CHAPTER 1

 

Day 1 (Wednesday)

 

The plane shakes as it touches down on the runway, jerking Hyukjae out of his half-conscious state. The girl he’s sitting next to finally pulls out her earbuds, temporarily filling their row with the sounds of some American rock band, and the rather obnoxious man in front of him finally puts his seat upright, giving Hyukjae a few more precious inches between the tray table and his face.

 

“We have now arrived in Lido,” a voice says in English over the intercom. “Please keep your seatbelts buckled until we come to a full and complete stop.”

 

Hyukjae’s really done it. He’s made it to Italy, even when no one was convinced that he would actually go. He himself will admit that he shared their sentiments, up until the moment he handed over his boarding pass and stepped onto the plane back in Incheon. This is a good sign: things are looking up for him.

 

(Not that it’s a very high bar after these last few months. Just about anything short of total disaster will be a step up from what he’s gotten used to.)

 

It doesn't take long for Hyukjae to wheel his suitcase to the nearby hotel and check in; he's already prepaid for a room here for the next few nights. Lido is an island just a short boat ride away from Venice, so having a temporary (and cheaper) residence here will give him some time to find an apartment on the mainland. He can ferry back and forth on a vaporetto, which he heads toward now, and if he can just find the stop at the end of this path...

 

There. A lot smaller than I expected, but it’ll work.

 

Hyukjae had also paid for this first ticket beforehand to avoid any problems, and he double-checks his pocket now to make sure he has his wallet with the ticket before he boards the boat. He expects someone to ask for it as he gets on, but there doesn't appear to be anyone aside from him and the eclectic group of other passengers.

 

The vaporetto takes off soon after Hyukjae settles into his spot. Most of the others choose to rest their feet in the enclosed seating area, but he stands outside at the edge of the railing, looking out over the water and feeling the wind whip through his hair. It's hypnotizing to watch the waves bobbing up and down alongside the boat, sparkling in the early morning sun.

 

The trance only lasts for so long. Hyukjae finds his peaceful state interrupted a few minutes into the journey, when an official-looking man taps him on the shoulder and asks in English if he can see his ticket.

 

Hyukjae's first reaction is relief at being able to understand what was said. Though it’s not his native tongue, Hyukjae had still been an English major at college (he’d wanted to write for an international audience), so he feels more than comfortable communicating. He pulls the ticket out of his wallet and gladly hands it over to be scanned by the man's contraption. Gladly, that is, until he sees the furrow that appears between the man’s eyebrows as he reads the display.

 

“You didn't validate your ticket, Sir,” the man says firmly.

 

“Validate?” Hyukjae blinks at him, trying to understand. “I bought it beforehand, and I just gave it to you now.”

 

The man shakes his head. “You have to validate it at the scanner before you get on board, or we legally have to fine you. You could have used that ticket any number of times before I checked it.”

 

“I just got here today! I haven't taken a vaporetto until–”

 

“I'm sorry, Sir, but this is the last time I'll ask you politely to pay the fine. It's 60 euro for not validating a ticket.”

 

“Listen–” Hyukjae continues to protest, but when he sees the man's hand hover over the walkie-talkie clipped on his belt, he shuts up. Instead, he gets out his wallet, thumbing through the bills and handing them over. He can’t tell if he's more embarrassed or angry.

 

The man leaves him with one last warning to always validate his ticket, and Hyukjae spends the rest of the ride with his eyes fixed on the horizon, avoiding eye contact with anyone else on board. He does his best to lose the memory to his wonder at seeing the mainland get closer and closer with every vaporetto stop.

 

By the time they reach Hyukjae’s stop and he sets foot on dry land, he's completely spellbound by the beauty of the scenery around him: the narrow, towering buildings, the winding streets, the feeling of being in an entirely different world...it's amazing. It's about as different from Korea as he could have imagined, a thought which brings him back to what he's doing here in the first place.

 

Hyukjae is starting over.

 

In his first few years out of college, he’d been sure that his life was a one-track road to success. His peers had scoffed at his unfailing optimism from the beginning, at his firm belief that he could do well if he only put in enough effort to get there.

 

Then there were his parents. They’d cursed at him from the day he’d decided he wanted to become an author, doing everything they could to stomp that future into the dust. Hyukjae wasn’t really leaving them behind when he left for Venice, because they’d all but disowned him when they realized he wasn’t going to be the ‘honorable’, money-grabbing son they’d envisioned.

 

But even though their casting-off had broken his heart, it still hadn’t crushed his dreams. It had taken more than that for Hyukjae to acquire the same cynicism as all those around him. It had taken the loss of his job that helped him scrape by while he wrote, the constant rejections by different publishers reminding him that he just wasn’t good enough, the people he’d thought were his friends turning their backs on him in his greatest time of need.

 

(That last one was after a separate incident, one that turned out to be the final straw, but Hyukjae…he’s still far from ready to come to terms with that.)

 

If he was just a better author, Hyukjae thinks, maybe things would have gone differently. Or maybe his luck is just rotten enough that he would have ended up here anyway: broke and trying to find meaning in his life again.

 

Hyukjae shakes his head to clear the thought, hiking his bag higher up on his shoulders and quickening his steps. He just needs to find a place to eat, and then he can get around to dwelling on the past. An empty stomach isn’t exactly conducive to optimism.

 

He passes by three consecutive gelato stands tucked into the sides of the criss-crossed streets, sit-down restaurants that are far from being in his budget, pastas, pizzas, and paninis in every variety he’d be able to imagine, but nothing feels right. It’s not until he rounds another sharp corner that he finds what he’s looking for: the café in front of him is small enough that he doesn’t feel intimidated, but if the pictures framing the entrance are any indication, he’ll be eating well.

 

As he walks in, the woman at the counter greets him with a hearty “Buongiorno!” and Hyukjae feels no small amount of guilt as he stumbles over his words to order.

 

“One…of those,” he says in terribly accented Italian, pointing to one of the wrapped sandwiches in the glass display. “And one espresso, please.”

 

“Molto bene. E 'questo per qui o andare?”

 

Qui…? Hyukjae runs through his list of limited words, and it takes him a few seconds before he realizes what he’s being asked.

 

“For here, please.”

 

He doesn’t even attempt to understand the number that she reads out as his total: Hyukjae has only had time to memorize Italian numbers up through three, not to mention that he’s already calculated the price from the labels (and he has to admit, eating for under 10 euro feels good, even when it’s all he can afford). He breaks a 50 euro note with the cashier, collects his late-morning brunch, and revels in the chance to sink back into one of the café chairs.

 

As Hyukjae sips his coffee, he thinks about all the places he still has to go, excitement renewed at the thought of visiting the basilicas, the palace, the canals. It's all right here waiting for him. But speaking of right here...

 

This can't be right.

 

He's taking a break from eating to slide the change into his wallet when his train of thought is suddenly derailed, because why is this the only change he got back? It doesn't add up.

 

Concern growing, Hyukjae scans down the unfamiliar words on his receipt, eyes stopping when he sees a total in numerals that he can thankfully read. But this total...this is at least three times more than he expected it to be, even a little more than that. Did he get ripped off on account of his Italian being that horrible?

