During his first weekend in la Ville des Lumières, Wooyoung awoke to a brilliant blue sky and sunshine streaming determinedly through the gap in his curtains as if to say, “wake up lazy, Paris is waiting for you!” Only, Wooyoung could have cared less about exploring the infamous City of Light when his rent was due soon, and he still didn’t have a job to pay for it.

Wooyoung really wished that living in Paris was as thrilling as the travel brochures he picked up at Incheon International Airport made it out to be. After haphazardly using the rest of his life savings to book a one-way airplane ticket to Charles de Gaulle five days ago, he really thought that upon his arrival in Paris, France, his life - and luck - would change forever.

Yet, that hadn’t really happened. Wooyoung’s vision of the ideal European getaway had been quickly smashed by the realities of living costs, paying for a workers’ visa to enter the country upon his arrival, and then hunting for an apartment within the city as soon as he got past customs. Gone were the visions of hazy, relaxing days spent eating lunch in cafés and boulangeries, and scouring classy boutiques for those fashion deals Paris was so known for. Reality had hit him hard.

The apartment Wooyoung ended up finding wasn’t exactly the luxury suite he’d had in his mind, either, but at this point in time the fact that he had a roof over his head was all that mattered.

There wasn’t even any carpeting in Wooyoung’s bedroom, only floorboards, so when his feet touched the floor as he got out of bed on Saturday morning, Wooyoung couldn’t help but curse at the cold. It may have been sunny outside, but it didn’t mean that Paris was a warm city in the middle of November. He ran a hand exasperatedly through his unruly bed hair, which was getting long now and probably needed a cut. But that wasn’t a priority, not when he had so many other things he needed to do.

“For ’s sake,” He mumbled as he crawled out from under his duvet, only to stub his toe on the corner of the bedside table as he made his way to the bathroom. Thirty seconds into his day, and he had already injured himself.

Today was going to go great.

Wooyoung stumbled bleary eyed into the bathroom. He didn’t bother to shut the door behind himself because there was no point. He lived alone, and besides, it was falling off its hinges. If Wooyoung touched it, he would probably just break it even more. Then, his landlord would demand more money that he didn’t have. After doing the usual things he did on a Saturday morning, the same as he did every morning, Wooyoung walked back out of the bathroom feeling only marginally more awake than he did before.

After dressing warmly, in a sweater, a pair of jeans and a coat because the weather was dismal outside and Wooyoung didn’t feel like catching a cold, he left the apartment in search of a cheap place in which to eat breakfast.

Wooyoung huffed, tucked his hands into his coat to protect them against the cold, and began to trudge towards the city centre. He had done the same thing practically every day since he had been here, looking for job advertisement signs in shop windows and even asking about in office buildings. He went out rain or shine, determined to find one establishment where he had at least a chance of getting an interview, but nowhere had afforded him much luck.

He swore if it weren’t for that argument with his parents, if he hadn’t stupidly relented to them three years ago, he wouldn’t even be in this position now. But, Wooyoung couldn’t keep reflecting on his carelessly impulsive decision to leave South Korea, his decision to just up and leave every single familiar thing he had ever known, because he would never progress with his life here if he did.

Wooyoung looked up at the sky, which was beginning to fill with a few fluffy clouds as the morning progressed, and wondered when he was going to catch a break. When was his bad luck going to finally run out? At least it didn’t look like it was going to rain any time soon.

It had been raining non-stop for two whole days prior, clouds casting dark shadows over the city, making everything seem as melancholy as Wooyoung felt. It was almost as if the weather was sympathising with him. Perhaps this sudden break in the showers meant that something good was finally going to happen. Wooyoung could dream.

As he walked along the pavement, and turned his attention from the sky to the expanse of shops along the road in front of him, Wooyoung noticed a little side lane he had never seen before, despite the many times he had passed along this street looking for vacancies. It wasn’t very wide, squashed between two buildings - one was a mini-market, the other a cafe, but when Wooyoung peered down it, he saw that it was completely different from the main road. The larger streets in this shopping district where Wooyoung’s apartment lie on the outskirts bustled with les acheteurs, buyers who spent their days wandering the shops from morning until night. Wooyoung read about them in his travel brochures on the airplane.

