Jiae dislikes many things about Cloud 9 Ice Cream Parlour (starting with the name), but nothing irritates her more than her father's decision to plaster her third grade regret all over their shop. Every morning, she's greeted by the cardboard standee of Park Jinyoung as she opens the shop and every night his smiling face is the last thing she sees before heading home for the night.

Some point within the last two months, Jinyoung became the neighbourhood darling. Or, well, he already was, but this cemented his title. He had a small role in a mid-rate weekend drama, and the people living in the area couldn't be more proud. One of their own had broken into the world of show business. Even though the drama was kind of terrible, it was still a reason to celebrate.

And Jiae's father, always the enterprising businessman, decided that making Jinyoung the face of their shop was a brilliant idea. Not only was he “famous”, he was also handsome, so if nothing else at least they would attract some female clientele. So up went the banner, out went the flyers and coupons, and the life size cardboard standee was brought in, much to Jiae's chagrin.

Though the whole thing probably wouldn't bother her as much as it does if it wasn't for their shared awkward history (which Jiae is sure she remembers alone). Also known as that time in third grade when Jiae had a raging crush on Jinyoung and kissed him on the playground by the slide, after which he ran away, distressed and yelling, "Ew, gross. The troll kissed me!"

It was very traumatic for a little girl, okay? And she would rather not be reminded of her first rejection every time she comes into work which is, oh, practically every day. It's humiliating. Also, she thinks Jinyoung is overrated and his character in the drama wasn't even that great so, there you go.

She's told him that before too, but it doesn't stop him from hanging around the store all the time. Jiae is convinced he's a narcissist of some kind, because why else would he spend so much time in a place covered in pictures of him?

"Don't you have other things to do?" she asks him crossly one day. "Like practice your expressions in the mirror or sign autographs for your adoring fans."

Jinyoung watches her struggle to replace the empty tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream and winces. "Are you sure you don't want—"

"No." Jiae is and always has been an independent woman who doesn't need a man to do her job for her. The life of an independent woman is tough—the tub is so heavy her hands turn red from the strain, and she makes a loud, grunting noise as she lifts it and puts it in place.

Jinyoung applauds vigorously.

She feels smug for about two seconds before she remembers the dinosaur noise she just made in front of that person. The smile slowly slips off her face. "Seriously, why are you here?"

The applause dies out. Jinyoung leans back in his chair and tips his head towards her, eyes wide and innocent. "I'm bringing in customers!" he says happily. Jiae pointedly looks around the empty stop and raises an eyebrow. "I like spending time with you?" he tries next, and she lets out an unladylike snort. "Wait, what does that mean? It could be true."

"Right," Jiae drawls. The third grade memory flashes through her mind. "Because I'm such thrilling company and so nice to you."

He shifts until he's sitting backwards, chin resting on the top of the chair. "Well, I can't really say anything since you're the boss' daughter—" ("Oh please.") "—but I'm used to it. You've always kind of hated me." He laughs lightly and rubs the back of his neck, but Jiae frowns.

"I don't—I don't hate you." Hate is a very strong word and she doesn't like to use it on people who don't deserve that vehemence. "It's just, I don't know, mild dislike?"

Jinyoung's shoulders shake from the force of keeping in his laughter. "Really?" he chokes out. "Wow, what an upgrade."

Suppressing the urge to throw a dish towel at him, Jiae focuses her efforts on cleaning the tables instead.

"I do mean it," Jinyoung continues. "You're grumpy but alright. It's always interesting being here with you."

"And you're a actor." She turns around in time to see him flash her the peace sign. "I'm going to kick you out."

"You could never ~"

Jiae refuses to admit she actually can't (father's orders), but she's also not supposed to be mean to him (which happens often), so the line between things she can't do and things she does is often blurred. "Go be a productive member of society instead of bothering me at work," she grumbles instead.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Jinyoung rock back in the chair, a brief glimpse of distress on his face before it’s quickly replaced by an amicable grin. Jiae wonders if she imagined it. She squints at him suspiciously, looking for a trace of that expression again, but he looks completely and utterly guileless. “I am,” he says. “Technically, I’m at work too.”

Jiae ignores his words and finds a wad of gum stuck on the underside of one of the tables. The general texture and shape reminds her of Jinyoung. "Hell is a place on Earth and I am stuck in it," she intones.

Behind her, Jinyoung cracks up.

Work is strange in the sense that some days are slow and others are really, really busy. And sometimes the busy days bleed into busier days until Jiae's father finally admits that they might need to hire some part-time help. Jiae puts the Help Wanted sign up at 9 am on a Sunday morning, and by 9:30 am, Jinyoung is standing in front of her with a resume in his hands.

"Delete yourself," she growls.

He ignores her and grins, his bright white smile blinding. "Hi, my name is Park Jinyoung and I would like to apply for the job here at Cloud 9 Ice Cream, where everyone spoonful will take you to straight up to Heaven!"

"I can't believe you made a jingle for this place. It doesn't even make sense—"

"That's the kind of enterprising spirit we need at Cloud 9," her father interrupts, sweeping in and clapping Jinyoung on the back. "You're hired."

