When Xiumin was younger, he had always imagined himself working in some kind of office as his first job. He hadn't really considered anything else than the straight path from high school to college to office job.

Granted, when Xiumin was younger, he'd had about ten imaginary friends, believed there were little people inside his television, and thought that snowmen could totally be built indoors. That last one had been especially dumb of him. He had spent nearly four hours of a frosty January day lugging giant pails of snow into the kitchen, only to discover that snow was cold because if it wasn't, it would melt. His mother's reaction after discovering her kitchen flooded in an inch of dirty, frigid water was no something Xiumin wanted to experience again. Xiumin hadn't exactly been blessed with the gift of foresight (or common sense) as a child.

He hadn't foreseen the cost of college making him take a job at an out-of-the-way café that served too-bitter coffee to bleary-eyed students, at any rate.

It wasn't that the café was horrible, really. He worked from three to six with decent pay -- enough to give him hope that he'd actually be able to pay off those goddamn psychology books, at any rate. His employer was a decent enough guy, if a little unexperienced in the art of buying decent coffee beans and operating the machines in a way that didn't cause them to break down every few seconds. Kris Wu was many things, but a master technician he was not.

He was not, Xiumin reflected, a master of many things at all.

Kris Wu was one of those people who had been blessed with absolutely no grace at all. He danced through the coffee shop like an obese bull, knocking over everything and anything. He had the uncanny ability to say the exact wrong thing in certain situations, but in a way that made everyone laugh at him instead of hate him. He had been born in Canada, was fluent in Chinese, and spoke like his tongue was every bit as big and clumsy as his feet. Xiumin often marveled at the fact that he was even able to keep a café running.

But he treated his employees like actual human beings, let his employees mess around with the coffee flavorings and drink as much as they wanted, included them in his friend groups, and allowed Xiumin to do his homework or read books when there weren't many customers. That was reason enough for Xiumin to stay with the job. He just gritted his teeth and resolved not to say anything whenever the coffee machine sputtered out (again.

Not that he worked much with the coffee machines to begin with. He had tried, at first, because Jongdae had complained about the unbearable burden of being the only barista in the entire shop. Kris put up through nearly two weeks of constant whining, sighs, and not-so-subtle hints before shoving an apron at Xiumin and demanding that he "start making some goddamn coffee, and maybe gag Jongdae while you're at it because I will stab him with a butter knife if he doesn't shut up now."

That arrangement had lasted for less than three days. Xiumin, while he could operate the machines perfectly fine, faced his biggest problems in the milk. He could never mix the proper amount of milk into anything, turning cappucinos into lattes and vice versa. He couldn't deal with the foam, either, and ended up sending out cup after cup topped with misshapen, lumpy foam. Kris had looked one of Xiumin's macchiatos -- it was pretty much a pale beige, with so much frothed milk on top that you couldn't even see the color properly anyways -- and sighed, before ordering Xiumin back to the register. Even Jongdae hadn't protested that much -- a proper testament to exactly how horrible Xiumin's workas a barista was.

Xiumin didn't mind. He liked working the register. Except for the early morning rush, customers were few, far between, and very friendly when they did arrive. It gave him ample time to catch up on whatever homework he might not have done yet as well as required (and unrequired) reading.

He was in the middle of a particularly riveting passage when Jongdae slid next to him, leaning against the counter nonchalantly. "How are you this fine day?"

"I'm reading," Xiumin replied. "Now shut up and let me continue."

Jongdae gasped in faux shock. "I'm wounded by your insensitivity," he said, placing one hand over his chest in a parody of offense.

"Of course you are," Xiumin said before returning to his book.

Jongdae hummed noncomitally, made what was probably a very rude hand sign at Xiumin's bowed head, and wandered towards the display case.

"Ay, Jongdae," came Kris' voice, drifting out of the back office. "Don't eat any of the pastries. You don't get an employee discount for that."

Jongdae stopped in his tracks. "How does he know these things?" he whispered. Xiumin, who had decided he wouldn't get much reading done until Jongdae stopped wandering, shrugged.

Jongdae seemed to take that as an acceptable response. "I won't," he yelled back.

"You better not," their boss replied, but didn't say anything after that.

Jongdae paused for a minute, listening intently for the sounds of Kris leaving his office. When none came, he scurried behind the display case with undisguised glee.

Xiumin watched as his coworker scrutinized the many desserts laid in front of him with equal parts amusement and disgust. "Kris is going to kill you."

"No, he's not," Jongdae replied, still deliberating behind the display case. "He's actually a giant teddy bear at heart. Hey, what do you think's better --  a cupcake, or bread?"

"Him being soft doesn't mean you can just take stuff," Minseok said. He shifted in his seat slightly and closed his book over his hand. "It's like stealing. If I were you, though, I'd take the bread. The cupcakes are a little dry."

Jongdae peeked over the display case and grinned conspiratorially. "My thoughts exactly."

Minseok rolled his eyes at his coworker, but found himself smiling nonetheless.

"So I heard Baekhyun's throwing a party this weekend." Jongdae, having pulled out his dessert of choice, straightened. He bit into the bread and closed his eyes in extremely dramatic pleasure. Xiumin found himself rolling his eyes again.

"Oh, really?" he asked.

Jongdae opened his eyes and and walked around back towards him, munching on his stolen pastry. "Nothing big -- just a few of his friends, a few of his friend's friends - "

"That's like half the school population," Xiumin interrupted drily. 