He was quite used to the hustle and bustle of the more popular streets by now. But this little lane looked quite forgotten about, as people seemed to rush past it without giving it so much as a glance. The buildings seemed quainter, smaller even, and the floor was even cobbled which gave it an old-timey kind of feeling. Each shop seemed to be little independent businesses, family-owned bakeries and boutiques rather than the great hulking chain stores that seemed to have taken over the rest of the city. As Wooyoung walked along, he saw a myriad of bakeries, and tailor’s shops, and cafes, and the occasional cottage here and there that stood intact, with grey-slate roofs and flower boxes in the windows. They were a testament to rich centuries of history rather than the mid-century-modern apartments found everywhere else. It was almost as if Wooyoung had stepped backwards in time, because this street was unlike the rest of the city he had seen so far.

There was no rush, no hustle and bustle of people, because the few people who were here walked lazily, stopping every now and then to gaze through shop windows and take in what there was to offer, before moving along to find something else to look at, or to run into a friend and laugh heartily as they invited each other to coffee in one of those little cafes. Wooyoung was amazed, and compelled to keep walking, in awe of what he might find.

As it turned out, he did indeed find a small restaurant in which to eat breakfast. Wooyoung walked right to the end of the street, and on the corner was a quaint establishment which caught his eye because it was simply charming. It was the little red door which captured his attention at first, and then the window with its boxes outside it which were filled with some kind of small flowers Wooyoung didn’t recognise. The sign above the window read, La Cachette. Wooyoung didn’t know what it meant, but he thought it sounded enticing enough, so he stepped through the doorway.

A bell chimed, telling of his arrival, and a short few seconds later, a man appeared from a door near the counter at the back. Wooyoung smiled, feeling his skin begin to warm and his fingers tingling with the absence of the chilling winds outside as he looked about the restaurant. The inside was just as quaint as the rest of the street was outside, with round tables in the middle and booths along the edges, a giant mirror running the length of one wall, and a bar right at the back, next to the counter. The floor was hardwood, covered with dusty light blue rugs spanning the aisles between the tables, and the wall behind the bar had colourful paintings hung upon it that seemed all too perfect to be real. It was perhaps a little old fashioned, some of the furniture was clearly antique, but it had a certain charm to it which Wooyoung admired.

There were a few people inside the restaurant already, despite how early in the morning it was, eating their breakfasts. Wooyoung supposed that a lot of these early risers were the workers of Paris, stopping for a quick morning meal on their way to their jobs.

“Bonjour!” Called the man who had just appeared at the back of the restaurant. He ushered Wooyoung into a booth with a hearty smile and quickly brought the menu to him, speaking a flurry of French that Wooyoung didn’t recognise, but Wooyoung returned his smile politely nonetheless before he disappeared again. The entire time he was speaking, Wooyoung felt a little overwhelmed, not just because he didn’t understand the language but also because the man was very friendly - and also very attractive.

Most people he had met in Paris so far were very unfriendly, especially those who had denied him a job.

When the man returned, with all the enthusiasm and friendliness he had before, Wooyoung pointed to the only thing he recognised on the menu and stuttered out a, “s'il vous plaît,” followed by a, “merci…” They were the only words he knew, and they just about got him what he wanted most of the time.

The man must have realised that he didn’t speak French, because his eyes somehow lit up even more than they already were, and out came a very American-sounding accent. “Ah, so you’re a foreigner, huh? You don’t sound like you’ve been here very long. Do you need some help, buddy?”

Wooyoung’s English was only marginally better than his French, but he managed to nod as he shrugged off his surprise and replied, “Yes, please. That would be very helpful.” Thankfully, he remembered some of his high school English. Perhaps he should have travelled to somewhere in Asia - Japan, perhaps, since he studied the language at university - instead of causing himself such a headache by coming so far afield, where he had to rely on two languages he hardly knew at all…

The employee leaned over his shoulder to read from the menu, getting so close that Wooyoung could smell his cologne. Ordinarily, Wooyoung would be astounded at a stranger getting this close to him during a first meeting, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care very much in the presence of this very handsome stranger. Wooyoung shook his head; he couldn’t allow himself to become distracted and embarrass himself by spacing out when this man was trying to help him.

“This one is porridge, and this is croissants, this one is pain au chocolat… Like, a chocolate bread. it's quite popular with the local customers.” The man ran his finger down the menu, listing off and translating each menu item, as Wooyoung listened intently and nodded his head after each. When the man got to the bottom of the list, Wooyoung turned to look at him and gasped because he was so close, still leaning over his shoulder. “Oh, sorry!” The man chuckled as he backed away.

Wooyoung hadn’t met anyone so cheerful in all the time he had been here, and quite possibly even before that when he was still back in Korea.

“I-it’s okay…” Wooyoung mumbled, and then smiled coyly down at the menu again as he ordered his breakfast.

