You are so brave.

SAENOO

Another patron bellows out their guess, and Maude queues up the song with a solemn shake of her head. The other merrymakers groan, some slapping sympathetic pats on the back of the original guesser’s back and shoulder. They hang their head, and the soft, smoky wisp of their elected tune wafts into the air.

Maude refills Saenoo’s drink and slides it over to him, adding it to his tab after transferring his seating place to the stool by the bar’s edge. “Maude,” she mimics, one side of her mouth perking up in amusement. “I like your accent,” she continues, now in her own.

-

Saenoo squints at her playfully. “I like your accent,” he parrots in a horribly exaggerated cockney accent. He bites back a laugh at how ridiculous he sounds.

 In his normal accent, he adds, “Sorry, it’s just instinctual to make myself look dumb I guess.” He also says ‘fuck it’ in his head and introduces himself like a normal human being. “I’m Saenoo by the way.”

Niko looked apologetic when he realised the other man was wearing earbuds and had to take them out after he asked the question. “Pride and Prejudice is a classic. Loved that one. I should go for another Jane Austen novel I haven’t read yet. They’re always good. And her main characters jump off the page. They’re never flat,” he grinned. “And I’m sorry for pulling you away from whatever you were listening to. I didn’t see you were wearing earbuds.”

-

“You’re right. Women tend to be better writers,” Saenoo shrugged.

He waved off the guy’s apology. “It’s not a problem. I can always replay the song or something.” He nodded at the book in the stranger’s hand. “What’s that you got there?”

Saenoo wandered to the front of the museum and watched different visitors making their way to the exhibits further inside. He had his earphones in, and he doodled on a napkin while he people-watched from his seat near the doors. 

When he glanced outside, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face. He strode outside to greet him as he crumpled the napkin into a trashcan nearby.

“Hey, you gonna come in or...?”

She knows that cardigan. It’s odd to see the guy without it; had she not spotted it after a quick and curious scan, she probably wouldn’t have recognised him, yet the glint of such a realisation brightens the brown of her eyes. His accent gives him away, too. Probably what prompted Maude to search for the item of clothing in the first place. He’s a regular at Wide Awake; while Maude is yet to spark a proper conversation with him, she’s seen him around, served him, appreciated some of his more generous tips.

“Right.”

“Yeah! Yeah, no worries. Come whenever you’re ready. Let me take that one.” She swipes the glass and heads back to the bar, fitting it on the rack with the rest of the used crockery, which she then fits in the undercounter dishwasher. It’s one of her least favourite tasks– really, she hates bartending as a whole –but it must be done, and her colleague is nowhere to be seen.

---

When she takes the glass from him, Saenoo catches himself from actually whining like a child. He groans instead and drags his feet all the way to the bar. 

His head goes immediately back down on a flat surface when he seats himself comfortably on a stool, and he finally manages to say “thanks” to the kind bartender. 

When he finally gets a better glance at her to order the coldest beer the pub has, he realizes a little too late that it’s the barista from Wide Awake. He fights the crushing awkwardness from not recognizing her sooner.

He sits up straight suddenly, embarrassed by his poor manners, heat wave or no heat wave. “Uh shit, sorry... It’s Maude right? I don’t think we’ve ever actually talked beyond my coffee order.” He stops talking abruptly when he realizes she probably knows his name but wonders if he should introduce himself anyways.

Something really stung Winifred in the chest at Saenoo’s words. They weren’t even hurtful, but it still hurt somehow. She wasn’t used to people saying such things about love and all that. Trying to cover it up, she rolled her eyes dramatically. “That must be what your secret family in Denmark thinks about you. It’s a good thing I keep myself unlovable, then. I’m completely unknowable,” she said with a light chuckle. 

She tossed her hair back trying to regain her composure. “I suppose you’re right, then. I do have superior taste to you in everything except art, so I will accept that as a consolation prize.”

