Chapter Text
Sweat clung onto your shirt as you begrudgingly cleaned up the litter boxes. This was not new to you: you’ve gone through the process of having to deal with the smells of cat waste, the stinging smell hitting your nostrils and how you wince when your gloves accidentally make contact with it. You swear even when you’ve ripped the plastic off your hands, you can still smell the lingering scent of poop on your skin.
Today was a slow day - you’re supposed to be the only one on duty alongside your manager, which isn’t surprising as during the summer most of your customers are out of the country, enjoying their break in a cooler country. You can’t help the fact that Seoul has been getting hotter and hotter lately, and the weather app on your phone reflects that with every check of the temperature.
You remember vaguely last week that your manager had wanted to arrange a board meeting briefly to discuss the new arrangements the team was going to have as she was busy preparing to onboard a new intern: which begs the question, why would anyone want to drown their hours and portfolio in a place like this? The pay isn’t impressive, you scoop cat poop half of your time here and sometimes customers can be a headache too. You really never understood how any of those people got by life if they couldn’t read simple words pasted across the cafe walls — which was to not carry your cats.
“Hey, could you come into the office for a sec? I have to speak to you, 10 minutes max.” Your manager calls for you, her voice echoing in the empty space. You feel your back stiffen up a little; usually when she calls you in, it’s always left you with a bitter taste in your mouth. Neatly organising the loose drawers pulled open from your cleaning, you shut it close and make your way towards the office, turning the knob with a tight grip.
“You’re here. Take a seat, it’ll just be for a while.” She welcomes you in and directs you to the lounge chair in front of her, and your eyes are heavily fixated on the cherry wood desk that’s grain has been sanded with age; or how the amount of paperwork seemed to have doubled since the last time you came in.
You’re about to open your mouth to break the silence when the exterior doorbell chimes, causing the cats in the lounge to quickly jump and retreat into their spaces. You stiffen and look at your manager with alarm bells in your head.
“Ah, the new intern is here! Earlier than I thought… Could you do me a favour and bring him over here, please?” She says an octave higher, which has your stomach tightening with unease. Usually your manager is stern, strict with policies and never allows to show her warmer side to anyone - in fact she’s only shown it during the team dinners you have every quarter, when she’s 3 drinks down and hammered.
You stand up and make your way to the entrance: though the windows are frosted, you can make out a tall figure standing behind it. He’s tall, probably 1 and a half of you stacked on top of each other - honestly could be a model you think, and what is he doing trying to get his way into a cat cafe?
You gently twist the knob and open the door, quickly prompting him to enter, not letting the cats get too curious about all the chaos happening. You’d like to prevent another case of having to chase your cats from the stairs to the alleyway when a customer talked with you for too long before leaving.
He’s dressed neatly, a white shirt with some cat graphic on it and loose sweatpants. You think the shirt’s kind of stupid, and the pants wouldn’t last a day if they were your work attire - but it’s him and not you, so you have nothing to nitpick. His hair is dark cherry brown, hinting orange when your warm studio lights hits his face. Brown eyes that seem like they hold the stars and entire solar system in them, a slim nose and those lips that seem so plump and delicate — …yeah you’ll stop your analysing here.
“You the new intern?” You break the ice first, signalling him to take off his shoes before entering the premises. He looks a little taken aback by your question before nodding profusely. He’s a little weird you think, but you’ll let it slide anyways. He’s probably just a guy figuring out what he wants to do and taking this opportunity, why not accept the fact it’ll lift your labour a little bit.
You’re about to cause a creek against the office door when he stops you with a nudge on your shoulder.
“My name is Mingyu. You?”
You chuckle before telling him your name. His face shines a little glow when you answer - his eyes fading into little crescent moons when he smiles. You’re backing up against the door to push it open when your manager beams up to take in the view of both of you.
She smiles - a little wider this time, and you’re not sure to be scared or relieved.
“Mr Kim, was it? Take a seat. I’m sure she has introduced herself to you, yes?” She says with eloquence whilst the both of you take your seats opposite of her. Honestly you didn’t really say anything to Mingyu, ‘side from your name; but you know he picks up clues extremely well from the way he nods and the sneaky look he points at you, gaze falling at the name tag on your apron you hadn’t made time to remove.
You forget your name tag had your position printed on it - and damn is he quick at noticing things like this, you huff.
