⟢ belle époque atelier.

@✧ cha doyoon "Chicks like the ones that hatch in the farm nearby? I'm sure it does." Seoah remarks, wrapping the noodles around her chopstick and taking a bite. Delicious was an understatement, though perhaps snacking through the entire day definitely left a craving for a hearty meal.

"The boss is so generous," was enough for an amused snicker to deviate from Seoah's nose. In her all too imaginative mind, it painted a picture of Kang Mihee as this supreme mafia leader, granting her two henchmen a morsel of jjajangmyeon out of the goodness of her own heart. Having seen the older woman as both her boss and mother, Seoah deduced that such a title wasn't too far off from who she usually is. Despite that, she also wondered if Doyoon knew how much her mother cherished the young man. Though she supposed Mihee's all imposing aura may have gotten in the way.

"You call her boss so much, you clock in at the salon and see her in action, she's a real tyrant that one." She jokes, reaching over to take some of the scorched rice Doyoon had prepared. Taking silent bites into her food, she listens to Doyoon quietly (for once), it hadn't occurred to her that she was halfway through her plate until she reached over for more. Her eyes narrow in suspicion for a brief moment, but she doesn't press the matter further than stubbornly giving him the extra hard boiled egg.

"I should call you over more then so that I can make sure youre alive." Seoah quips matter of factly, leaning back in the sofa once she felt full from the food. A satisfied sigh escapes her lips, patting her stomach contentedly. Though this moment of relaxation is short as she continues to move again, this time stacking her empty dishes together in order to reduce clutter. "As for me, it's mainly been working on clients. Sometimes I'm standing for hours dyeing one clients hair, but I think I've gotten calves of steel as a result." She laughs a little, shifting her body to the side and kicking her feet up as if she were showing off her calves. "Though...once I'm done with working at the salon all I wanna do is sleep at home." Seoah sighs briefly, brushing her dark tresses back, "I really ought to do more stuff outside of work though."

@✧ kang seoah "You look like you just rolled out of bed," were the first words he had actually heard from her for weeks. In person, anyways. It was different with voice calls and worse with texts. Doyoon just guessed that he missed her voice more than he’d like to admit, they were best friends after all. He couldn’t resist laughing as he strutted a little closer to the coffee table at her suggestion, the juice and rice in its container. “Nah, I wear this Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt outside because it gets me chicks!” he responded with playful sarcasm.

Doyoon quickly pulled out the plastic container where the semi-burnt rice was, tugging off the lid and putting it beside the jjajjangmyeon. The sight of the rice with the black bean noodle soup already made his mouth water. It definitely helped that his last meal was at 3am and it was a sandwich that was kept in the fridge a day too long, before he fell asleep without any attempt at watching the time. “The boss is so generous … I missed you too.”

“What was I doing?” The carpenter’s mind had flashed back to whatever significant events he had experienced the past week. He couldn’t reach far back enough in his memory to even remember the past two weeks since they were all a goopy blur in his mind. “Cleaning the workshop, inhaling sawdust, I did finish filming a choreography video. I think I cooked rice a few times? Honestly, if I check the annoyed messages my dad sent me, I can find out how many times I cooked my usual rice.”

He stretched his arms upward in an attempt to relieve the muscles that had been semi-dormant in bed for three or so days, groaning and plopping onto the opposite seat at the table. “No problem, that’s kind of all I got at the time. I overpacked my to-do list, so I personally think I would have died in my bed faster if you hadn’t called me for food–” He omitted the fact that his last meal was over 12 hours ago and that he had been sleeping all day from exhaustion. “I think I would just die without jjajjangmyeon.” He added to ease any hidden guilt he had about white lying to Seoah.

With the disposable chopsticks that came with the order, Doyoon picked up a bundle of noodles, the black sauce almost splattering on his shirt but his left hand’s reflexes were fast enough to protect his Turtles shirt (which was worse for wear already). “I’ll let you know but I think I might finish the majority of this … what have /you/ been doing? I’m not the only one who was gone for a week between us, this city is still small.”

@✧ cha doyoon It didn't take long for Seoah to hear back from Doyoon, her thumb deftly switching between windows of her elderly game and the messages screen. Upon viewing the message, the hair stylist reacts to Doyoon's message with a thumbs up and pockets the device into the pocket of her cargo pants. The gets up from the chair after what may have been eons, taking a look at her surroundings. The salon wasn't a mess per se, however it was always a good idea to tidy up whenever guests were coming. Kang Mihee had drilled that into her head from the moment she learned how to speak.

With a stretch, Seoah gathered scattered magazines from the reception desk, stacking them neatly. Eyeing the coffee table, she anticipated it would serve as their dining spot and headed to the breakroom for cutlery and plates.

The first one to ring the bell was the deliveryman, staring blankly at Seoah through the face shield of his helmet, he held out the shopping bag of Jjajjangmyeon. "Kang Mihee?"

"Yes," Seoah affirms, taking the bag in her hands and tipping her head politely to the delivery man, who was already making haste for his next stop. She goes back to setting up their eating space, unpacking the jjajjangmyeon which was packaged in one-time tupperware. Still warm to the touch, with steam condensing at the top of the lid, a grumble erupted from her stomach - reminding her that instead of eating, she had been playing a flimsy mobile game for two hours straight. She hoped Doyoon would arrive soon, jjajjangmyeon never tasted good when cold.

