𓎩 : tables

@❛ ✧ : go miyoung Did he? It seemed nothing more than a natural thing for Taejoon, and frankly, a response from her alone—albeit, one that felt slightly backhanded—was enough to calm his nerves. Tossing the used cloth into its wash bucket, he patted down his apron, ridding it of the dust and small traces of closing duties, each motion carrying a quiet satisfaction. Work crushes? He never thought about them. Heck, even the thought of a crush in general had always felt distant.

“What’s so crazy about it?” he asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Subconsciously, his gaze lingered on hers for a second longer than he’d normally allow, and he promptly looked away, warmth pooling at his cheeks. For all the days that they’ve ever worked together, he never had the opportunity to take a proper look at her, always focusing on his duties. Now, he found himself wondering how he had ever gone a day without noticing her soft beauty.

@❛ ✧ : park taejoon In the midst of her closing routine, Miyoung keeps to the dining tables with due diligence, her concentration held on piling the last of the bowls and wiping the surface down. But, it'd be a complete lie if she were to say that was all that demanded her attention. Though her countenance may exude that of nonchalance, it is her mind that runs ablaze with a multitude of thoughts—most of which, undoubtedly, features her very subtle, very cool, very lowkey crush... that happens to be about ten steps away from her, busying himself with the countertops.

Truthfully, Miyoung isn't at all familiar with such fond feelings, even going as far as to neglect these affections, and instead present a more distant demeanor, however uncharacteristic. But, as Park Taejoon clears his throat amidst of the comfortable silence and turns towards her, it feels cliché to say, but there's an eruption of butterflies in her stomach.

It takes a good moment for Taejoon's utterance to register in Miyoung's mind, but as it does, her face immediately flushes from a mixture of embarrassment and shock. Has she truly been too obvious? How is she supposed to know how to act? It's been some time since she's had a crush... First, she decides to play it cool. "Me? Crush on you? No, no, that's crazy talk," okay, that was far from cool. Out of anxiousness, she emits a brief scoff. "I just mean, it /is/ crazy... we're co-workers."

After an awkward beat of silence, Miyoung speaks once more, her voice having grown quiet—"You must also think that's crazy, right?"

@❛ ❀ : sakurazaki shiori Taejoon blinked, taking in her soaked frame, the rainwater pooling on the mat beneath her. She looked… well, about as out of place as he’d ever seen her. In the quiet flicker of recognition, he felt the usual tug to close up, to finish his shift and bike home in the rain like he always did. But seeing her standing there, chilled and hesitant, something in him stalled.

Her voice wavered slightly, words tumbling out with an awkward edge, and he felt that familiar, faint tug of duty to politely turn her away, to say the place was closed. But the stillness in the shop—broken only by the soft, constant rhythm of rain against the windows—seemed to ask for something else.

With a small, almost resigned shrug, Taejoon turned back toward the door, reaching up to flip the “closed” sign to face outward once again. He tucked his hands in his pockets, shifting slightly, his gaze dropping back down to the counter as he shrugged again, more to himself this time.

“Only until the rain stops,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “You can, uh… take a seat, if you want.”

@❛ ✧ : park taejoon in all honesty, visiting the noodle shop had been at the bottom of shiori's to-do list; aside from the impending frenzy at her family's bakery—monthly inventory and acquisitions unfortunately drain away the last dregs of her energy, she's tired just simply /thinking/ about it—she's also already behind on the sketch meant for one of her clients. being shiori meant she absolutely detests not being able to stick to deadlines; while most artists would attribute it to the "creative process" and proceed to wax poetic about how true art takes time, she at least had enough faith in her craftsmanship to be able to finish by a certain period.

as it is right now, the universe has decidedly thwarted any and all plans she initially had; only a few minutes into polishing the details for the half-sleeve she's set to present to the client, the power goes out at the shop—to make matters worse, her tablet's battery was already running low, and the sudden outage made it apparent that the rain was positively hammering away outside... not to mention that she forgot to bring an umbrella. "just my luck," she had groaned, gathering all her things and locking up shop, before braving both the dark streets and the downpour and ducking into the nearest establishment that offered a semblance of light.

which brings her to her current predicament: shiori just knows she looks like a drowned rat with her wet jacket and her (thankfully) waterproof backpack dripping condensation onto the 'WELCOME' mat, but honestly? that's the least of her worries. what she's /actually/ worried about is whether the employee—who, right now, is very much looking like a deer in headlights—will kick her out. "i'm sorry," she starts, almost stumbles over her words, and she curses inwardly. "i just–" damn it, are words truly deserting her now or are her teeth just chattering from the cold?

"i got caught in the rain," she ends lamely. shiori haplessly gestures towards the torrent outside and shrugs. "can i, um. can i at least just stay until it stops? i wasn't planning on ordering anything, i promise."

@❛ ❀ : sakurazaki shiori The rain drummed steadily against the windows, filling the empty shop with a hushed rhythm as Taejoon moved through the final stages of closing. He was wiping down the counter, his mind drifting in the soft, muted sound of the downpour, when he noticed a figure standing just inside the door.

It was a familiar face—the quiet customer who often came in with a sketchbook, always sitting alone at the counter. Tonight, however, she was soaked, rainwater clinging to her hair and clothes, her posture hesitant, as if she’d come in without fully planning to. Taejoon paused, his hands resting over the damp cloth, and for a moment, he simply watched her, something unspoken flickering in his gaze.

