Listen to Star by Kang Min Hyuk : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPQyZ-yzLBE

“Keep it simple,” I murmured and looked up at the man painting our restaurant’s board. “The Pasta Café,” I said with finality. “That should be enough.”

“You sure Kairi?” Leeteuk oppa asked. “You don’t have to keep the same name—”

“I KNOW.” I turned around and sighed with a smile, resting my hand on his shoulders. “I’m giving my best, alright?”

I was lying to myself. Giving my best was an understatement. Everyday I was killing myself with the nagging thought that Dad had committed a huge mistake. Giving me the restaurant and making me the youngest café owner in the block was not going to help his legacy, one that had reached a dead end a few years before his passing away. How was I to revive this village café, one that used to be oh-so popular and top magazine rankings from time-to-time?

The land belonged to us so no loansharks running after me, no landlord eating my head away. The café’s entrance was a demure porch made of twigs and branches, adorned by fake blue flowers that lead the customers into a tunnel, it’s end opening to our outdoor seatings. Another option, of course, was the earthy atmosphere Dad had worked so hard on long time ago inside the café walls.

As a kid I would often come here, familiar with the regular customers, admiring my father’s hospitality and patience. My mother used to help some times until she got sick of our simple life and ran away with a high school sweetheart. Not that I minded. Frankly speaking, I hardly remembered her and had no energy left in me to hate her too.

I became a teenager and started forming my own dreams. I also became a rebel, dating guys who my father deemed as ‘trouble’. Naturally I didn’t’ listen. But in the process I broke my heart more than once, not because the relationships ended but because what I went through with each of them. None of the guys wanted to know me. They couldn’t care less, as long as I gave them access to you-know-where. My virtuous would react and I would break off from them. Another guy would come along and this time, though he would respect my need for space, he would continously demean my character.

“You don’t even know who you are,” L.Joe had said once. And this was when he was in a good mood. It hurt that I knew he was right.

My dad’s continous ranting about me taking over the café was going over my head and one day, I stomped my foot down and shouted, “I want to be a designer, not a sous chef!”

Father was too kind. He let me pursue my ambitions, only to remind me of his premonition. “I have a feeling your future belongs here,” he said, pointing at the board whose words were now fading away.

He was right. I came back. The only problem was the belonging part.

                                                                                            ***************************************

“Pasta? Again?”

I swallowed my complaints as the members nodded and dozed off. We had just finished recording a Christmas message for our fans and were now headed back to our dorm.

I’m Hoya from Infinite, an idol band that has recently been doing well. Though it had only been a while since Be Mine hit number 1 on a music show and Paradise too snitched a number 1 only a week after it’s release, we were already flying back and forth between Gimpo and Narita airport. Our Japanese fan-following was only increasing by the day and though schedules were exhausting us out, we knew it was a sign of our success.

Our fans, Inspirits we call them, however wrote a letter to our company, saying we were looking too weak. “Dongwoo looks like a skeleton,” one wrote on a chat forum. She didn’t mean it in a bad way and when we compared ourselves to our Be Mine promotions, we realized they were right. We had lost more weight than we had paid attention to. Woohyun’s abs were losing out not because of fat, but because of the bones.

Our CEO then called in a professional nutritionist, saying the choreography-dols of the industry had to maintain their image. We were only too happy to be allowed to eat chicken and more delicious food, though at a supervised intake. We were healthier than before.

The only thing that bothered me, was the pasta.

Pasta, the nutritionist had told us, was every dancer’s Gatorade. It was a dish that was easily cooked as well as high on protein, something dancers needed. So it was only right for Infinite to heap itself on this particular dish, a celebrity news reporter said on television. Our fans were happy and the members too didn’t mind this new entrée into our diet.

But pasta everyday?

It was predictable, the same thing over and over again… cooked in the same way? The same side dishes? Even chicken could be experimented with. But pasta?

My nausea grew as our manager gleefully took out our tiffins, handing it to us one by one. I was about to wrinkle my nose and stuff in the cardboard food when a sign caught my eye.

“Hyung? What’s a pasta-café?”

                                                                                           ***************************************

“Oh! I don’t think they know we’re closed!”

I looked up from the accounts book I was studying and followed Leeteuk’s gaze. My jaw dropped as seven good-looking men walked through the tunnel, excitedly beaming at the chairs and the mini-blackboard that had yet to be filled in with ‘today’s specials’.

“Tell them we’re opening next week,” I murmured and was about to go back to reading when Leeteuk oppa shook my arm and squealed, “It’s Infinite!”

“Inpi-who?”

Leeteuk oppa took a few steps back and started moving his arm back and forth at me.

“Spiderman?” I murmured.

“No! Nekkeo haja!” Leeteuk oppa excitedly sang.

I widened my eyes and slapped the book on his arm. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“They’re a-“

“Excuse me?” The man who had lead the group in squinted his eyes, trying to see our faces in the dark. It was bright outside and his friends had already seated themselves. Perfect.

“Hold this,” I sighed and handed the book to Leetuek oppa who was opening and closing his mouth frantically.

                                                                                    ***************************************

A young girl stepped out, tightening her woollen cap and straightening her red and white sweater. She placed a palm on her chest and bowed. I bowed back and was about to ask my question when she gave an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. The members stopped talking and turned around to listen. “The café is still under renovation.”

“Daebak!” Dongwoo shouted, laughing in embarrassment. The girl jumped at the sound, alarmed like many people had been before.

