Work Text:
Megan watches the sun dip slowly beyond the horizon as she waits for the light to change. Her fingers are absentmindedly tapping the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song playing on the radio.
Then she makes a life-changing decision. She turns her head to glance out the passenger window of her car. That’s when she catches a glimpse of her. The prettiest girl Megan's ever seen. No, actually, pretty is an understatement. Breathtaking. That’s a better word. A more accurate description. Because Megan takes one look at her and promptly loses all the air in her lungs.
Her attention stays glued to the window of that café. The girl must be a waitress there, given that she’s wearing an apron which complements the rest of her uniform: a white button-up blouse, short skirt, black leggings. Megan’s eyes track every detail in sight, then linger on the pair of fuzzy, white cat ears perched upon her blonde silky hair. A headband, maybe. Or some kind of clip-on accessory. Probably part of the waitress uniform. It's cute, nonetheless. It suits her.
Megan is caught in a trance—staring and staring—until she hears the car behind her honking and she realizes the light has already turned green.
She takes a quick look at the name of that café. KATSEYE.
That explains the cat ears.
It must be new. Megan is pretty sure there used to be a bookstore in that spot.
Curiosity gets the best of her and she turns the car around to find an empty parking spot in the vicinity, impulsively deciding to check that place out.
The welcoming smell of coffee wafts through the air as soon as she reaches the entrance. Megan takes a peek through the windows first, trying to catch another glimpse of that pretty waitress. Just to make sure she is actually real and not just a figment of Megan’s imagination. And—there she is. Definitely real. Megan is once again hypnotized by the sight of her. She can’t help but stare, her mouth slightly agape.
Then the girl turns her head all of a sudden and their eyes meet through the window. Megan startles, averting her eyes. She's blushing like an idiot. She needs to get it together. She looks back and attempts a friendly smile, but the girl frowns a little. It doesn’t seem like she’s mad or anything. Just mildly confused—which is fair enough. Megan would be too if she were in that girl’s shoes and she saw someone standing outside and gaping through the window.
Right. She should probably stop doing that. It’s kind of creepy. Not a very great first impression. Megan takes a step back and eyes the entrance, bracing herself for what comes next: the walk of shame after being caught staring. She might as well go greet that girl with a ‘hello, you’ for the complete meet-your-new-stalker experience.
She sighs and she's about to open the door when she notices something else. A cat inside the café. An actual cat. Several of them, actually—a handful of cats playing with an assortment of vibrant-colored cat toys in one corner, while a few others are napping in various spots amid the tables.
It’s a cat café. She should've realized that sooner. The name and the uniforms were big enough clues. Fuck. She should just forget about it, and go home. Don’t even think about stepping foot inside because here's the thing: Megan is severely allergic to cats. She could end up in the hospital. Or a coffin. But—
On the other hand…she does have a very good reason to risk her life…
lara: girl no
Lara texts her back after Megan just told her what she’s up to.
megan: I'm in love 😻
lara: you’re insane
Megan rolls her eyes. Tomato, tomato. Isn’t love just basically a socially acceptable form of insanity?
megan: I have a plan
lara: you have a death wish
Megan shakes her head. Lara doesn’t get it. Lara hasn’t seen her. That girl is absolutely worth dying for.
Megan refuses to let her faulty immune system stop her from getting that girl's number. But the prickling sensation behind her eyes begins to take root the moment she steps foot inside the café. So she hurries to find a table as far away as possible from any little furry bundles of hell that might interfere with her plans.
She takes a seat by the window, gazing out of it and blinking aggressively to try and stop from tearing up. She’s far away from the cat beds and scratching posts that seem to be entertaining most of the cats, so she considers herself safe for now as she waits for someone to come take her order. It’s not so bad, actually. She’s rubbing her eyes more than usual, sure, and it’s interfering with her ability to sneak glances at the cute waitress, which is really unfair, but—other than that, it’s fine. And the place is gorgeous. It's very European. The soft lighting and the mellow background music give it a distinctive cozy feel.
