Skewers

“Let’s get some skewers!” said Ahyeon. There was a festival in town, and she could smell the different food stalls all the way from the other side of town. She remembered reading about the evening on the posters outside the college building: a simple street food fair with some other shops.

“You girls hungry?” asked one of her friends, turning to the other girls.

“Yeah,” “sure,” they said, and so to the town center they went.

The festival was already alive by the time they arrived. With the streets full of people, they could already hear the chatter of the crowd from far away. The golden light coming from the stands softened the chilly night air, and everything felt warm and cozy: autumn had arrived. 

There were all kinds of stalls: teokkbokki, skewers, noodles, and even a corner dedicated to desserts. However, that part was a bit further away from the others because they needed to keep a lower temperature for their food.

You worked at one of those stalls. Your skewer stand wasn’t the biggest nor the brightest, but it stood proud amongst the others. The smoke and the scent of the charcoal did all the work. You were one of the only few guys with an actual grill, and everyone could smell it.

Each time the fat from the chicken and the pork dripped into the charcoal, the fire crackled, and that sweet-salty perfume of soy and garlic would rise in the crowd. It was cheap and quick, a perfect treat for the people who were just coming by and didn’t want to get anything too heavy. You could just get a couple and eat them as you were walking around.

You had handed out tray after tray all day—students, couples, elders, kids tugging at their parents for “just one more.” You were having a great time: those satisfied smiles, the little pauses before a second bite, you loved seeing people enjoy your food. 

You lifted your gaze from the grill and saw another small group of girls near your stand. They were examining the menu glued to the edge of the iron pillars. One of the girls stood out as the others were laughing and teasing her for eyeing the menu too long. 

“Don’t eat the whole stall this time!” one of them joked.

“Better watch out, she’ll order for three!” another added, nudging her shoulder.

She laughed nervously, slouching her shoulders. You noticed the way her gaze flicked towards the grill, lingering at the glossy skewers before darting away. She was hungry, you could tell. But she was trying to resist it.

Just moments later, the girls came to sit on the stools you’d arranged around your big wooden counter. 

“Welcome, girls, what can I get you?” you asked brightly, brushing a glaze over the skewers as the grill crackled.

“What would you recommend?” one of them asked, leaning forward.

“Probably the pork skewers,” you said, turning one over and clicking your tongs. The scent of the marinade rose into the air. “We’ve also got squid and chicken, if you’re into that.”

“That sounds good,” the quiet girl replied. 

You moved to the grease-covered cash register, and the girls followed you. They all placed their orders, asking for one of everything so they could try the different flavors. But the last one hesitated and mumbled something under her breath: “Just… one skewer, please. Pork is fine.”

You nodded, but you were feeling a bit doubtful about her. It didn’t match the hunger in her eyes.

“Okay, something to drink, girls? Beer? It goes well together with the grease.”

“Yeah, why not?”

You closed the order and went to the grill, flipping a couple around just for show and getting the boxes out. Some pork, some squid, and some chicken. You just picked up a bunch and shoved it in the boxes; you weren’t the type to hold back. Some of them were thinner and some were thicker, so you couldn’t really decide on a specific number. They needed to get their money's worth.

You brought out the boxes and put them on the table. They immediately started eating, but the other girl stared at you with surprise.

“Excuse me, I ordered just one…” she started, but you quickly interrupted her.

“Don’t worry, it’s on the house,” you said and gave her a wink.

She blinked, glancing at the skewers. “Oh… thank you, then.” Her fingers fumbled around the tray, a little embarrassed, but she eventually picked one up and started eating as well.

Her friends leaned in, nudging her. “Hey, don’t eat too much now.”

She laughed nervously, trying to hide her blush. “I—I won’t…”

You shrugged casually. “There’s nothing wrong with eating a lot. Enjoying food is the whole point, isn’t it?”

Her friends rolled their eyes. “Sure, that’s what you say—because she’s buying everything you make!”

You shook your head. “She is eating as much as you girls, so shut it.”

The girls laughed in amusement and went back to their food. She peeked up at you, her cheeks still pink, and mumbled a soft “Thanks…”

You went back to the grill, glancing sideways at her as she chewed. Some other customers were waiting in line, and you served them all. Luckily for you, the fair was pretty packed, and you were in a good position.

