There’s nothing I hate more than late night shifts.

“Lu! Hurry up! I need the knuckles ready and served twenty minutes ago!”

“Yes!”

“Lu!? What the ?! Two customers just complained that their soup wasn’t spicy enough!”

“Sorry, I’ll make it better next time!”

“Luuu! The meat’s undercooked! We just lost a free meal!”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll make it better next time!”

It’s like this every single ing time I take the night shift. It’s always the busiest at midnight and here I am, bombarded with twenty orders and just barely breathing in this cramped sauna of a kitchen. They expect every dish to be pristine perfect, but I am oNLy oNE mAn. Don’t get me wrong, I love cooking, I love everything there is about the food world and I plan on traveling the world and going on a journey through food enlightenment. Maybe I’ll even become the greatest chef in the world after that. Probably. But at the rate I’m going I’ll be selling roadside Chinese food in a small restaurant in the streets of Chengdu for the rest of my life. I’ll probably lose feeling in my fingers and nose because of all the hot chili fumes I’m exposed to everyday. Who knows, maybe it’ll get me hospitalized and I’ll get a chance to leave this place.

Okay, I know I sound like I’m complaining and I know that life in the professional kitchen is like this and probably worse in a lot of other places, but really, it’s my boss.

I. Can’t. Stand. My. Boss.

Not only does she ually harass me, but I get the worst pay out of my fellow workers. Her daughter’s no better either, she treats me just the same. On several attempts she tried getting me to her in the back storage closet. I’m just glad her wrinkly mother hasn’t tried that, though she does touch my on several occasion. I’m not the only one who gets ually harassed though, my coworkers do too (mind you, we’re a group of all young male aspiring chefs.) But we can’t just go and complain and tell the authorities, no, they’ll laugh it off and say “Oh please, a woman? ually harassing you?” Bigoted ers. It’s quite terrible because we’re all desperate for the money and the status of this cheap restaurant. Honestly, the food here is soooo good, oh it’s so good. We’re practically bombarded all day with orders. Especially at night when a lot of the late night workers come out. And when she feeds us after a long haul, the ual harassment isn’t all too bad.

But I hate it mostly.

“One.. Please..”

I stop stirring my flaming wok and look over to the ordering window and see who it is.

Ah there he is. He’s later today than usual. I call him my Broken Friend, mainly because his accent and he never has an expression on his face. His accent because he’s a foreigner, I don’t know where from though, it sounds Korean. Despite his limited Mandarin he always manages to order a bowl of soup from our menu. And he never makes a facial expression, I think the muscles in his face are broken of the sort. Otherwise, that’s why I nicknamed him my Broken Friend.

I’m usually in charge of his orders, it always ends up being that way so I make sure to give him a little something extra. If he orders the braised pigs knuckles, I give him two—not one. If he orders the spicy pork belly, I’ll give him two fists full of pork instead of one. If he orders dumpling soup, I’ll give him a small serving of dumplings to go. But no matter what he orders, I always make sure to give him my specialty. My steamed buns. We always make them ahead of time before the night rush of customers, but I always make two very quick buns and steam them while I prepare his dish. I spoil him like that, despite never having a conversation with him before.

He’s tiny and recently it looks like he lost weight, so I’ll give him some extra dumplings and steamed buns. I haven’t seen him for a week because this is my first night shift in a week. I hope he’s alright if he lost so much weight in that little of time…

He’s been coming here for almost two months now, at least that’s when I started to notice him. Probably an exchange student, and I think that’s what makes him special. We get a lot, I mean a lot, of regulars here so getting a foreigner for a regular is something special. He also never smiles and never frowns; he just pays for his food, nods his head and waits for it to be delivered to his lonesome self. That also draws out some attention.

“Lu! One order of spicy noodles!” The boss lady’s daughter calls out to me as he walks away.

I simply nod and quickly look up to catch a glance of the retreating male, catching his eye the split second he disappears to find his seat.

Ah, cold and lifeless to the untrained eye. Albeit it was cold, it most definitely was not lifeless.

♦

Little was Lu aware of the fact that the customer ordered from them next to almost every night. What he did not know was that he was a college student, studying abroad in the country. He was a medical student, studying the various means of pharmaceutical procedures. Going on his sixth year of studies, he had just about had it with the same old boring university and decided to go abroad and further his knowledge. He would have loved to have gone to the U.S or Canada, but he was bested with financial problems and stuck to China. To his surprise he was gaining great knowledge from the new university. Although the language is much on the difficult side for him, he has his basic knowledge and grew accustomed to some of the cultural differences.

It wasn’t until one day that the wandering student found himself lost in the streets of his university’s city, both hungry and tired. He had been lost for a good couple of hours and it didn’t help that no one spoke a sliver of Korean; his other language skills were too minimal for anyone to understand. To top it off, no one really wanted to stay around him longer than they needed to. The lack of emotional capability in the student’s face was a bit off-putting to some, he knew that too. His accursed face would be his demise and he was well aware of it. But as he was roaming and trying to find anything recognizable, he found himself outside a street restaurant and looking for an item to order. At that point in time he hadn’t cared what he ordered so long as it was food. That was when he pointed to an item, held one finger up and gave the lady at the window the desired amount of money. But as he was doing so, he caught the glimpse of one of the chefs working just behind the order window. He was lanky and thin, but his facial profile full and smooth. His nose was long and slim, curved up in the slightest and cutest of fashions. His hair black as a raven and just messily splayed out on his head. Lips almost permanent in a pout.