Wooyoung’s visits to La Cachette became a daily occurrence after that. Almost all day after his first visit, he couldn’t stop thinking about the unusually attractive waiter who had served him that morning. Even as he went about the city looking for job vacancies, he would find himself occasionally wandering aimlessly along the street with a silly grin in place upon his face as he imagined that charming smile directed at him over and over again. He had to keep bringing himself back to his senses.

So, naturally, Wooyoung went back the next morning in the hopes of meeting the same waiter yet again. And when he did, his stomach did strange somersaults every time that smile was sent in his direction, and whenever that kind pair of brown eyes glanced over at him as he ate his food. Wooyoung always found himself sending smiles back, looking at him as he waited on other tables, waiting for him to look up from his customer to find him across the room.

Wooyoung wondered if this was a form of flirting. He was terrible at it. Even his ex-wife back in Korea said so. He once tried to woo her by taking her to a theme park full of rollercoasters and made her completely sick, so he didn’t exactly have a good track record with dating.

Every day he went to the restaurant looking for that waiter; whenever he was there it made Wooyoung’s morning because of their conversations, as brief as they were, and whenever he wasn’t, Wooyoung practically moped for the rest of the day. It wasn’t conducive to his job searching at all, being so preoccupied by another person, yet Wooyoung hadn’t been this captivated by someone else since the woman his parents forced him to dump in favour of his arranged marriage to his ex-wife, so he allowed himself the frivolity of liking another person for a little while.

Every morning at La Cachette, Wooyoung would sit at the same booth table and order the same thing, just to see his favourite waiter. And over time, their brief conversations became longer, and Wooyoung soon found that he wasn’t the waiter at all, he was the owner of the restaurant, he was a chef, and his name was Nichkhun Buck Horvejkul.

Their conversations became much more comfortable once Wooyoung learned that he studied culinary skills in Seoul, and he was in fact fluent in Korean. It was a small world, and Wooyoung was grateful for it.

“Why do you wait tables if you’re a chef?” Wooyoung pondered aloud one morning as Nichkhun took his order, sat across the booth from him. Nichkhun had taken to sitting with him to rest for a while most days as Wooyoung decided on his order. It must have been tiring being on his feet in the kitchen all day, as well as taking the orders. Even though business seemed to be quite quiet here, there was usually still a steady stream of customers coming through the door.

Nichkhun looked down at the table, and ran his finger over the grooves in the wood, as if he was thinking. Wooyoung had noticed previously that a lot of the furniture, the tables and chairs especially, were mismatched and antique. Nichkhun had admitted that he had a love of antique things, he liked perusing boutiques and collecting old objects for his restaurant when he had the time. It showed that he was thoughtful, and was something Wooyoung found quite charming about him.

Nichkhun sighed as he gave him that same agreeable smile he usually did, only today it seemed to have a much more worn quality attached to it. He was evidently tired today. “I’ve only got one waitress. My niece waits tables for me, but she only works in the evening since she studies during the day.”

Wooyoung perked up with interest. “Your niece? You have a niece?” He didn’t know why, but getting to know something about Nichkhun outside of their chef-customer relationship felt good. But then, the reality of what Nichkhun had said struck him and he sunk back down into his chair. “You work by yourself most of the day… That must !”

“It’s not so bad. I have other kitchen staff. I get quite tired, but I love my job so it’s a fair tradeoff.” Nichkhun replied with a shrug. Then, he nudged Wooyoung’s foot under the table and prompted him. “So, what are you ordering, slowpoke? It’ll start to get busy in a while, order whilst you can.”

Wooyoung pouted childishly at him and ordered a breakfast omelette.

***

Two weeks after Wooyoung started going to La Cachette for breakfast, he wandered the city looking for something to fill his time with. He had become a wanderer since arriving here. Without a job there wasn’t a lot else for him to do.

A week ago he had found an enchanting little bookshop, filled with books in different languages, from many different time periods. It was an intriguing family-run store, not far from La Cachette, which had a very cozy interior and only a few aisles of books. Yet it was crammed full of the things, and Wooyoung spent many an hour flicking through art and photography books there, since he was beginning to miss his old career quite a bit. He had worked his entire young life to get to the top of his dream career, and when it was ripped away from him without anything he could do to stop it, he found that the experience hurt an unimaginable amount. He was still dealing with that pain now, even though there was no way he could change things.

The bookshop was in the same street as La Cachette, in fact. Wooyoung had walked past it many times in order to get to what was fast becoming his favourite restaurant - if not for the food, for the staff. Or, one man in particular.