Her phone buzzes with another text from Lara:
lara: are u dead yet
megan: I might be because I just saw an angel 😻
lara: i hope you didn’t use that as a pick-up line
“Welcome to KATSEYE Café. What can I get you?”
Megan looks up from her phone. That pretty waitress is staring right at her.
Megan reads her name tag: Yoonchae.
Her name is Yoonchae. And she’s standing there, patiently waiting for Megan to speak. But Megan's mind goes blank. Somehow, this girl is even prettier up close. Megan feels her jaw go slack with awe. Is it too early to ask for her hand in marriage? Whoa—okay, that's—that’s a little too much. Reel it in, Megan, nice and slow. She blinks out of her daze, and she's so focused on memorizing every detail of Yoonchae's face that she doesn’t remember she's supposed to reply until Yoonchae repeats the question: “What can I get you?”
Megan almost blurts out: ‘Can I get your number?’
“Um...” she says instead, uselessly. Her eyes quickly scan the menu in her hands. She squints a little. It’s hard to make anything out, really, because her vision is kinda blurry right now. It's a triple threat: allergies, dyslexia, and she doesn’t even have her glasses with her—oh my god, Megan, pick a struggle. "I'll have a Latte." That's gotta be on the menu, right? Every café has Latte. “And, uh, what dessert do you recommend?”
“Dubai Chewy Cookie. It’s new on the menu.”
Megan nods, then winks. “Sounds purrrrfect.”
She regrets that comment as soon as it tumbles out of her mouth. It did not sound as smooth as she thought it would said out loud.
Yoonchae doesn’t really pay it much mind, though. She must be used to hearing that kind of stuff. She leaves without saying a word.
Megan sighs, embarrassed. She shuts her eyes, waiting for a gaping hole to appear beneath her and swallow her whole. She slumps in her seat and ducks her head behind her phone, scrolling through a list of pick-up lines with cat puns that she just googled. Just out of curiosity.
- “My love for you is like a hairball—I can't hold it in.”
Cringe.
- “My cat's dead, can I play with your pussy instead?”
What the fuck?
- “They call me the cat whisperer, ‘cause I know exactly what the pussy needs.”
Oh my God. Okay. Enough. She can’t say any of that shit out loud and expect Yoonchae to take her seriously. Get it together, Megan.
She looks up from her phone when Yoonchae arrives at her table with a tray in hand. “Here you go,” she says, setting the Latte down on the table. Her hands are really pretty. Megan can’t help but notice.
The drink looks good too, it’s topped with a perfectly done swirl, and Megan offers Yoonchae what she hopes is a charming smile before taking a sip.
It’s delicious. Or so she thinks. Her nose is so stuffed she doesn’t know if she still has a sense of smell or taste.
“Enjoy,” Yoonchae tells her, then she turns to leave.
“Wait,” Megan says, a note of panic in her voice. Her mind scrambles to find a question that could buy her a few more minutes of Yoonchae’s time. “Um. What’s that cat’s name?” She randomly points at the nearest cat she can see and she definitely didn’t think this through because now that cat is moving towards her.
Great.
“That’s Spoon. Our manager’s cat.”
The cat hops up on the couch directly beside Megan and she instinctively wants to move away. But she can’t. Because Yoonchae is watching. And Megan doesn’t want to seem like some kind of jerk repulsed by an adorable kitten. So she scratches gently behind the cat's ears and earns a soft mew in response. The cat purrs contentedly, nuzzling into Megan’s jacket. It makes Yoonchae smile. Just a small uptick at the corner of her mouth, but Megan takes that as a win. Yup. She thinks the suffering is worth it. Just to see Yoonchae smile. She keeps petting that cat—even if it’s causing her eyes to water and her nose to take on the appearance of a cherry tomato. She only stops when a barrage of sneezes attacks her body.
“Are you okay?” Yoonchae’s voice is laced with concern.
