammers, returning to swinging his legs with slightly more vigor. “Forget about that. Nothing happened.”
He blinks. “Okay?’
“Anyway –! I’ve got a café recommendation for you. It’s great. If you want, you can go there and work on tweaking your ‘project’ that you desperately need to resubmit,” Minseok hurries on. “I’ll cover your expenses and everything and take you there. Just don’t break my wallet.”
A café to study at? Covered by Minseok? Wooje might feel stupid in his linear algebra class, but he’s not that stupid. “There’s gotta be a catch?” he asks, setting his bowl on the low coffee table. “Aren’t you just paying for me to study?”
“Yeah, you can think of it like that. Oh, come on,” Minseok grins, sitting up and fixing his posture, “you’re telling me you can’t even study by yourself in public? What are you, a baby?” he goads.
He’s absolutely trying to rile Wooje up. It’s working. “Of course I can,” he snaps. “I’m going to buy the most expensive drink I can. And a bagel. You’ve been warned.”
“Of course,” Minseok nods, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and exchanging his house slippers for his stupid-looking Cinnamoroll shoes, the foam squeaking with every step he takes. “You’ll do just that. I’ll pick you up at 12! Set an alarm!”
Strangely enough, Wooje still feels a sense of defeat washing over him as Minseok shuts the door to his apartment. “12 PM,” he grouses to himself, wincing as the time on his phone ticks to 2:03 AM.
Yeah, he’ll need to set his alarm for that.
˗ˋˏ ʚ☆ɞ ˎˊ˗
Minseok’s got a shit-eating grin on his face when Wooje climbs into the passenger seat of his car. “Got everything you need?” he asks, smacking his gum and practically bouncing with energy.
Wooje stares, rubs his eyes, and stares again. “Why are you so peppy,” he grumbles, eyeing Minseok’s sugary coffee abomination in the cupholders with a bit of interest. “It’s noon.”
Minseok rolls his eyes and backs out, the charms hanging from his rearview mirror jingling merrily. “You computer science majors and your nocturnal schedule. Of course I’m peppy at noon; it’s midday and I have caffeine. And don’t touch my drink,” he adds, swatting Wooje’s hand away from the cup. “I’ve been up for the past 30 hours trying to finish my clothing mock-ups — aside from hanging out with you last night, of course — and I need every last drop of espresso in there.”
Wisely, Wooje retracts his hand. “So you haven’t had any sleep,” he repeats slowly.
The car lurches again as Minseok’s three-point turn becomes something like six. “Of course not,” he cheerfully says. “We won’t die, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m actually better at driving on less sleep.”
It would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried, so Wooje grips his seatbelt and prepares himself for the worst. “Can I at least know where we’re going?”
“Nope,” Minseok says, nonchalantly popping the p. He swerves onto the road in a surprisingly smooth manner. “You’ll know when we get there.”
One mini-heart attack and two wrong turns later, Minseok slows down outside a bright, cheerful little shop. “Here! Happy Life Everyday is the name. Tell me which server you end up choosing.” He takes a swig of his drink. “And if you want to leave early, you have to call Sanghyeok-hyung or someone else. I’m gonna lock myself in the sewing room for the next two hours.”
“Wait — what? Choosing a server?” Wooje frantically asks, clutching his backpack as Minseok shoves him out of the passenger seat. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see!” Minseok shouts, slamming the door. His voice emanates from the slightly open windows. “Don’t worry! Have fun!” In a few seconds, he’s already far off in the distance, his tiny Volkswagen Beetle disappearing from view.
And so Wooje stands there, alone and incredibly confused, like one of those toddlers that’s lost their mother at a grocery store, except without the safety net of helpful employees and an overhead intercom system to bring them back. As he slings his bag onto his back, he glances at the window of the café, all frilly and cutesy, and winces. Just what did Minseok sign him up for?
He takes a few hesitant steps, on high alert for any possible dangers — like kidnappers or gaggles of gossipy college girls — and nearly screams when the door opens.
A person — café worker? — drags a heavy-looking sign through the doorway, unfolding it so it freely stands, taking a few seconds to notice him awkwardly standing outside their shop.
Their eyes widen just slightly as they turn around. “Oh, are you a customer?” they ask, and Wooje blinks at the surprisingly masculine voice emitting from their small, round face. “My name’s Mowgli. Feel free to come in when you’re ready.”
Mowgli. Mowww-guh-li. Now, Wooje’s not the type to judge, but surely that can’t be his real name… right? Expectant eyes, framed by rectangular glasses, meet his gaze, and his mind blanks.
