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wonwoo blinks wide awake as he plays the scenario in his head for the nth time of the night or should he say morning. his digital clock beeps a 7 am in the morning and wonwoo turns over from the corner of the bed, reaching over to shut the beeping alarm clock.
the bed, adjacent to his, warm and empty.
his roommate must’ve just gone out for a morning jog. wonwoo sighs, ruffling his bed hair as he bends to his left taking his thin rounded, golden rimmed glasses sitting on the beige study table. the reason for the dark circles underneath his sharp eyes is none other than that sophomore kid working in the bakery in street 22, just around the corner of his university. kim mingyu, who is also the starring character in wonwoo’s one-hundred scenarios since the day before.
wonwoo stretches, groaning in process as his tensed shoulders gives out a few cracks. the calendar marks a big sixth of april today and wonwoo vividly remembered the time when he circled the date with a purple sharpie.
you see, wonwoo isn’t exactly very close with mingyu, in fact they’re only considered as acquaintances. he only knew about mingyu through his literature classmate—three months ago—in the new year eve’s party because wonwoo accidentally took mingyu’s phone with him back home. it was a party, in his defence, things were everywhere.
but yes, infatuation would be an understatement. wonwoo’s brimmed with the thoughts of mingyu for the past three months and he’s honestly getting kind of sick of it because all these feelings do to him is make him question his own virtue and losing his focus in his major. and to make matters worse, wonwoo is shy as fuck. not like those cute shy kinds of shy, but the kind that says unnecessary things a that the worse timing or the kind that accidentally spits in the middle of a small talk.
to put it bluntly, he’s just really, really, fucked, when it comes to socializing.
and this is just about interactions with strangers.
with mingyu…well, wonwoo couldn’t bring himself to imagine.
despite of being shy and introverted, wonwoo has a big heart. and it’s honestly a hassle because then he’d have dreams that he couldn’t achieve because of how he is as a person. there aren’t any excuses for it other than the fact that god’s joke went a little too far for him.
the water of the tap closes and wonwoo eyes himself determinedly in the mirror, adjusting his glasses, “you can do it,” he whispers.
and then he’s off to his room, draping a yellow jacket over his white shirt and changing into his navy-blue trousers.
“i can do it,” he whispers another time while swinging his blue backpack over his shoulders.
wednesdays are the days where wonwoo sleeps in until late noon, so today, it surprises himself as he appears at the doorstep of the familiar bakery after pacing around outside of his room for almost an hour, he sees mingyu arranging the cakes in the fridge at the end of the store.
today, mingyu is suave as well.
even more than usual, if you may add.
wonwoo’s eyes widens as he stands on the welcome rug, his cold fingers intertwining and curling together. he could audibly hear the thumping in his chest and he probably looks really sick and green now.
before he could turn on his heels and make an escape, mingyu shuts the fridge door and turns around, his calm and gentle brown orbs immediately meeting with wonwoo’s clamour ones.
mingyu gives wonwoo a half smile where the left corner of his red and plump lips etches up a little from across the bakery—sending wonwoo spiralling down into different waves of emotions all at once.
the chimes of the bells hanging on to the glass door mimics the silent singing fairies in wonwoo’s mind that comes to a halt the moment mingyu speaks,
“you’re early today and its wednesday.”
okay, did the fact that wonwoo comes by every day except for wednesdays got left out? wonwoo doesn’t reply. in the scenario, he played for over a hundred times last night, he only started it with mingyu saying the normal good morning.
“so, what’s the breakfast today?” mingyu chuckles.
and wonwoo wonders if he has worked here enough to get used to one-sided conversations. “i—i’m here for a,” he pauses, peering over mingyu’s broad shoulders, “cake.”
mingyu raises an eyebrow, turning around to look at the cakes, “but it’s nine thirty in the morning.”
wonwoo doesn’t reply.
“okay,” mingyu laughs, there’s a twinkle in his eyes that always kills wonwoo whenever he laughs, and wonwoo lets out a quiet sigh as he watches mingyu’s back, his lean arms and his puffy brown hair.
how could someone be so……
“which one?” he asks.
wonwoo deadpans, because really, he was supposed to say croissant (that’s what he planned in the scenarios) but this is wonwoo, so.
“any.”
mingyu gets to working as he takes the cake diligently from its cluster, “i’ll pick this one, it’s fresh out this morning.”
wonwoo nods, knowing full well that mingyu wasn’t facing him but still. he reaches over to the front compartment of his blue backpack and unzips it. a small brown parcel labelled with happy birthday mingyu with a small bunny drew beside mingyu’s name. wonwoo worked on the mixtapes for one full month and burned it onto a disc. yes, discs are ancient and nobody uses them anymore, but wonwoo—a hopeless romantic idiot—loves the simple idea of old love and well, songs and mixtapes are personal to him. also, he may or may not have written his phone number on the corner of the parcel.
hastily he tucks it back into his backpack while mingyu moves over to the counter—rummaging through the assortments of unfolded card boxes, wonwoo finally speaks,
“it’s for you.”
mingyu looks up at wonwoo slowly, quirking yet another confused eyebrow of the morning.
