molly burch / please be mine

An alarm chimed from Lisa and Rose’s room, the sound muffled by a closed door. I could hear them begin to stir as I passed through the hall.

I left before anyone else that morning.

But that was typical. Expected. I had always been an early riser (though Hayi never had been).

I stood in line at the coffee shop during the early morning rush. Around me were office workers and professionals, dressed in their suits with lanyards around their necks and briefcases in hand. Most days I felt like a covert agent, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but that day I only felt like a little child surrounding by adult.

The line began to shorten.

I struggled not to bite my nails as I tried not to dwell on Hayi’s words.

I knew I didn’t have any reason to be mad that Jimin and Hayi spent time together. I had met him through her, after all. And it was Jimin’s fault we’d broken up, not her’s.

My eyes darted frantically over the other customer’s heads, searching for a familiar face behind the counter. I started to get irritated as I realized that the one I wanted to see wasn’t even there.

I ordered my black drip coffee and croissant anyway, holding out that he’d only gone on break. Another barista handed me my coffee and warmed croissant, and with a sigh I went to sit down by the window.

What was I doing? I felt ridiculous.

I looked out at the street, watching people walk by. I pulled apart my pastry, washing it down with the dark brew.

It wasn’t the first time I’d sat in that spot, nor was it the first time I’d looked out at that view. I let the taste of the bitter liquid sit on my tongue. I never used to drink coffee.

How long had it been?

I throw away the last of my croissant, appetite lost, and put my coat back on. I left the shop confident that I must have missed him… but hadn’t he always worked on Fridays?

I paused to fire off a quick report into our group chat, only to be met with frowns and condolences. Sometimes I wished I hadn’t made my school girl crush a public spectacle so I could just fail in peace.

(But when he smiled at me, it still felt so nice to tell the whole world.)

The rest of my day cleared, I walked into the nearby used bookstore, grazing my fingers against the shelves as I walked by. I didn’t feel like looking at the plays as usual, remembering the looming dread of the new semester. Instead, I wandered to the back of the store where the DVDs were kept.

My eyes scanned for any new (but previously loved) arrivals. I could find any of those titles on Netflix (and had probably seen them already), but sometimes it was just nice to hold something in my hands.

My first semester in a film class we had the chance to hold onto film used for projections in theaters, it felt heavy and foreign. It was strange to think that soon the DVDs in front of me would be relics, too.

I gravitated to a title in French with a retro font: Les Diaboliques. The film jacket was all sunglasses, martinis, and femme fatales. I smiled at my find as I read its synopsis.

Standing up from my crouch, I held the DVD in my arms as I looked again. Nothing else piqued my interest so I conceded the hunt for the day and went up to the counter. The usual doe eyed and bored cashier was at the front scanning customer’s items.

I stepped back in shock when I recognized a familiar head of messy blonde hair attached to a pale and lanky body.

I stood behind him nervously, worried that he might recognize me and think I was following him.

(Not that I hadn’t thought about it a few times here and there… But I wouldn’t actually do it.)

I took a deep, steadying breath and set my phone down on the counter to reach into my purse and get out my wallet. I tried to peek at his purchases, catching glimpses of old horror manga that looked like something Jisoo would read.

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