 

He brings the receipt back up to the same woman at the register, asking slowly, “Excuse me, this...is this right?”

 

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Si tratta di una tassa di servizio, proprio come ogni ristorante. Si paga se si mangia ai nostri tavoli.”

 

He's so incredibly unprepared for this conversation, it's almost funny. But as it stands, Hyukjae just feels horribly lost and incompetent.

 

“Sorry, what?”

 

“Una tassa di servizio. Onestamente, turisti...” When he looks just as lost as before, she switches to clipped, accented English. “You sit. You give money, yes?”

 

There's a sign she's gesturing to on the wall. Underneath all of the Italian, Hyukjae can just make out the English translation of what she must be talking about: service fees. If he chooses to sit in the café, he has to pay different prices? Is he really just finding this out now, after he'd so confidently paid and taken a seat?

 

He almost wants to press the issue, no matter how positive he is that he can't win, but the woman is starting to look more than just mildly annoyed, so he simply nods and goes back to his seat. A feeling of humiliation hangs over Hyukjae's head, both because of the language barrier and because he was stupid enough to not pay close attention to his total. He quickly eats his meal and leaves, filing that memory in his ever-growing bin of things to forget entirely.

 

But Hyukjae doesn't want to give up on Venice just yet. It must be that he's getting all of his bad luck out of the way so he can have the time of his life.

 

Right? I'm sure that's it.

 

He takes out his map and traces his fingers along the colored roads until he finds the one that will take him to Piazza San Marco. The day is still young, and he should see more of the 'fun' parts of the city that he'll probably be spending the next few years of his life in. It seems like the best place to start. Hyukjae follows the cobblestone paths toward the interior of the island and his destination.

 

When he rounds the final corner, he expects to find a quaint center of the town, with maybe one or two people and some pigeons. This piazza is exactly the opposite. A group of tourists nearly runs him over as they file behind their guide, and Hyukjae is swept into the chaos of a million and one people trying to be on their way.

 

Shopkeepers shout out their goods in his ears as he squeezes past the crowds, backpacks and handbags hitting him in rapid succession, and is he still even heading north? He can barely see the surrounding buildings over the top of so many heads, but the ledges to sit on and rest are filled with more tourists and—

 

“Scusi!” an Italian woman says sharply to him as she elbows past, practically knocking the wind out of Hyukjae’s chest. He stumbles back into the crowded mass that pushes him forward, looking back down at his map for help, and…where is his map?

 

Hyukjae feels panic start to set in when he realizes he no longer has any idea where he is or where he’s going. The crowds now feel less annoying and more terrifying, suffocating him from every side as he tries to move.

 

Let me out!

 

He plants his feet in place, stepping on someone’s shoes, and with one great push forces himself out of the worst of the rush. Hyukjae’s practically sprinting by the time he’s free, running with no sense of direction to anywhere but here.

 

Countless streets and turns later, far past the point that Hyukjae remembers where he’s gone, it’s quiet. The overwhelming buzz that’s followed him through the city at last clears up enough for him to hear himself think. Covered boats float in the canal, skinny houses flank the narrow walkways, and finally, finally Hyukjae is alone.

 

He collapses on the edge of the canal with weary feet, letting his legs dangle over the edge just above the water. They swing back and forth absently as he slips the bag off of his back, ping it to check that he hadn’t been robbed during the chaos. Water and snacks? Check. Wallet? Still in his pocket. Phone? Safe at the hotel. Map…

 

Damn it. Hyukjae nearly starts to cry at the thought of losing one of his most important possessions. Not only had it been his compass and means to pinpoint where he was, but it was the only place he’d traced routes to and from the mainland, all the way back to his hotel. An international data plan is too much for him to pay for at this point, and without any reliable Wi-Fi to make it worth bringing his phone along, Hyukjae has no way to look up directions.

 

This was a terrible idea, he thinks to himself, hugging the backpack closer to his chest. I thought I would be inspired by Venice; it was supposed to be one of the most beautiful places, but now…

 

Not that it matters, does it? Hyukjae has no money and nowhere else to go. He’s trapped.

 

And now he just has to hope he can make it out of here in one piece.

 

~*~

 

When the sunset gives way to the rising moon, and Hyukjae has finally exhausted his capacity to wander the streets and look for enlightenment, he decides that it’s time to head back to Lido and his hotel.

 

Theoretically, he could head due east or west to eventually hit the coast, but knowing his luck today he’d end up walking across the entire island. Hyukjae just wants to get back as soon as he can before it gets any later. The novelty of getting lost in a new city is something he can save for another day.

 

It’s this desire that drives him to talk to the first person he passes after walking for some time back toward (what he assumes is) the center of the island and civilization, asking in simple Italian, “Where is…Academia? I want–”

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian,” the man says to him, and Hyukjae is two seconds away from moving on when he realizes he understood what the man said. English. He quickly changes to match the other man’s language of choice.

 

“I can speak English, too,” he says quickly. “Do you know the Academia stop? I need a vaporetto.”

 

The man gives him a sympathetic look. “They stop running vaporettos after 11:30. You'll have to stay here for the night and catch one tomorrow morning.”

 

“Thank you,” Hyukjae tells the man before he goes on his way, but the calm tone of his words are the complete opposite of the slowly impending sense of doom he feels pressing on his shoulders.

 

There are no more vaporettos running. Hyukjae is trapped with nothing but 30 euro in cash, his near-empty backpack, and his wits. And the city is very quickly descending into total darkness. A fitting end to today.

 

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to keep his panic contained. This is fine, he tries to tell himself. There should be at least one hotel cheap enough to stay in, and then he can make a fresh start in the morning. How hard can it be to find a place?

 

Five nearby hotels later, Hyukjae now knows the answer: very hard.

 

There's no shortage of rooms; if money wasn't an issue, he would have more options than he could ever need. But that's just the problem, isn't it? He doesn't have money. Between the café and the vaporetto fiascos from earlier today, he doesn't have nearly enough cash with him to cover even a single night in this part of town. If Hyukjae doesn't want to end up sleeping on the streets, he needs to get to the outskirts.

 

He turns away from the fancy buildings that now seem to mock him, looks for the trail of steadily worsening infrastructure, and walks.

 

And walks.

 

The night breeze whispers against Hyukjae's neck as he goes, making him shiver. In the daylight, he thinks that all of this wouldn't look so sinister. The sharp buildings wouldn't look like uninviting spikes, the creaks of closing doors and windows wouldn't sound like he was being locked in, the hanging signs wouldn't seem like vengeful ghosts. Hyukjae may be thinking a little unreasonably, but the encroaching darkness isn't good for–

 

Wait. He's not imagining the sound of someone following behind him, is he?

 

Hyukjae stops walking and turns around, but there's no one there. Strange, he could have sworn that...

 

One more shiver runs down his back, not from the cold, and he can hear the distinct sound behind him of footsteps pounding on cobblestone. And without a second thought, Hyukjae runs.