Megan clears her throat. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just—I got some dust in my eyes. From outside. And I’m allergic to dust. And grass. And cinnamon. And, uh—” She clears her throat again. “Lots of stuff. A bunch of other stuff…”
She punctuates that sentence with another sneeze, and the cat gets startled—or more like disgruntled. Displeased that Megan disturbed its peace, the cat hops on the floor and pads away without a care in the world, as if it didn’t just actively try to end Megan’s life.
Yoonchae's mouth is curved in quiet amusement. She seems to observe Megan for a moment, her head tilted like Megan is a puzzle she's trying to solve.
Megan feels herself blushing. “Do you have any cats?”
Yoonchae nods. “Yes.” She takes out her phone from the pocket of her apron then she shows Megan the screen. Her wallpaper is a picture of a cat, and whoa! That is the fattest cat Megan has ever seen.
“So fat,” she blurts out. “So cute! I mean it’s so cute!”
“Yes,” Yoonchae says, and Megan doesn’t miss the fond look that dusts over her face as she pockets her phone. A smile forms on her lips. An actual smile. “Oreo is very cute.”
Holy shit. Yoonchae is smiling at her now. She’s smiling as she leans over to brush a few cat hairs off of Megan’s sleeve, and Megan feels like the sun is sitting somewhere inside her chest, bright and orange and glowing everywhere all at once.
“I’m Megan, by the way,” she says, even though Yoonchae didn’t ask but—whatever. Yoonchae knows her name now. Yoonchae actually knows her name.
“Megan,” Yoonchae repeats, each syllable deliberate, like she’s committing the name to memory. “Nice to meet you.”
"Nice to meet you too," Megan says, with a big smile on her face.
She feels on cloud nine for the rest of the day. She didn’t get Yoonchae's number as planned, but at least Yoonchae knows her name now. That’s something. Right?
Gotta trust the process.
She makes her return to KATSEYE Café armed with a package of antihistamines. She won’t let her faulty immune system get in the way this time. She’s prepared to make her move.
The only issue is that it's a Saturday which means the place is more crowded. The bell above the door jingles quietly, nearly lost among the chatter from all the occupied tables and whatever playlist is playing over the speakers today. Megan stands there, awkwardly looking around, trying to find an empty table. She doesn’t have the luxury to pick one by the windows like she did last time, so she’ll just have to take whatever she can get, and it happens to be a table that’s situated right next to one of the scratching posts where some of the cats are.
Great.
She sighs as she sits down. She pulls her sketchbook out of her bag, and sets it on the table. She might as well try to be a little productive while she’s here so she doesn’t spend all her time just staring at Yoonchae and come across as a total creep.
She gets no work done, though. It’s hard to pay attention to anything else while Yoonchae is constantly in her line of sight. Megan can’t help but stare. Yoonchae is very busy today. She bounces from customer to customer, taking orders and delivering drinks with snacks. When she looks over at Megan’s table, Megan waves at her tentatively. She’s not sure if Yoonchae even remembers her. She must see a lot of people every day and it'd be impossible to recall them all but Megan is hoping she made some kind of lasting impression, even if it wasn’t a very good one.
Yoonchae probably thought Megan was waving her over to order because suddenly she's walking towards Megan's table.
“Hi, Megan.” Yoonchae actually sounds pleasantly surprised to see her again. There's a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and—holy shit. Yoonchae remembers her name. “What can I get you?”
Megan clears her throat. “Um. Same as last time,” she says, then she realizes that Yoonchae probably doesn’t remember.
But she does. She must have a really good memory. She brings Megan a Latte and a Dubai Chewy Cookie. Just like last time. “Enjoy.”
Megan nearly chokes in her rush to say something to keep Yoonchae at her table a little longer. “Hey. Um. What’s—what's this song called? I feel like I heard it last time I was here too.”
Yoonchae’s eyes visibly brighten. “It’s called ‘Light’ by Wave to Earth. My favorite band.”
“Oh. Never heard of them but I’ll check them out. I really like the vibe.”
