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Changkyun can’t recall the last time he had a morning this quiet. Normally, Mondays are a flurry of activity, nonstop action from the start of his shift to the end of his shift. Between the usual business crowd, the university students, and the more unusual clientele, it’s rare for Changkyun to find a moment to himself, much less a moment long enough for Changkyun to seek out one of their pens and a napkin.
There’s plenty he could be doing. There’s always something at Haevn that can be done, including, but not limited to, dusting, deep cleaning, and reorganizing. The bookshelves that line the back corner of the cafe are in particular need of some attention, books and journals left out on tables and akimbo on the shelves themselves. Normally it’s Juyeon’s job, one she loves to do because it allows her to peruse the books that had been brought in or traded in, but she’d had the last couple days off, and Changkyun likes to think he knows better than to encroach upon the one task she will do without complaint.
But with no guarantee how long the respite of quiet will last, Changkyun is reluctant to devote time and effort into cleaning. Later, perhaps, when one of his coworkers has come in for their shift, he might be able to convince himself to clean. For now, though, he devotes himself to his napkin sketches.
It’s a respite that doesn’t last nearly long enough, interrupted by the gentle chime of the bell over the door.
Changkyun doesn’t look up. He doesn’t have to. He can already tell who it is just by the way the customer walks and the way he hums to himself.
“What are you drawing there?” Jooheon’s voice breaks the silence of the coffee shop in a way that might be jarring had Changkyun not expected it. It is, however, a little too loud, Jooheon having encroached a little too far into Changkyun’s personal space for comfort. Changkyun lifts his head then, shooting Jooheon a look that could peel paint from the walls or reduce one’s bones to liquid rubber.
It’s unfortunate that Jooheon is human and, therefore, apparently completely impervious to such dirty looks.
“Official artist work.” Changkyun returns, pulling the napkin toward himself with one hand as he rests his arm between Jooheon and his artwork. It’s not very effective. Changkyun can’t lean there forever, but he hates it when Jooheon invades his space without question. The only one allowed to do that is Hoseok. “Not for the likes of nosy humans like yourself.”
The nosy human in questions remains unphased, trying to steal one more glance at the napkin before he lifts his head to study the menu on the wall behind the counter. He gives the listed items a good once-over and due consideration despite how Changkyun knows exactly what he’ll buy -- the same thing he always buys -- before he offers Changkyun one of his blinding smiles.
If Changkyun didn’t know better -- literally, if he hadn’t grilled Jooheon once over the misuse of slang and his too-bright smiles -- then he might assume Jooheon to be some sort of demi-human or solar-based creature. As it so happens, Jooheon is very human, one that also just so happens to have a smile that rivals the sun in intensity and makes even vampires shy away from its light. He’s a menace to society. And to the dark, cobwebby corners of Changkyun’s heart.
“One large honey bee latte, with an extra shot of espresso and a shot of that stay awake stuff.”
“The stay awake stuff has a name,” Changkyun comments, tapping the order into the register and completing the transaction so Jooheon can pay while he moves over to find the ingredients he needs.
“Yeah, but calling it the stay awake stuff has a better ring to it. You and Juyeon always know exactly what I’m talking about.” Changkyun rolls his eyes, but doesn’t deny that it’s not true. He does always know exactly what Jooheon means, and it’s easier than listening to Jooheon butcher the real name of the ingredient. It’s just that it’s--
“--annoying,” Changkyun mumbles to himself, expression wrinkled up. Taking the large cup, he layers the bottom in honey before adding in the shots of espresso. He sets the milk to steam before stirring the honey and espresso. The shot of Jooheon’s aptly dubbed stay awake stuff comes next. “I know you’re only human, but you could put forth a little bit of effort into learning this stuff.”
“I could, but...” Jooheon shrugs, lounging against the counter, and Changkyun tries not to dislike him for his blasé indifference. Humans. Sometimes humans are the worst.
“But you won’t,” Changkyun continues, adding the steamed milk on top, and then a dash of nutmeg.
“But I won’t,” Jooheon says with a shit-eating grin that Changkyun can’t help but return.
“You’re an asshole.”
Jooheon hums, reaching for the cup that Changkyun holds out, a cup that hangs just out of reach. Realizing what Changkyun is after, Jooheon makes a face before dropping a tip into the jar by the register. Smug, satisfied, Changkyun passes over the cup and finishes the transaction at the register.