"I'm here!" As if he had read her mind, the familiar voice had followed with a ringing of the bell and Seoah turned around from the coffee table to greet Doyoon with a smile.

"You look like you just rolled out of bed," she points out.

"She isn't here, she has to meet some clients outside the city. She told me to share this with you by the way!" Seoah says, giving Doyoon a languid nudge toward the coffee table. "But I /did/ miss you, it's been like...a week since we last saw eachother? What were you doing anyway? Oh, also thanks for bringing the rice and juice. We've got quite the spread."

"Take a seat," she says, sitting on one side of the small table and portioning out the still steaming jjajjangmyeon onto their plates. "Let me know if you need more too, mom said she ordered too much so you could also take the leftovers if you want."

@✧ kang seoah Doyoon’s father Sihu had warned his son at the beginning of the week to take care of himself. He had been giving Doyoon consistent warnings for three days, as his convention in Seoul for architects (Sihu meant to attend a few reunions with friends during this period) was starting on Sunday. He had left his son alone with some instructions, having very little hope that Doyoon would follow them.

He didn’t follow any of his father’s instructions when it came to cooking. Cleaning the house and workshop, manning the cashier, updating their newer designs for international measurement conversions, Doyoon could handle all that with ease. Put on top of that a 2-day filming of some choreography he’d been putting off for weeks. But with all those tasks and Doyoon’s perfectionist tendencies put together, he barely put in time for cooking and eating. He was thankful he had befriended the elderly snack bar owner who made the best fish cake hot bars. That and 3 different versions of his signature burnt rice (not burnt on purpose) was everything Doyoon had been eating for two weeks. With his roommate-father gone, he was free to handle all the tasks but only the tasks he wanted. Sihu had always been better at cooking rice anyway, it was second nature to Doyoon to ignore the rice cooker time and leave it to either burn or get soggy.

Day 16, the younger Cha had no idea what time it was. He was in bed, blinds closed, lights shut off and his digital clock face down. His phone dinged to life with a text notification and he swung out his arm to pick it up, nearly missing and having the phone almost fall off his bedside table.

“Ugh…” Knowing that it could tip over and fall at any second, he sat up on his bed, hair sticking up in all directions as his right hand adjusted his sleeping shirt. Half awake as his thumb entered the passcode and opened his texting app, Doyoon’s body reacted to Seoah’s voice message that he was unprepared to hear, the boy almost jumping in his seat before wading out of his own bedroom. He texted quickly in return, his divided attention bringing typos.

[ Sent to ‘Angry Bird Kang’ from Doyoon’s phone. ]
– awesome,, coming over now a nd bringin rice :rice_ball: :tornado:

Keeping his promise, Doyoon made it to the salon within 15 minutes. He looked more or less the same as when he was in bed, except he changed his boxers to sweatpants, but his Ninja Turtles sleeping shirt was still on his top half. Along with the basics (keys, wallet, phone), he also brought with him two orange juice boxes and a tupperware of extra crunchy semi-burnt rice with a few chunks of normally cooked rice in the middle. It was scraped from Doyoon’s family rice cooker before he left his home to walk to Belle Epoque.

He swung that door open like it was his own bathroom, the welcoming bell ringing harder because of his strength in opening. “I’m here!” he alerted, jogging to the receptionist desk and alerting Seoah before putting the tote bag with the rice and juice on it.

“Is the–” he looked around before he continued in a whisper, “boss here? Or did you just call because you missed me and needed me to be your vacuum cleaner if you can’t finish it?” His voice returned to normal after the mention of Kang Mihee’s nickname. Doyoon’s hands dug around his back pocket before he set his phone onto the table, facing downward. “Actually, don’t answer that. I’ll go with you missing me. I brought orange juice by the way.”

@✧ cha doyoon While the salon was closed today, Seoah always found herself inside to do busy work or laze around whenever she could. In a sense it was her home away from home — and the same applied to her mother, who had scurried out of the waiting room and rushed over to the receptionist desk where Seoah was reclined against the office chair. Having finished the difficult part of her busywork, bookkeeping expenses, she decided to spend the rest of her time playing Crush Candy Saga of the Fizzies on her phone. Her peers would always question her taste in games, claiming that the applications on her phone were more akin to an ahjumma instead of a hairstylist in her twenties. Just as she was about to use the chocolate ball to move to the next level, Kang Mihee made her jolted right up with an ever so sarcastically calm, "Ya!"

"Didn't I tell you to stop doing that to the chair, it's going to break in half!!!" The older woman nagged, to which Seoah sullenly puts her phone down and sits up. "So what, we could always get a new chair."

"Gosh is this how I raised you?!" She groans, nearly forgetting why she came here before it hit her again. "Ah- right."

"Hm?" Seoah says, now slumped over the receptionist desk rather sluggishly. One would be surprised this was the same spritely hairstylist during normal work hours.

"I ordered too much jjajangmyeon, it should be coming any time soon. Call Doyoon-ie over and share it with him. I have to go to style a private client."

"But aren't you going to ea-" Seoah gets cut off by Mihee saying she would grab something on her way home.

"You better," she glares at the older woman as she leaves, not one that was filled with contempt but a paradoxical glare of concern. Now alone in the salon, Seoah picks herself up and takes her phone in her hands again, quickly recording a voice message for her childhood friend.

"Ya, my mom ordered jjajangmyeon. Wanna come over to the salon and share it with me?"