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Gods & Monsters
prologue

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CHAPTER ZERO
New Beginnings

CHERRY RED. It was the color of her sunglasses, the color of the cherries sitting on the golden band around her middle finger, the color of her sneakers. It was the color of the burn of her cheeks, a reminder of the kiss of the Chicago sun as it beat down upon the people walking the busy Chicago streets. It the was the color she saw as her best friend spoke into the cellphone pressed to her ear.

          "Job hunting is supposed to be hard, okay? If it wasn't, there wouldn't be homeless people or drug addicts, or whatever," said Tavia, the sound of a pen clicking following her words. Miyeon frowned, slipping past a small group of people talking animatedly among themselves. They looked around her age, possibly older and possibly tourists. They reminded her a bit of herself, so in love with the city that it broadcasted perfectly across their features.

          She sighed. Her tongue scraped over her top lip, messing with the faint pink tint present. "That made no sense," she stated. An older woman passed by her, offering her a soft smile when their eyes met. Miyeon matched the look before focusing back on the street ahead of her. "I've given my application to eight people already and its only one. At this point, I should just give up, right? Stay at you know where."

          She blinked. A new scent assaulted her nose. She paused on the sidewalk, turning around to examine her surroundings. A restaurant across the street was staring back at her. The Original Beef the giant sign read, and Miyeon almost wondered if the big O had winked at her. "Scratch that," she hummed. "I think I just found another place."

          "Signs," Tavia deadpanned. "I told you. The world has millions of signs. You just have to pay attention." A soft scoff ricocheted through her body. Her eyes remained on the large sign. A sign, she thought, literally. "I'll text you in a bit," she informed her friend before letting her arm fall to her side, thumb absentmindedly jamming the end call button.

A car rushed past her, breaking her eye contact with the sign. Her eyes dropped to the darkened windows. Vaguely, inside, she could see a body moving. Her head snapped to the left, then to the right before she bounded across the asphalt. This was it. If she didn't get this job, she'd give up. Frenchie's, while it was definitely something, wasn't bad. It wasn't like it was ruining her life or robbing her of her money. It was just... something.

Bells sounded above her. Cold air assaulted her face as she stepped into the building. A tall, lanky man stood behind a counter. The drawer of a cash register clanged closed. "Uh, hi," she called out, putting on her best smile. He stopped, eyeing the girl curiously. "We're closed, sweetheart," he replied. "We don't open for another hour and a half."

          She spun around to face the windows. "Oh," was all she could say. The hours were right there in white print, right on the window. She turned back to the stranger, an embarrassed flush to her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I just came in to see if you guys are hiring. I can come back, though—"

          "Wait, no, no, no. Fuck. Hold on a second." The swear slipped through his teeth with ease. Her eyes widened slightly, her feet suddenly cemented to her spot. "Give me a sec. Let me go get cousin." She nodded, her smile small.

          What have I gotten myself into?, she thought to herself. He broke past the aluminum doors leading to the back. She assumed it was where the kitchen also resided. She could hear the clanging of pots and pans, and it made her shoulders relax. A kitchen, while she hadn't ever been the one cooking, had become a pivotal spot in her life.

          It was where she spent most of her time with her grandmother, watching as she made the dishes from her own childhood. It was where she got her first job, washing dishes at a crummy diner that reeked of cigarettes and lemon hand soap. It was where she liked to sit in her small apartment, burning a candle and listening to her favorite songs while a book sat open in front of her. It was where she heard all of the stories of her coworkers, learning everything about them.

Her eyes trailed over to the window behind the counter. She assumed it was the expediting window, where she gets the food to serve. She sighed. Just as the sound left her lips, the door reopened. The man from before beamed at her, being followed closely by a man with curly hair. He was noticeably shorter, broader, and younger. She sucked in a breath, lips twitching ever so slightly.

"Hi," she blurted out, eyes shining with excitement. He stopped, pointer finger tapping the carton of cigarettes in his hands. The sight before him stunned him. Though his friend had made sure to paint a picture, it was nothing compared to the real thing. Dark hair fell over her shoulders, stopping just below her breasts. Her white t-shirt hugged her torso just right, exposing just a sliver of skin below her navel and above the hem of her jeans. "Hi," he replied, finally finding his voice.

She took a calculative step forward, reaching into the bag hanging from her shoulder. "I, um, I brought my resume. I've had tons of experience in restaurants. Mostly serving, but I can wash dishes or whatever you need. I'm also pretty handy with a tool box, if you can believe it. My dad made sure I knew my way around it, you know."

