Chapter Text
Hanbin typically sees himself as someone who handles stress well, but when you enter law school, stress starts handling you, and Hanbin doesn’t particularly enjoy being manhandled by a human emotion.
But now that his midterms are approaching, Hanbin is spending more time being strangled by the pressure than studying, and that’s somehow both really good for him and inches away from destroying his entire career.
Not today though! Today, he’ll get work done, outside of his dorm, because he’s a responsible person that regularly comes in contact with the outside air. (His roommate kicked him out. Jiwoong says it’s because Hanbin needs to go out, as if he’s any better, but Hanbin’s pretty sure Matthew’s just coming over.)
Nevertheless, Hanbin is going to get work done, right here, right now. He’ll get it done properly, productively, no breakdowns in between, and he’ll thank himself for it later. Or so he thinks as he sits at a table at a 24-hours convenience store beside his school and finalizes his plan.
Well, he kind of thought wrong. About everything.
Hanbin also thought that studying in a public place generated enough embarrassment to will all the academics-caused breakdowns away, but as he looks around, overwhelmed by all the papers and books scattered on his table, he realizes that nothing is going his way right now.
Pressure builds up behind Hanbin’s eyes and he immediately stands up, using his entire being to not slam his hands on the table in the process. ‘Screw this,’ he thinks and sets off to distract himself and the dam cracking behind his eyes.
Hanbin ends up finding a bottle of milk tea, winter melon flavored. His favorite milk tea brand recently released bottled versions of their well-known drinks. Happy that he doesn’t have to walk for half an hour for it anymore, he grabs the bottle, tosses it in the air, and self-checks out. (He’s happy but still tired. The E in his MBTI does not erase the fact he’s drained in all areas he can think of. Which leads him to question why he bought milk tea and not water.)
Willed away by the number of books and papers waiting for him back at his table but pulled forward by the want – the need – for a good grade, the forces collide and Hanbin just drags his feet to the table, grumbling a complaint. He’ll study, of course, he will, but who says he can’t be salty while doing it?
The saltiness dissipates and is replaced by the previous overwhelmed feeling. Oh, so all he did was delay it. How magical. Exactly what he wanted.
He figures that milk tea will solve it, as it does with everything, and that overwhelmed sensation is replaced once more by a twinge of happiness.
Happiness that is short-lived, apparently, because, in all his excitement, Hanbin twists the cap of the bottle.
And it doesn’t open. Shocker, I know.
His brows furrow together and he tries again. Nope. By the time frustration starts to overtake him, he’s hunched over, using even his soul to open that bottle. Apparently, too much of the Criminal Act can chip away your soul’s strength too, because the bottle doesn’t budge.
Hanbin slams the bottle on the table, a lump forming in his throat. He’s still aware of the material he’s yet to even skim through piled up beside him, and that just makes him feel worse.
“Fuck,” He mutters, tears pricking his eyes. He dives his face into the table, picking up the pieces of his shattered dignity. As he’s doing so, he sees shoes heading toward him from under the table. At first, he thinks he’s hallucinating because it’s quite literally four in the morning, but then he hears the footsteps and, oh, he’s so screwed.
“Fuck,” He repeats, more panicked, trying to find another way to hide, but shooting up anyway and sitting up straight so, even though his eyebags make him look like death, his posture at least makes him look like he has his shit together. (He swears he heard his back crack and is dying at this very moment.)
He’s avoiding eye contact with this stranger until he isn’t. And once he isn’t, he’s not sure he can ever go back to doing so. This man is so beautiful. Unreal. Angelic. Majestic. Ethereal. All the positive adjectives. He had fluffy, copper hair with a waterdrop emoji clip clipped onto it. His eyes sparkled, even in the shitty four a.m. convenience store lighting. His face was small but his cheeks looked full, somehow. He’s definitely a 100 in the KBS. If not the KBS, then in Hanbin’s heart–
Wait, what.
What is he thinking?! It’s been less than two minutes since he’d first laid eyes on this guy. He doesn’t even know his name! God, fatigue is really catching up to him.
