Work could be more boring than it actually is, it could also be more challenging. I mean, what’s challenging about pouring coffee and serving cakes? I love my job most of the time, but sometimes it really hits me that Hyukjae is out there, building his life and preparing for his climb of the career ladder – and I’m here, making coffee and cutting cakes.

My friends remind me that not everybody forces themselves into the real world so quickly, and that’s okay. Jongwoon is a firm believer in good school grades, good college, good job; I have none of those. It’s hard to not let it get to you when… most people you know are doing amazing and you’re doing pretty .

Jongwoon is only a few years older than me and he’s looking into opening his own interior design business. Henry attends university here and has been on TV a few times, showcasing his musical talents, he’s also fluent in 6 in languages and almost fluent in an additional 2 languages. Heechul works in clubs and runs a kitty grooming business as a weekday job. Surrounding myself with amazingly successful and motivated people was a bad move.

It’s weird. As a child I was always the dreamer of my peers. I had dreams and I knew I had to work hard to get there – but then my dad died and my I buried my dreams along with him.

Henry senses the dip in my mood and edges a slice of chocolate cake across the counter. The plate shrieks against the marble counter top, causing extreme offence my nerves and ears, but I don’t have the heart to yell at Henry. Instead, I take a plastic fork and scoff up the slice.

“Thinking about Hyukjae?” He asks me, tilting his head and offering a comforting gaze.

That seems to be everyone’s go-to response these days if I don’t have a smile on my face. “Not this time,” I respond with a lackadaisical shake of the head.

“Gasp, shock, horror!” Henry wheezes, “Then what’s happened?”

“Nothing’s happened,” I begin to explain, “I’m just starting to realise that my life . Everyone is doing awesome things with their lives and I’m just… here.”

Henry curtly sighs and rolls his eyes, “You’re only 19, Donghae.”

“And what were you doing when you were 19?”

“Me?” He looks off into the distance for a few seconds, “I was probably in my bedroom, crying over how much I hate college.”

“At least you go to college…” I mumble bitterly, an unyielding scorn morphing over my facial features.

Henry’s sudden, death inducing glare doesn’t go unnoticed, however he doesn’t act upon it and stalks away to wash tables. I hated pissing Henry off, pissing people off seemed to come so naturally to me lately. Jongwoon had yelled at me earlier this morning because I left the milk out and it’d curdled.

For another hour or so we work in sour silence. We greet customers, take their orders, fix up their drinks and send them on their way without saying a single word to each other. I have to admit that work is a lot more fun when Henry is constantly muttering jokes to me under his breath.

My shift is halfway over when the café door swings open, accompanied by high pitched giggles and agreements. Heechul strolls in, arm in arm with… my mother. I roll my eyes, I should’ve known.

It’s been a few months since I moved away from Mokpo, I felt bad leaving my mother all by herself but she supported my dream to live in the big city. We don’t visit each other often but when Heechul is slightly concerned about my physical or emotional wellbeing he calls her right away and arranges a surprise visit.

Taking a deep breath, I prepare for the incoming flurry of kisses and cheek pinches.

“Donghae, my baby boy!” she coos, flitting towards me with outstretched arms, “Get out from behind that counter and hug your mother!”

My cheeks are burning crimson and customers look on with humoured empathy, but I can’t deny my mother – she’d only insist further and make it impossibly more embarrassing. I duck under the hatch in the counter and shuffle to the main area of the café, anticipating the grip of death.

“I missed my baby so much!” she clucks, wrapping her chubby arms around my neck and hauling me downward, my hair while she buries my head in her shoulder.

“I missed you too…” I manage to mumble into her sweet-smelling cardigan. I’m pretty sure she’s been wearing the same perfume for the last thirty years, but I love the smell of it, it smells like home and hot chocolate by the fire and bedtime stories.

“Heechul called and told you were missing Hyukjae, so I had to come make sure my darling was alright, didn’t I?”

