After Closing Time

The conference stretched on until almost 5:30 PM.

Yuna had technically kept her promise: she hadn’t fallen asleep. Well… almost.

There had been a moment around 4:45 PM, when one of the engineers launched into an absolutely terrifying explanation about low-orbit satellite trajectories, where her eyelids had simply stopped cooperating. Chloé had discreetly elbowed her in the ribs to wake her up.

But every single time Jax started speaking again, Yuna naturally straightened up, listening carefully even when she barely understood anything. The final applause slowly scattered through the cold air of the park.

Jax’s coworkers gathered together nearby. Somehow, Chloé had already managed to get invited to dinner by a propulsion engineer named Theo; tall, messy hair, surprisingly handsome and she was already walking away with him while throwing Yuna a teasing look over her shoulder.

Yuna waved back, laughing internally.

She started collecting the empty cups from the tray someone had lent her, instinctively cleaning up the area while searching for a trash can.

That was when her eyes drifted toward Jax and the crowd surrounding him.

Even though he still looked distant, Yuna noticed the small attentions he gave his fans. He subtly stood on the side where the icy wind blew the hardest to shield the girls from the cold, and every now and then he cracked small awkward jokes just to lighten the atmosphere.

For several minutes, Yuna cleaned almost automatically, just as she had done in the coffee shop.

Then a voice suddenly spoke behind her.

“Need help?”

She jumped slightly.

Jax was standing there.

“No no, I’ve got it,” she said while organizing the conference badges by color.

Jax raised an eyebrow with a faint smile.

“Obsessive?”

Yuna crossed her arms proudly.

“Perfectionist.”

He glanced around them as if searching for someone.

“Chloé already left?”

“The handsome engineer on your right earlier… Theo, was it?”

“Ah.” Jax pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Of course.”

Without really discussing it, the two of them naturally started walking toward the park exit together.

The sky had turned into that soft blue-gray color unique to December evenings not fully daytime anymore, but not completely night either. Streetlights had just flickered on, their yellow halos trembling faintly against the cold.

Yuna stared at her shoes crunching against the gravel.

(He’s taking the subway. I’m taking the subway too. And now we’re going to pretend it’s normal to walk home together even though he usually disappears without warning.)

She shook her head slightly. Jax noticed, but didn’t comment.

(We’re not even that close, Yuna. Stop imagining things.)

“Your conference,” she finally said, “was really good.”

“You almost fell asleep.”

“I almost did. But I didn’t. It’s a miracle, honestly. You should include that in your research.”

Jax let out a sound that vaguely resembled a muffled laugh. Yuna turned slightly to look at him, but he was already looking somewhere else again. They passed through the park gates.

“Do you have anything tonight?” Yuna asked, trying to sound casual.

“No. Why?”

She shrugged.

“Chloé left me the coffee shop keys before running off with her astronaut. You can come if you want. I still need to clean up and…”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second.

“…I can make you coffee. Real coffee. Not the paper cup stuff from earlier.”

Jax adjusted his glasses.

“Alright. But I’ll be extremely critical since you apparently know what you’re doing.”

The coffee shop was empty when they arrived.

The familiar white noise of the espresso machine filled the silence. The smell of coffee lingered warmly in the air. Yuna set down her coat, tied her apron with the automatic gestures of someone who had done it for years, then disappeared behind the counter.

Jax sat on his usual stool the one at the far end, slightly separated from the others.

“Any preference?” Yuna called out without looking up, already inspecting different coffee beans.

“You choose.”

Jax watched her quietly for a moment.

She had taken out two different jars and was examining them against the light as if trying to read something hidden inside. Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed that little habit she had whenever she concentrated.

Eventually, she chose an Ethiopian Yirgacheffe with a light roast.

She could’ve chosen the other one instead a softer Brazilian roast, safer, the kind you serve people you don’t really know yet. But instead, she picked the more interesting one.

The grinder started humming.

“You grew up around coffee?” Jax suddenly asked.

“Not at all. My first student job was at Starbucks, and eventually the smell of coffee just became part of my life.”

She smiled faintly at the memory.

“When Chloé and I graduated high school, she immediately wanted to open her own coffee shop. There was no way I was gonna let my best friend serve terrible coffee to customers when she’d never touched coffee beans in her life.”

Jax leaned lightly against the counter.

“So you do care about coffee then.”

“Not exactly.” Yuna adjusted the filter carefully. “For me it’s more like… every coffee I make is a question.”

She paused briefly.

“What do I want this person to feel thirty seconds from now?”

She said it simply, without trying to sound impressive, her eyes still fixed on the machine.

(Great. Now you sound completely insane, Yuna. How is he supposed to know thirty seconds is the brewing time?)