 

Oh god, he thinks in his desperate sprint to safety. Someone is after me, they're going to try and kill me, they'll steal my wallet and slit my throat, if I had just gone home earlier...

 

Fear and regret beat against his skull just as quickly as his feet fly over the street, sprinting down any alleyway he can find. At every turn, he nearly runs into the wall before he changes direction. It's not something Hyukjae can help; the sun is long gone, which means he can barely see two feet in front of his face, much less the approaching obstacles.

 

Hotel long forgotten, Hyukjae makes another wild turn to the right. He can't hear the sound of those other footsteps over the sound of his own heart pumping itself out of his chest, but he doesn't dare let a possible pursuer catch up. If he can manage to make it back to a lighted area–

 

Hyukjae's foot meets air on its next step, and he feels a sudden dropping sensation in his stomach before he's careening over the edge of an unseen gap, too startled to cry out. The surface of the water hits him like a slap before he's submerged entirely. It's inky black, freezing cold, and Hyukjae suddenly can't tell which way is up or down.

 

This shouldn't be happening. Every canal he'd walked by today had only been wide enough for a gondola to go through it; he should be able to see one of the sides to get out. But it's too dark to see which way he should swim, this hellish blackness so different than the jade waters the city prides itself on. And Hyukjae's lungs are starting to scream for oxygen.

 

Someone help me! Hyukjae can only think. He doesn't dare open his mouth to yell for fear of swallowing water. I don't want to die like this!

 

He thrashes his limbs in an attempt to propel himself in some arbitrary direction, but Hyukjae has never been a very good swimmer. He only accomplishes shaking the straps of his backpack from his shoulders, leaving it to sink somewhere into the depths. The hopelessness of getting out nearly chokes him up more than the lack of oxygen does.

 

Please, you have to...have to help me...

 

Hyukjae's vision is blurry around the edges. He tries his hardest to keep his mouth clamped tightly shut, but instinct betrays him. In an instant, black water floods his lungs, and he chokes without reprieve, unable to catch his breath.

 

Was this supposed to be the poetic end for him, then? A failed author drowned in a canal after midnight with no one to care that he was gone?

 

Something winds tightly around Hyukjae's chest, and with one great heave he feels his body being yanked up out of the water. In seconds, he goes from hopelessly drowning to being dragged onto some sort of boat, hacking up canal water and finally (mostly) able to breathe.

 

There's someone there helping him. A hand hits him between the shoulder blades a few times in succession, expelling more water from his aching lungs, though the stranger's words are lost in the night. Hyukjae is too shaken by his close brush with death to have them do anything more than go in one ear and out the other.

 

When he finally stops coughing, that's when the cold kicks in. Hyukjae can't help the shivers that run through his body, heightened by the canal-soaked clothes clinging to his body. A jacket is placed over his shoulders, and he's reminded: the stranger.

 

Hyukjae turns around and finds his savior illuminated by lantern light, looking right back at him. He's a young man, with dark locks falling just above darker eyes, and even in the dim lighting Hyukjae can tell he's handsome.

 

“Thank you so much,” Hyukjae tells him earnestly, and that's as far as he gets before he catches the slip back into his mother tongue. It's a stupid reason for a stupid mistake, too, because isn’t it just instinct from the stranger looking like he'd fit right in back home?

 

Hyukjae goes to apologize, but the stranger is looking at him curiously.

 

“You speak Korean?” he asks, and the sound of the familiar language is like music to Hyukjae's ears.

 

“Yes. Sorry, I didn't mean to assume you did, too; I was just, um...distracted by how I'm not dead? Counting my lucky stars? Something like that.”

 

It's hard to stop himself from rambling when he's just so happy for someone to understand him again, but his worries about oversharing amount to nothing. The stranger humors him with an easy smile.

 

“Luckily for you, it's something we have in common. I'm just glad you're alive and well enough to say anything.”

 

There's a genuine kindness in the words that touches Hyukjae even through his violent bouts of shivering.

 

“I'm Donghae, by the way,” the stranger introduces himself, holding out a hand for Hyukjae to shake.

 

“Hyukjae.”

 

The hand that briefly curls around his is warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the canal water it had been flailing at only a minute ago. But the warmest thing about Donghae isn't his hands (or his jacket, for the matter); it's his smile. It's the only thing keeping Hyukjae from feeling both like a complete idiot and terrified that this day could have been his last.

 

“Hyukjae, huh? Nice to meet you, even if it's under circumstances like these. I won't ask how you ended up falling in the canal, but do try to keep it from happening again, alright? I might not be here to rescue you.”

 

Hyukjae gives him a weak smile in return. “I don't think it will be a problem. One time was more than enough for me.”

 

“Glad to hear it.” Donghae gives him another look, considering, before he continues. “Well, as much as I've enjoyed our brief time together, I have to get home and rest for my shift tomorrow morning. Is there somewhere you're staying that I can take you to? Might as well take advantage of getting rescued by a gondolier.”

 

And, really, Hyukjae can't believe that he's only now noticing the boat that he's been rocking in this whole time, long and narrow with both ends coming together in pointed tips. That would certainly explain Donghae's striped attire, along with why he'd be out here in the first place.

 

(Shouldn't his shift have been over ages ago? Hyukjae thinks as an afterthought, but somehow he's guessing it's best not to pry. Donghae can get away with however much unauthorized rowing as he wants if it means he was able to pull Hyukjae to safety.)

 

He gets lost in the realization long enough for Donghae to give him a look, and that's when Hyukjae remembers he's been asked a question. Thankfully, the lantern is far too dim to reveal his face flushing with embarrassment.

 

“Oh, right, where I'm staying. Um...”

 

If he was smart, he would admit the truth: that he has nowhere to go. He would ask Donghae where he should stay overnight, gladly follow his advice, and then take the vaporetto back to Lido in the morning without sleeping out in the cold.

 

“If you drop me off around San Marco, I'll be able to make my way back. I really appreciate it.”

 

Hyukjae isn't stupid, but he has his pride. Looking like some blockhead who wandered into the canal in the dark is still better than looking like some homeless, broke blockhead who did the same thing. Having to explain how he ended up in this situation sounds like about the worst thing he could do besides throwing himself back off the gondola.

 

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

Donghae gives him another one of those warm smiles, and for the rest of the trip Hyukjae allows himself to forget about the corner he's backed himself into. He fills his mind with nothing but the stories Donghae tells as he rows the gondola toward their destination, focuses on nothing but the moon's reflection across the surface of the water. It's harder than he expects to say goodbye when it's over.

 

“Here's San Marco,” Donghae tells him, looping a rope around one of the dock posts. “Just as promised. Make sure you change out of those clothes as soon as you can; there's nothing more miserable than having to walk around such a beautiful city sneezing your lungs out from a cold.”

 

Trust me, that would be the least of my problems, Hyukjae thinks, but the concern is touching. And there's something magical about a quiet gondola ride after midnight, a kind of feeling that doesn't leave him even when he takes a teetering step onto dry land.

 

“Thank you, Donghae. I really mean it. If you hadn't been there...”

 

“No, don't mention it. We've all had our share of bad luck; I was happy to help with yours.” Donghae's teeth flash when he grins. “As comfortable as it is, though, I am going to need my jacket back.”

