threat of joy | wen junhui

SEVEN?

SEVEN, BARELY LEGAL
MISSION DISTRICT - HILLSIDE ST

MONDAYS were the worst but amongst all the turmoil that had ensued since the dawn of his day to the last second of his final period, he had to exclude this one foggy day, for the most part at least.

"Muchas gracias," Sungyeon told the waitress with a beam gracing her pure features as she gingerly helped take the basket of chips and the miniature mortar of salsa, a signature of Taqueria Del Mar Oeste. "Le puedo ayudar con este plato... Y gracias por las servilletas."

The sun peeked just right in with their booth permitting the final waning winks of sunlight, as it the day was nearly over. The sky provided a resolution for the stark of the sunset, in between hues and clouds of gray, rose, and the evening azure: all of its drifting silhouettes spreading the color into the room of the restaurant Sungyeon and Jun were seated in.

It'd been a long day for the both of them. Their director had let them leave early since they memorized every measure they had to, down to the merest rhythm and dynamic. So, Junhui decided to take her to eat before she'd go home.

Wasting no time in scooping a chip of the salsa rojo, Sungyeon drew her hand across the table to do so and used the other to tear the paper upon her straw.

"Your Spanish sounds legit," Jun commented as he merely tapped his straw against the table with one hand, inadvertently composing a syncopated rhythm, like the bridge in their song. "Should've taken Spanish instead of French. 'Cause dang, girl."

She glanced at him, a bat of her eyelashes shielding her from him being able to notice her darting pupils, though they did reflect a fracture of the broken sunset across their city horizon.

"Thanks, but French seems cooler to me. Maybe I'll take that next year," the ceiling speakers gently filled their area with Los Panchos as Jun noted that she was humming along to it. They met each other's fatigued gazes. "I mean, you're practically fluent."

Jun snorted, eyeing the passerby waiter bring food to another table.

"I can't even speak English, Mandarin, or Cantonese correctly." Though they both shared a chuckle, Jun still felt a wound open up deep within him, like the way a bud unraveled into a blossom. He leaned on the table, crossing his arms just right under his chin,

"Well, you're sure not stupid." She brushed her knuckles against his bicep sincerely before reaching to take a sip from her drink. Jun felt her brief warmth slowly redact like the sun as it dipped further behind the niche of the buildings around them.

"Thanks, friend." He flipped his head, letting his cheek press against the clothed crook in his arm. Feng did that, too, he hummed almost in thought. She used to.

The wave of the incoming food hit them first as they immediately sat up straight, eyes poised solely to what the lady enveloped in her arms, the chips and salsa no longer a necessity. The familiar scent, too ambrosial for their own good, could've filled them by itself.

The sunlight's shape shifted as the fog seemed to let up at their mood, subdued by the umami aroma brought on by the botana de fajitas and the side of tlacoyos, which emanated with thick wisps of steam.

"Y-ya llegó la comida," Sungyeon welcomed the food, plus the waitress, flashing a grin that said too much about their hunger. "Muchas gracias. Creó que vamos a estar bien con esto."

They shared a tlacoyo to start off their gargantuan meal, something that seemed to much for them, but nonetheless, they enjoyed every moment. Junhui and Sungyeon each bumped knuckles as they shoved an assorted combination of the botana with pieces of tortillas.