love version of

She drops off her fortune at the communal pile on her way over to the drinks table, mind wandering to her actual restoration duties — confirming volunteer scheduling, making sure the mayor showed up on time — until she’s had a first sip of the drink handed to her and looks up to thank her counterpart. “Oh.”

She knows Daeun’s name, of course — not in a creepy way, please, but purely from the proximity principle. Oni cafe has perfectly acceptable coffee in the morning — except for when she’s manning the machine. The first time is an accident, the second is poor quality control, the third is another barista; the laundry list of explanations has surprisingly few repeats that it’s honestly impressive. Or would be impressive if the victim wasn’t her.

”Thanks — this is nice.” She says, and then because she can’t help herself: “Did one of the other employees make it?” It’s only lemonade, to be fair, but with Daeun’s success rate she wouldn’t put it past her. Clearly the possibilities are endless.

Finally, mercifully, the mayor remembers his familial obligations and hands her his card to pay off the tab. One of them had been giving off that uniquely seedy middle-aged man look, so she’s happy to oblige. She only realizes the misstep when she gets to the register and has to look Minhyun in the eye.

Shit. Oh, was that out loud? In her head, she wonders if it’s too late to feign death or dismemberment. Or that she forgot something in her purse. “Hi,” is what she says instead.

As far as opening arguments go, that was certainly one of them.

“For the table in the back, please.” It comes out painfully meek as she slides the card towards him. Ironically her courage falters after a few obligatory drinks; she can barely keep her eyes on his face. His chin will do. “If I could get the receipt, that’d be great.”

"How much were you gonna pay Joonki for this?" He asks, trying to determine if it's enough money for him to push his ego and irritation aside. "To fix this and do the rest of your floor is going to take all weekend, just so you know."

After the third sigh, she doesn’t bother to hide the grimace behind her book. By the sixth, she’s convinced a mistake was made. Odds are high the onus is on her, though pettily she will say she was oversold a dream on the ease of redoing her living room floor. It wasn’t likely that she’d exaggerated the square footage – there isn’t much of it to exaggerate – so how’d it all go so wrong?

Well, for one: Kwon Jaejun showing up at her door.

Okay, that was mean-spirited. Maybe he brings it out of her. Really, this whole catastrophe was not his fault. She has the fleeting thought that maybe some other things weren’t his fault either, but nevermind that. She’s kneeling awkwardly on her back porch, staring into the gaping hole known as her living room. Her gaze is pulled from her poorly-thought out decision at the bite in his tone. Bitna tries smiling politely; it comes out pained. “It’s fine, you can continue with the flooring. I trust you.” The lift at the end makes it sound like a question.

“I uh– well–” Her eyes cut across his face, the sweat on his brow– definitely not enough, she thinks in response. “It’s not important; I’m not really sure he understood what I wanted.” To be honest, she wasn’t either. After Jaejun’s fourth sigh she’d searched up the going rate for flooring jobs in Seoul and parrots it out to him now. “Per day, of course. However long you need to finish.”

She gives him a frank look, sympathetic and nervous in half measures. “I’m sorry; feel free to leave it until your friend’s able to finish the job.” She can probably manage the pit of impending doom, though she fears her senior cat Cookie will have much to say about it to her in private. “I don’t want you to have to deal with someone else’s problem.”

jaehee holds the inhaler out to her, hand a hair’s breadth away from hers and on his lips, he manages an encouraging smile, “think you can give it a go?”

When she thinks of him, she thinks of a quiet room.

The particulars are not important. With them, they never have been. Every room is quiet; even the room where they had first met, when the pulse of light flashed along the wall just as her friend’s voice broke through the chatter. This is Jaehee, they had said, and he had looked her in the eyes and then everything was silent. 

She hadn’t known it before, but she’d never heard a quiet like that — the calm like still water, the warmth blooming from her rib cage. She hasn’t heard it since.

The home visit is for Cookie — really. As was her prerogative lately she’d acted first and thought later, the reality only sinking in after the backs of her hands were red raw. When the vet tech tells you that the asthmatic senior stray with tooth problems has an encyclopedic history of aggression, listen. Hovering just out of reach, she doesn’t blink as she absorbs Jaehee’s expertise, the tension in his arm from his grip. Details are important for the recall, though truthfully memorizing the slope of his bicep is for a separate use. At the tenth count, an exhale, only for her breath to hitch again as his sentence hangs between them. The quiet, the stillness, the bloom.

She breaks first: “I— yeah, I can, um, try.” Maybe it’s the uncertain tone or the nerves practically pulsating from her fingers, but Cookie puts up his walls immediately at her approach, staring unblinking as she slides closer to Jaehee on the floor. Bitna reaches out and Cookie recoils slowly, back arched, and her heart is not breaking — okay maybe a little. “I— he just— maybe I’m just going about it wrong? Maybe I hurt him when I try to grip him? He always just wiggles away. I go like—” She turns towards him, circling her hands around his forearm in an imitation of how she’d hold Cookie — and then stops abruptly.

