Chapter Text
Opening shifts are always the worst.
For the most part, the entire shift consisted of cleaning, opening, and then waiting two hours for any actual customers to show up. Occasionally, an early riser would pop their head in to start their morning, but they only appeared every 45 minutes or so. Why the owner insisted the shop open every morning at 5:30 AM was beyond you, but you sometimes appreciated the time alone.
In order to open at 5:30, you had to be on the clock by 4:45; meaning that you had to leave by 4:30, and that you had to wake up by 4. The best part about morning shifts was that you got to awake with the world. The silence when you first rise is always soon replaced by the sounds of birds. The darkness turns to dawn, and dawn to morning. It's beautiful, really, but you would probably appreciate it more if you weren’t so tired.
The absolute emptiness of the shop did nothing to help your tired mind. The quiet hum of the machines and the boredom of waiting for customers that seemed like they would never come could just lull you back to sleep. One day, you’re sure that you will awake to find that you had been sleeping on your feet, finally overcome.
Today will not be that day. You look up and around the coffee shop. You had been working at The Bean since college, and here you still were; four years and a bachelor's degree later. The field you had chosen had been pretty tight since you graduated, and you were still struggling to find a career-worthy job. The Bean would do until then. The owner liked you, your coworkers liked you, and it paid well enough to keep your apartment.
The Bean was nothing special. Just a few small tables and some eclectic interior design. Why your boss still had a giant painting of an ass-naked lady hanging on the wall, you would never know. When he first bought that thing and brought it in to hang, you had thought he was joking. He was not. The windows at the front of the shop faced perfectly east, allowing the sun to shine directly onto her figure every morning for a few hours. You could only hope that the sun would fade the colors. While the painting wasn’t bad, it wasn’t the best sight to have to look at for the hours that your shifts would last.
The rest of the interior was rather unremarkable. A bookcase sat in one corner, holding some of the owners favorites. Occasionally, customers would slide out a book and read while enjoying their coffee, but it was becoming more rare. People rarely came into the shop to actually sit these days. On particularly slow mornings, you would allow yourself to choose one of the worn down and stained books to read a couple chapters out of. Unfortunately, the boss wasn’t too keen on seeing you stand around, not doing anything, so you saved it for when you had absolutely nothing to do.
Deciding that you should probably at least try and look busy, you turn around to face the multitude of coffee machines behind you. You check for what could possibly be the fiftieth time that each of them is running and hot; then you move onto the fridge to check the status of the cold brew that you had made earlier. Still there. You then came out to the front of the counter to check on the food display that you had also set up earlier. Everything still looked perfect, considering you hadn’t touched a thing.
Right as you’re about to check and see if the garbage needs to be taken out (it wouldn’t), you hear it. The gentle ting ting ting of the bell atop the front door. A customer had finally come to put you out of your misery.
You walk back around to stand behind the counter, waiting for them to make their way to you. It's an older gentleman, maybe around 70. He looks to be dressed in his best, a nice set of suspenders clinging tightly to his chest over a blue button down. As he approaches, his footsteps are slow but steady, and very light. He hardly makes a sound.
Once he’s finally up to the counter, you notice the deep smiles lines by his eyes. He displays this very smile to you as he greets you good morning.
“Good morning to you too, sir,” you welcome, “what can I get started for you today?”
He continues smiling as he simply states that he would like one large coffee, for here.
“Great, your total is going to be $2.25,” you let him know, “and could I get a name for your order?”
“Mingi,” he simply states, preparing to swipe his card in the terminal.
Mingi. Now there was a name that you hadn’t heard in a while. You look up at the man, shocked at the reminder of your old friend. You watch him finish his transaction with great care, typing in his pin number delicately. The receipt printer beeps at you, alerting you to the completed transaction. You tear it off, handing it to Mingi before moving to prepare his drink.
Just a simple large coffee in a mug. Your Mingi would have hated that. He always had a pension for the sweeter side of things. In fact, you can even remember when he would come visit you at work, giving you something to do in the early mornings. He would always order some super complicated, obnoxious drink, only so that he could fill up five minutes of your morning. He would then proceed to drink it all while sitting at one of the tables, staring at the painting every time you had to help another customer. Whenever you were free, the two of you would joke around, talk, or do whatever to fill the time.