 

For the second time that night, Hyukjae's face flames. He hands the soggy garment back with no small amount of embarrassment.

 

“Thanks for that. Oh, and Hyukjae?”

 

Hyukjae looks at him expectantly.

 

“Hai dei bellissimi occhi.”

 

The Italian is unexpected, and it leaves him blinking his eyes in complete incomprehension.

 

“Sorry, what was that?”

 

Donghae laughs, shaking his head. “It's nothing. Keep practicing your Italian, alright? I'll see you around.”

 

And in all honestly, Hyukjae really, really hopes he will.

 

~*~

 

When Donghae's gondola is long gone, and Hyukjae is back in the solitude of his own thoughts, the dream of earlier that night fades into cold reality: he has no place to stay. It's with a heavy heart that he walks through the deserted streets and finds an out-of-the-way corner that he can rest his weary body.

 

The cobblestone is cold and uncomfortable, the musty smell is just as bad as his damp clothes, and there are spiders in the corner. But it's something. Hyukjae is just grateful he doesn't have to forsake sleep entirely and spend the entire night wandering around.

 

(He's even more grateful later that night, just as he's falling asleep, that his chosen corner has an awning above it that protrudes a few feet from the wall. Because the rain comes down with a vengeance, and he's thankfully kept just out of its reach. A small mercy at the end of a terrible day.)

 

Hyukjae thinks of his one shining moment in the city, holding the memory of the gondola ride close to his heart, and finally drifts off.

 

~*~

 

Day 2 (Thursday)

 

By some miracle, Hyukjae makes it through the night without getting robbed or freezing to death. He takes the first vaporetto back to Lido (remembering to validate his ticket this time), and finally gets the chance to change out of his canal-soaked clothes and regroup.

 

Today is a new day, he tells himself as he heads out once again for mainland Venice. I'm going to find a job, just like I planned, and then once I have a salary I can figure out my next steps.

 

It's a brilliant idea in theory, but it hinges on one unfortunate circumstance: Hyukjae actually has to get hired.

 

There's not exactly a booming market for amateur authors, so Hyukjae does his best to find something that he's at least okay at doing. In an ideal world, he'd be able to work a day job just long enough to magically get his inspiration back, and then have his new breakout author status carry him to success. He makes a list of things he's not terrible at, looks up places that are currently hiring, and sets off on his quest.

 

His first set of results are...disappointing, to say the least. The hotel hiring new reception staff is unimpressed by his resume (“We're looking for someone with more experience.”), the upscale authentic restaurant hiring servers doesn’t think he’s a great fit (“We're looking for someone more...Italian.”), and the beauty shop wanting to hire a new cashier doesn't even try to give him a reason why (“We're...actually no longer hiring. Sorry.”).

 

Hyukjae's search seems to grow more and more futile as he moves down the list, striking out each failure with an increasingly angry line of ink. It's eerily similar to his long, unsuccessful hunt for a publisher, only more frustrating for one simple fact: it shouldn't be this hard to find a job. At this point, Hyukjae will take just about anything.

 

Swallowing the taste of defeat and straightening his shoulders, he walks into the last establishment on his list: St. J's Café. The outside isn't the most impressive sight, but the interior is quaint and homey, every detail of the decoration seeming to be carefully thought out down to the different shades of blue – it's surprising to see only one customer sitting at the tables.

 

There's a man standing behind the counter examining a stack of receipts. Hyukjae makes a beeline toward him, and is greeted with a polite smile as he approaches.

 

“Buongiorno, posso aiutarti?”

 

Italian. Right. Hyukjae can do this; he's practiced.

 

“Hi, I'm here for the job offer. I'd like the position.”

 

“Sei un cuoco?”

 

Is he a...? Hyukjae thought the position was for a server, not a cook. His cooking abilities are subpar at best, disastrous as their worst. But this job...he needs it. Hyukjae crosses his fingers and lies to the man's face.

 

“Yes, I'm a cook.”

 

The man looks him over skeptically before he continues, “E qual'è il tuo nome?”

 

“L– Umm, Hyukjae Lee.” It's still awkward to say his name backwards.

 

“Hyukjae?” The man narrows his eyes. “Non si dispone di un nome diverso? Una inglese? Italiano?”

 

The question isn't one Hyukjae practiced for. “Umm?”

 

With a sigh, the man switches languages, and Hyukjae thinks that maybe the universe is looking out for him in some twisted way, because what are the chances that an achingly familiar language would come out of the man's mouth?

 

“I asked if you had a different name besides your Korean one, but I guess you answered that question. This better?”

 

“Much,” Hyukjae admits rather sheepishly. “Sorry, I haven't been here long enough to be any good at Italian.”

 

The look the man is giving him is definitely unimpressed, but at least it's not angry. “Well, you managed to find one of the only Korean-run restaurants in the city, so congratulations. As long as you do your job and cook what you're told, I honestly don't care how horrible your Italian is. You're serious about taking the position?”

 

“Completely serious. I can start working today, if you'll let me.”

 

Another critical look, one that has Hyukjae feeling oddly exposed, and the man relents with a deep sigh. “I suppose I'd better introduce myself then. I'm Sungmin; welcome to St. J's. I handle the customers, but you'll be reporting to Siwon, our head chef. Shifts are from 10am to 6pm every weekday, you'll get paid in cash at the end of every week, and try not to screw up too badly or we'll have to fire you. Any questions?”

 

It's a rather...abrupt hiring process. Hyukjae wonders if the café is desperate for workers or just expects him to get fired quickly enough to not be a significant financial investment. Still, he can't complain.

 

“No questions,” he says, and after a beat of silence, “Should I just...head back to the kitchen?”

 

“It's after 10, isn't it?” Sungmin doesn't even look up when he asks. “Talk to Siwon and then get to work. He speaks Korean, too.”

 

Hyukjae tries not to feel too slighted by the other man's attitude. It's not something he said, is it? Maybe he just caught Sungmin on an off-day. With one last goodbye (one that's mostly ignored), he slips through the door on the back wall and into the kitchen.

 

A host of different smells hit his nostrils as he enters, each more delicious than the last. Hyukjae hasn't been around home cooking for what seems like ages, but this takes him back to simpler times. He's so wrapped up in taking it all in that he nearly misses the question that gets thrown his way.

 

“Tu chi sei?”

 

The man who's asking is tall, buff, and imposing, the apron tied around his waist doing nothing to take away from the feeling that he's about to throw Hyukjae clear out of the kitchen. Before that can happen, Hyukjae quickly introduces himself.

 

“I'm Lee Hyukjae,” he says, noticing how the man's eyebrows raise at his language choice. “The new cook. Sungmin asked me to speak to Siwon?”

 

The man gives him a slightly less judgmental once-over than the one he'd just received outside.

 

“In that case, nice to meet you. I'm Siwon, but I'm guessing you figured that out since there's no one else back here.”

 

Now that Siwon mentions it, the kitchen is empty of the staff Hyukjae expected to see. Surely, this can't be it.

 

“Are you and Sungmin the only other two employees?”

