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Byeongkwan cradles a warm coffee mug between his hands, looking fondly down at the foam heart that had been drawn into the steaming surface. A tiny smile toys at his lips, tummy soft and mushy like melting cotton candy. He knows who’d drawn it for him — the same person who makes his latte art every time he comes to this cafe for his morning mug. Byeongkwan had been coming to this coffee shop for years; it’s family-owned and on the corner of his street, and it’s held a soft spot in his heart ever since he’d moved into the city. The workers there decorate the sidewalk with bright flowers in the summer, and hang rainbow streamers from the window every June. It makes Byeongkwan feel accepted and at home. But the thing that makes him feel most at home these days is Sehyoon.
Sehyoon had started working at the shop almost a year ago. At first, he was just a handsome face that Byeongkwan smiled and said good morning to, just a new employee he made idle small talk with, similar to all the rest. But as the months passed and the seasons changed, Sehyoon slowly blossomed into something more. On slow days, Byeongkwan chatted with him about his favourite coffees, the art he painted on the menu chalkboards, and what he studied in college. They came to realize that they’re both art and music fanatics, both have cats, both have a soft spot for florals and astronomy. Every time Byeongkwan visited, he found out something new about Sehyoon, something deeper and sweeter to match to the pretty boy with silver hair and pierced lips.And every time he left the cafe, Byeongkwan had the incredible urge to turn back, to stay, and to burst, to tell Sehyoon every tiny, irrelevant detail about himself, too.
On an extra early morning, Byeongkwan was searching for caffeine to fuel his paper crunch during finals season. He’d visited the coffee shop as soon as it opened, and found Sehyoon working the opening shift alone. He didn’t look as bright as usual — something in his eyes was deep and sad, and the look on his face made Byeongkwan’s heart splinter in his chest. He’d grilled him, perhaps a little bit too hard, about what was troubling him. Sehyoon finally agreed to sit and have a coffee with him, and the two of them crowded around a cafe table together as the dawn rose outside of the windows.
Alone in the cafe with him, Byeongkwan learned of Sehyoon’s darkest fears, his sleepless nights and his greatest griefs. He’d held his hand when it had trembled, had listened to him recount stories of violence and childhood fear, and learned the crushing story of where his bruises had come from. Byeongkwan felt horrified. He felt protective, and enraged, and terribly, terribly sad. To him, Sehyoon had always been the bright yellow face of a sunflower, the blessed greeting he searched for every day, and the sweetest start to his hardest tests. He wanted, immediately, to take all of his pain away for him, even for a little while. So he blurted out an offer to him, eyes wide with pleading sincerity, in the hopes that Sehyoon would be brave enough to accept. “Go away with me.” He told him, squeezing the softness of Sehyoon’s hand in his own. “Let’s leave, for the weekend. We can go anywhere you want.”
The suggestion was impulsive, and when Sehyoon looked up at him with those big, darling eyes of his, Byeongkwan had nearly shrunk back, afraid that he’d refuse. But a beat passed between them, and Sehyoon’s hand had stayed in his, and without another moment of hesitation, he’d agreed. “Okay.” He’d said, and he’d been in Byeongkwan’s beat up passenger seat as soon as his shift had ended.
They’d driven together, all day, until they’d found somewhere that had caught their eye. They stopped at a beach, which was empty except for them, parking haphazardly on the sand and forgetting their worries as they’d run into the surf. Byeongkwan would never forget the cadence of Sehyoon’s laugh, the vibrance of his smile, the sight of sun and salt blowing through his hair. He’d stripped his shorts and shoes off and skipped into the water in just his button-down, and Byeongkwan had followed him, laughing at the top of his lungs, harder than he can ever remember laughing before. There, soaking wet and with shirts sticking to their skin, they fell against each other, and beneath the speckled sunlight floating overhead, they kissed for the first time.
If someone asked Byeongkwan to describe his first kiss with Sehyoon, he wouldn’t be able to. It was perfect, and magical, and overwhelming, all at once. Sehyoon tasted like starlight and love itself, and Byeongkwan had practically blacked out against him, head spinning and stomach floating and eyes threatening to leak tears of happiness. There’s no way to describe the feeling of Sehyoon’s cheeks, blushed and soft in his hands, or the curl of his smile into Byeongkwan’s mouth. Sehyoon’s piercings had pulled upward, tickling against Byeongkwan’s stubble, and they’d laughed into one another, the lap of sea waves hitting their stomachs in soothing rhythms. To this day it still feels like one of the purest moments Byeongkwan’s ever had.
They’d driven the whole weekend after that. Through fields and highways, over rolling hills, with Sehyoon falling asleep against Byeongkwa’s shoulder in the sun. They’d waded through flower fields, held hands through forest trails, visited any natural place they could reach in two days’ time. At night in their motel, when Byeongkwan had asked Sehyoon again if he was okay, Sehyoon had answered: “I’ll always be okay, as long as I’m with you.” And Byeongkwan had fallen in love with him.
The return home had been bittersweet, but they both felt renewed, and were practically inseparable from then on. Sehyoon helped Byeongkwan edit his paper. He got a 90. They went on movie dates every weekend, introduced their friends, and started a (bad) bowling team. Sehyoon moved his things into Byeongkwan’s apartment the next month. Their cats became best friends. They got matching earrings. Two months later, Byeongkwan proposed to Sehyoon. Some would say they were moving too quickly, but Byeongkwan and Sehyoon couldn’t move quickly enough.
Byeongkwan still visits Sehyoon at the coffee shop every morning. Only now, when Sehyoon’s shift ends, and he comes over to Byeongkwan to kiss his foam moustache away, Byeongkwan gets to take him home with him. And next June, when rainbows are hung outside of the cafe and Sehyoon has decorated the menu boards with art that makes Byeongkwan’s heart bloom, he will get to call him his husband, too.