I peek my eye open and glare at a chortling Heechul. “Yep, you sure did,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around her midriff, “It’s such a long journey though…”

Henry, an avid fan of my mother, appears with tea and a bright smile. “Mrs Lee!”

Just like that the grip on me is absent and she latches onto Henry instead, cooing on about how he looks too skinny and she wants to fatten him up. My mother loves all my friends and treats them all like her own children – especially Hyukjae. I used to cry when I was little because I was convinced she loved Hyukjae more than she loved me.

I work the rest of my shift while Heechul and mum chat and occasionally yell encouraging words in my direction. Henry is his usual talkative self again, thank God. Many cakes and coffees are served before I sling my coat over my shoulder and walk out the door, arm linked with my mums.

She fusses and gushes the whole walk home, telling me I need a haircut and that my muffin top is more prominent than ever and oh my, Lee Donghae are you getting enough sleep? It’s normal motherly things that I pretend to hate I secretly love.

Her and Heechul have this annoying habit of discussing me like I’m not within earshot.

“And how has he been coping without Hyukjae?”

“Oh, Kyangsuk, he’s been in an awful state.”

“I’m walking right beside you!”

Heechul walks us home before departing, muttering something having to feed his cats before disappearing into the shadows. I’m left alone with my mum and her sickeningly sweet, talk-to-me smile. She talks away about normal things while we head up to the apartment, telling me about Donghwa and his wife and such. My mother is somewhat good company if you don’t mind monotonous babbling.

“Donghae, your little apartment gets nicer every time I see it!” She enthuses, looking around the complex in amazements, “So much attention to detail, beautiful.”

“It’s not my apartment, and Jongwoon does all the decorating.”

She bustles around, inspecting every nook and cranny and murmuring compliments under her breath. Jongwoon will be delighted to hear that my mum is visiting, he clings to her like a koala to a tree, it’s semi-adorable though, I know Jongwoon and his own mother didn’t get on at all when he was young.

I trundle into the kitchen to make tea, when – immediately – I notice something isn’t right. There, sticking out like a horribly sore thumb, stuck on the gleaming black refrigerator, is a yellow post-it note.

Now, Jongwoon is very about anything on the fridge. I even had to buy a separate magnetic board to stick my fridge magnets. So I’m confused.

With moderate apprehension, I pull the post-it from the fridge.

“Donghae, the fridge is broken. No doubt you had something to do with this, therefore you’re entitled to help me out. I already ordered another one, it cost nearly 2 million won FYI, it’s being delivered at 5.30PM and it’s to be signed for – use my name. And, I’ve had trouble with these guys before, so make sure they deliver the correct colour. I ordered Stiletto Black. Any problems? Don’t call me, I have meetings – Jongwoon.”  

“A please would’ve been nice, .”

It’s pushing 6PM when the SMEG delivery men show up to take away the broken fridge and replace it with a brand new – stiletto black – fridge. I open the front door as wide as possible, sign my name as ‘Kim Jongwoon’ and re-join my mum on the couch, leaving these capable men to do their job.

We’re watching Love Actually, our personal favourite. Getting accustomed to my mum being around is pretty , it just leaves me feeling all the more lonely when she has to go back home. I came to the city to be closer to my friends and in doing so I left the tight bond I had with my mother ripping at its seams.

Overall, I do feel bad for leaving her alone. She would never say it aloud but she’s lonely without my dad, they had so many retirement plans and wanted to sell our family house for a smaller, cosier cottage where they could drink tea all day and grow a beautiful garden with fruits and flowers. Those leafy dreams disappeared when dad died. Now, mum sits in our family house by the phone waiting to hear from Donghwa or me if we get bored enough to call.

As she prattles on about normal elderly lady stuff and I silently note to call more often.

After several clangs and bangs that I choose to ignore, two workmen dressed in dirty overalls appear at the entranceway to the lounge, huffing and puffing.