 

There's something like bitterness in Siwon's expression. “During the week, yes. Sungmin's friend comes to work on weekends, but otherwise the only position remaining is the one you've taken over – one that's been left vacant on more than one occasion.”

 

Hyukjae's not quite sure what to say to that.

 

“I'm glad I could help, then.”

 

“How long are you staying?” Siwon asks him abruptly. “A few days? A week?”

 

“What?” Hyukjae's not sure he understands why the hostile tone is being thrown his way.

 

“Don't answer that. Here, take this.” An apron is tossed in Hyukjae's direction, the same deep blue as the restaurant's interior. “We'll be hitting the afternoon rush soon. Start cooking the risotto; it's our most popular dish.”

 

“Umm, of course...risotto...”

 

“Please tell me you have some cooking experience.”

 

“Of course I do,” Hyukjae half-lies. “Just not Italian cooking experience. I've only been here for a day.”

 

Siwon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, and Hyukjae is nearly compelled to take a giant step backward at the barely-contained frustration.

 

“There's a cookbook in one of the cabinets. It shouldn't be hard to follow, and you can ask me questions if you absolutely have to. That sound okay to you?”

 

The immediate “Absolutely” that Hyukjae gives him is a bit pitiful.

 

Siwon goes to set up at his workstation, leaving Hyukjae to fend for himself with nothing but his wits and a musty cookbook. It's not the worst situation: one look at the risotto recipe makes it out not to be too difficult of a dish (which, considering Hyukjae's level of skill, is probably more of a blessing than Siwon realizes).

 

He’s halfway through ladling in the chicken stock when disaster strikes. An unexpected fried smell hits his nostrils, and one look at the underside of the rice mixture reveals a blackened, charred film that's forming on the bottom.

 

This is...probably salvageable?

 

Hyukjae turns down the heat and folds the charred rice into the rest of the risotto, mentally crossing his fingers as he adds another ladle of chicken stock. With any luck, the burnt film on the rice should just...no, it's definitely still there, along with the new charring on the rice that's been pushed to the bottom, and what is he supposed to–?

 

“What did you do?”

 

Hyukjae nearly drops his ladle at the sound of Siwon's voice so close to his personal space.

 

“Sorry, the rice started to burn so–”

 

“Have you been continuously stirring it every time you add liquid ingredients?” Hyukjae flinches away from the nearly-palpable wrath. “The number one rule of making risotto?”

 

“No, but–”

 

Siwon s his finger at a line printed just below the set of cooking instructions, looking Hyukjae dead in the eyes despite how much the latter tries to avoid his admonishing gaze.

 

“It's important to stir constantly,” Siwon reads without looking at the page, “Particularly as the liquid gets absorbed, to prevent scorching of the rice mixture.”

 

“I'm sorry; I didn't know.”

 

“Sorry doesn't bring back a botched cooking job, does it? Scrap this mess and start over, and this time make sure you stir. I'll watch you do it.”

 

Hyukjae feels like the scum of the earth as he scrapes the bowl's contents into the trash, watching his hard work dissolve into a sticky, burnt conglomeration of failure. The depth of his own shame for messing up in the first place is bad enough. But now he can feel Siwon's sharp eyes trained on him as he tries for the second time, an intense scrutiny that makes his hand shake as it holds the ladle. It's no silent critique, either; now that the other man has judged Hyukjae's cooking skills to be sorely lacking, he takes every opportunity to point out the flaws in his technique. It's taking away from Siwon's own time that he could be preparing more food, Hyukjae knows, which weighs heavily on his shoulders. The last thing Hyukjae wants to be is a burden.

 

Stellar job at starting over, Hyukjae. Just stellar.

 

Around 5:30 that evening, past the point that Hyukjae feels like he'll ever be able to feel more like a disappointment, Siwon brings his struggling cooking attempts to a stop.

 

“We can start wrapping up now,” he says, not sparing Hyukjae another glance. “Customers don't come this close to closing time, so no use in staying open.”

 

Hyukjae just nods and keeps his eyes trained on the floor.

 

“Would you prefer cleaning the dishes or the floor?”

 

The change from talking at him to asking a question, however, draws Hyukjae's gaze back up to the other man’s face. He actually has a choice, after the mess he's made of trying to help? And another thing: Siwon's expression isn't nearly as cold as his words. Some part of Hyukjae knows that his attitude isn't a personal vendetta; it's protectiveness over the restaurant. And yet...

 

“I'll do it all,” Hyukjae says, making a split-second decision. When Siwon's eyebrows raise, his expression losing some of its stoniness, it almost feels like he's made the right call.

 

“You sure about this?”

 

“It's the least I can do.”

 

Maybe it will help me stop feeling like I've ruined everything.

 

This time when Siwon looks him over, it's with consideration. “Alright,” he agrees with a nod. “I'll tell Sungmin; he'll leave one set of keys behind the register, so lock up when you're finished.”

 

Hyukjae weakly agrees, and once Siwon leaves him to his own devices, he slumps against the counter, clenching his fists.

 

Keep it together, Hyukjae. Once you clean this kitchen, you can go home.

 

He takes a deep breath, rolls his sleeves further up his arms, and he begins. The sound of the sink running is the only noise in the room, save for the occasional clink of pots and pans as he adds them to the stack of sitting dishes. Hyukjae allows himself no distractions as he dutifully wipes down the countertops and scrubs the remaining chunks from utensils. For nearly an hour, he works.

 

When it's all said and done, Hyukjae looks around the clean kitchen, examining his work. He wordlessly unties and folds his apron, placing it in the drawer Siwon had pulled it from. He sinks to the tiled floor, drawing his knees close to his chest.

 

And he cries.

 

All the misfortune and alienation from the past two days finally overwhelms him, and Hyukjae lets it out in ugly sobs. His shoulders shake with the effort, a picture of misery against the kitchen's stark backdrop.

 

What has he done wrong? The question repeats itself with every heartbeat, and Hyukjae struggles for an answer. The arms he's wrapped around himself dig nails sharply into his skin. If he can rip out the part of himself that's made people hate him so much, he wonders for a fleeting moment, can he stop suffering? He doesn't just mean his time here in Venice; before that, there must be something that had made him an easy target, something that made him unlikable enough to stab in the back. Something that would make her–

 

Stop it. Don't do this to yourself.

 

Somewhere in the midst of his breakdown, Hyukjae finds his voice of reason.

 

Give the city a chance. It's only been two days, hasn't it? You've believed for so long that you can achieve anything if you put in the hard work, so what's the problem with believing that now?

 

There's a hint of nostalgia in the thought. Hyukjae gave up on that sort of optimism a while ago, but he needs something to hold onto. If he can't imagine a happy ending, he doesn't know how he'll go on. It's more this desperation than true belief that makes him grasp at the strings of his old ideals.

 

Do his best, hope for a happy ending. Hyukjae doesn't know how much faith he can put in the plan, but it's a start.

 

Then I'd better start now.