He was quite pretty in the student’s opinion, almost gorgeous even. But he knew better than to listen to the thumping of his heart and nervousness of his stomach, he didn’t even know the man! Even so, he sat and waited for his food and savored every spicy second of it. The best part of it were the two steamed buns placed at the very side. Oh how he loved those.

Even though he had a terrible night, it surely was brightened by the sight of the chef. It had lifted his spirits so much to the point that he found himself on track to his dorm once more.

Ever since that one encounter, the student had been craving for that spicy soup and those delectable buns. So he made it his mission to go every day that he could, at the same time, to see if he could see the chef again. After all, what harm was it to see a cute face, let alone admire it?

Some days he was lucky and others not so much. But he could not help but notice how when he would order with that chef around, he would always get an extra helping of food. Other chefs always gave him a normal amount and no extra side of steamed buns. He knew there was something special about this chef he would visit.

♦

Today was an especially cold spring day, colder than usual. The university student was freezing in the night time, walking a route he knew almost by heart at that particular moment.

His shivers and attempts to get warm are ill met, hopefully that will change when he gets to his favorite restaurant. Some good, hearty, spicy soup to warm him to the bone.

The approach is almost nerve wracking, he is anticipating whether his favorite chef is there or not. Especially since the student is fully aware of the small crush he harbors for the chef. Maybe the days he spent admiring the chef’s face were a bad idea since he had gotten himself a little too attached.

But as he orders something from the menu, he can’t help but be disappointed to see that his chef crush was not noticing his presence. He is always busy making food, but there was always a moment when the student was noticed by the chef. This time, it appears that he would not be granted that possibility.

Even so, as he sits down and waits for his food, he is surprised to receive a side of steamed buns. He was just so sure the chef did not see him when he ordered. That doesn’t matter though, he is happy enough to have the food. So he eats it with a smile.

♦

Since the last encounter with the chef, the student hadn’t seen his favorite chef for three weeks straight. It was only a little unnerving on his end because he was worried that something bad had happened. But he decided he would try something first before going ahead and assuming the worst. He would visit the restaurant at an earlier time to see if the chef had a different shift. To his surprise, that was exactly what had happened to his chef crush; the male had taken an earlier shift.

There he is, slaving over a piping hot wok and covered in a sheen layer of grease. Oh how lovely he looks in the student’s mind, the passion burning in the chef’s eyes is quite the turn on. However, this time he is for certain that the chef does not see him, but he is not as disappointed this time. This is, after all a different scheduled time.

He sits in his usual seat on the sidewalk and waits to be served, watching the window to see if he can get a glance at the chef. As he sits there he also thinks about all the different scenarios that can happen on their first meeting. He thinks about what it’ll be like if the chef personally comes out and serves him his food; and to that he would smile brightly and thank him for the delicious food every time. After that point the chef will ask, “how do you know it’s always me who cooks?” And to that he will answer, “because you always give me extra in comparison to everyone else”. And thus would start the budding friendship of two males, caught red handed flirting with one another. Then he thinks about the language barrier and how they would mostly communicate by body language. Then one day, the chef will get so fed up and just kiss him on the lips to shut him up.

As he sits there, cheeks ablaze and eyes set in a daze, his food is served. Extra steamed buns that he never orders, yet expects, are placed beside his bowl. A smile draws on his lips.

Just a little into eating his soup does a stranger walk up to the student’s table and plop himself in front. He places a bowl of his own dinner and steamed buns and takes out a bottle of water to place next to the student’s can of beer.

The student stares in complete awe at the stranger who makes no acknowledgment toward him, eyes wide and lips unmoving. The said stranger causes an unnatural shade of red to beat over the student’s face as he watches the other eat away at his own noddle soup.

After a good moment of silence between the two, the stranger finally looks over at the student with a grimace.

“Well? Go on, eat.”

His voice is just as heavenly to hear as the student thought. The chef before him is almost so utterly perfect and so close to him that he wants to melt into the ground and let his worries consume him.

The student isn’t much sure of what the chef said but he vaguely understands it as, “stop staring and eat.”

“You make this?” The student asks as he gestures to their food.

The chef nods and takes a bite of his steamed bun.

“Ah, thank you.” The student blushes and looks down at his food.

The chef chuckles silently. It appears the emotionless regular has facial capability after all.

“Lu Han.” The chef says after shoving a mouthful of noodles in.

The student looks at him, not sure of what the latter might have said. But as the chef stares expectantly at him, he understands just what he might mean.

“…K-Kim.. Kim Minseok.”

“Kim Minseok?” The chef lets the name roll off his tongue. As he contemplates the name, he nods in final agreement of something. “I get off at eight. Let’s get a drink afterwards.” The chef says simply and gets up with his dirty dishes.

Minseok isn’t even sure when the latter had finished all his food, but he watches with wide eyes as he leaves and sits there for a good long while before trying to translate the latter’s words.

Even an hour after he realized that the chef wants him to stick around, a plate of steamed buns finds itself served on his table.

This is real. He thinks to himself and blinks at the piping hot plate before him.

I look out the window to see my Broken Frie—Kim Minseok. He’s there, looking just as confused as when I left him. “Maybe working here, won’t be all bad anymore.” I chuckle to myself.

Little does the student know that there is a smiling chef just in the kitchen across from him, anticipating the moment they can see one another again.

Just a super short one shot that's written oddly as usual. I tried a new style in the present because I'm always writing past tense, but I don't think I did very good lol

Hope you guys enjoyed this quick thing

now to get motivated for everything else i need to finish