You got any other music recs for me? Megan wants to ask, but by the time she opens her mouth, the bell above the door jingles, announcing the appearance of more customers. Yoonchae gives her a smile then turns to leave, and Megan slumps in her seat with a sigh. She resigns herself to the fact that they probably won’t be able to have a longer conversation than that today. The place is too busy.
She's about to take a sip of her Latte when she notices something. A smiley face on the foam. That wasn't there last time. Her heart skips a beat. She has absolutely no idea what she’s supposed to do with this, because is this a sign? Is Yoonchae just being nice or is she flirting with Megan?
She has no idea.
But, on the bright side, Yoonchae remembered her name and her order—well, it’s not like it’s a complicated order but Megan counts this as a win anyway.
On Tuesday, the café is a little quieter. Right now, it’s just the two of them, and two other customers.
Megan is hunched over her sketchbook with the end of her pen in her mouth, chewing on it absentmindedly. Her empty cup sits forgotten beside her when Yoonchae wanders over to her table. “Refill?” She offers, and Megan startles badly enough that the pen drops out of her mouth and she nearly knocks over her empty cup. Yoonchae chuckles. “Sorry. Did I scare you?”
“No, it’s fine,” Megan assures her, once she gets her shit back together. “But, uh—I didn’t order that.”
“I know,” Yoonchae says, and sets the drink on the table anyway.
There’s a smiley face on it. Just like last time. Megan’s heartbeat skyrockets. “Thanks,” she says, trying to ignore the heat that’s rising to her cheeks.
“What are you drawing?” Yoonchae asks, sliding into the seat across from Megan and propping her arms up on the table.
Megan scrambles to pull her things a little closer, to make room. “Uh,” she falters, thrown off by the fact that Yoonchae just started a conversation with her—it’s usually the other way around—and the way Yoonchae is looking at her so expectantly, like she’s actually curious to know the answer. “It’s not like real art or anything…” Megan tells her, feeling a little self-conscious. “I’m just sketching out some ideas and making some changes to some of the designs I already made.”
Yoonchae tilts her head to look at the open page of Megan’s sketchbook. “You study fashion?”
Megan nods, quickly twisting her sketchbook around so Yoonchae can take a proper look, if she wants. "Fashion design."
Yoonchae leans a little closer, over the table. Close enough that Megan can see the tiny mole on her cheek. She’s never noticed it before. It’s cute. She has the sudden urge to bridge the small gap between them and press her lips right on that cute little dot, so close to Yoonchae’s mouth—and her lips look so glossy and soft and kissable.
Megan shakes that thought out of her head. It’s a totally inappropriate thing to imagine about someone you barely know.
“I like it,” Yoonchae says, and she sounds like she really means it. “I like this one.”
Megan looks down to see which one Yoonchae is pointing at. “Oh.” She swallows past the lump forming in her throat.
“You don’t like it?”
Megan shakes her head, trying to force a smile. “No, I do. I like it a lot.” She was actually proud of that design until this morning when her professor pointed out everything it lacked. “I like it but my professor said it’s too bland and unoriginal so….”
She lets out a bitter laugh, and Yoonchae’s face falls. “Really?” She takes another look at that sketch. “I think it’s cute.”
She gives Megan a smile, and Megan’s heart is doing that thing again. That thing where it beats so loud she can't hear anything else. Yoonchae flips the page, curious to see more of Megan's work, and Megan thinks about explaining the thought process behind some of those sketches but she gets completely distracted by Yoonchae’s face being so close to her own. Every detail of her is in perfect view, and Megan’s hand is itching to reach out. It takes all her strength and focus not to give in, not to combust on the spot at having Yoonchae practically tucked into her personal space.
“I like to draw too,” Yoonchae says.
Megan blinks out of her daze. “Really? I’d love to see your drawings!”
Yoonchae leans back in her seat, lifting a brow, the corner of her mouth curving into a smirk. “Maybe I’ll show you. Later.”
“Later, today?”
“Later, someday.”
Megan chuckles. “Alright, well, just so you know, I’m counting that as a promise.”
