Chapter Text
The alarm on Enid's phone went off at 5:15 AM, Fleetwood Mac lulling her out of her slumber. She slapped at her nightstand, fingers finally connecting with the device, and squinted at the screen's painful brightness.
Monday.
She groaned, but it was performative, a habit more than a genuine complaint. Enid Sinclair was, against all odds and reason, a morning person. She just needed approximately ten minutes of groaning to remember that fact.
The apartment was quiet except for the muffled sounds of the city waking up outside their eleventh-floor window. Their place was small. Only a two-bedroom, one bathroom suite with a narrow kitchen and a living room that required creative furniture arrangement. But it was theirs.
Well, hers and Yoko's and increasingly Divina's, though that was a topic of ongoing, affectionate negotiation.
Enid rolled out of bed, her feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. The "rustic charm" of their apartment was really just code for "things are old, and nothing matches," but she loved it. The mismatched thrift store furniture, the plants in repurposed containers, the string lights Yoko had hung that made everything look softer at night. It felt well-loved.
Enid padded to the bathroom, casually stepping over the pile of Yoko's clothes by the door. The bathroom mirror was still fogged from Yoko's shower, and she had drawn a smiley face in the condensation.
Enid smiled and added a heart next to it before starting her own shower.
Twenty minutes later, she stood in front of her closet. In reality, it was just a clothing rack she'd found on the street, and Yoko had helped her hoist it up the stairs. She grabbed the sweater she'd been working on, examining her handiwork in the morning light. The embroidered flowers along the sleeves had taken three nights of work, but they were perfect. Each stitch deliberate, each petal catching the light differently.
This was why she loved fashion. Not just wearing clothes, but creating them and making something that was uniquely hers.
She glanced at her work desk, where her portfolio piece for her Fashion Construction II class sat on top. It was a jacket with an asymmetrical cut she was still figuring out. It kinda looked like it was fighting itself. She loved it.
Her phone buzzed with a notification. Making note of the time (she really needs to get going) she saw it was only a dating app match. Enid swiped it away without opening it.
She donned her favorite, worn high-waisted jeans, which she'd patched with contrasting fabric, and grabbed a long-sleeve shirt she had only worn for a few hours the night before and gave it a sniff. Clean enough.
Enid grabbed a granola bar from the kitchen and scribbled a quick note on the whiteboard they kept by the fridge.
Yokes, pick up more oat milk. Love you babes
The bus was already waiting at the corner when she arrived, breathless and juggling her bag, her reusable coffee tumbler, and her keys. She collapsed into a seat near the back, pulled out her earbuds, and hit shuffle on her "Morning Motivation" playlist, which was essentially a chaotic mix of Blondie, Pat Benatar, and The Go-Go's that Yoko called "aggressively 1982."
She had a project due next week. She had a daunting seasonal collection assignment to start. Her bank account was depressingly low. Yet sitting here, watching the city wake up, Enid let herself smile.
Honeybrew smelled like home.
The scent of honey, freshly ground coffee beans, old wood, and the faint sweetness of the pastries Eugene baked fresh each morning wafted into her nose. The vining plants, lush and green, breathed life into the space as they thrived in their little pots on every available surface. The warm glow of the sunrise filled the space, catching on honey jars arranged on floating shelves and illuminating the cozy vintage furniture.
Enid moved through her opening routine with ease after two years of experience. She connected her phone to the shop's speaker system, queueing up the morning playlist, and the little storefront filled with the low sound of Hall & Oates while she prepped.
She knew which floorboard creaked near the espresso machine. Knew that the third grinder from the left sometimes jammed if you didn't tap it just right. Knew that Eugene had arranged the bookshelves himself, organizing them by color rather than genre because he thought it looked better, and she agreed.
By 6:30, she was unlocking the door for the early morning crowd.
The first customers were always the same. The construction workers who ordered black coffee and breakfast sandwiches. Then came the college student who'd clearly been up all night. Sam was a junior at NYU studying God-knows-what, and always looked haunted. They ordered cappuccinos like they were medicine.
"Rough night?" Enid asked, already pulling the shots.
"Organic chemistry," Sam confirmed and blinked blearily.
"You've got this," Enid said, handing over the cup with an extra shot she didn't charge for. "I believe in you."
Sam managed a tired smile. "Thanks, Enid. You're a lifesaver."
Mr. Lee came right on schedule at 7:00 AM, wearing his suit, already on his phone, conducting what sounded like important business in Mandarin. He paused long enough to order his matcha latte ("Extra hot, please, Enid") before returning to his conversation. Enid had worked here long enough to have his drink ready by the time he reached the counter.
He nodded his thanks without breaking his phone conversation, left a generous tip, and was gone.
Sarah, the nursing student, came in at 7:15. She'd been here practically every morning for the past month.