“We’re… just about to close,” he said, his tone gentle but slightly awkward as the words left his mouth.

@❛ ✧ : go miyoung As the evening shadows stretched across the quiet ramen shop, Taejoon lingered behind, his hands moving over the countertops as he wiped down each surface with meticulous care. He was usually the first to finish cleaning up, slipping out with a nod, leaving only the echo of his footsteps behind. But tonight, he noticed Miyoung still tending to the tables with a quiet focus, her form moving softly in the dim light.

An odd impulse rooted him to the spot, and his usual reluctance to initiate conversation wavered. Someone—a regular customer, it seemed—had whispered to him earlier in the week, a teasing remark that Miyoung might be a bit... fond of him. Taejoon hadn’t taken it seriously, dismissing it in the same way he brushed off most idle chatter. But here, in the silence of closing hours, the words resurfaced, tugging at him.

Clearing his throat gently, he turned toward her, voice almost as quiet as the faint clatter of dishes. "I... heard something strange," he began, eyes sliding away from hers, fingers still clutching the cloth. "Someone said you… well, they thought you had a crush on me." His tone was tentative, unsure, as though he wasn't certain if he even wanted an answer.

@❛ ❀ : byeon haerin she was simultaneously living the past and present, defying the law of physics by mentally travelling through time. it quickly was put on a pause however, when someone appeared before her. literally out of nowhere, a stranger had suddenly emerged. like a whiplash, goya was jerked back to the current moment—observing a living human doll fold into a 90 degrees bow. the sight was so surreal; the girl's hairline stayed a deadly equal 50/50 parting.

she felt something solid right up against her shoes on the floor. she recalled—she had heard and felt something fall. "no, it's okay.." goya then stated in japanese, trying to understand what had exactly just happened. she was still seated. moving her chair back in the slightest, the negligible amount of space let her sufficiently look under the table. her suitcase had fallen over, with an unfamiliar tote bag at its side. perhaps, somehow, the human doll person had knocked it over by accident.

leaning towards the fallen belongings on the ground, she reached down with her arm. she picked up the tote bag first, as it was closer to her. bringing the bag back up, the plane of her shoulders returned to an even level. goya then placed the tote onto the empty, unoccupied chair next to her. she then went back down under, this time actually getting up from her seat to a crouch. she didn't want to throw her shoulder out by trying to lift her heavy luggage with bad body mechanics. converging the strength from her lower body into her arms, goya then hoisted the suitcase back to its original, intended upright position.

dusting off her hands, goya stood back up. taking the totebag that had been set aside, she held it up by the handles, holding it out and over the table's surface, returning it back to its presumed owner. "here, your bag." goya said politely. she cleared softly thereafter, letting the human doll subtly know that she could stop trying to nosedive into the table. it was only then that goya noticed the amount of people inside the ramen shop. the restaurant wasn't completely empty, but there obviously had been enough seating— completely empty tables, with /no one/ occupying them. and yet, the girl had still chosen to sit here—at /her/ table. it was... mildly annoying for goya. she preferred to eat alone.

@❛ ❀ : na goya it's in a dazed stupor that haerin makes her way to the ramen shop, one hand clutching on her growling stomach while the other grips onto the strap of her tote bag. helping her dad pack for his trip to another town then driving him to the train station in the afternoon, she completely missed breakfast and lunch— her whole night spent performing on the streets of kyoto. by the time she finished her last set, her fingers were trembling, lips chapped and beads of sweat forming between her furrowed brows. she could only reply with listless farewells to her friends before heading to the establishment.

despite the dizziness, though, haerin’s able to find her usual spot at the shop, shrugging off her tote bag down to the floor… only to blink when she hears something clank below. “what—” taking a peek under the table, haerin is late to realize that there were a set of legs sitting in front of her, her bag haphazardly placed on top of luggage that obviously belonged to the person that was already occupying the table. in her haste of saying her apologies, haerin ends up knocking the thing with the back of her head, a wince escaping from her lips. “sorry!” she exclaims loudly a second later, sitting back up to face the stranger and bowing her head in shame that her forehead is almost touching the smooth surface of the table. “i thought this seat was empty. i should… i’m sorry. i’ll leave—”

it had been an exhausting day. in total, she had travelled 8 hours; incheon to narita airport, narita airport to kyoto, via the express train. she was tired, but content. goya was excited to be back in the country of her childhood. but most of all, she felt free— at ease, that her only responsibility would be to find her passion. she was going to leave her entire life in korea behind, and move to kyoto, permanently. nobody would know her here. there would be no more of her gossiping coworkers, prick boss, copious amount of prescriptions to oversee, her overbearing father and her... newly diagnosed condition. goya had no plan, but steadily, she would figure it out— after, some late night dinner. she was starving, her stomach growling in protest.

pulling her suitcase alongside, goya smiled when she saw the familiar ramen shop. there it was, even after so many years. nostalgia flowed through her mind as she walked in, remembering the first time she had discovered the establishment, while on a trip with her high school friends. they had all been shocked at the exquisite taste of the ramen. the smile on goya's lips faltered, as she recalled that it had been the first and last trip with her friends. it was also slightly bittersweet, that the trip had been the only thing that she had truly enjoyed, in that summer.

greeting the employees politely as she entered, goya picked an empty table to sit at. she then tucked her suitcase underneath, out of the way. she looked around, marveling at the unchanged, but well-maintained, classic and homey interior.