After a while, you went back to their side. 

“So, you girls in college?” you asked.

“Yeah,” one of them said, brushing hair from her face. “The one near the station.”

“Oh, same as me,” you said, leaning an elbow against the counter. “I go there too.”

That got a few surprised looks. “Wait, seriously? You’re a student and you work here?”

“Yeah,” you said with a small shrug. “After classes, I help out at the family shop. We’ve got a place across the city, near the mall.” You pointed in its direction. “You can drop by if you’re ever hungry.”

“Is it the same as the stand?”

“No, we make a lot of different stuff. Skewers, noodles, rice—whatever keeps people coming back,” you said, and it got a few small laughs.

Her friends paid and thanked you, all smiles and chatter as they left. But she turned back for a moment before following, a soft “Thanks, it was really good” slipping out almost too quietly to hear.

Ahyeon, that was her name. You caught it from her friends. You saw a lot of pretty girls that day, but somehow you remembered her quite well.

-

It had been a few days since the festival ended. It was a success, and you earned a lot. The work did not end, though. You were back in your family restaurant. The lanterns were gone now, replaced by the cool hum of streetlights. The crowd had thinned to the usual evening flow. Sometimes it was scarce, sometimes it was really busy.

You were preparing for the evening service. The grill was already on and running, skewers on the side, and sauces in containers. On the other side, you had all the ingredients for the wok. You knew your typical customers. The workers always came at the same time, and they needed their food quickly. You agreed to a special discount. They were loyal after all.

The restaurant filled up with the men, and after a couple of beers, it became lively and fun.

You spotted a girl at the front door. You had young people coming in, too, but they usually weren’t alone. She paused at the entrance, checking her phone to pretend like she had something to do. After the hesitation, she stepped inside.

“Hey,” you said, keeping your tone light. “From the festival, right?”

She tilted her head, a little startled, then she smiled. “Yeah… you remember me?”

You looked at her, wrapped in a light cardigan, hair slightly messy from the breeze. She was still as pretty as you remembered. 

“Yeah, I never had anyone order just one skewer.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s not a problem. You just looked hungrier than what you ordered,” you said, turning the meat on the grill. “Dinner for one?”

She exhaled through a laugh. “Yeah. I didn’t feel like cooking tonight.”

“Every once in a while, a princess has to treat herself.”

She laughed again. Ahyeon sat on one of the stools at the tables in front of you. Her backpack slipped off her shoulders as she made herself comfortable. 

“So, what will it be?” you asked.

She looked at the menu again, though you could tell she already knew what she wanted. “Hmm… two pork boxes, one chicken, and—” she glanced up, “is the squid still available?”

“Still got a few left,” you said. “You sure about three orders though?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly, then seemed to realize how that sounded. “I mean—uh—yeah, it’s been a long day.”

You chuckled and went back to prepare her food. The grill hissed as you set the skewers down. She sat quietly, scrolling through her phone, probably pretending not to notice you watching her. Eventually, the food was ready. You put everything on the table, bowed, and went to serve other customers.

When you came back, she seemed to have almost finished everything. The thing was that only 10 minutes had passed.

“You’re eating well tonight,” you said.

Ahyeon froze mid-reach for her drink, caught off guard. “Is that your polite way of saying I eat too much?”

“Not at all,” you said. “You seem happy.”

Her shoulders relaxed a little. “Yeah… you could say that.” She laughed awkwardly. “My friends always make fun of me for it. They say it’s not… very girly.”

“So starving is really girly, right?”

She looked down, poking at her food. “I mean… when you say it like that.”

You clicked your tongs. “It’d be worse if you were sick and couldn’t eat.”

“Well, you’re right.” 

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You could only hear the quiet hiss of the grill and the distant chatter of the street. You cleared your throat, calling her attention. She looked up.

“Uhm… you still hungry?” you asked.

“A little.”

“Good,” you said, sliding another skewer onto the grill. “Because I was about to give you something extra.”

She blinked. “Extra?”

“Yeah,” you said, reaching for a new tray. “Trying out a new seasoning. Want to see if it’s any good.”