Jiae feels like she's going to erupt any minute now. "You didn't even look at his resume or interview him," she points out through gritted teeth.

"Not necessary. It's Jinyoung!"

Jinyoung gives her father his best Respectable Young Adult expression and they begin chatting excitedly about the stop while Jiae escapes into the women's bathroom and screams. When she comes back out, her father tells her that training Jinyoung will be her responsibility before leaving for some godforsaken meeting or another.

It's just her and him. "Hi sunbaenim," Jinyoung says. "I look forward to—what are you doing with my cardboard cutout, Jiae. Jiae put that down don't—"

If she's going to be forced to look at his actual face every day, then something has to go. "I'm burning this," she proclaims. "I'm going to throw it in the fire pit. Goodbye."

"That was expensive!"

She freezes. As much as she hates to admit it, Jinyoung’s right. Recalling the price of this stupid piece of junk, Jiae slowly drags it back to the entrance and lets it be. The price is the only thing that keeps her from drawing a moustache on fake Jinyoung's face, so burning it is definitely out of the question.

Her glare travels from the cardboard cutout to the man’s face. "Why do you want to work here?" she asks finally. "I mean, seriously, why would someone like you willingly apply for a job at a cheesy ice cream parlour when you could be doing anything else?" It's not supposed to sound as bitter and defeated as it comes out, but Jiae can’t take it back.

“Someone like me,” Jinyoung repeats, his easy, open expression fading quickly. “What is that supposed to mean?”

The sudden hostility in his tone catches Jiae off guard. “Nothing,” she says. “I just mean… you could get a better job somewhere else.” There are a lot of shops in this area and in her biased opinion, any one of them would be better than Cloud 9. Not that she hates the business… except she kind of does. And while Jinyoung might not, she’s positive his life’s aspirations have nothing to do with ice cream.

“I—” he breaks off and shuffles in place, staring down at his feet. Jiae studies him with perplexity until his head snaps up. “Well,” he says with forced cheeriness, “you told me to be a productive member of society and stop hanging out here for no reason, so bam! Double whammy. I have a job and a valid reason to be here."

"..." She's speechless. How is someone supposed to respond to that. What goes through this man's head. Why oh why did she bring this upon herself. Those are all statements, not questions. Jiae doesn't want to know the answers to any of them.

"Ugh," she finally manages to say.

“Chu ~” Jinyoung replies, and she swears she sees a self-satisfied, teasing glint in his eyes.

The thing is, Jinyoung's not a bad employee. He's diligent and charming and a quick study; it takes no time at all for his training to be done with. Jiae has to grudgingly admit that the whole process was less painful than she anticipated. After a few days on the job, she trusts him enough to handle the place by himself outside of rush hour, which is... weird, yeah, but not totally surprising. Jinyoung has always been a reliable person—it's what drew Jiae to him all the way back in third grade.

Oh, third grade (she's still not over it).

Jiae is impressed by his efforts and a little relieved now that she is not the only person working at this hole, though she'll be hard pressed to admit it. However, she does allow Jinyoung to take a free ice cream cone near closing one night while cleaning up the place and only complains a minimal amount.

Predictably, he goes for the mango swirl in a waffle cone, the same thing she remembers him ordering all throughout their school years. As he scoops it out, humming to himself, Jiae thinks she’s never seen a grown man this excited about ice cream before. "You did something nice!” Jinyoung says. “I knew you had it in you, sunbae—"

"Oh my god, I told you to just call me Jiae, didn't I?"

He blinks, caught off guard. A bit of ice cream drips down his hand and Jiae tosses a couple of napkins in his direction. "Jiae," he says, and his eyes light up. "Jiaeeeee." When she glares at him, he holds one hand up in mock surrender. "Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to say thanks."

Thanks. It sounds so strange to her ears. "You're welcome... I guess. It's just because you're doing a decent job, especially with all the new customers coming in. Don't get used to the freebie."

"Oh yeah, I wonder where they all came from. Think they're here to see me in my uniform?" Jinyoung strikes a pose, and she laughs before quickly regaining her composure.

"Obviously, since ugly hats and aprons are the new y."

"'Course they are. My apron brings all the girls to the yard."

"Please don't say that ever again."

The shop falls silent. Jiae continues to clean and Jinyoung makes headway on his ice cream. It’s a companionable sort of quiet, and if Jiae wasn’t living through it, she wouldn’t believe a moment like this could exist between her and Jinyoung.

Barring the third grade rejection, they just… never really meshed during their school years. Jinyoung was a Korean Midas: everything the decided to focus his attention on turned to gold. Everyone either loved him, wanted to be him, or both. Meanwhile, Jiae was the girl without a mother who struggled in every class and gave up the chance to have a social life in order to work at her family shop after school. She spent the majority of her high school years serving her peers at Cloud 9, the main hangout spot, and pretending not to be affected by the looks (sometimes pitying but mostly mocking) they sent her way.

Like night and day, she and Jinyoung were and are different. Nothing has changed years late