Yoonchae smiles again. That crooked little smirk that makes Megan want to burst into flames. “Okay, Megan,” she says, getting up. She smooths out the wrinkles in her apron, ready to welcome the customer that just walked in.
Megan didn't even hear the jingle of the bell above the door. She was too distracted. She still is, watching Yoonchae. She imagines what Yoonchae would look like wearing some of the outfits Megan designed. She thinks her clothes would look good on Yoonchae. Anything would look good on Yoonchae. Yoonchae could be a model if she wanted to. She is gorgeous and tall and has amazing legs. Megan bites her lip around a smile as she begins to sketch a new design, with Yoonchae in mind.
After that day, it gets easier to talk to Yoonchae. Megan learns that Yoonchae is an art student, that she recently got her driver’s license, that she works at the café to save money and buy a car. She plays the piano and the violin. She used to play basketball in high school. She likes to crochet. She knows how to pick a lock. Her favorite color is pink but recently she’s been liking blue a lot.
Megan stores every little detail in her mind. There is a lot about Yoonchae that fascinates her. From the way her eyes gleam in delight and crinkle into crescents when she throws her head back and lets laughter bubble past her lips, to the way her fingers tap a rhythm on her knees every time she pauses to collect her thoughts. Megan loves how Yoonchae always listens to her so attentively, even when it's hard to keep up with the tempo of Megan’s words.
She really likes Yoonchae. And that's the thing. Megan is pretty sure she can't classify her feelings as just a simple ’crush’ anymore. She’s falling in love.
lara: just ask her out already omg
Megan sighs, thumbing off her phone and placing it back on the table. It’s not the first time Lara has encouraged her to make a move these past few weeks. Megan doesn’t want to admit Lara is right, at least not out loud, but she does have a point.
The problem is that Megan feels like she missed her window. She already planted herself in the friendzone and got way too attached and now she’s too scared of rejection, too afraid to risk ruining what they already have. But she needs to do something. She’s spent weeks trying to decode the meaning of every little gesture, every word, every smile, trying to figure out if Yoonchae likes her or not, if she's flirting or she's just being friendly.
Megan doesn’t know how much longer she can take it, surrounded by all these cute but deadly bundles of fur.
So. Today is the day. She decided. She's going to ask Yoonchae out.
She sips her Latte, giving herself mental pats on the back and motivational speeches as she waits for Yoonchae to wander over to her table.
Her cup is empty by the time Yoonchae comes to ask if Megan wants anything else.
This is it, Megan thinks. This is the moment she's been waiting for. She takes a deep breath, and asks: “Do you wanna hang out sometime?”
Yoonchae just nods and says, “Okay.”
Megan's eyes nearly pop out of her skull. “Wait—really?”
Yoonchae chuckles. “Why are you so surprised?”
Megan huffs a laugh of relief and disbelief. “Honestly I didn’t expect you to say yes.”
“Why? Are we not friends?”
Oh.
Megan feels like someone just dunked a bucket of ice cold water on her head. She should’ve been more clear and phrased the question in a way that can’t be misinterpreted as platonic. Should she try again? Should she clarify what she meant? But what if Yoonchae understood what she meant and this is her way of gently letting Megan down? Suddenly all of her insecurities crash over her at once and she chickens out. “No, I mean yeah, totally. We’re friends. And friends hang out…like friends…which we are...friends...”
Okay. She needs to shut the fuck up now.
Yoonchae shakes her head, amused. “You’re funny, Megan.”
“Yeah, I try…” Megan sighs, fiddling with her jade bracelet.
“My shift ends soon so if you wait for me, we can hang out.”
Megan nods, rubbing a hand along the back of her neck. “Cool, yeah, I’ll wait. I’ll just…I’ll go wait outside."
She needs some fresh air. Away from all the cats. And to clear her thoughts. Possibly rethink her entire life.