"Early morning clinicals again?" Enid asked.
"Every day this week," Sarah sighed. "I'm starting to forget what sleeping past 5 AM feels like."
"You're almost done, though, right? Isn't this your last year?"
"If I survive it." But Sarah was smiling. "Thanks for remembering."
Enid handed over her coffee with a smile of her own. "You've got this. And in a year, you'll be an actual nurse saving lives instead of just practicing on dummies."
"God, I hope so." Sarah took a long sip, sighing contentedly. "This helps, though. You're the best."
It was its own kind of dance. Familiar, frantic, but satisfying. Enid knew the exact rhythm. She flew through customer orders and barely had to think while starting another batch of drip coffee, restocking the milk, and wiping down the machines between customers. Eugene had taught her well, and she'd learned the rest through repetition and attention.
She didn’t want to be a barista forever, though. Fashion design was the future she was working toward. But this? This she could do. This made her feel competent, needed, and useful.
Eugene emerged from the back office around 8:00 AM, his glasses slightly fogged from checking the ovens.
"Morning, Enid! How's the rush?"
"Managed," she said, finishing a cappuccino with a careful leaf design in the foam. "But we're almost out of the pumpkin scones. They've been popular today."
"I'll make another batch tomorrow." Eugene adjusted his glasses, peering at the pastry case. "Actually, scratch that… I'll make two batches. If they're selling this well, we should capitalize on it."
"Smart thinking, boss man."
"That's why they pay me the big bucks." He grinned, then tilted his head, studying her. "You look tired. Late night with the design homework?"
Enid gazed up at him through her disheveled hair. "Ugh, is it that obvious?"
"You've got that look. The one that says you stayed up past midnight and fell asleep on your sewing machine."
Enid slightly cringed, but laughed. "Guilty. I'm working on this jacket that's fighting me at every turn. The asymmetrical cut keeps pulling wrong, and I can't figure out if it's the pattern or if I'm just losing my mind."
He shrugged. "Probably just the pattern. You're very good at what you do," he said matter-of-factly. "You working inventory with me tonight?"
"Can’t tonight. But I can do it Wednesday?"
"That works. Thanks." He paused, leaning against the counter with that knowing look she'd come to recognize. "So what are the plans tonight? Hot date? Wild party?"
Enid rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Homework, Eugene. Very sexy homework involving textile patterns and fabric construction techniques."
"Come on, you're twenty-three! You should be out there living life, meeting people—"
"Please don't finish that sentence," Enid complained. "I get enough of that from Yoko."
"Yoko's right, though. When's the last time you went out? Did something just for fun?"
She put her hands on her hips. "Hey! I have fun."
"Sewing until two in the morning doesn't count."
"It does if you love what you're doing." Enid wiped down the steam wand, avoiding his eyes. "And I've been on dates. Recently-ish."
"Recently-ish?"
"Y’know, within the last few months..."
"Look, I'm not trying to be pushy. I just worry about you. You work here, you go to school, you work on your projects, and then you do it all again. Where's the room for... I don't know, living?"
She gestured to herself. "This is living. I'm working toward something I care about."
"I know. And I respect that. You know I do. Your dedication is admirable." Eugene pushed his glasses up his nose. "But you're allowed to want other things too."
Enid avoided his eyes as she thought. "I don't know if I know how to. I'm not really good at... other stuff."
"The other stuff being relationships?" He inquired.
She puffed out a breath. "I guess, yeah."
Eugene was quiet for a moment, considering. "I think you just haven't found someone who appreciates what you bring to the table yet."
She snorted. "That's a nice way of saying I suck at dating."
"That's a way of saying the right person is out there. You just haven't met them yet." Eugene smiled. "But they'd better treat you well, or they'll have to answer to me." He puffed up his chest, and Enid couldn’t help but giggle.
"Oh, you're terrifying," Enid teased. "What are you going to do, aggressively explain coffee bean sourcing methods to them?"
He looked at her with mock indignation."Don't mock my coffee bean knowledge. It's extensive and intimidating."
"I'm shaking in my boots.”
"You should be." Eugene pushed off the counter, chuckling. "Anyway. Wednesday for inventory?"
"Wednesday for inventory," Enid confirmed.
Eugene waved her off and disappeared back into the office.
Maybe Eugene was right. Maybe she did need to make more room in her life for fun and possibilities.
Her co-worker Agnes made a pit stop around 10:30 between her morning classes. She took one look at Enid and chuckled.
"You look exhausted," Agnes announced, leaning against the counter. "Late night?"
Enid blew a piece of hair out of her face."Yup, I was working on that asymmetrical jacket."
"The one you've been working on for three weeks?" Agnes accepted the coffee Enid made her without being asked. "You need to get out more."