 

When Hyukjae's sobbing fades into watery eyes and quiet sniffles, he turns off all the lights and locks up the café. The evening breeze makes him shiver beneath his jacket, and by all accounts it would make sense for him to take the quickest route to the vaporetto home, but...there's one place Hyukjae is drawn to.

 

His steps carry him to the spot on the docks a certain someone had mentioned to him yesterday, a detail he remembers just as crisply as all the others from last night. The pace of his steps quicken at the thought of once again finding that same similar silver lining.

 

Donghae's not there.

 

Maybe he's out for tonight, maybe he's sick, maybe a million other things, but Hyukjae is still on his own. In any other circumstance, he would think the acute sadness from Donghae's absence was rather ridiculous. They don't know each other that well, despite their immediate connection on the gondola ride. Donghae is the great unknown. But maybe that's what draws Hyukjae to him: an indescribable feeling of escape. That, or just the fact that someone was finally, genuinely nice to him.

 

Not that it matters now. Hyukjae takes the vaporetto back to Lido and hopes the redness around his eyes isn't pronounced enough to notice. No one spares him a second glance; he's not sure if that makes him feel better or just more alone.

 

A horrible end to a horrible day.

 

~*~

 

Day 3 (Friday)

 

Hyukjae is going to get his together.

 

The thought takes hold of him from the second he opens his eyes, and it refuses to leave him alone. He's done with moping, Hyukjae decides; it's time to take back the reigns on his life once again.

 

With his hotel stay coming to an end unless he chooses to extend it, Hyukjae uses his cash reserves to instead make a down payment on an apartment on the mainland. The little place isn't in the best part of town, but considering his money troubles, the locale will keep the rent low and stop him from having to buy vaporetto tickets every day to commute in for work. As long as he makes sure to get back at a reasonable hour, the landlord has assured him that he'll be as safe as anywhere else in Venice.

 

(It also happens to be fairly close to where Donghae works, which Hyukjae hasn’t done on purpose, but it makes him smile at the coincidence.)

 

Rent payments are monthly, and by Hyukjae’s calculations, the money he makes from St. J's should be just enough to cover rent and grocery costs. Living paycheck by paycheck isn't an ideal situation, but he could do much worse than a source of income and a place to call his own. Hyukjae is going to make Venice his.

 

The burst of resolve that carries him through the morning fizzles out considerably throughout the work day. Sungmin and Siwon still aren't mean to him, per say, but their passive-aggressive attitudes put a damper on Hyukjae's hard work. He's doing his best to pick up everything that he needs to know to be a chef, but the other two don't seem to think it's fast enough.

 

Fortunately, today isn't like his first day on the job. Today Hyukjae has something to focus on when he's snapped at for overcooking the potatoes: after his shift is done, he's going to find Donghae and go on that well-deserved gondola ride.

 

Maybe it seems hypocritical to be spending what's sure to be a lot of money on something that could be considered a luxury. Hyukjae has considered it, especially when counting out the dwindling reserve of his remaining extra funds. But this isn't about what is and isn't necessary; after what he's been going through the past month, Hyukjae thinks he deserves some happiness.

 

When the workday wraps up and Siwon lets him go, Hyukjae is out of St. J's in a heartbeat. A cool, evening breeze whispers down the cobblestone streets as he heads toward his destination. There's a nagging thought in the back of Hyukjae's mind, one that wonders if the gondolier will be gone (or worse, had lied about the location), but luck has to be on his side one of these days, doesn't it?

 

The docks are much quieter than they are at midday. Water laps against the sides of anchored boats, and a few handfuls of tourists shuffle past, but otherwise it's relatively tame. Hyukjae does admittedly side-eye the Grand Canal as he walks near the edge. In another city, the memory of the other night would have made him irrevocably afraid of the water, but the sheer number of canals here forces him to move past that fear. Which he's grateful for, because otherwise he wouldn't be able to stand within 50 feet of a gondola again, much less ride in one.

 

As Hyukjae walks, his eyes scan the row of boats. Most of them have a gondolier standing by, each one dressed in that same striped shirt, but none of them are the man he's looking for. If he just walks a bit further, maybe...

 

Donghae.

 

The target of Hyukjae's search is knelt on the dock, tightening the knot on a rope wound around one of the piers. At least, Hyukjae is almost certain it's him. He's not sure how to approach without entirely making a fool of himself if he's wrong, but fortunately he manages to catch the other man's eye, seeing a spark of recognition light up his face.

 

“Hey!” Donghae calls to him, motioning him closer. “I didn't think I was going to see you again. Hyukjae, wasn't it?”

 

“That's me. And you didn't even have to fish me out of the canal this time.”

 

Hyukjae's not sure where the sudden joke comes from, but it gets him a laugh from Donghae, smile remaining on the gondolier's face as he stands and gives Hyukjae his full attention.

 

“So, Hyukjae, since you don't need a rescue, how can I help you today?”

 

“I was, um, actually hoping to go on a ride. But I don't know how much it is, or if I pay you, or if I need to book in advance? Sorry, I didn’t think this out very–”

 

“There's no need to be nervous,” Donghae cuts him off. His words are light, but that same kindness Hyukjae had seen before is still there. “Our company does bookings, but most people just come and ask the gondoliers directly. A standard 40 minute ride is 80 euro.”

 

Hyukjae gulps at the price.

 

“But...” Donghae continues, giving him a considering look. “Just for you, I could do a 30 minute ride for 60 euro. I've been known to take a wrong turn and have to go the long way back. And since it's a light day, you'll get to have a gondola all to yourself – minus your trusty gondolier, of course. How about it?”

 

Hyukjae had known it would be a lot, but he hadn't known it would be this much. One ride would dry up the rest of his extra funds and leave him without a safety net. But he feels like he has no choice besides agreeing to the trip, especially when Donghae is offering him such a discount.

 

“Sure,” he says before he can second-guess himself. “Let me just...”

 

He gets his wallet out of his pocket, and while he's thumbing through the bills, he hears another man's gruff voice say something in Italian.

 

“Hai un fidanzato ora?”

 

For a brief moment of panic, Hyukjae thinks the man is talking to him, but then Donghae snorts and shoots back, “Zitto, Matteo, sei solo geloso che lui è carino.” and he relaxes again.

 

“Don't mind Matteo,” Donghae tells Hyukjae as he gratefully takes the cash from him. “He always likes to give me a hard time before I take off; it's nothing against you.”

 

I would probably appreciate it more if I understood what he said in the first place, but thank you.

 

He really means it, too. There's nothing like feeling as though people are laughing at you behind your back, nothing like feeling excluded. Hyukjae knows both of those feelings all too well.

 

Donghae steps into the boat first. He helps Hyukjae step on behind him, who wobbles but manages not to fall into the canal again, and then goes to untie the knot he'd been working on so attentively before Hyukjae showed up.

 

Hyukjae allows himself one more moment of sadness, one last thought of this being his last ride, before he puts it aside. Nothing is going to come between him and making the most of this opportunity.

 

The beginning of the trip is mostly silent as they start to row out. Hyukjae can't take his eyes away from how pretty the water is just over the side of the boat, glittering jade in the late afternoon sun.