“…Guh?” he says, mustering all the eloquence he can. “Uh. Are you a… server…?”
Nice, real smooth. If Minseok was here, he’d be laughing his ass off at Wooje’s social incompetence — which, in his defense, he does computer science. Of course Wooje can’t talk to people. It’s practically a requirement to graduate: first, he has to take full-stack courses; second, finish his cybersecurity requirements; and third, develop an inability to talk to a stranger without a stammer. If anything, he’s just that much closer to graduation.
Mowgli takes his awkwardness in stride, though, laughing and angling the sign slightly outward. “Oh, of course not,” he gently dismisses, readjusting his glasses. “Thankfully, I’m just the host of this café. I do appreciate the comment, though.”
The bells on the door jingle, twinkling and shimmering in the sunlight, when Mowgli opens it. “Would you like to come in now?”
Well, since he offered… Wooje takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “Of course,” he manages to say, sounding surprisingly confident.
“Great! Well, welcome to our café, dear patron. Just a second, please — I need to pull up our software. Have you booked an appointment with us?”
The illusion immediately shatters. “Um, no?” Wooje squeaks, his voice getting smaller and smaller. “Was I supposed to do that?”
“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Mowgli waves his hand. “Sometimes, patrons have… preferences for certain servers or pay extra for 1-on-1 treatment. In any case, Peanut and Delight are available right now. Who would you like?”
Wooje scratches his head. “Um, I’m kind of okay with anyone — I’m just here because my friend recommended this place to me, so I don’t really,” he makes some vague hand gestures, “know what’s going on.”
Mowgli nods sincerely. “That’s okay,” he assures him, professional and poised. “We have an option for a random choice, too. I’ll go ahead and take you to a table.”
Cute, frilly decorations welcome him as he diligently follows Mowgli further into the café, the white lace and pink booth seats blurring past him from the host’s quick pace. It’s in complete contrast to his comfortable black hoodie and utilitarian, also black, backpack. Nervously, he glances at everything they pass with wide eyes.
Wooje, too preoccupied with examining his surroundings, almost bumps into Mowgli when he stops in front of a table. “Here,” the host says. “Are you okay with a booth?”
He could care less — his hands itch a bit inside his hoodie pockets, anxious for some sort of keyboard or screen in front of him. “Yeah, that’s great,” he says as enthusiastically as he can muster. He slips his backpack into the booth and follows, wincing as he bumps the table with his knees.
“Well, since you mentioned that your friend recommended you this place, I’ll give the brief introduction that we give to all of our new customers,” Mowgli says, handing him a cutesy pink menu. “Our café delivers not only a cat experience, bu…”
Of course, the monologue means it’s Wooje’s cue to zone out once more. Huh. Cats? he thinks to himself. Wonder where they are. Maybe it’s a special request kind of thing. Which means that he won’t do it, because it’s extra work and socialization and he already wants to lock himself in his room and play through the latest dating sim he’s downloaded in lieu of real, human interaction. And he needs to start reviewing the lecture he missed a few days ago, because he slept in, because what kind of computer science professor teaches a class at 10 AM?
“...oes that make sense?”
A bit belatedly, Wooje realizes the host is still talking. “Yeah,” he says, ignoring the fact that he totally didn’t listen to a word he said. “That makes sense, thank you!”
“Alright, I’ll leave you alone for now.” Mowgli fishes a small tablet out of his apron and taps it a few times. “Your server will be here in a few minutes. I hope you enjoy the experience!”
The first thing Wooje does is pull out his laptop, a massive thing with enough RAM to run his code without lagging, and open the latest pull request to the branch he’s in charge of. The second thing Wooje does is a double take when someone walks past him with a tail poking out of their skirt. A realistic, feline tail. With horror rising in his chest, he scrambles for the menu, and right there at the top —
Happy Life Everyday!
The Pawsitively Wonderful Cat Maid Café!
“Minseok, what the fuck did you sign me up for,” Wooje hisses under his breath.
The server stops a few booths away from him. He’s kinda tall, Wooje absentmindedly notes. Good proportions, too. It’s not until he spouts a rehearsed greeting — Nyang! Welcome to Happy Life Everyday! — that Wooje realizes: Wait, ‘he’?!
Honestly, he should have expected it. Minseok’s tried — and dragged Wooje along to — many different café concepts, some of them weirder than others. It was only a matter of time before he got… this.
