Nothing seemed to work, and Chanyeol just couldn’t seem to swim his way out of the dreary, depressed past few days. Kim Kilwoo’s guitar trick only left melancholy songs like Eric Benet’s ‘Hurricane’ on Chanyeol’s weak fingers, and he never got through the first choruses of those usually beautiful, but just too miserable tunes without flailing himself in frustration. 

The single, slightly good thing that came out of his failed job hunt after all of those newspaper and internet leads, was that Bomi’s cheerfulness levels soared sky high whenever she got the chance to talk to him. She was just as much an expert at being that voice of optimism to someone as she was at apparently everything else. 

Saturday, three days after Chanyeol and Bomi had hunted down all of those leads, Bomi’s cheerfulness level was on the verge of bursting through the ozone layer. Or so Chanyeol thought, judging by the urgent air about her when she came to greet him first thing in the morning before classes started. 

“Chanyeol, come eat at the noodle restaurant with me today after school. I was talking with Mrs. Ho, and we’re short a delivery person! I told her you were perfect for the job, and Mrs. Ho trusts me, so this could be the deal we’ve been looking for!” 

No hello or good morning, just straight to the point. Chanyeol figured he should be used to it by now, but it didn’t mean he got over the sudden flurry of information, nor his habit of stuttering when thinking quickly, any sooner. 

“Um… well… wow… yeah… that’s…” 

“You don’t have any plans today, right? No tutoring school, no chores? I sort of already told her you were coming today so…” 

“Yeah, I think… I think I’m okay to come today. You know me, not the busiest person at school. Then will I be like… interviewing today, or something?” 

Chanyeol had sat through three interviews with some of the leads he’d called in the past few days. Each one was an irritating thorn in the sole of his foot, bound to be stuck there forever reminding him of how terrible he was at interviewing for jobs. Any bit of Bomi’s advice couldn’t rid him of the spitting image of the person he really was: a tall, big grinned, big eyed rascal, whose greatest skills were playing around with friends and taking the chill, easy path out of every part of life. 

Bomi chewed on her lip, tapping her fingers against the backpack Chanyeol had forgotten to put in his locker. 

“I guess it’d be best for you to prepare to interview. But definitely expect it to be very casual. I’ll be there sitting with you, probably, so…”

Chanyeol thought it might help him to write a few things down, so he shooed Bomi’s hand away from his backpack and reached for his notebook. Kyunghwan and Hongki walked into class like a couple of thugs, scanning the room, strolling toward Chanyeol like they wanted to pick him for lunch money. 

“Uhh… Bori, was it? You should get to class. School’s about to start real soon,” Hongki pointed to his watch. “Also, that’s my seat.” 

Bomi shot Chanyeol a sideways glare, Chanyeol barely noticing, too busy scribbling down the words ‘casual’ and ‘Mrs. Ho’. 

“It’s Bomi,” She remarked firmly, getting up and scooting out into the rows. “Thanks for letting me know… Chanyeol’s friends.” 

Kyunghwan plopped down in his seat next to Chanyeol’s, rattling Chanyeol’s elbow and making his pen line swerve. 

“I’m Kyunghwan. That’s Hongki. And the one who’s skipping today, he’s Kilwoo. We’re Chanyeol’s bandmates,” The big guy explained. Chanyeol hadn’t realized he’d never really introduced Bomi to his friends. In all the time they’d spent together the past week, had he really never brought up the guys in conversation? 

“Next time, I’d appreciate it if you guys could remember Bomi, not Bori,” Bomi replied with a half-smile. When her gaze shifted toward Chanyeol, she almost frowned, before realizing she had to leave. 

“We’ll talk later, Chanyeol.” 

With that, she stalked out of the class, Chanyeol waving lamely at her backside. Kyunghwan and Hongki tag teamed him in a medley of weird looks, Hongki snatching Chanyeol’s notebook to read over his scribbles. 