 

It's not long, however, before he feels like it might be too quiet. With no other passengers on board, he’d taken the seat facing Donghae, and the boat is small enough that he's not far from where the other man is standing to row. It almost seems impolite to not start up a conversation.

 

“So, how long have you been doing this?” Hyukjae asks, genuinely curious.

 

“The gondola business? Nearly my whole life. There was a time when I was...well, let's say I was in a bad place, but Matteo brought me to the boss and trained me on how to be a gondolier. It gave me a way to get by, and it wasn't long before I fell in love with the job. I don't think I'd choose to do anything else.”

 

Donghae's voice provides a pleasant ambiance as Hyukjae takes in the sight of the city. It's beautiful: the buildings look a hundred times more beautiful from the water when he's given time to really look, instead of being pushed along by the crowds. He can see why Donghae loves his job; he doesn't think he could ever get sick of the view.

 

When Hyukjae turns back, he catches Donghae staring at him.

 

“Is there, um...something wrong with my face?” For whatever reason, he's more flustered than he should be.

 

Donghae smiles at him, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. It's just nice to see someone looking at the city with wonder in their eyes again. All too often I see tourists so caught up with wanting to be 'impressed' that they forget to appreciate the small things, or people who have lived here for so long that they take it for granted.”

 

Hyukjae hesitates before asking, “And you?”

 

“Me?” Donghae is silent for a time, mulling over the question as he continues rowing. When he answers, it's not what Hyukjae expects.

 

“Venice is sinking. A lot of people seem to ignore that, but it won't be too many more generations before it's gone. All the history, all the memories, all the beauty...it won't last forever. I do my best to keep the same wonder I see in you so that I can...”

 

“...so that you can appreciate it for as long as it lasts.”

 

The expression on Donghae's face loses some of its sadness, focusing on Hyukjae once again. “Exactly. And it's not just the city, you know. I try to live with the philosophy of enjoying beautiful things while you have them. If you think of everything as temporary, you appreciate it that much more.”

 

Hyukjae finds himself staring, and when Donghae laughs softly, saying, “You must think I'm being really cheesy,” he finds himself immediately objecting.

 

“The opposite, actually. It's a nice thought...I think I'll try it out.”

 

Maybe it's Hyukjae's imagination making him see things when Donghae's face seems to brighten considerably at the words, but he likes to think it isn't just a trick of the sunlight.

 

The rest of the ride continues in much the same way: beautiful sights, easy conversations where Hyukjae finds himself hanging on to every word, and more of a wonderful time than he could have imagined. Hyukjae learns some more things about the gondolier, but he also talks about himself. It's nice finally being able to do that with someone who doesn't know about his past, about the lies that had smeared and broken his reputation. He feels free.

 

By the time they get back to where they began, it's starting to get dark outside. Not that Hyukjae is too surprised; after Donghae did manage to take a wrong turn in one of the canals, he suspects they were out for quite a bit longer than 30 minutes.

 

With expert ease, Donghae anchors the gondola to its pier, and Hyukjae hates to get out but does it regardless, accepting the other man's hand to help him onto shore. It's like crossing from one realm to another, almost, the moment that his feet hit the dock. There's a strange aching in Hyukjae's gut that won't go away.

 

“Thanks for the ride,” he tells Donghae, finding it hard to express in words how much it meant to him. “I really...it was really nice.”

 

“My pleasure. Maybe I'll see you again for another ride sometime?”'

 

I wish I was even close to being able to make that promise.

 

“Of course,” Hyukjae says anyway, wanting more than anything for it to be true.

 

“Then I guess this isn't really goodbye.” Donghae gives him one last smile before he kneels, going back to working on the knot tied around the pier. “Have a good rest of the night, Hyukjae.”

 

Hyukjae parts ways from the gondolier with memories that he can't forget, along with a new, cemented resolve: this won't be the last time.

 

Riding with Donghae these two nights has been the only time he’s felt a spark of inspiration start to form. And isn't getting his inspiration back the whole reason Hyukjae came to Venice? He needs to pursue that no matter the cost. He'll strictly budget himself, work hard, and come back again when he can.

 

There's something stirring in the back of Hyukjae's mind, some piece of himself that he'd thought was lost. He refuses to let that slip away.

 

It's a risk going back when it's rapidly getting darker outside, but Hyukjae makes it back to his apartment without any complications. He falls back onto his bed, studying the watermarks on his ceiling, and thinks that maybe, finally, things are starting to turn around.

 

~*~

 

Day 10 (Friday)

 

A week passes, and still Hyukjae doesn't let his goal slip from his mind. The routine of his day becomes a pattern molded to getting back to the heart of his inspiration: wake up, get ready, work hard, return before it's dark, try his best to write, sleep. The 'writing' part of the schedule has turned out to be more of a roadblock than Hyukjae expected, but he'll get there.

 

Hopefully.

 

Work at St. J's isn't nearly as miserable as it was during his first few days on the job. Through much trial and even more error, Hyukjae has gotten better at making nearly every dish on the menu. Siwon may have been harsh on him for making rookie mistakes, but the corrections have admittedly helped him improve rapidly in a short span of time. The other man has started acting less cold to him as a result; it's a more than welcome change.

 

Hyukjae is halfway through plating a freshly-made pasta dish when Sungmin bursts unceremoniously into the kitchen.

 

“There's a tour group,” Sungmin tells them between breaths, obviously panicking. “A huge tour group that just sat down and took up about four tables. I started trying to serve them, but they don't speak any Italian. Just English. So much English.”

 

“You're sure they don't speak any Italian at all?” Siwon asks him.

 

“I think I would have noticed, thank you,” Sungmin says, sharp enough that Siwon raises an eyebrow. “There was zero understanding when I started talking. I don't have to tell you how important it is that we serve them; this is our first large group in months, and we need good reviews spread by word of mouth.”

 

“You could always call Kyuhyun in for extra help.”

 

“He's even worse than me at English!”

 

It's clearly a two-way conversation, but Hyukjae can't help but speak up.

 

“Umm, sorry to interrupt, but...maybe I can help?”

 

Sungmin gives him a look, one that screams 'you can't be serious'. “How?” he asks.

 

“I'm an English major, since...well it's not important why, but my English is decent. Maybe I could take their orders if there's an issue with communicating?”

 

Sungmin and Siwon exchange a look, holding a silent conversation.

 

“Alright, Hyukjae,” Sungmin finally relents. “You can wait the tables.”

 

He places a notepad and pen in Hyukjae's hand before continuing. “Write down their orders and break it up by how they want to split the bill; that will help us avoid disaster later. As long as you smile and get the order right, not much can go wrong. Understand?”

 

“...Yes?”

 

What have you gotten yourself into this time, Hyukjae?

 

Even before Hyukjae can flip the notepad open to the next available page, Sungmin is at his spot in the kitchen, taking over the pasta dish that had been so close to finished. If Hyukjae had any concerns about the other man's ability to temporarily take his place (which, knowing the limits of his own skills, he really didn't), they would have been cast aside as he saw Sungmin expertly finish the garnish. The kitchen is in good hands.

 

Hyukjae takes a deep breath, and then he steps outside into the restaurant.