“That’s great. Now I’m sure as this is your first day, you might be a little nervous...” Your manager gives you a firm look, “She’ll go through the processes with you and operations for our cafe, and your first week will be onboarding. Before we begin, do you have any questions for us?”
He seems a little surprised at the way your manager turned the conversation over to him, but he did have a few questions on his mind anyway.
“What would I need to do as an intern? Is it equivalent to the regular crew or would there be any extra work?” He asks, and you bite your tongue because it is a solid question. You haven’t gotten to know this guy, and yet he’s bothering you and getting under your skin with the way he knows exactly how to get into people’s heads.
Your manager smiles at his resolve. “As our intern, you’ll not only be looking over operations but any marketing opportunities we will have. As you know, summer hits hard for our business and we’ll need to ride it out. I hope with you as our new addition it will be more fulfilling than the previous summers.”
He gives a brief nod before bowing, respectful of him - a little too overly for your taste, but at least you know he didn’t sign up just to kill time or pet some cats.
When your manager dismisses the both of you, you feel the upcoming dread consume you whole when Mingyu puts on his apron while holding his nametag with his open hand. He’s visibly struggling and you’re trying hard not to laugh because you find this sight of a really handsome — pause, conventionally attractive, well good looking man, struggling to put on an apron.
“Let me put that on for you.” you offer, taking the nametag from his hand and letting your finger graze his palm. It’s soft like his nature, the warmth electrifying across your skin. You gently pinch the nametag between your fingers before sitting it on the top of his apron, ignoring the way his eyes never leave you.
His name tag was the same as yours: His name with the additional block letters in Korean, and the role of “Management Intern” reflecting off the tag. You feel yourself bite your cheek trying not to think about the upcoming days working with him once he’s done with the onboarding. You’re not really sure if he’ll really stay for long anyways.
“Looking great, newbie.” You say, not bothering to look back at him nor the way his face flushes a light pink, or the way his cheekbones rise at the nickname you gave him. You’re explaining to him the operations of the cafe, how day to day works - all the technical stuff. You’re not really sure if he caught it all; but that’s really not your business.
You’re about to sit in the lounge to rest with the brewed mint latte you made in house the last 30 minutes before wrapping up for the day when Mingyu comes over, sweat ringing around his forehead and his bangs significantly wet. You presume he’d just finish cleaning and maintaining their play areas.
“Don’t shake. You look like a dog who’s fresh out of the bath.” You groan, pushing the weight of your body closer into the seats inside to prevent any of his sweat from dripping onto you, or worse in your latte.
“Don’t be like that, tell me I did good on my first day! And-and, You haven’t asked me much about myself, nor have I known much about you. Shouldn’t we at least have a meal to get to know each other?” You can feel the sulk coming through him from the way he gently stomps in place and the way he shrinks himself smaller to fit your frame.
You roll your eyes. “You’re unbearable… this is just the first day, I’m not obliged to have dinner with you, I don’t even know if you’re going to bail out the next day and not show up.” You take a sip of your latte just before it gets the chance to dilute from the ice cubes that are currently sinking into the hot coffee. He looks defeated, although that didn’t stop him from starting another conversation again.
“Okay, but I’m seriously not going to bail! If I tell you about the reason I chose to intern here despite all the mediocre offers, would you finally consider getting to know each other more?” He says - and you don’t know when his face got so close to yours that it feels like you’re unable to look away, but you’re feeling really hot right now. You insistently nod, pushing him away by the shoulders as he stumbles for balance.
“I’ll help you close shop. Then you’re waiting for me outside okay!” He says with such enthusiasm, you’re not sure how to shake him off. It’s only been a day, yet he takes you like an old friend he hasn’t seen in a while. Kim Mingyu’s really strange, and yet you’re unable to object to his ideas: be it competing to count the correct amount of spots on your cow cat resident Willow, setting up a cat race for a treat in the middle of the lounge or just him scaring 90 percent of your cat residents when he makes a sound, you’re really not sure how he lives like this.
Is he used to getting what he wants? What does he wish to achieve here? Is he always this insufferable, attractive and — you wish you could omit that last word.
You see the door creek open as the slam of the open sign flicks over to close, and the tall frame of Mingyu envelops your vision. The more you look at him - now hair slightly dry, the more he resembles a big puppy. He’s always smiling, always in a good mood, though clumsy and he’s clearly underestimating how his big frame makes him intimidating towards the resident cats. Despite it all, you think he’s a pretty good fit as a crew member. You’re not going to fight it as it’s difficult finding people to do this line of work anymore anyways.