She tilted her head. “You want me to taste-test it?”

You nodded. “Someone’s gotta make sure I’m not poisoning customers.”

She tilted her head, clearly suspicious. “You mean I’m your guinea pig?”

“Pretty much,” you said. “But don’t worry—it’s free.”

“I accept.”

When the skewer was done, you set it in front of her, the glaze still glistening under the light. She didn’t hesitate. She took a bite, then another. She seemed to think carefully.

“It’s good,” she said finally. “The sauce is sweet but not too heavy.”

You nodded. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You could maybe use a little more ginger, but…” she took another bite, “I like it.”

“Too salty?” you asked, feigning concern.

“No, it’s perfect. What’s in it?”

You shrugged lightly, pretending to think. “Guess.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Soy sauce, obviously. Maybe sugar? Some sesame oil… garlic, definitely garlic.”

You stayed quiet, hiding a grin as you wiped the counter.

She squinted at the menu taped to the stall window, reading under her breath. “Wait a second—this one already has sesame oil and garlic listed…”

You turned the skewer once more, trying not to laugh.

Her eyes widened slightly, then she pointed at you with her chopsticks. “So you weren’t really testing the seasoning, were you?”

You looked up at her finally, caught. “Maybe not.”

She leaned back, a small smile creeping across her face. “You just wanted me to eat more.”

You gave a half-shrug. “Is that bad? Your expressions are really cute.”

That shut her up for a bit. Her cheeks turned faintly pink, and she ducked her head to take another bite — maybe to hide her face, maybe just because she was genuinely hungry.

“No,” she said. “Not really.”

When she finished eating, she wiped her hands and leaned on the counter. “You work here every day?”

“Yeah,” you said

“Must be nice,” she said. “Doing what you like every day.”

“It’s mostly just standing around smelling like smoke, but yeah, it’s not bad.”

She smiled, fiddling with the empty skewer sticks. “Well, your food’s good. Way better than anything I’ve had around campus.”

“Glad to hear that,” you said. You knew the evening was about to come to an end. And truth was, you wanted to see her again, so you took a deep breath and tried your luck: “I try new stuff sometimes, mess around with the recipes. If you ever feel like testing them, you’re welcome to drop by. I’ll pay you in food.”

She raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Free food, huh?”

“Only if you give honest feedback.”

“Deal,” she said, grinning. She extended her arm and shook your hand. “I’m good at eating.”

“I noticed,” you said.

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t seem annoyed by your comment.

“By the way, what’s your name?”

“Ahyeon,” she said as you gave yours in return. 

“I’ll remember it,” you replied.

“It’s gotten late, I should go,” Ahyeon said as she stood up.

You nodded. She collected her stuff and paid for the skewers she had ordered at the start. Before she could step out of the door, you stopped her for a moment.

“My offer is still up, if you want,” you said with hesitation. You rolled your lips, thinking that maybe you had been too pushy.

“I’ll be back,” she smiled, and relief washed over you.

When she finally left, so did everyone else, and the restaurant went silent. You cleaned the counter, turned down the grill, and caught yourself looking down the street where she’d gone — just for a second, before shaking your head and going back to work.

You didn’t know if she’d actually come back, but you kind of hoped she would.

After that first night, she started showing up every now and then. At first, it was once a week, usually when her classes ended late, or when she was up studying and the dorm cafeteria had already closed. She always came up with the same excuse.

“Just passing by.”

“Had to walk off a long lecture.”

“Too hungry to wait until dinner.”

She always sat at the same spot, where she would be close enough to the grill to feel its heat. That way, she could talk to you while you were working. You suggested another table, but then you’d have to walk back and forth, so she refused. She didn’t mind smelling like grease, apparently.

Sometimes she’d text first, but most of the time she’d show up unannounced, claiming she happened to be nearby.

By the third or fourth week, she knew your menu by heart. You stopped handing her the paper list. She’d just order from memory, adding, “and whatever you’re testing today.”

Ahyeon didn’t come just for the food. She came for you. You’d work the grill while she chatted about life: her professors, her roommates, the stress of the midterms, and so on. In between, you’d slide her something new to try: spicy sauce one night, honey glaze the next, and when you didn’t think of anything, just some food you had lying around, like a bowl of fried rice.