I thought he was obsessed with that gentleman café, Wooje sulks. Why is he trying to rope me into stuff like this?
“Ahem.” Someone’s voice cuts through his brooding. When Wooje looks up, he’s greeted by the sight of his own server, a shorter catboy with the nastiest glare he’s ever seen in his life.
“Oh, um, sorry,” he stammers, closing his laptop and putting his hands in his lap. “I didn’t notice you.”
“It’s fine,” the server says, short and clipped. He takes a breath. “Welcome to Happy Life Everyday, the paws-itively wonderful cat maid café,” he cheerfully deadpans, delivering the slogan in a spectacularly monotone voice. “My name is Peanut. Yes, like the literal nut. Now, drinks. What do you want.”
Wooje cowers a bit, shrinking into the booth seat when Peanut fixes disappointed eyes on him. “Um, I’ll just have a water,” he squeaks. “Sorry.”
“Good choice. One less thing I need to add to the bill.” Peanut closes his notepad. “I’ll be back with your water. Figure out what you want in the meantime.” He stalks off, his tail swishing behind him.
Wooje nervously glances at the large window beside him, looking at the oblivious bystanders walking past the café with no idea of the situation he’s in, and looks down at the menu. Is it too late to leave? he wonders, seriously contemplating the option as he scans the sugary-sweet desserts. It’d take some walking, but there’s a bus a few blocks down… and I have my card with me…
A glass of water slams down next to him, just at the edge of his peripheral vision. “Don’t get those,” Peanut says, deftly unwrapping and slipping a straw into Wooje’s drink. “Flip the menu for the savory options. Those are healthier. The sugar won’t make you die.”
Wooje stares at the catboy and slowly, hesitantly, flips the menu over on the table. “Thank you?”
Peanut freezes. “Ah,” he says stiltedly, his lips parted in realization. “Don’t get it wrong — I wasn’t trying to be nice or anything like that. Just — just order already, dummy.” His lips twist.
Oh. Suddenly, everything clicks together in Wooje’s head. I get it now.
Wooje, like any other self-respecting computer science major, has spent his fair share of time on the internet. So, he’s not entirely unaware that hybrids are real, even if rare, and Peanut certainly seems like one, his tail naturally moving with his annoyance and his embarrassment. So, he imagines a — catgirl, but same difference — dating sim he’s recently played, and reminds himself that if he’s good at anything, it’s faking confidence, even if it’s usually with the help of Stack Overflow and not Miaou Miaou Bakery!
“What’s the most expensive thing I could get?” Wooje asks, flipping back and forth between sweet and savory. “I’m not that hungry, so something I could finish, I guess. My friend recommended me this place without, uh, telling me what it was about, and I want to get back at him because he said he’s going to cover the bill.”
Peanut’s pen pauses on his notepad. “So you had no idea?” he curiously asks. The charms on the glittery pen clink together as his writing stops.
“Nope.” Wooje shakes his head. “And like, don’t get me wrong, I like to go to cafés, but this is more like a themed diner than like, a café where I can go work and do stuff.”
The server laughs a bit at that, short and dry but clearly warming up a bit.
Yes! +1 affection, a voice says inside Wooje’s head, suspiciously sounding like the main character in the Miaou Miaou game. Shut up, he tells it.
“Your friend just tossed you into the deep end, huh,” the server comments. “Then I’d say something like the omurice, if you want real food, or a crepe if you don’t. If you really want to get at your friend, get a couple Polaroid photo too — it pretty much costs the same as ordering an extra item, except without wasting food.”
“Oh, then I’ll get the crepe and the photo,” Wooje says, his hands only minutely shaking as he hands the menu to Peanut.
The server takes it, writing down his order. “Actually, on second thought, maybe we don’t have to do the Polaroid?” he suggests, wincing a bit. “I won’t charge you for it, it’s just — it’s a little embarrassing.”
He has to think carefully through what he says next. What would that one tsundere catgirl like? “...I mean, I’d still like to get it, just so that my friend has to pay more,” he eventually says. “And besides, what do you need to be embarrassed about? I have to be in the photo too, right? You’ll end up looking really good.”
“Oh.” Peanut slightly preens at the praise despite his best efforts not to show it. “Then that’s fine, I guess.” His whole demeanor seems to shift as he sighs and robotically bows, reciting what seems to be their script. “I’ll get your order as soon as I can, nya… Thank you for your patronage…”
Wooje dumbfoundedly stares at his retreating back, because — what. He’s going to judge Minseok so hard when he comes to pick him up.