“the cake, your birthday,” wonwoo says like an illiterate child who couldn’t string a complete sentence together (now he’s just angry with himself), “i mean, it’s your birthday today, happy birthday.” he places the dollar notes on the counter.
mingyu laughs before he quiets down, lips forming into a thin endearing smile, his shoulders dropping casually. as if on cue, the sun outside of the bakery blares into the empty bakery, wonwoo is suddenly aware of mingyu’s smooth golden skin.
mingyu’s long eminent eyelashes as he looks at the slice of cake.
mingyu’s angular fingers tapping nervously on the cold, cold counter.
then he stops tapping, blinking rapidly and bringing both his hands on the counter and leans forward.
“thanks, i really,” he stops and looks at the slice of blueberry cheesecake placed on the counter with the card box half wrapped, “if i had known i wouldn’t have picked blueberry.”
“oh,” wonwoo replies, “you—you can change it i mean i can still pay, you—“
“no, it’s fine,” mingyu beams, “it’s a memory.”
wonwoo nods slowly, baffled by mingyu’s words.
“thank you,” mingyu says again. “you must’ve woken up really early today, you don’t usually come in on wednesdays.”
“y-yeah,” wonwoo nervously laughs, wondering if mingyu remembers all the customers coming in and out.
“well, i only work the morning shift and you literally come in every morning 9 sharp,” mingyu laughs heartily, “and sometimes you have bed hair.”
wonwoo feels the tips of his ears flushing a bright red and he couldn’t bring himself to meet mingyu’s adoring gaze, “you know sometimes i see you in campus but i don’t say hi because i’m not worthy of your existence.”
“what?” mingyu asks, he huffs unbelievingly and before he could give a proper reply the doorbell chimes loudly, loud enough for wonwoo to jump back into reality and realized what he has said. well, fuck me.
“give me a moment, i’ll get back to you,” mingyu assures.
but wonwoo’s already far gone into his deepest level of shame. he stops mingyu in his tracks and swings his bag to the front, rummaging through the front pocket of his bag.
thrusting the brown parcel unromantically and clumsily to mingyu’s chest, wonwoo makes it a point to glare at the logo of the bakery printed on the brown apron mingyu is wearing, “so… i got you a gift… haha, this is so awkward, i love you, please take it.”
the store silences around them and even the recent customer who just entered the bakery is staring.
something in wonwoo sparks, he doesn’t know if it’s a relieve to finally get the words out of his chest or if it’s fear of knowing the expression mingyu could be wearing. unable to bring himself to look at mingyu square on the face, wonwoo apologizes,
“sorry, ok, bye.”
he’s as bright as a ripe tomato and the last thing he wants to do is to say worse things, so he does what he does best; he bolts out of the bakery.
wonwoo vaguely remembers the warmth on that fine wednesday or how many times he thinks his legs have given up on him. his mind is brimmed with the heavy thoughts of the after-effects and consequences of his actions yet a part of him can’t help but feel a sense of completeness; accomplishment.
he loves mingyu.
and mingyu deserves to know it.
two days passed by and wonwoo is sure as hell that he has done the biggest fuck up in history. he’s sitting by the library at seven in the rainy evening, still begrudgingly writing up his report which is supposed to be handed in last thursday.
he’s so far off in his own world to realize that someone has pulled out the chair next to him.
“you’re not going to explain why the end of the last mix was cut off?”
“the CD reached its maximum—“
he stops looking to his right, wide eyes and mouth agape.
“hi,” mingyu greets sheepishly.
wonwoo sits still, he could feel his veins pulsating and wonwoo swears to god, if mingyu just so inch closer, he could just die from cardiac arrest right there.
“i know you wrote your number on the corner, but i got excited and tore the parcel before i could realize and you haven’t been coming to the bakery either.”
“i—uh,” wonwoo stops, looking away from mingyu. for fucks sake, wonwoo is 182 centimetres tall but why does it feel like he’s 150 when mingyu’s around.
“hm?”
“ugh.”
mingyu chuckles, “cute.”
“w-what?!” wonwoo shrieks, earning a glare from the librarian and a really bright smile from mingyu.
“so i’m saying dinner together, what say you?” mingyu asks. he has his face resting on the bend of his elbow on the desk and he’s twirling wonwoo’s green pencil with his fingers, god, it’s sending wonwoo to the edge of the cliff. wonwoo looks over to his unfinished report sprawled on the grey table, the bright laptop screen and then back to mingyu’s alluring gaze.
“i say yes.”