The sound of the coffee maker snaps you back out of it. It had beeped to let you know that it was ready. You poured old Mingi his large black coffee into one of the mismatched mugs that The Bean used. Today, you were giving this man his coffee in a mug that jovially exclaimed “I survived Southern Florida!” Had your boss really visited southern Florida? Who knows. After handing Mingi his coffee, he went to sit down at one of the tables, with his back facing the painting.
The reminder of your Mingi made you smile. Mingi had really been a great friend in college. Though he was a year below you, you two made quick friends in one of your required history classes. Neither of you were the greatest, but you sat next to each other on the first day of the semester and immediately took a liking to each other.
For as long as you knew him, Mingi had been one of the happiest, kindest guys you had ever had the pleasure of getting to know. He was genuinely a great person. After the history class you shared ended, you two started to hang out a lot more outside class. You never had a romantic relationship, no matter how many rumors flew about it. It simply wasn’t like that. You two got very close through the years, until Mingi had dropped out last year, during your senior year.
You never got to ask why he dropped out or where he was going. He was simply gone one day. It had really torn you up, you were sick with worry and nothing could have made you feel secure. After a few weeks, you had gotten a single text from him: Sorry to leave, I’ll miss you.
It really hurt, having probably your closest friend up and leave you like that. For months, even until after graduation, you had missed him. Time had made the pain fade, and, honestly, you had a lot of other things to worry about eventually. You had been curious as to what had happened to him, but it left to the back of your mind as all other thoughts of him had.
Looking out into the now semi-occupied coffee shop, you recall the memory of a very slow morning, not unlike this one. As usual, Mingi had come to visit you and order something that would take a few minutes off your hands. That morning, he had ordered something iced despite it being the dead of winter and freezing outside. As one could imagine, having a giant caffeinated beverage over the course of less than an hour had led Mingi to be quite hyper that morning. Meanwhile, you were still trying your best to not fall asleep.
In his attempt to simultaneously keep you awake and entertain you, Mingi had pulled you out from behind the bar and tried to get you to dance with him. Of course, you resisted at first. How could you dance in a coffee shop at 6 AM? But Mingi had insisted, resting his hands on your waist and guiding your hips to sway with the nonexistent music. Mingi was so tall, there was no way you could reach behind his neck, so you had settled with resting your hands just barely at the tops of his shoulders.
And you two danced. In a coffee shop, in the dead of winter, at 6AM, to no music at all, you two danced. It was probably one of the best mornings that you and Mingi had had together. Had you not been interrupted by your boss, maybe it would have gone somewhere. Unfortunately, you never found out.
You’re pulled out of your memories by the Mingi that occupied The Bean at that specific moment. He had risen and waved a hand to you, before steadily making his way back out the door. Watching Mingi go makes something rise in your chest. You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, suddenly hyper-aware of the pain of losing Mingi again. Quickly swiping at your eyes, you resolve to try your hardest to find Mingi after your shift. He had to be out there somewhere.
---
The rest of your shift had gone by even slower. The anticipation of waiting was suffocating. As soon as you’re in the back room and clocked out, you call one of your closest friends from school that you still talked to, Jungeun.
Jungeun had been in your same major program with you, so you shared many of your classes. She was your closest female friend at the time, and is currently the best friend that you have. Because of your close relationship with Mingi, Jungeun had met him many times and you were sure that she had considered him a friend as well. She was nearly as concerned as you were when he went missing, but she had quickly become employed after graduation and Mingi had slipped her mind just as he slipped yours.
Jungeun picks up after only a couple rings. “Aye, whats up?”
You almost let out a laugh, her greetings were always so carefree. You two exchange pleasantries before you get to the point of the phone call.
“Say, Jungeun, you remember Mingi, right?”
She very quickly and enthusiastically ensures you that she remembers Mingi before asking why you’re wondering.
You explain the situation that you found yourself in at work, and Jungeun lets you know that she will definitely help you look for him.
“But, (y/n), are you sure?” She asks, sounding a bit concerned. “He did kind of just… leave. Like he didn’t want to be found.”
You think about it for barely a second. Yes, you’re sure. The tears that had come up earlier made you certain. You need to know what happened to him.
Jungeun and you agree to meet up the next day, as neither of you have to work. As you walk out of the shop, you desperately hope that your combined brain power will be able to find him.