"That reminds me, I made extra banchan so I could bring you some. I'll bring it over tomorrow so you can have enough for the week." Hyein says, letting out a sigh of contentment after finishing her latest bowl of makgeolli. "My dad is getting really worried you're not eating enough. He says he doesn't want to have to face your grandpa in the afterlife and tell him he didn't take good enough care of his granddaughter."

The pour is automatic. Custom dictates an empty glass is meant to be filled, so she does. The guilt is automatic too, though she doesn’t have much of a response for that. She’s pretty sure she can take Hyein at face value, but she sees the trees for the forest and rushes into the thick of them willingly. All of the care packages and sentiment – even the pleasantries born out of Hyein’s good manners and piety – are from a place of kindness so sweet it turns bitter in her mouth. But her pride is her own cross; she can’t make her cowardice Hyein’s too.

“That would never happen, because my grandpa knows your dad’s been far too generous with me. Both of you, always.” Ever since youth, and especially that time. Twenty and in the weeds of it, she was lying on the floor of grief and Hyein’s hand was outstretched. Thirty now, and she wonders if it’s too late to take it.

All that to say: yeah, it was that time already. She hadn’t even offered her guest anything other than a smile for their trouble — her guest who was still working meticulously at the arm of the last chair, doing much better than she would’ve. Hyein was always the more graceful of the two of them, both in movement and in purpose. She's not sure why the idea had struck her that maybe in this one singular way, they could've been equals.

She slips into her pale imitation of a kitchen nook and comes back with two metal bowls and a sweating bottle of makgeolli, waving them in invitation. “Break?” Moments pass and the bottle is half–empty between them on the back porch, a bag of rice crackers split open at the seam beside it. “Luckily for you my fridge is empty or I would’ve attempted pajeon. I don’t think you deserve that.” A swift smile into a sigh as she leans weight into her hands, gaze fixed on the hazy pink sky. “How I wish this town had food delivery.”

byeon bitna, 29 y/o, 96 liner.

is a virgo. you can tell. a clinically diagnosed perfectionist, remembers every little thing, and has a nasty habit of looking down her nose at pretty much everyone. has an insatiable need to be (and feel) useful - the alternative is unthinkable. seriously, ew.

type of girl to say ACKTHUALLY non-ironically. sorry not sorry. she's trying to be better but also she's probably right because she's read the prevailing literature on this before. have you?

on the other hand, is extremely passionate, exceedingly generous, and loyal as a dog. honestly ferocious about who and what she cares for. will even (gasp) break the rules for them. just please don't tell.

some would call that overcompensating! some.

due to aforementioned virgoisms, was a huge loser/loner growing up. not helped at all by the nouveau-riche hunger emanating off her parents in waves. at least that's what her classmates told her (in not as complex terms) when she started at the exclusive elementary they put her in to "fit in". rinse and repeat throughout her formative schooling years. developed various survival mechanisms to claw her way out of it, but yeah, it kind of sort of hurt really bad.

through skill (NOT luck, be for real) she was hired out of law school for a chaebol trading company. hated it. had a nervous breakdown (hereby The Incident). no one but her mom cared, but even that well ran dry after a while. certainly the calls did.

has been at seomri for about 5 months, arrived almost directly after The Incident. ostensibly it was to take a break, but that excuse flew out the window after the third week and the accompanying quiet resignation letter to her company.

lives in her grandmother's semi-dilapidated home. is trying to modernize it in a japandi style (great for the summer renters!). does not have the aesthetics nor the skillset for it. do Not tell her otherwise - she already knows.

is the secretary to the mayor out of sheer boredom; spends most of her time picking up his drycleaning and confirming his personal appointments. otherwise kind of keeps to herself unless it's specifically for house supplies, trying to get the library to stock books from the 21st century, or getting a real meal at any food establishment after a week of slumming it with her home cooking.

relevant plot/connections info:

not a seomri native, but her mother's side of the family is. spent sporadic amounts of time throughout her childhood here until her grandmother's death when she was nineteen. hasn't been back since the funeral - until now! open to some fairweather childhood friends, people close to her grandma, people she tangentially knows because their parents were friends.

anyone want to be her unwilling contact to help her out with her home reno??? no??? well you're in luck!

is she moving too slow on her vespa? well technically she's driving the speed limit so sue her. also no she doesn't look stupid in her full safety gear - she looks safe. that's the point.

can you please stop renting out the same library book for months on end? that shouldn't even be policy.