She took it pretty seriously. 

“Needs more crunch.”

“Too salty.”

“Perfect. Don’t change a thing.”

Maybe she was meant to be a food critic. You pretended to jot down what she said, but you never had any intention of serving that food.

Sometimes she had her own requests too. It was after a very big meal that she leaned back in her chair and raised a finger at you. “You got dessert?”

“Dessert?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You know, sweet stuff? Something that isn’t meat?”

“No,” you said lightly. “Don’t have it.”

Her eyes widened. She was shocked, and quite frankly, offended. “What do you mean no? You’re a restaurant.”

“We only serve salty foods.”

“Unbelievable. You feed me this amazing dinner and then just… stop?”

You smiled. “Yeah, that’s how meals work. Our customers usually wash the meal down with more booze. You want some?”

“No, no,” she said, crossing her arms. “I want something sweet.”

You leaned on the counter. “What do you want me to do, go buy you a chocolate bar?”

She thought about it. “Actually, yeah. That’d work.”

“I am not doing that.”

“I am waiting,” she said, holding out her hand.

You sighed, shaking your head as you turned to the fridge behind you. “Let me see if I have something sweet for our child here.” Of course, there wasn’t anything. So you walked to the back of the kitchen, seeing if there was anything that could resemble a dessert. A moment later, you returned with a small plastic cup of pudding that had been sitting there since lunch service.

She squinted at it. “Is that… cafeteria pudding?”

“Yeah, didn’t want it,” you said. “It’s dessert, right?”

Ahyeon shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Eat it or I’m putting it back in the fridge.”

“Fine,” she said, taking the spoon from your hand. You went to the other side of the room to tidy up after some customers left. When you were done and came back, Ahyeon was staring at you.

“You got another one?”

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you chuckled.

“So?”

“Yeah, I do, actually,” you said and walked to the back again.

-

Dinner rush.

The restaurant was loud: the clatter of chopsticks, the hiss of the grill, the music, the drunks, and the families. You were behind the counter, working through a steady line of orders. 

You were backed by your team, but it was still extremely hectic.

Then, through the noise, you caught a voice you recognized.

Ahyeon’s.

She was laughing somewhere near the door, but her voice was quickly joined by a couple more familiar ones. You glanced up briefly and saw them stop by the door. You didn’t call out. She didn’t see you yet.

“See?” one of the girls said. “I told you she can’t go a day without food.”

Both of them laughed. You smiled faintly at first, expecting Ahyeon to laugh it off like always, but then another voice joined in: “Of course she can’t. She’s got her own personal chef now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ahyeon asked. There was a strain on her voice; she seemed uncomfortable.

“Oh, come on,” her friend said playfully. “You’re always here. Don’t act like you’re not getting special treatment. They probably gives you extra food for free, right?”

Her words seemed to hit the bullseye on Ahyeon. She quickly lowered her head and started playing with the hem of her shirt. You were in the middle of handing a tray to a customer, so you couldn’t step out. Couldn’t correct them.

“You’re such a glutton, Ahyeon.”

“Stop it,” she said, her voice small. “It’s not like that.”

“Relax, we’re joking!” another friend said quickly, trying to reduce the damage. But it had gone too far. It wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wasn’t the last. You wonder how many times they repeated this to her. Ahyeon seemed used to it, but it still hurt her a little bit.

Orders kept coming in, customers calling your name. You caught her looking up once, eyes flicking briefly toward you — but you didn’t know whether to smile or pretend you hadn’t heard.

Your eyes met, and she quietly left.

It was just teasing.

Harmless.

The kind of thing friends say all the time.

That’s what you told yourself, but she stopped showing up.

You told yourself she was busy — exams, assignments, anything — but you knew it wasn’t that. You missed her, you really did. The gap she left was too obvious. You’d glance toward the door every time it opened, expecting her to walk in, pretending you weren’t.

By the fourth night, you stopped looking.

But you still found yourself setting aside a small dish near the counter before closing — out of habit more than hope.

It took a few days before you stopped expecting her to walk through the restaurant door. Then, another couple of days before you gave up pretending not to notice.