“Did you remember to send the report in?” You ask, walking towards the stairwell.
“Yup.” He says with a pop of the p. You were going to lend him the way to lead, but he seems content following behind you, so you won’t push it. You decide to make your way to a humble cafe just a couple blocks down the street - which unironically was your favourite wind down spot.
Since turning digital, most of the restaurants around your area turned to using kiosks, lightening your social anxiety of having to repeat your order to the counter staff and the way you’d have to type out your exact order on your notes app before reciting it.
“Never thought you’d choose Himura’s as your wind down spot.” Mingyu says, his eyes looking at the kiosk screen flicker as you go through the different drink and food combos.
“Old habits die hard, I used to abuse the student meals so much in high school.” Himura’s was a popular chain back during your times as a struggling high school student - it’d see itself packed with students on the weekdays when everyone was released from the day, because its student deals were affordable and offered decent food. Truthfully, picking between constantly buying and eating the same different rotations of ramyeon or microwaved meals, most people wanted something cooked and filling.
He lets out a chuckle. “Their roasted chicken wraps were so good. I remember buying 2 and keeping one in the fridge at home for dinner in case I got peckish.” He adds on shyly, “… I had to diet for a bit, I was in dance..”
You give a nod, a soft smile breaking out into a warmer one when you see the edges of him get soft and fuzzy again. He’s never had an awkward moment with you, unfortunately - or fortunately, you’re not sure how to take it. It’s like whenever he enters a room, all eyes are on him and only him.
You wished it wasn’t like this for you, but that’s your reality too.
“I actually took on this internship position because my friends thought I’m too rash and clumsy that cats would hate me.” He admits shyly, scraping his fork lightly against the ceramic plate that held his sandwich.
“So you're just here to prove them wrong?” You managed to say in between bites.
“No, I also wanted to learn more. I’ve never been around cats much in my life. I’ve always been raised with dogs so I just wanted to see how I could take care of them too, you know? Maybe the time comes where I want a cat more than a dog.” He says, eyes always glimmering with that innocence you’re starting to dislike and find questions in.
You hum, satisfied with his answer. It’s not that spectacular, but for someone who's been a dog person all his life - you think it’s impressive he’d look a way towards the cats’ side.
And when you’re both done with dinner, you hate the way he closes in the gaps between the both of you during the walk back home, the way he insists on walking you back to your block though it’s just down the street, or the way he rambles nonstop about his life you probably don’t care about.
“See you tomorrow!” He waves, standing beneath the steps to your apartment block. You flash him a shy smile before disappearing into the lobby.
Your hands fall across your face as you groan. You’re not ready to face the next few seasons with him. You’re really not ready to deal with his jokes, the way he lifts the bags of litter and food with no effort, or the way he comes up with weird nicknames for the cats.
Mentally blocked, you turn your head off when you jump into the shower and drown into your bedsheets, curling up in your blanket as you scroll through your SNS without a care in the world.
An unfamiliar string of numbers show up alongside a text, and you don’t need to guess twice to know who it is.
Mingyu
You didn’t give me your number, so I had to ask our manager for it. I’m sorry if it’s invasive. Just wanted to make sure you made it back safe.
You laugh a little. Didn’t he see you off to the front steps of your apartment? Does he really think this newly built apartment could be so unsafe - there’s security hovering the entire lobby, if you will.
You
I’m safe. Security surrounds the lobby. I assume you got back all fine if you could text me.
Mingyu
No actually, I’m totally in trouble!! Save me!
He sends a picture of him acting like he’s in trouble, though it just looks like he’s really constipated or gasping for air. You’re not sure which conclusion doesn’t sound as vile to you.
You smile a little too widely and feel your eyes lingering a little too long on that photo he sent you. Yep, you need to snap out of it.
You
Alright, see you tomorrow. Don’t get into trouble again.
You erase and contemplate whether to add an emoji to add on or not. But you decide it’s stupid for now.
He doesn’t end his texts with you without adding a stupid kissy lip emoji. And you feel yourself slamming your phone against your mattress like a young teen stirred up in flirty conversations with her guy best friend.
He’s going to be the death of you one day - you know it.