“Your new fridge is ready for use, Jongwoon, if there’s any problems call our boss.”

And, like a fart in the wind, they’re gone again.

“Jongwoon is doing so well for himself, and he’s so young too! What a talented young boy,” mum babbles mindlessly while I grit my teeth, “I can’t wait to see him, I hope he’s eating three meals a day.”

“I’m sure he is.”

Hell returns home at 7PM, and it’s only thirty seconds after he’s indoors that I know I’ve gone done ed up. He races straight into the kitchen, to make sure I followed his instructions perfectly and – of course – I haven’t.

“LEE DONGHAE, GET YOUR GOD DAMN INTO THE KITCHEN.”

Mum stays seated on the couch, preferring not to get involved in our roommate tiffs. With a groan and a muttering of “what could I have possibly done wrong?” I stomp into the kitchen, eyes widening instantaneously when I see just how bad I’ve ed up.

Jongwoon is leaning himself against a counter top, one hand pressed to his chest. His eyes narrow into angry, thin slits and slide toward me.

The fridge isn’t stiletto black. It’s pink. Hot pink. Very, very pink. And it definitely doesn’t go with the rest of the room.

Luckily, my mum scuffles into the kitchen, ignoring the giant pink elephant in the room, boils hot water and sets out the cups for tea. She pulls Jongwoon into a gentle hug and rocks him like he’s a baby until his frantic breathing slows to a halt. He still glares at me from the corner of his eye though, and mum shakes her head at me a few times.

I miss Hyukjae.

Haekdonghaek: Hyukkie! I was just thinking… it’s November already! I only noticed because they already put up the decorations in Myeongdong~ when do you come home for the holidays? ^^

Eunhyukkie: Hae! Yeah, it’s getting colder here, Kyu said the New York Christmas lights are supposed to be amazing~ uh, about Christmas…

Haekdonghaek: Christmas in New York, wow I’m so jealous, take lots of pictures! What’s up? ^^

Eunhyukkie: I’ll make sure I take pictures of everything for you~ especially when it snows, apparently it does that a lot here! Well… I don’t think I’m coming home for Christmas this year ><

Haekdonghaek: What

Eunhyukkie: Yeah, I won’t be able to… I was going to, um, spend Christmas in NYC this year…

Haekdonghaek: Alone? All by yourself? What the !

Eunhyukkie: It’s not the best way to spend the holidays but I really can’t afford to go home right now… but hey, who said I’d be completely alone here? I’ve made friends!

Haekdonghaek: You have friends AND family over here, and you’re just casting us aside.

Eunhyukkie: Donghae, no it’s not like that I swear! I’ll see you soon anyway…

Haekdonghaek: Yeah right. You probably don’t even want to come home, you’d rather stay in New York with your new friends and stupid girls from your class. I see where I stand. ^^

Eunhyukkie: … If that’s what you want to think, that’s fine. I won’t correct you. It’s nice to know you have such a high opinion of me.

Eunhyukkie: Do you really think I’d do that to you? To my family?

Eunhyukkie: I ing hate it here.

Haekdonghaek: I thought you loved it…

Eunhyukkie: Well, I mean, it’s not all bad… but I can’t enjoy any of it when the only person I can talk to in Korean is Kyuhyun and this old lady a few blocks away. I’m homesick and I just want home cooked Korean food and to be able to say hi to people I know on the streets. I want to be able to just walk round to yours whenever I want and laugh about stupid stuff. That’s why I hate it.

Eunhyukkie: I have to go.

Eunhyukkie: Talk to you later.

Haekdonghaek: Heh, our conversations seem to end like this a lot…

A/N: I will proofread this... when I can be arsed ^^ and it was late... again... much sorry //3\\

AUTHOR JESS AND I ARE VERY SORRY ABOUT ALL THE ANGST AND PROMISE FLUFFY TY GOODNESS SOON.