On his way to La Cachette in the morning, he noticed that the bookshop was open early and he decided to stop in, perhaps to find something he could read whilst he waited for Nichkhun to cook his breakfast at the restaurant. The shop not only sold novels, but also ran a borrowing service much like a library, where a small number of books could be rented for a smaller fee than just buying them outright. Wooyoung loved the idea of the service, since he had nowhere in his dusty old apartment to store books, but he had yet to try it out.

He perused the shelves inside, becoming absorbed by beautiful leather bound copies of French classics down one of the aisles at the back of the store. He would never be able to read them, or afford the expensive versions of such classics even, but he could appreciate the beauty of their design. As an artist, they spoke to him in a way that not a lot of other people could understand.

As he was admiring these books, he failed to hear the chime of the door, followed by the, “Welcome!” of the clerk behind the counter. It was only as he rounded the corner back out onto the main shop floor that he heard the familiar sound of a male voice, accompanied by a female one he had never heard before.

“Come on, I know you have to go and open the restaurant but I want to show you the book I was talking about the other day!” The female voice reflected the obvious passion she had for reading, in that it was light and cheerful.

It was followed by an exasperated, yet playful, sigh. “Alright, quickly then. We have a little time. Perhaps I might buy it for you if we’re fast.”

It was Nichkhun. Wooyoung peered around the corner of the shelves, for some reason reluctant to show himself, and saw Nichkhun staring fondly at a young woman standing next to him at the other end of the store. She pulled a book off the shelf and passed it to him with a coy smile. “I was more thinking of you. I know you are a secret fan of romance novels.”

Nichkhun blushed as he hastily shushed the woman in front of him. She was a good head shorter than he was. “Nobody needs to know that!” He chuckled, “There’s no need to advertise it to the city, Ji-eun.”

“Oh, hush, nobody is here to even hear it!” She laughed back as she pushed him gently on the shoulder.

Wooyoung gulped as he felt a sinking feeling in his gut, and slunk back into the aisle. He pressed himself against a shelf so Nichkhun definitely couldn’t see him, and closed his eyes, unable to stop the disappointed feeling rising within him.

Was this woman Nichkhun’s girlfriend? He should have known that somebody so handsome wouldn’t be single. Then, Wooyoung couldn’t help but feel a bit angry. Surely Nichkhun wasn’t playing with him with his kindness every day, his teasing comments and charming smiles. Every time he sought Wooyoung out as he was helping out another customer, surely Nichkhun wasn’t just doing it to waste his time. Wooyoung felt played.

He let Nichkhun buy the book without even saying so much as a ‘hello’ to him.

That morning, he went back home instead of to La Cachette, his heart feeling something like stone, and his head fuzzy with too many thoughts.

***

He didn’t go back to La Cachette for a few days. He needed time to think. Over time, though, Wooyoung found himself missing the friendly and familiar atmosphere of the restaurant more than he ever thought he would. That quaint little establishment had become his second home since he found it, and it was the only other place in Paris besides his own run down apartment where he felt truly welcome.

Despite how he felt about Nichkhun now too, he couldn’t help but forget that he had become his only friend since his arrival here in this unfamiliar city. Without his presence over the last few days, Wooyoung felt incredibly lonely, especially since he lost the motivation to even leave his apartment.

Which is why, three days later when it was cold and rainy, Wooyoung found himself begrudgingly dragging himself towards La Cachette simply because he needed company and Nichkhun was the only person he could think of who could give him it.

A little while later, after battling through the wind and rain, a thoroughly drenched Wooyoung arrived at the end of the street. Right on the corner, La Cachette stood, and Wooyoung was incredibly grateful to see it. As he approached the red door, which was both familiar now and all too cheerful for a day like today, Wooyoung stopped in front of it and noticed a sign tacked to the window.

‘Job Vacancy: Looking for a physically fit, reliable person to join our business. Role will include being wait staff and also kitchen assistance, with the additional role of running errands when necessary. Must be good at dealing with people.’

Wooyoung raised his eyebrows as he read the sign - Nichkhun was finally looking for other staff? It was about time, he decided. Nichkhun had been looking very worn out the last time he saw him working at the restaurant, after all.

Wooyoung shook his head, his hair unpleasantly wet and dripping water everywhere as he finally entered the building. As soon as he was inside, the bell chiming to announce his presence, he heard a gasp from the back of the room and looked up to see Nichkhun running over, a towel already grasped in his hand. Wooyoung didn’t even know where the towel had come from, but he was too busy being accosted by Nichkhun trying to dry him off to think about it.

