perfect blue | jay park

ii.

You were an idiot for not realizing sooner.

As you walked up to the coffee shop, you hadn't bothered to look up, instead looking down at the sidewalk as you shuffled, somewhat sheepishly, still sort of embarrassed about what had happened. "We're here," he said, tugging on your sleeve gently, making you look up. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes searched the all-too familiar sign of the coffee shop, and you unknowingly tugged your arm out of his grasp, taking a step back as those repressed tears began reappearing. "Hey, wait, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, stepping into your frame of view, taking you by the wrist again. "Do you want to go somewhere else? My car's still in the lot, and I know another place..."

"No," you said quickly, swallowing hard. "This is... this is just the place I used to come to with my soulmate, before he died... I haven't been back since."

The man's furrowed brow softened, and he rubbed the back of his neck, slightly ashamed. "Oh, shit..." he muttered, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

"You had no way of knowing," you said, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened, "but... I'll be fine. Let's go in?"

"You don't have to force yourself," he said, but you opened the heavy door, triggering the little bell attached to it, and it tinkled cheerfully, reminding you of all the times you came to the shop with Jake. You held the door open for him, motioning for him to walk in first, and he did, ducking under the low door frame—you hadn't previously noticed just how tall he was. "Are you really sure?" he asked again as you walked in behind him, the familiar smell of coffee wafting through your nostrils.

"It's just a coffee," you said, almost numbly.

"I would know better than anyone that sometimes a coffee isn't just a coffee," he murmured.

"It's been two years, maybe it's time, then," you said, looking up at the menu, already knowing what you wanted to order.

Coincidentally, the only table open was the same one that you and Jake had claimed as yours, all those years ago. Your heart squeezed a little as you traced over the engravings of your initials with the same finger you'd used to feel the grooves of his name on his headstone. The day that he had carved it was a rough one, ending with him having to use all of his summer job money to pay for the table. The owner ended up keeping it anyway, and every time you sat at that table afterwards Jake claimed it was really his table since he paid for it, quite literally.

"I guess this place has a lot of memories for you," the man said, watching you wistfully look around the shop, which hadn't changed at all in the two years of your absence.

"I suppose it does," you said. You turned your attention to him, looking at his dark, gelled hair, and his callused hands that were clasped tightly on the tabletop. "I realize that I never asked for your name."

"Jay," he said, giving you another half-smile. It was a little charming, you thought to yourself. "What's yours?"

"(Y/N)," you replied, running your fingers over the carving again unconsciously.

Jay focused on your busy hands, eye twitching as he realized what you were doing. "Did he do that?" he asked, pointing to the little heart carving. You stopped touching it.

"Yeah."

Another uncomfortable silence ensued, until the waitress brought you both your drinks. You didn't recognize the waitress, but you should have anticipated that. Staff changed all the time, especially at a minimum wage job like this one. Why would the same waitress from two years ago, that knew you and Jake well, still work there? She'd even told you she was graduating college that year, that she would be moving out of town afterwards. Why did you expect to see her familiar face, her familiar dyed-blonde head poke out from behind the counter? Jay sipped at his coffee primly, thin lips curving around his mug daintily, so different from the view that you were used to. As you shakily brought your own mug to your mouth, you felt the same stupid tears reappearing, but this time, they fell, dripping straight into your untouched drink, and you placed it down—a little too roughly, as some of it sloshed over the edge, and buried your face in your hands, not wanting Jay to see you cry. You'd been doing so well. You hadn't cried all day.