 

The first thought he has is how loud the normally quiet St. J's is. Granted, Hyukjae is normally confined the kitchen for most of the work day, but he still has a general idea of the atmosphere, and this is far from the norm. He has to wipe a thin film of sweat from his hands as he approaches the occupied tables. His eyes lock with one woman who is clearly the tour group leader (it's not Hyukjae's intuition; her hat says 'tour leader' on it), and the friendly smile she sends him puts him at ease enough to speak.

 

“Hello, what can I get for you all today?”

 

More than one head turns his way, the group surprised but clearly delighted that someone is speaking in a language that they understand. Hyukjae knows the feeling all too well.

 

It's the last thought he gets to indulge himself in before the craziness starts. The tour group explains to him how they're going to split the bill, and then they list off their orders, Hyukjae's pen scribbling a mile a minute. When he finally goes back to the kitchen with a last “Thank you, we'll start serving you as soon as we can,” his hand is cramping and his head is spinning from the sheer amount of translation taking place inside his brain.

 

Hyukjae rushes the scrawl of orders to the kitchen, and it's not ten minutes before the first dishes are ready, a testament to how efficient Siwon and Sungmin have become over the years. What follows is a frankly insane feat of coordination as said men give Hyukjae dishes, while Hyukjae identifies them and refers to his notes to remember who ordered what. His greatest accomplishment, however, is probably getting the food to the customers without tripping over his own feet and dropping the precariously-balanced platters to the floor. It takes eight separate trips, but Hyukjae is successful.

 

He rewards himself with a minute of recovery by the register before making himself useful, keeping drinks filled and wiping down tables after the handful of other patrons take their leave. It's both stressful and somehow exhilarating to feel like St. J's is resting entirely in his hands.

 

When everything is said and done, when the clock is just hitting closing time, when Hyukjae has delivered the split bill, the tour group starts to file out. Only their leader stays behind to call Hyukjae over to the table one last time.

 

“Thank you for your hard work today,” she tells him earnestly, handing over the stack of separate payments.

 

“Oh, it was no problem, ma'am.”

 

“No need to be so humble. I know it wasn't an easy thing to serve all of us with no prior notice. Thank you, make sure to give my compliments to the chef, and...keep the change, will you?”

 

She gives him one last smile before walking out to join the rest of the group, and Hyukjae takes a look at the payment resting on top of the stack. A shiver goes straight down his spine when he sees how much of a tip she's left. Her words had naturally made him expect some sort of amount, but this?

 

The squeak of the kitchen door opening reaches Hyukjae's ears, and Sungmin and Siwon both emerge, covered in flour and various sauces. Siwon goes to flip the restaurant's sign to 'closed,' but Sungmin is at Hyukjae's side in an instant.

 

“How did it go? Did they like it? Did they seem happy?” Sungmin asks him, barely pausing to take a breath.

 

“They seemed really happy; the tour leader asked me to tell you–”

 

“Did they pay the bill?”

 

Hyukjae hands over the money, realizing how his hands are shaking.

 

“You could say that,” is all he says.

 

Sungmin is silent as he reads through the receipts and counts the bills, but then his eyes suddenly go wide. “Siwon?” he calls, voice impressively calm. “Come over here for a minute.”

 

Even before the request is finished, Siwon is at Sungmin's side, looking over one of the receipts. Hyukjae can tell the exact moment he realizes what's happened, because that's when the two men turn to Hyukjae, looking more excited than Hyukjae has ever seen them before.

 

“Hyukjae...” Sungmin says “This is a big deal. Huge. I had my doubts about letting you take my place for tonight, but you did an excellent job.” His demeanor is a complete 180 from what Hyukjae has gotten accustomed to.

 

“I'll say,” Siwon adds, joining in on the praise. “The way you handled yourself was incredibly professional. Well done.”

 

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” Hyukjae tells them, stumbling over his own words. “It was, um, my pleasure to help.”

 

It's the first time they've been...well, not so frigid and unwelcoming to him, and Hyukjae feels his heart soar. Before the moment is lost, he seizes the opportunity to pose the question that he's wanted to ask for a while now.

 

“I really did feel like tonight taught me a lot, so I was wondering if I'd be able to work overtime during the week. If you don't want to pay me for extra work, I understand and won't bring it up again, but it's something I would gladly do.”

 

Sungmin blinks at him, temporarily speechless. “Sorry, what did you say? I could've sworn you just asked to work overtime.”

 

“That is what I...? Sorry, I didn't mean to step out of line if–”

 

“No, nothing like that!” Sungmin isn't just happy, now; he's ecstatic. A wide smile breaks out on his face before he gets his excitement back under control and continues, “Of course you can; I'll pay you extra to stay a few hours after your shift. You'll have to forgive my surprise, but you're the first employee to stay this long, to be this dedicated to helping out at St. J's since...well, since ever.”

 

I've...only been working for ten days, haven't I? Or has time been blurring them together?

 

Hyukjae must look as surprised as he feels, because Siwon immediately starts to elaborate. “You remember what I told you the first day on the job?” the other man asks. “I mentioned that the previous people who held your position were always quitting, but that was only after they'd spend their brief time here never taking the restaurant or me seriously. Sungmin and I know St. J's owner –no, he doesn't come in for work, before you ask– which is why we've been working here from the beginning. We've always respected it. But no one else has ever shown that same respect.”

 

“And our understaffing problem hasn't gone without consequences,” Sungmin adds. “You must have noticed by now how we don't get a lot of customers no matter how hard we work. That’s because it's hard to turn our situation around when Siwon and I are the only ones who seem to care enough to fix it. I stopped trying to get close to the new employees a while ago since they were always leaving for 'better restaurants' and stealing secrets from St. J's when they went. The last time it happened, I swore I wouldn't let myself seem that easy again.”

 

Sungmin hesitates before continuing, breaking eye contact for the briefest moment. “But I owe you an apology. I assumed that you were the same as the others, and I've been cold to you this whole time without giving you a chance to prove yourself. It was completely uncalled for. So far that, I'm sorry, Hyukjae.”

 

Before Hyukjae can say anything, Siwon steps in with his own apology.

 

“Sungmin wasn't the only one who made assumptions. I've been snippy with you in the kitchen because I assumed that you didn't care, when now I've come to realize that you were just trying to learn. The restaurant struggling has really put me on edge, and even though that's no real excuse, I'm also sorry.”

 

“I...I don't know what to say,” Hyukjae tells them sincerely. “Thank you, but I don't think either of you were entirely wrong. The critiques have helped me become a much better cook, and Sungmin, I really respect you for running a tight ship so that you can keep St. J's afloat. If we can get along better from now on and work together to turn our luck around, that's enough for me.”

 

There's a few moments of weighted silence after that, during which the feeling of a newly united team begins to sink in, but Hyukjae only allows himself to bask in it for the most fleeting of seconds. The gears in his head have started spinning, and his mind is already elsewhere, thinking harder than he's ever thought before.

 

How are they going to save St. J's?

 

 

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A/N:  Thanks for reading (and Happy New Year)! The second half will be posted next weekend.