Jongdae grinned. "Yeah, that's probably true," he admitted. "Still. It could be fun. Get out of the dorm, take a break before midterms, you know?"

Xiumin sighed. He glanced back down at his book -- traced the worn gold letters on the cover with a finger, thought about the essays he still had to write before Monday. Another thing he hadn't forseen about college: the absolutely mind-melting amount of work. There were some days when he felt like his brains would just melt out of his ears. "I don't know, man. I've got a lot of stuff to do this weekend."

"So do I." Jongdae shoved the entire remainder of the stolen bread into his mouth. He paused to chew, holding up a finger to Xiumin.

He finished, swallowed. "But, I mean, it's not like I'll be able to spend both days just doing work 24/7."

"True." Xiumin shrugged and opened up his book again. "I'll see. Maybe I'll be able to go."

"Cool. Maybe I'll see you there," Jongdae said. He hit Xiumin on the shoulder and got his hand smacked away for his trouble.

"Whatever." Minseok rolled his eyes. Jongdae laughed, walking away to go tend to the coffee machines again.

Xiumin returned to his book.

The shop had only been quiet for about ten minutes when the little bell on the door jingled, signalling a new customer. Xiumin, who was getting to the really good part of the passage, didn't even bother to glance up. 

He heard the familiar click of heels on linoleum as the customer slowly walked up to the counter. 

"Hi," said the customer, her voice low, almost breathy. 

Xiumin carefully marked his place in his book with his well-worn doggy bookmark. "Welcome to Galaxy Café," he said without inflection, glancing up. At some point, it had stopped being an introduction and started becoming something of a recitation. He could probably do it in his sleep. "How may I help you?"

The woman was dressed heavily, in a white fur coat that looked thoroughly unsuited for the August heat. She wore sunglasses and a hat that seemed to be of a material thicker than wool and carried a small white purse that seemed two sizes two small for the rest of her outfit. Xiumin idly wondered how she hadn't collapsed from heat exhaustion yet.

She pushed her overly large sunglasses up and smiled at him. Her lips were stained a dark red, the color of cherry juice. Her nails were long, almost twice as long as nails normally were, and painted an odd teal color that seemed to shimmer in the light.

"Do you serve ice here?"

Xiumin stared at her.

He was not unfamiliar to students coming in and demanding odd requests. Everyone seemed to have some kind of regional favorite or peculiar preference, whether it be something as egg custard tarts or a shot of cane rum mixed with their espresso. People had demanded water, juices, juices mixed with coffee, and all assortments of sweets, but no one had ever asked for just plain ice before. He wasn't sure how to respond.

"We serve ice coffee," he said carefully.

The woman just stared at him (or, he presumed she did -- he couldn't really tell through her sunglasses), pursing her lips. 

"I suppose we could give you just ice, if you really wanted it," he offered slowly, feeling slightly unnerved. He could feel Jongdae's curious gaze burning twin holes in his back. His coworker had always been fascinated with odd customers.

She slowly opened , as if she was about to say something, but quickly closed it again. She shook her head quickly, straightened up, ran a hand through her hair. "Oh, no, it's fine," she said. "I'll have an Americano, sugar, no milk."

"That'll be 2000 won." He rang it through the cash register.

The woman grappled through her too-small purse, eventually pulling out two 1000-won notes. She handed them over, her nails glimmering in the light.

Xiumin took them from her. "Thank you," he said. "Your drink will be out in a minute."

He made to sit back down. The woman turned away, hesitantly, each move Abruptly, she spun back around. "What's your favorite season?" she very nearly blurted.

For the second time in as many minutes, Xiumin didn't know how to respond. 

"I like summer best," she said, quickly, her words tumbling out on top of each other. "It's warm, and it's nice, and the trees and animals are all alive. Everything's moving. There's no snow." 

"I suppose summer's all right," he replied. "I don't mind snow, though,"

She nodded, to herself, in a way that was almost self-congratulatory. "You do, don't you."

It didn't sound like a question, so Xiumin didn't answer.

Jongdae handed him a cup. Xiumin took it, wordlessly, and placed it on the counter.

"Here's your drink." He felt almost numb. He wished that the woman would just take her damn drink and get out of the café, so he could go back to reading his book and not worrying about creepily overdressed women with cryptic ways of speaking. 

She walked up to the counter, but didn't grab the cup. Instead, she leaned on it, propping herself up on her elbows. "Have you ever met someone named Woo Haneul?" she asked. Her voice was low, almost playful.

Xiumin shook his head.

She drummed her fingers against the counter. Each time her nail hit the polished countertop, they clacked sharply. The sound reverberated through the empty shop, each clack like a little needle drilling behind Xiumin's eyes. He blinked, disoriented, and the feeling stopped. So did the clacking, for that matter.

"Shame," sighed the woman. "I think you would have liked her."

 

end chapter one

A/N:

I know absolutely nothing about Korea or cafes and how they work, so a good half of this was complete and utter bull. My goal is to update once every week. That probably won't happen, because I'm absolutely horrible at writing anything longer than ~3k words, but here's to hoping.

Thanks to everyone who has subscribed/commented/upvoted. You all are awesome, and I'm glad you're willing to give this story a chance.

also i'm sorry for the last section being so bad but i'm just feeling kind of ? with kris' departure and uh yeah