“Chanyeol, what have you been doing lately? We thought you haven’t been showing up to the shop because you were looking for a part time job or something, not because you got a new girlfriend.” 

“I am! Bomi is helping me look for a job. I couldn’t do it without her. And she’s not my girlfriend… right now we’re just friends,” Chanyeol glanced toward the door to make sure Bomi hadn’t stuck around. In the same kind of way she’d done when he’d first talked to her in social science. About a week had passed since he’d met Yoon Bomi, and here he was, cornered by his friends about a girl he thought he barely knew.

“Right now? So you’re saying you want to see some progress later on?” Hongki smirked and leaned in a little too close to Chanyeol. 

Thankfully, before he had time to answer, the bells saved his . 

Chanyeol hadn’t finished looking over the first three options on the menu when Bomi declared what they were going order, for the both of them. 

“Two pork broth noodles. It’s one of the best dishes, and you don’t have to worry about being gassy from spicy food. You’re buying, right? This can be you paying me back for owing me,” Bomi grinned at him with really rapid blinks, again changed out of her school uniform for her cashier shift. She was beginning to remind him a little of those magician’s assistants, always changing into some outfit or another. 

He didn’t have a problem with pork broth noodles and gave her a few nods, but then returned to looking over the menu. 

A tall, older-looking guy in the restaurant’s yellow apron came to take their order.

“Bomi! No way! You finally brought a boyfriend to introduce the staff!” The server had a nasally pitched voice that didn’t quite fit his older features. Chanyeol had a hard time guessing the guy’s age.

“Oh no, Chanyeol’s not my boyfriend! I would’ve told you before if I was bringing a boyfriend over, oppa. I actually brought Chanyeol for the delivery position Mrs. Ho needed to fill,” Bomi’s tone came just about as close to yelling as her usually loud tone could get, and Chanyeol couldn’t help but wonder if that was a good or bad thing. 

“Oh right! We do need a new delivery person,” The server turned to Chanyeol with a different air, smiling, but also measuring. “Seems like you’re in good shape. As long as you’re willing to work hard, you should be fine for the job.” 

For once, Chanyeol felt the cooling relief of actually passing the peripheral judgment stage, and grinned gratefully at the server. 

“Thank you so much, that really cheers me up.”

“No sweat! All of Bomi’s friends are like my younger siblings. So what’ll you two be having?” 

Bomi asked for the two noodles, and introduced her ‘San oppa’ as one of two unrelated older brothers she had at the restaurant. San and Bomi talked briefly before the guy left to put in their orders. As impolite as it was, finally earning a bit of quiet relief from San’s brash, nasally voice relaxed Chanyeol. His stomach growled and churned queasily at the same time, and he had second thoughts about eating before being interviewed. 

“I sort of have another possible opportunity for you, Chanyeol,” Bomi broke into his thoughts with a low voice. Chanyeol piped up and leaned toward her, albeit a little unnecessarily. 

“I found a kindergarten that needs two mascots for one of their field days. Something about dividing the kids into two teams and having the mascot of each team… they have the suits to lend us, we just need to work one day… and skip school.” 

She avoided his gaze as her voice tapered down at the last part. Chanyeol chuckled, trying to imagine what kind of mascots would befit a kindergarten field day. Would the suits even be big enough to fit him? Would he last a whole day in a giant fluffy suit? How does Bomi find out about these things?
 

“Are you worried that I’m afraid of skipping school? Because I’ll let you know, I might just be ranked number two in the entire school for the most days skipped, these past three years. The first of course, would have to be Kilwoo,” He nodded smugly, sitting back. 

“You’re really that confident, huh? And this Kilwoo person… is he that big friend of yours? Or…” 

“No, he’s the skinny guy with kind of longish black hair… he claims he’s the leader of our makeshift band. He is the one that brought us together so…” 

Chanyeol trailed off when he realized that he and Bomi had begun picking off the same bowl of potato salad side, bumping chopsticks. An unintended grin painted over his face, and he was glad to receive a smile back. 