But Jax didn’t laugh.

“Go on,” he said calmly.

Yuna blinked slightly, surprised by how serious he sounded.

“Well… everything matters. The bean, the origin, the roast. Ethiopian coffee has floral notes, bergamot, almost tea-like. Sumatran coffee feels earthy, heavy… like a presence. Colombian coffee is balanced and soft.”

She slowly poured hot water in circles over the grounds, watching the coffee bloom.

“That’s why I always ask people how they’re actually doing instead of just saying ‘Hi, what can I get you?’ Because depending on the answer…”

She glanced down at the cup.

“…I adjust.”

Jax watched her quietly.

“And tonight,” he asked, “what did you choose for me?”

“Yirgacheffe, Ethiopia.”

She looked up at him briefly. “Bright. Slightly floral. A little acidity that lingers.”

Yuna placed two cups on the counter and leaned forward across from him.

Jax picked up his cup carefully. He rotated it slightly, smelled it instinctively for barely a second, then took a sip.

“It’s…” he searched for the right word, “light.”

“There’s something else too. Like dried flowers? That sounds weird.”

“No, that’s exactly it. Jasmine. Bergamot.”

Yuna smiled proudly. “You’ve got a good palate.”

She crossed her arms on the counter.

“Most people drink coffee without listening to it.”

Jax looked at her over the rim of his glasses.

“Listening to coffee,” he repeated.

“Don’t look at me like that. You listen to the sky.”

“That’s different,” he said while adjusting his glasses again to sound more serious.

“Oh really? I’m never wrong. Earlier you said the color of the sky affects emotions. If you connect certain weather to a good memory, you start loving it more.”

She pointed lightly at the cup.

“That’s exactly what I do with coffee. You read atmospheres. I create them.”

Jax slowly set his cup down.

There was something strangely unsettling about the way Yuna connected things so naturally directly, without trying to make herself sound smart, as if this was simply how she had always seen the world.

The silence that followed lasted exactly three seconds.

“Have you ever thought about doing something else?” he finally asked. “Besides coffee.”

“Sometimes.”

She took a sip from her own cup.

“When I was seventeen, I wanted to study architecture. But I loved mornings too much.”

She laughed softly.

“Architecture means sleepless nights. Coffee means sunrises. So I chose coffee.”

“And space?” Yuna asked. “What was the real starting point for you?”

Jax took time before answering.

Not hesitation. Precision.

“When I was eight, my father took me to a field far outside the city to watch a meteor shower. We waited in the cold for almost two hours before anything happened.”

His gaze drifted toward the coffee shop window.

“And when the first meteor crossed the sky… I remember I didn’t scream or anything. I just had this very calm feeling that the world was much bigger than people had told me.”

He adjusted his glasses again.

“It sounds less poetic when I say it out loud.”

“No,” Yuna said quietly.

“It sounds exactly poetic like that.”

Jax looked at her.

Outside, snow had started falling again.

Not the violent snow from earlier that month this was softer, hesitant snow, barely sticking to the windows before melting away. Yuna noticed first.

“Look.”

Jax turned toward the window. For a while, neither of them spoke.

Eventually Yuna stood up and started stacking the cups, porcelain clinking softly together.

“I’ll finish closing up. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

It was almost eight o’clock when they finally locked the coffee shop door.

The streets were quiet. They walked side by side toward the subway station.

“Your report,” Yuna suddenly said.

“…What?”

“You have a report due. I saw it in your bag earlier. Not snooping, obviously.”

She kept staring straight ahead.

“You should’ve gone home earlier.”

Jax didn’t answer immediately.

“It’s not due tomorrow,” he finally said.

“Oh.”

A brief silence.

“…Then when?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Yuna stopped walking instantly and stared at him.

Jax kept walking for another two seconds before realizing she wasn’t beside him anymore. He turned back slightly.

“Go work,” she said with a stern expression that was absolutely not convincing and honestly a little funny.

Jax sighed and scratched the back of his neck.

“Alright then, if you’re kicking me out like this.”

He pulled his coat collar up and started to leave, but stopped suddenly as if something had gotten stuck in his throat.

“The coffee,” he said while looking at her.

“It was good.”

Yuna shoved her hands into her pockets.

“I know,” she answered simply.

And she smiled.

(Oh my god, we seriously need Chloé around. One-on-one conversations with him are way too awkward.)

Jax adjusted his glasses one last time before disappearing around the corner of the street.

Yuna stayed there for another second.

“Next time I’ll make him try the Sumatra,” she muttered to herself in the empty street.

Then she headed toward the subway.

A few steps later, she grimaced while checking the time on her phone.

“Chloé… please don’t come back hungover tomorrow morning…”