They came closer and closer to the front doors of the coffee shop. “As many as I want? Saenoo, please, many men have tried to buy my affection, but few have succeeded. Still, I will let you try,” she told him, slightly poking at his side. Teasing him had quickly become one of her favorite hobbies. He made it so easy. 

“What about you, then, oh wise one. What’s your favorite piece?”

---

“What? Secret family in Denmark?” The confusion was apparent in his expression. “I mean, unless my very brief and ‘chaste’ vacation there a few years ago somehow magically produced a kid I never met...Sure?” he chuckled.

From a distance, Wide Awake didn’t seem too busy. There was the usual morning bustle, and most people were coming and going with their cups of coffee in hand. This left most of the seating relatively free, and Saenoo considered himself lucky to see a few open seats outside.

“Ow,” he mouthed when Freddie poked his side. “I mean as many as the cafe has, I guess...? or maybe they could even bake more for you. I’m not sure what the policy is.” While he opened the door for her again, he added skeptically, “Many men huh?”

Callum is ready to mind his own business with an apologetic shrug ― go back to playing the game on his phone, maybe, or attempt to take a nap, if falling asleep in this godforsaken heat proves possible ― but the other man isn’t done with the conversation just yet, it seems.

“What?” The question catches him off-guard. School?

“I did, yeah. All the way through St. George.” He sits up straighter, moving his cat-eye sunglasses until they rest on top of his forehead. Under unfiltered sunlight, this guy looks ―- nope, never mind, still not ringing any bells. “Uh, why are you asking?”

------

Saenoo’s eyes brighten in recognition. “You were there!”

He has to start from the beginning obviously because this kid is probably confused. “I mean, well... I’m pretty sure you came to the museum on a school field trip when I was just starting off. I kind of bored you guys to death about Van Gogh and his depression, and how his brother helped...” 

As he trails off, he chuckles to himself at the irony that he was launching into the same boring spiel. “Ha, I’ll save you the agony this time.” 

He offers a handshake. “I’m Saenoo, and you’re forgiven for kicking sand in my mouth.”

“Ah. Shit.” A semi-crowded beach is never a good place to let out his frustrations on a sand-covered towel. “Do you want ― water, maybe?” he suggests as he sits up more fully, brows twisted in a guilty frown, albeit concealed by his sunglasses. (In the midst of it all, Callum’s ears manage to pick up the man’s accent: distinctly American. That you don’t come across often in the Cove, apart from niche tourists. Where has he heard that before?) “You could, like, spit it out or somethin’.” A mediocre solution at best, but it’s all he can come up with right now. 

---

“That’s not even helpful!” he protests. 

Saenoo rubs his mouth and realizes how futile that action is. He tries the guy’s suggestion with his water, and he spits it out extremely ungracefully. He makes a face at what he’s done, and it makes him want to immediately pack up and go home now.

Ev is at the door before Saenoo can tap out another rendition of his tune, exasperation on her face as she ushered her friend into her home.

“The vindaloo hates me. Will you take a look at it when you’re done?” She reaches to take the snacks from Saenoo. “Please tell me you brought Maltesers.”

---

“The vindaloo doesn’t hate you. It’s your social anxiety talking,” Saenoo laughs as he sidesteps Evie and ducks beneath the low doorframe into her place. 

He spins around abruptly to dangle the box of maltesers in front of her. “I take my job as ‘best friend’ very seriously. Don’t insult me like that ever again.” He playfully glares at her for a quick second before dashing off to the bathroom.

Winifred could barely stifle a laugh at Saenoo’s use of British slang. It sounded so strange coming from him. She quickened her pace to keep up with his. Damn his much longer legs, she’d thought to herself. “You were worried about me? How adorable. Luckily I am a very strong person who can persevere through anything. Much like those superheros you Americans love. You know, Iron Lady, Brown Widow, all that.”