“So Kilwoo is you guys’ captain, and you guys are kind of like his foot soldiers? I’m having a hard time trying to picture it… but it’s true that I don’t really see you being a captain kind of guy, for sure.” 

“What do you mean? I can be leaderly, if I wanted to,” Chanyeol puffed his chest out, but then thought about it another minute. “I mean, if I wasn’t so peace loving that is.” 

Bomi laughed at him, loud and boisterous, and Chanyeol kept stuttering and mumbling in defense, to no avail. They bickered and bickered on, sharing the little side dishes, until San brought their noodles. 

“I can hear you guys from all the way in the kitchen,” San winked at Chanyeol, then shot Bomi a little wriggle of the eyebrows. “Hope you enjoy!” 

“This looks so good,” Chanyeol muttered, getting to work whipping his noodles into the soup. 

“You’ll know once you taste it. I’m not lying when I say our noodles are the best in town.” 

Before long, Chanyeol turned into a vacuum, in his noodles with huge scoops of his chopsticks. Bomi wasn’t the polite, partial eater either, noodle slurping noises clambering around their booth. 

It had to be when Chanyeol was gulping down his soup from the bowl that Mrs. Ho, the owner, came by to greet them. 

Chanyeol was a flurry of his lips clean and drowning his throat with water and rumbling digestion in his stomach, while Bomi kept smiling at him encouragingly and complimenting him on random things he had no idea she knew about him. 

Mrs. Ho was the perfect picture of a warm, motherly cook, insistent that Chanyeol continue eating while they talked. She patted his upper arm and shoulders to check their sturdiness, and gave him that oh so important up and down scan, smiling before, during, and after. 

It was a crazy interview where Chanyeol couldn’t think straight for one second. Bomi and Mrs. Ho kept talking in high pitched voices, about Chanyeol and noodles and the rickety delivery bicycle. 

That was one thing he managed to join in with, that he was fine using their old bicycle to deliver, as long as it worked and he was able to transport the noodles securely. 

“Alright then, when are you available to start?” Mrs. Ho asked, gesturing at him with her rubber gloved hands. 

“Tomorrow?” Bomi suggested, eyes bright and expectant. 

Chanyeol clumsily nodded, sipping the last sip of his water. “Yes, I can start tomorrow.” 

“And Chanyeol and Sehwan oppa can schedule things out so at least one person is in every shift,” Bomi added on.

“We should do that. Let me go and get our schedule calendar, and Chanyeol, let’s try to work you in tentatively this week, see what works best for you,” Mrs. Ho left without a blink, wriggling out of her rubber gloves. 

“Congratulations! You got your first job!” Bomi clapped wildly in her seat, and then reached over for a squeeze on Chanyeol’s forearm. 

It had been so chaotic an interview, he couldn’t have guessed that everything would be arranged so quickly. He was half busy wracking his mind for any plans he might have made, half trying to stifle his grin. 

But in the end, the most important thing he needed to say, he said without stuttering. 

“I owe you another one, Bomi.” 

“Cool! I’ll let you know how you can pay me back for it soon,” She laughed, and it was starting to get really contagious, that lively laugh of hers. 

About a week and a half in working at the noodle shop, Chanyeol understood why Bomi referred to San and Sehwan as her ‘unrelated’ older brothers. But he couldn’t say the same about himself, even though the two older guys were as friendly and as cool as ever. It just had to do with the awkward fact that, San and Sehwan seemed to take their roles as Bomi’s unrelated older brothers, a little too seriously. 

They badgered Chanyeol about her, every shift. Every question that every micro-protective older brother had ever asked a younger sister’s boyfriend, Chanyeol was sure he had dealt with.

No matter how many times Chanyeol tried to assure them that they were just starting to become friends, the two always ended their forced interview session ordeals with, “We think you’re a great guy, Chanyeol. But if you hurt Bomi, rest assured, you’ll be losing more than your job.” 