“But,” I said, pointing at the tunnel we had passed through. “There was no notice outside…”

“I know, I’m sorry.” The girl looked like she meant it and continued. “We’re opening next week. If you and your friends come by when the restaurant opens, I promise a discount.”

She bowed again and went back inside.

“Wait.”

I jogged upto her and shrugged. “Just curious. I mean, what’s a pasta café?”

                                                                                          ***********************************

“What’s a pasta café?”

It was a question many had asked, a question whose answer though repeated many times to many people, still didn’t seem to lose it’s flavour. I had never spoken these words before but as I took a breath and started, a smile formed on my lips.

“A pasta café, “ I said, remembering my father’s words and the way his eyes would light up whenever he would say this. “They say we are what we eat. But many people don’t pay attention to the way food is eaten. Pasta too is ignored like that. Nowadays people get ready-made pasta, just throw in some hot water and stir it a bit. But that’s not how you eat. That’s not how you live either. You experiment, you mix and match. Pasta is more than just deciding whether one should eat with red sauce or white sauce, the same way life means more than earning a good income and having a family. Our pasta cafe lets you blend different ingredients until you find the form of pasta that suits your personality the best. Then when that bores you too, you jumble up another set of ingredients…”

My words trailed off as tears stung my eyes. I caught the man staring at me and I cleared my throat. “We have an excellent coffee menu too.”

And with that, I ran back inside. Leeteuk oppa asked me if I was fine, but I shook him off and grabbed the accounts book. I had snubbed our first customer. Dad would have never done that.

                                                                                      ***************************************                                                   

“..until you find the form of pasta that suits your personality the best. Then when that bores you too, you jumble up another set of ingredients…”

Unknowingly I smiled and glanced at the calendar on the table. 25 December.

I got up on my feet, catching the attention of the other members.

“Let’s grab our promised discount, shall we?”

The drive to ‘The Pasta Café’ felt long, even though it was supposed to be only fifteen minutes away. Sungjong wouldn’t stop teasing me, saying something other than bologna sauce had stirred my heart. Sungyeol was going to say something too but decided to shut up when I gave him a look.

Thank god for my image, I thought as he sat back.

My mind drifted back to the girl’s words and I felt my stomach clench when I remembered her moist eyes. The need to be there for her had grown stronger and I accepted the fact that she had not left my mind since that moment. For someone like me, who could not even trust his own with all his heart, here I was hoping to save a stranger. 

She's not a stranger though, a voice in my head whispered. She's been there somewhere, in your wishes, in your dreams...

                                                                                     *****************************************

“What’s going ON??”

I rushed out as screams erupted from outside the café, freezing in my tracks when the seven men I had met a week ago breezed through the entrance.

I now knew who Infinite was. I heard their song Paradise and liked it a lot but was too skeptical about them returning. Plus I was too busy with the restaurant’s inauguration.

But seeing them that day, especially Hoya, the one who I had recited my father’s words too…

I mentally kicked myself in the head. He must have found me more entertaining than the variety shows on television.

“OPPAAAA!!!”

I covered my ears and watched as Infinite quickly ran inside, their managers and bodyguards blocking the entrance to the outdoor seatings. I was alerted to the situation and ran towards them. Hoya saw me and beamed, making me blush a bit.

“Is there any place where we can eat in peace?”he asked, a grin on his face. I glanced at his friends and bowed a bit, nodding and motioning for them to follow me. Leeteuk ran outside and locked the fence.

“It’s okay,” he shouted at the girls. “We have enough customers for today, merry Christmas!!”

“I’m sorry for that,” Hoya said and the rest of the guys followed, bowing. I shook my head and lead them to a corner table.

“Sit inside for today,” I said. “I’ll send someone to take your order.” The menu was already on the table and while they looked through, I ran inside the kitchen.

“Jun!”

“Jun. Q. JunQ—”

“Whatever,” I muttered and grabbed his collar. “Table no. 7, be nice to them if you want your girlfriend to experience the best Christmas date ever.”

“You’ll let me off tonight?” the kid exclaimed, opening his eyes wide. I nodded and said, “Only if you’re nice to this bunch, now go.”

Leeteuk saw JunQ happily run out of the kitchen and furrowed his eyebrows. “He’s new isn’t he? Why are you letting him--?”

“He wanted to give his girlfriend a birthday present but was broke,” I said. “She was fine with it, he wasn’t. So I’m letting him earn some good tips.”

Leeteuk glanced at the kid and watched me smile when JunQ patiently waited, giving suggestions now and then. I looked away when Hoya saw me, grinning and waving his hand.

Moments later, JunQ ran in and smirked. “Noona~~”

“What?” I enquired, grabbing the order slip and raising an eyebrow. “What on earth is this…” While the top six lines were from our ‘make-it-yourself’ section, the last line was written in scrawny handwriting.

“Like you said, what we eat is what we are. I want to know more about you. I’ll trouble you this once. Make me your best dish. – Hoya. P.S. - I'm hoping you like hot chocolate. I don't like drinking it alone. Especially on a Christmas night.”

“He wants YOU to cook?” Leeteuk asked, staring at the note in my hands. I pursed my lips. When was the last time I had cooked myself some pasta, that too MY pasta? I daringly glanced outside, not moving my gaze when Hoya looked back at me. When was the last time someone had been so… nice? To me?

He gave me a smile and suddenly, certain words echoed in my head.

“I have a feeling your future belongs here.”

The gaze in Hoya's eyes was more than just someone being nice. It was the feeling of.... Faith. This guy, he believed in me. 

I smiled back and rolled up my sleeves, moving back inside the kitchen.

“Move it guys! Your head-chef is in the house!”