By the end of the week, it was starting to worry you.

So one afternoon, between deliveries, you packed a small take-out box yourself. Pork skewers, her favorite glaze, and a side of rice. You even added a little box of soup, which you usually handed her during the cold nights. Then you looked up her university’s website to guess where she might be.

No lessons today. Great. So she couldn’t be in a class.

What about the exams? She said they were coming up in like a month, but that was two weeks ago, so maybe she was studying?

There were some libraries near the main buildings. You thought you might as well try your luck. You didn’t have anything else to do anyway. The restaurant wasn’t far. Ten minutes on foot.

The campus was quieter than you expected. There weren’t many people around. You started walking around, looking inside the halls, around the garden. You even asked the girls walking by, but none of them knew who you were talking about.

Made sense. It was a large course after all.

After a couple of minutes, you did eventually find her. She was sitting on the low stone wall outside the library, earbuds in, a half-open notebook on her lap. Her hair was pulled back loosely, she looked very concentrated, her eyes wrinkled like she had forgotten her glasses.

You hesitated for a moment. Maybe this was stupid. Maybe she did not want to see you at all.

But you were already here.

“Hey.”

She looked up and her body jumped. She looked around her to see if it was some kind of joke, but it was just you. Ahyeon quickly brushed her hair behind her ears and straightened her back. “Oh. Hey. What are you doing here?” she said without looking into your eyes.

You held out the take-out box. “Food delivery.”

Ahyeon narrowed her eyes. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” You set it down beside her. “House special.”

Her eyes softened, and she sighed. She didn’t reach for it right away; instead, she looked at you, mortified. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did.” You crouched beside the wall so you were eye level. “You disappeared. I figured either you were avoiding me or you got sick of my cooking. And since the second one’s obviously impossible…”

Ahyeon chuckled and shoved your shoulder. It was the first time you heard her laugh in a week. She had no idea how much you missed it.

You nudged the box toward her. “Eat before it gets cold.”

She finally took it, opening the lid. Steam rose in a faint curl, carrying a smell that she knew very well. She looked at the food for a second, then at you, with a small pout. “You know people will start talking about you if you do deliver food to random girls.”

“Not random. Just you,” you said, smiling. “Besides, I wanted to tell you something.”

She paused, chopsticks hovering over the food. “What?”

You looked at the box, then at her. For a second, you almost chickened out. It wasn’t the right time, or the right place. But you were tired of waiting. 

You took a breath and said, “I don’t care what anyone says. About how much you eat, or how often you come by, or whether you ‘use me for food’ or whatever that was. None of that matters to me.”

Ahyeon froze and simply stared at you with her mouth slightly agape. 

“I love seeing you enjoy food,” you said simply. “It makes me happy that you like what I make. And I like talking with you. You’re… easy to be around.”

Her voice softened. “You mean that?”

“Yeah,” you said. “And it’s cute, honestly. The way you eat a lot. It’s like Kirby.”

Her eyes widened. “Kirby? You’re comparing me to a pink ball that swallows everything?”

You rubbed your neck, groaning. “Okay, that came out wrong.”

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, suddenly aware of how awkward you sounded. “If you don’t want to come by just to eat, that’s fine. I just wanted you to know I care. About you.”

She still didn’t say anything. She looked down at the food, then picked up a piece and took a slow bite.

Your heart was beating steadily while you waited for a response. She chewed carefully with her eyes closed. She inhaled carefully and looked at you.

“You really walked all the way here just to say that?” she asked.

“Yeah. Well, and to feed you,” you said.

Ahyeon laughed. “Well, if you keep feeding me like this, I might get addicted… to you.”

“That’s uhh—uhm,” you said, stammering. You didn’t expect her response at all. You swallowed and reminded yourself that you did know how to talk to girls. “I’ve heard addiction’s hard to cure.”

Ahyeon grinned. “You really need to work on your lines.”

“As long as you don’t mind them,” you said. “That’s all I need.”

You sat down beside her and talked about all the things you missed. When the food was gone, neither of you got up right away.

“So,” she said finally. “If I show up tomorrow… same spot as usual?”

You nodded. “I’ll make something new.”

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can’t wait.”