She’s leaning against her car with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her puffer jacket, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the cracked asphalt, when Yoonchae finally exits the café. She’s wearing a gray hoodie and…jorts. The love of Megan's life is wearing jorts.
"So what do you wanna do?" Yoonchae asks, casually combing a hand through her blonde hair.
"Um." Megan clears her throat. "Wanna drive my car?”
She jingles her keys in front of Yoonchae's face, and Yoonchae grins. “I can?”
Megan raises an eyebrow, teasingly. “You have a driver’s license, don’t you?”
Yoonchae playfully rolls her eyes then snatches the keys from Megan's hand.
She seems really excited when she places her hands on the steering wheel. It's cute. Megan can't help staring at her, until Yoonchae turns her head. Megan's heart skips a beat. Her breathing feels funny all of a sudden, her face warm in a way that has nothing to do with the car’s heaters. It occurs to her that they’ve never been alone like this, just the two of them, in an enclosed space. Yoonchae tilts her head curiously. “What?”
Megan smiles nervously. “Nothing. I just...I realized I’ve never seen you without the uniform and the...” She motions vaguely around her own head. “The cat ears. I was starting to think they’re real.”
Yoonchae smirks. “Maybe they are. And I'm hiding them with my magic powers."
Megan rolls her eyes affectionately. "Sure you are." She looks down at her hands, fiddling with her jade bracelet. "Speaking of cats…Remember how I said I’m allergic to cinnamon and grass and a bunch of other stuff?" She glances at Yoonchae, and Yoonchae nods to show she's listening. "Well…I’m also allergic to cats…”
"Me too."
"Wait—what?!"
"I'm allergic to cats."
Megan is flabbergasted. “Then why are you working in a cat café of all places?!”
Yoonchae shrugs. “The manager is my friend. And I need money. And I like cats.”
Megan doesn't even know what to say now. This is not how she imagined this conversation would go. She expected Yoonchae to be shocked, and ask Megan why she keeps coming back to that café even though she's allergic to cats, and that would give her a perfect opening to confess—
“I like you,” she blurts out, unable to hold it in any longer. “I like you. Like, a lot.”
Yoonchae doesn't say anything for what feels like an eternity. She kind of just looks at Megan. Her shoulder is pressed against the back of her seat, her body angled in Megan’s direction, her attention fixed solely on Megan, and Megan feels caught, like a deer, standing in the middle of an open road with a car’s headlights shining bright and barreling directly towards her.
Then Yoonchae suddenly leans over the center console, inching in towards Megan, closer and closer until her face is inches from Megan’s face, her nose inches from Megan’s nose. Mouth inches from Megan's mouth. Yoonchae smirks. “Put your seatbelt on, Megan,” she says, buckling Megan in.
Oh.
Megan thought Yoonchae was about to—
Wait. Did she just get rejected? Or did Yoonchae not understand that it was a love confession? Maybe she should’ve said: I’m in love with you. But isn’t that too much, too soon? It might’ve creeped her out. But at least it would've been one hundred percent clear it’s a love confession. Ugh.
Megan’s thoughts crash and die into the void when she feels Yoonchae’s hand cradling her cheek, thumb brushing just below her eye—and then Yoonchae is kissing her. A slow, gentle press of lips against lips, all warm. Yoonchae’s mouth is softer than Megan could have ever imagined. Megan's entire body prickles with the sensation, shivers rushing down her spine. A soft, desperate sound leaves her throat as she grabs onto Yoonchae's shoulder and melts into the kiss. She can't process anything aside from Yoonchae, Yoonchae, Yoonchae. Her heart is pounding inside her chest like a drum.
When they part, Megan’s lashes flutter open and she sees Yoonchae smile. Her thumb brushes the apple of Megan’s cheek before she leans back and puts her own seatbelt on. She drives carefully, with both hands on the wheel, the street lamps overhead reflecting off the windshield. It feels like a dream. Every now and then, Yoonchae rests a hand on her thigh, tracing slow, lazy circles on her knee.
Megan bites her lip around a smile. This girl is going to be the death of her—one way or another.