“Haevn appreciates your patronage,” Changkyun offers without missing a beat as he closes the drawer and sets his copy of the receipt aside. He watches as Jooheon takes a gulp of his drink, one that must burn, as Jooheon nearly chokes on the mouthful before swallowing hard. As soon as he opens his mouth again, it's to complain, hissing about the heat beneath his breath and fanning his tongue with his free hand -- as if he really thinks doing so might somehow help his case.
Changkyun watches with a small smile that could almost be considered fond, one hand under his chin and the other lying across the counter. “You have to leave soon.”
That stops Jooheon in his tracks, and he glands to Changkyun for a moment before pulling out his phone. “Oh, it's that time already?”
Changkyun hums, inclining his head. “You came in late today. Usually you give yourself ten minutes here and twenty minutes to finish getting to campus.” According to Changkyun’s mental clock -- and the very real clock on the wall, a strange, magicked thing that Minho had brought in two months after he joined the staff -- Jooheon would need to be out the door in the next couple minutes to make it to campus at a steady walk. Anything more, and he would need to run. “Everything okay? You don't usually run late.”
Jooheon shakes his head, stuffing his wallet into his bag with one hand as he cradles his drink with the other. He almost loses the drink twice. “Minhyuk called me over this morning. He found something while out perusing the market a couple days ago.”
Changkyun groans, ducking his head. For a human, Minhyuk is remarkably crazy. His finds usually turn into more trouble than they're worth. “Tell me he didn't accept food from a faery again. Or thank them. Or give them his name.”
Jooheon’s grin is bright, supercharged, and Changkyun vaguely wonders how much of that is from the energy shot in the drink. “I think he learned his lesson last time--”
“Minhyuk doesn't learn lessons,” Changkyun counters without missing a beat, “or he wouldn't have kept dealing with the Fae in the same half-cocked way.”
“It's not Fae related!”
That gets Changkyun’s attention. However dubious he may be, he forces himself to be quiet, gesturing for Jooheon to continue.
Jooheon’s smile returns, brighter than ever. “Thank you, Kyunnie. As I was saying, he found it while at the market the other day. He sent me a picture, but I couldn't believe it until I actually saw it in person this morning. He found a dragon egg.” At Changkyun’s blatant skepticism, Jooheon backpedals. “At least, I’m pretty sure it's a dragon egg. It has the right coloring, looks like burnished metal but feels kind of like canvas.”
“Let me guess,” Changkyun says after a moment, rubbing at his temples. “He's trying to hatch it.”
“Yeah. In his bedroom.”
Jooheon’s smile is unrepentant, and Changkyun can't believe he doesn't see just how badly this could go -- assuming, of course, that it really is a dragon egg and not, for example, the egg of a wyvern or a basilisk.
That, of course, would be so much worse.
“He’s an idiot,” Changkyun mutters as he ags back against the counter, watching Jooheon take another sip of his drink. “And he’s going to get his room set on fire. It’s a shame I won’t be able to see it happen.”
“I think he’s going to livestream it,” Jooheon supplies helpfully as he adjusts his coat and scarf. “Something about doing it for the vine.”
Vine is dead. Changkyun thinks about telling him that, but if Jooheon doesn’t get a move on in the next couple minutes, he really will be late, and Changkyun doesn’t have the patience to deal with a moping, overzealous child. “Tell him him call me later,” Changkyun says instead, fingers tagging out an idle rhythm on the countertop. “And tell him he’s an idiot.”
Jooheon laughs, loud and boisterous, and heads for the door, one hand lifted in goodbye. “I will! Tell Minho his stay awake stuff is still awesome!”
Changkyun sighs, and as Jooheon walks out the door, he calls a belated will do after him.
With Jooheon gone, the coffee shop quiets in a way that suggests that Jooheon leaving had taken some of the light and energy with him. But even for a witch in a very witchy shop, such a concept would be ridiculous, and Changkyun pushes the thought from his mind as he returns to his napkin doodles. He picks up the pen, tapping the counter top idly, thoughtlessly, contemplating whether to continue his previous sketch or start something new.
After a long moment, Changkyun reaches for a new napkin and begins the rough outline of a dragon, wings spread to either side. Should Minhyuk’s idiotic venture work out, he might just have to congratulate him, after all, and what better way than a piece on the side of his apartment building to commemorate his idiocy?