She smiled to herself walking along. This felt like friendship, not that she was very familiar with that feeling in the first place. She wasn’t sure if he thought the same of her. Perhaps he felt this was about all of the interns. Though, Winifred wasn’t sure if she actually knew what Saenoo was truly thinking at any given moment. He was a walking mystery to her and many others, though she was determined to chip away at that little by little. 

“Hmm,” she hummed as she pondered his question. She always knew a lot about art, but never really considered to have great taste in it. Not like her mother did. “I suppose the Seurat piece we have. There’s a musical about him, you know. It’s rather good, in my opinion. I just like how it looks so different depending on where you’re standing since it’s just a bunch of a dots n’ all that.” Suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious, she quickly added, “Not that I really know what’s good or not.”

Her stomach rumbled slightly as they turned the corner. “Hope you weren’t lying about the chocolate croissant.”

----------------

Saenoo wasn’t much of a comic book buff, but even he knew that all the heroes she had listed were wrong. He stifled a laugh with the back of his hand and confirmed unconvincingly, “Yep, strong and independent. I believe in you.”

“Art is really dependent on the beholder. Just like how strangers can pass us by every day without a single glance, but someone who loves us sees things in us that we don’t see either. It’s kinda poetic,” he shrugged. 

Saenoo really despised those pretentious assholes who only revered popular artists or expensive artwork. They missed out on a whole world of feeling a broader range of experiences through the eyes of diverse artists around the world.

He turned to look at Freddie and added in a reassuring tone, “So if you say it’s good, then it’s good because you say it is. That’s it.”

Eliott moved to look at the man who he bumped into, reaching out to steady himself but to also make sure he was okay. He knew that he was clumsy, which is why he didn’t feel that the other guy needed to apologize– especially to him. “Don’t apologize,” He shook his head a bit. “It definitely was my fault. I ran into you just,” He motioned to the phone in the boy’s hand. “Take some pictures. Are you a photographer?” Genuinely interested, Eliott looked at the restaurant that the guy was referring to. It was the best, and Eliott loved being so close to it, even if it was probably the most unhealthy part of his diet. “I come here everyday. My studio is above it, so I literally just came down for when it opens. The trick is to be here first, it’s the freshest.”

------------------------

Saenoo straightened his cardigan and stood upright again. “Oh okay-- you alright then?” 

When the stranger posed the question, Saenoo looked down at his phone and up at the man again. “The dawn sky just looked really beautiful, so I was trying to get a few photos of it,” he replied.

Just as they were talking about the shop, one of the employees squinted at the two men through the glass door before unlocking it.

Open Starter || The First Page

Niko stepped into The First Page in search of a book for one of the classes he was going to teach from this year. It wasn’t something he needed all of his students to have, but it was something for him to reference during the year. And if he needed them to know a certain passage, he would just scan a few of the pages to offer on the online landing page for his students. The problem wasn’t finding the book. He could make his own way around a book store with very few problems. What was the problem is that he could never just walk out with what he needed. The scent of old books just kept him stuck in the store much longer than he anticipated. 

Eventually, he was holding the book he needed in one hand. And the other hand was scanning the spines along yet another book shelf. He looked over at the person near him. “Do you have any suggestions? Because I’m stumped. And if I stay here much longer, I’m going to buy at least a dozen books because I can’t make up my mind. Any genre. Hit me with a favourite of yours.”

-------------

Saenoo sipped on his iced coffee while he held a few too many books in his other hand. After almost dropping them, he chose to open up his cloth shopping bag to pile the books inside. It looked just as lumpy as it felt against his ribs.

It was quiet in the store, and because he was listening to some music Evie had given him, he was startled by the sudden question from another fellow customer.

“Oh, uh...” Saenoo paused as he took one earbud out. “I gained a fan base when I read Pride and Prejudice, so I guess that one...?” he shrugged.

Saenoo tapped a tune on the door. “Evie, it’s me. I brought us some snacks.” He knocked again for good measure. “Uh... I also forgot to pee before I came over, please open the door.”