“Youngie, what the hell?!” Nichkhun exclaimed as he threw the towel over Wooyoung’s head and dried off his hair. “Why aren’t you dressed up appropriately for this dreadful weather? Actually, why are you out in it at all?”

Wooyoung grappled for his hands to halt him and held his wrists firmly within his own to stop his well-meaning assault on his hair. “Khun, stop, it’s okay…” Then, once Nichkhun had stopped, he looked into his eyes - they were so close - and mumbled despite himself. “I didn’t think the rain was going to be this heavy…”

After a few seconds of silence, Nichkhun cleared his throat awkwardly, and Wooyoung realised he was still holding onto his wrists. He dropped them quickly and took a step backward, both relieved and disappointed at the distance he unwittingly put between them. “Long time, no see, stranger.” Nichkhun commented as he took the towel back from Wooyoung after he finished drying off his own hair.

“Yeah, uh.” Wooyoung didn’t have an immediate response for his absence over the last few days. “I saw you’re finally hiring more staff. It’ll be a good change, you’ll be able to put your feet up for a bit.” A change of subject was better than trying to explain the fact that he had essentially thrown a petulant tantrum because Nichkhun apparently had a girlfriend - or at least a significant romantic love interest - even though he had never even made his own interest evident to Nichkhun.

Nichkhun walked to the back of the restaurant, towards the bar, and Wooyoung followed him by instinct. There weren’t any other customers here yet, so Nichkhun didn’t have to rush off to do anything. It was probably why he could stand around talking to Wooyoung for a while.

“My niece convinced me to hire some new people. She said I needed a break.” He replied as he picked up a cloth to start cleaning down the bar. “Uncle Khun, you’re becoming too stressed. Do something about it!” He chuckled as he relayed his nieces words. “Someone might think she’s my boss if they heard her.”

Wooyoung couldn’t help but laugh. It didn’t take long at all for whatever awkwardness that was hanging in the air between them to dispel completely. Nichkhun had a way of breaking down his walls, which was strange, because they hadn’t really known each other long enough to be so comfortable with each other.

“She sounds like a very caring young lady.” He laughed. “Well, have you had any interest in your advertisement yet?”

To his surprise, Nichkhun shook his head as he carried on cleaning the bar. “Nobody I feel like would get on well here. It needs to be somebody I can trust, somebody who will fit in well since we’re such a tight-knit family here.” Then, Nichkhun paused, and after a few seconds he took in a sharp breath as if he had realised something. He looked up at Wooyoung, and stared at him straight in the eyes as he leaned over the bar with a curious expression on his face.

‘Oh no.’ Wooyoung somehow already recognised that look. That was the look Nichkhun gave him when he was either about to or propose something very dramatic. There was no in between.

“Aren’t you looking for a job, Wooyoung?”

There it was. Wooyoung knew it would be something crazy and outlandi-- wait. He was looking for a job.

“Uh, y-yeah, I am.” Wooyoung stuttered, “I haven’t found one yet. But wait, Khun, I can’t work here. I can’t cook and I don’t know French well enough to hold a decent conversation with a customer!” He waved his hands in front of himself, as if trying to dispel any notion Nichkhun had about him working at his restaurant. But, it didn’t seem to be working, because that look on Nichkhun’s face was simply replaced with the smile Wooyoung could never resist.

Oh, God, no. Wooyoung thought, Not the smile. There’s no way I can get out of this now.

“Nonsense!” Nichkhun scoffed, then he patted the bar as if to encourage Wooyoung to sit at it, “I can easily teach you what you need. I’ll have to subject you to an interview, of course, just to get all of your details, but there’s no reason I can see why you can’t work here.”

Despite the unease Wooyoung felt, he did sit at the bar, and he did end up nodding in agreeance. Damn that smile. One day he would become immune to it.

Still, Wooyoung supposed he had finally found his job opportunity. It had kind of been sitting under his nose the entire time, and it was only slightly awkward because Nichkhun was about to become his boss and Wooyoung found him so attractive, but he was sure he could get over that soon enough. He hoped, anyway. The less distracted he was whilst he was working in this charming little restaurant, the less likely Nichkhun was to realise he was probably making a mistake in hiring someone who had never had any kitchen experience before.

Wooyoung had a fine arts degree. He used to own a museum and earn hundreds of thousands a year. What was he doing in the middle of Paris struggling for rent money as a kitchen assistant?

Oh yeah. His parents and their stupid plan to marry him off and ruin his life forever, that’s what.

Wooyoung could never forget all about that. But here he was, he shrugged off his past and arranged the interview with Nichkhun for then and there.