Enid focused very intently on wiping down the espresso machine. "I've been busy—"
"You haven't dated since... What's-her-name? Sage? It's been like, what, eight months?"
"Eleven months," Enid corrected quietly. "But who's counting?"
"Exactly. That's long enough. What about that girl from Tinder? The one with the—"
"Cargo shorts?" Enid shivered dramatically. "No, absolutely not. We don't talk about cargo shorts girl."
"Okay, fair. But there have to be other options. What about that girl from your Textiles class? She was cute."
"She was nice, but..." Enid trailed off.
How could she explain to anyone that every date felt like she was going through the motions? That people seemed interested until they realized she actually meant it when she said she wanted to talk about feelings, future dreams, and building something real? That she was tired of people treating her optimism like a personality flaw that needed fixing? That she wanted someone who complemented her energy instead of trying to tell her to tone it down?
Agnes's expression softened. "You're just a sapphic hopeless romantic in a hookup culture world, aren't you?"
Enid hummed, not committing to an answer. "Refill?"
"You can't keep giving me free coffee."
"Watch me."
At 2:00 PM, she clocked out, waved goodbye to Eugene, and caught the bus home.
Yoko was awake (barely), wrapped in a blanket on their thrift-store couch and squinting at her phone as if it had personally offended her.
"Good morning, Dracula," Enid chirped, dropping her bag by the door.
Yoko flipped her off without looking up, but there was no heat in it. "Why are you being so loud?"
"It's almost three in the afternoon."
"Exactly. It's basically the middle of the night."
Enid laughed, heading to the kitchen to make herself a late lunch. The apartment was brighter now, sunlight streaming through the windows and catching on the few plants that sat on the windowsill. Yoko claimed they were Enid's responsibility since she had propagated them and brought them home, but Enid had definitely caught her talking to the snake plant last week while she watered it.
Divina emerged from Yoko's room a few minutes later, looking significantly more put-together. She worked rotating shifts at the library, which meant she was on a slightly more normal schedule.
"Hey, Enid! How was work?"
"Good! Busy. Eugene's making more pumpkin scones tomorrow."
"Ooh, tell him to save me one," Divina said, grabbing her bag. She dropped a kiss on Yoko's head. "I'll see you after my shift?"
Yoko made a vague affirmative noise, still cocooned in her blanket.
After Divina left, Enid settled at their small kitchen table with her sketchbook, working on designs for her final project. She had to create a cohesive five-piece collection for each season, and she was torn between going full maximalist color or trying something more subdued and warm for fall.
"You're thinking too loud," Yoko announced from the couch.
"I'm sketching."
"Same energy." Yoko finally sat up, her dark hair sticking up at odd angles. "What's the crisis?"
"I can't decide if I want to do something bright and bold or try to prove I can do minimalist elegance."
Yoko shuffled over, peering at the sketches. She tapped one of the jackets with bold geometric patterns in jewel tones. "This one. This is Enid Sinclair. Don't be something you're not to impress a bunch of washed-up professors who only wear taupe and clean lines."
Yoko was right. She always was.
"Okay, bold it is."
"Atta girl.” She sat and continued to stare. “What’s got you all mopey?"
Enid narrowed her eyes and countered, "I’m not mopey."
Yoko gave her a look that could have stripped paint.
Enid huffed. "Agnes asked about my dating life today. And sorta also Eugene. Is there just like a big flashing neon sign above my head that says ‘lonely and pathetic?’"
"Ah." Yoko settled into the chair across from her. "Look, I know the last few tries didn't work out—"
"Understatement of the century."
"—but that doesn't mean you should give up. You've just got to find someone who appreciates that you're, like, aggressively sincere."
"That makes me sound exhausting."
"You are exhausting," Yoko said with complete affection. "But in a good way. In a way that someone's going to absolutely love someday."
Enid wanted to believe that. She really did.
"Maybe," she said quietly.
Yoko reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Definitely. Now, I'm going back to bed to rot for another three hours, and then we're ordering takeout and watching trashy reality TV. Sound good?"
"Sounds perfect."
That night, after Yoko had returned to the land of the living and they'd demolished an order of Thai food while watching Perfect Match, Enid lay in bed scrolling through her phone.
Her fashion design assignments were just barely done. She could actually get some quality sleep. Instead, she found herself on her dating apps, swiping halfheartedly through profiles. Everyone looked the same. The same carefully curated photos showing the same carefully curated fun. The same bios listing travel and hiking, and "looking for someone who doesn't take life too seriously,” or “Just casually dating at the moment.”
“Ugh,” she groaned in annoyance and closed the app.
Maybe tomorrow would be different.
She turned off her light, pulled her blanket up to her chin, and let herself drift off to sleep, completely unaware that in less than twelve hours, her entire world was about to tilt on its axis.