It wasn’t unbearable. It wasn’t that much of a bother at all, really. He liked all of his co-workers at the shop, especially Mrs. Ho, who always packed him food to take home at the end of his shifts. 

His favorite days were when Bomi and he worked the same shift. They bickered here and there, Chanyeol nagging her to hurry with his deliveries, Bomi nagging him to be careful with the food and remember to put his coat on for goodness sake. 

When customers and delivery orders were slow, he and Bomi would race to see who cleaned off the most tables, or who stocked the utensils fastest. She sure had a hell of a competitive edge, and was sometimes a sore loser, at that. But even that, he didn’t seem to mind about her. 

On Wednesdays, Chanyeol liked to take the long way just to pass by the karaoke shop and ring his bicycle bell at Olaf. On days that they had the same shift, they ate a late dinner together with the rest of the staff, and got off together, Chanyeol walking Bomi as close to her place as was possible. 

His dad especially loved Mrs. Ho’s noodles, but his sister was close in second. His mom was just amused that Chanyeol had actually found a part time job. And Chanyeol kept thinking to himself that soon, he’d have to visit the Lee’s instrument shop with noodles for Hongki’s family and his friends, but it just kept slipping his mind whenever he was off, and the rest of the days he was working, his mind seemed to float entirely in bowl after bowl of broth noodles. 

Dinner delivery got pretty busy on Thursday nights. Chanyeol was out on his bike, two bags already delivered, three more bags to go before he had to return to the store for more. Two of his three leftover deliveries took him to an upper-class apartment complex behind his old middle school. The last delivery, he had purposely saved, because the address had seemed way too familiar. 

The closer he got to the familiar apartment buildings, the more giddy Chanyeol got. The February breeze was freezing his excited grin permanently on his face, but he didn’t care. He basically bolted through the entrance and boarded the elevator, practicing his “surprise!”. 

Apartment #510. He rang the doorbell, pulling his noodle shop hat up to show his face better. A dashed set of footsteps on hardwood floors, and the door swung open, revealing Kim Kilwoo in a pair of sweatpants and a wifebeater. 

“Surprise!!” Chanyeol grinned like an idiot. He wished he could snap a picture of Kilwoo’s priceless expression. 

“Park Chan? What are you doing here?” Kilwoo stepped out into the hallway with his bare feet, shocked expression subsiding. 

“I’m delivering your noodles, Kil! That’ll be 15,600won.” 

He held up the bag Bomi had packed him, checking to make sure no soup had spilled inside. 

“Since when did you get a job as a delivery boy?” 

“It’s been, almost two weeks. And I get my first pay on Saturday!” 

Kilwoo’s harsh expression confused Chanyeol. He took out some bills from his pocket and smacked them onto Chanyeol’s hand, then snatched the bag of noodles from him. 

“You get your first job, and you don’t even tell us? What’s gotten into you, Channie? This is the reason you haven’t been showing up to band practices? So you can earn money and ignore your friends?” 

“I was going to tell you guys… I’ve just been busy… and… it’s not like we actually practice like we mean it… anyway…” 

“Shut up and get out of here. You don’t give a damn about the band, I get it. We’ll find us a new guitarist.” 

Muttering under his breath, Kilwoo slammed the door, an angry gush of wind rushing past Chanyeol’s hair. Trudging back to the elevator solemnly, he couldn’t help but look back at the familiar apartment more than once. It’d been his and Kilwoo’s hangout place before they met Hongki and Kyunghwan. But now, it seemed, far away. Somewhere in the past, somewhere he had once enjoyed visiting, but somewhere he just couldn’t find himself going anymore. 

Pedaling back to the shop, he decided to just let go of it for now. Kilwoo hadn’t meant those things, he told himself. The guy had a bad temper, Chanyeol had always known that. He just had to explain things to his friends, and they’d understand.