He took the paper from her grasp. It was a bit of a read. He pocketed the carton in his apron before motioning her to follow him. Her eyes flickered to the taller man, his head bouncing in a nod almost assuredly. She followed, continuing her ramble from before, "I can cook, too. I haven't worked in a restaurant kitchen, but I've helped my halmeoni growing up, and I cook at home—"

          A counter now separated them. He set the paper down, bottom lip taken between his teeth as he read over the employers. "Your last job dates back almost a year ago," he stated. His pinky finger pointed out the timeline, blue eyes flickering up to capture her gaze. She sucked in a breath, visibly grimacing. "Are you doing something now, or—?"

"What, you a stripper or some shit?" the lanky man asked. Blue eyes flew toward his friend, disbelief evident in his features. "Cousin, seriously," he muttered. "No, uh, I'm not a stripper," she assured, hands now moving in front of her. "I work at Frenchie's right now. As a server. Not a dancer or contortionist, or whatever. I'm not even that flexible – I mean, I am flexible, but I can't put my foot—"

"I get it," the curly haired man interrupted her with a small chuckle. There was no disgust in his eyes. Not animosity. Really, the only thing she could read was humor. She had made him laugh. "I get why you didn't put it down, too," he added before clearing his throat, dropping his eyes back to the paper. "Uh, you do have a lot of experience. At some good places, too. Pretty impressive."

          A breath slipped past her lips. Softly, she began to smile. "Thank you," she exhaled, the tips of her ears burning. He nodded, tongue grazing the span of his bottom lip. "We need front of the house desperately, so... how soon can you start?"

          Her heart leapt into her throat. Their eyes met, and she felt it twitter there. "Uh, today. I can start today," she replied. He nodded, his lips twisting up into a grin. It was small, almost invisible to the naked eye. But it was there and in his eyes. "Okay," he replied. "Let's go see if we can find you an apron. And a name tag. Uh, Richie—"

          He was already moving. "Got it!" he shouted back, hands slamming against the aluminum doors. "Uh, my name is Carmen, by the way. I own the place." A hand was extended between them. Black ink littered his skin, along with thin white scars. She slipped her own hand into his, giving it a firm shake. "Miyeon," she replied. A confused pinch settled between his brows. "Most people call me Mimi, though. So.."

          "Miyeon," Carmen repeated, wincing at the fact he probably sounded like he was butchering her name. But it sounded nice. It sounded new, and exciting. "Well, uh, Miyeon. You might need to borrow a shirt for service. The skin..." She flattened a palm against her stomach, nodding her head. She hadn't expected to land a job, especially not one so soon. "Heard," she replied.

          A soft chuckle whizzed past his lips. "Good. Let me show you the lockers. You can put your stuff there until close." She was already gathering her hair to tie it up. Carmen moved out from behind the counter and started heading toward the doors. She followed, like a ghost, quiet on her feet.

          The bustling of an active kitchen welcomed her like an old friend. Eyes followed the two as they wheeled through, Carmen calling out corner and behind as they navigated. Before she knew it, they were in the back. "This locker is empty," he informed her, tapping the door with his pointer finger. "I have a shirt in my office, if you don't mind wearing that."

          "Not at all," she replied, quick. He nodded. His eyes were sleepy. Looking at him, it almost seemed like he hadn't slept in years. There were shadows there, deep and purple. He ran a hand over his mouth, the other digging into his apron pocket to retrieve his cigarettes. "Put your stuff up and, um, you can find Richie. He'll know where the shirt and the apron is."

          She nodded. There was a pause. His eyes took in the woman before him. She was tall, perhaps even taller than him. "You're safe from family tonight, but you'll have to make it tomorrow." Her heart stuttered. "Okay," she replied. Now, he was backing away. He tapped the carton between his fingers, eyes falling to the floor beneath them. "Okay," he echoed.

Slowly, as if something was holding him back, he pushed open the big, metal door. The afternoon was bleeding into the evening. Traffic was heard through the small room. He smiled, gently, before ducking out of the building for a much needed smoke break. Once he was gone, she exhaled. Her body relaxed visibly, shoulders falling forward.

Alright, Miyeon. Let's get to business.

rumi says . . .

hello, hello ! welcome to gods & monsters !

i fucking love richie, y'all. i just have to
get that out bc dude. he's gonna be a
nuisance in this fic. and i mean a nuisance.
he and miyeon are gonna have a great
relationship, despite his old people
talk. she's gonna make him "hip", just
you watch.

there will be a bit of a time jump for the
first chapter. just a small one. she'll have
been working for carmy at least a week.

who are you excited to see her interact
with the most ? me, personally, i'm thinking
tina or sydney. or marcus. i love marcus.

thank you for reading!
feedback is greatly appreciated!