“Um, hello!” Hanbin greets, cringing at his attempt at sounding cheerful when he hears his voice come out hoarse. From the all-nighters? From the breakdowns? Maybe God just wanted to mess with him? We’ll never know.
“Do you need something?” He asks, keeping up a hopefully genuine-looking smile.
The biblically accurate angel in an emoji hairclip pauses for a second, seeming to contemplate his life, before opening his mouth. “Just–” He quickly, but vaguely, gestures to the stubborn milk tea bottle that Hanbin not-so-subtly glares at.
He pauses again, cutting himself off, then grabs the bottle, grips the cap, pauses once more, as if praying for it to open, and twists it. And it opens. (Hanbin proves he’s an angel. Even god can’t stand in the way of this blessing.)
Hanbin stares up at his savior in adoration. This guy is totally Hanbin’s godsend of a guardian angel that’s crazy strong and super cool. And who also happens to have taken the form of a pretty boy, whose face looks like it was crafted by the same god that sent him.
Before Hanbin can even open his mouth, the angel puts the bottle down, bows hurriedly, and sprints out the door. (It’s impressive how he can fold into a 90-degree bow that quickly. This angel just keeps getting more perfect by the second.)
“Thank you…?” Hanbin says belatedly, leaning forward toward the door to try to see where his one, true love went. He sinks back into his seat with only his law textbooks and the flash of copper hair that serves as a memory for his self-proclaimed soulmate to keep him company.
“Right then, where were we? Chapter 9, article 151… Oh! Chapter 10, Crimes of Perjury and Destruction of Evidence. Article 152 states that a witness…” If Hanbin peeked at his textbook while he was reciting the Criminal Act to himself in the middle of a 24-hours convenience store at ungodly hours in the morning like a madman, nobody had to know.
—
Hanbin always says that milk tea will change the world one day, and he meant it. Well, he meant the general world. Like, planet Earth. Not his own world.
He became a regular at that 24-hours convenience store, coming there in-between breaks and after classes to eat and study, sometimes with friends, most of the time, alone. It became a usual occurrence. What was unusual though, is that, out of the multiple times he visits that damned convenience store, he always meets that pretty boy who looks like the personification of the cherry blossoms in full bloom at least once.
It’s been two weeks since they started literally seeing each other and Hanbin has decided that he’s had enough! He’s going to make a move today!
Wait, fuck, how does he do that?
Sooo… it turns out Hanbin didn’t think this through. Because he’s hiding behind a shelf, two aisles away from some guy he thinks could make the stars insecure with his face, hiding away and trying to figure out how he wants to go about this. Usually, he was casual about it, but he really didn’t want to mess this up. Not in front of his honorary soulmate.
After coming up with seven different plans, Hanbin finally begins Plan 1, hoping to every God, hopefully the God that crafted this angel’s face as well, that it doesn’t get to Plan 7.
Plan 1 is pretty simple.
1.) Tap the angel on the shoulder, hopefully to start off a conversation and not to get stabbed by a pocket knife.
2.) Say ‘hi’! Greetings can never go wrong. (Right?)
3.) Ask for his number in a polite but friendly way. This should be easy enough.
It’s straightforward(maybe too straightforward), but it gets the job done. Hanbin hopes he gets it done now, maybe by Plan 2 at most. Plan 4 involved breaking the law and, while he was willing to risk his law career for this personification of a midnight drizzle, he really didn’t want to have to hide around and record this man like a stalker. He was always the first out in hide-and-seek.
Now, for the application.
Hanbin bravely charges toward the love of his life who doesn’t know him yet and executes the steps he thought out. He taps the other on the shoulder, not forgetting to say a quick but cheerful; “Hi!”
He’s not expecting Mr. Cherry Blossoms to curse out in Chinese and jump back, nearly hitting his head on the shelf. Or for him to immediately check his violin to see if it was–
Wait, violin? He’s a musician?
Everyone, stop the music, the car, the world’s orbit. Hanbin has fallen in love.
But never mind that for now! He has to execute the plan. That now has an extra step due to unforeseen events.
3.) (NEW!) Apologize because (beautiful, surreal, gorgeously unreal) guys don’t like pricks.
4.) (Previously number 3) Ask for his number in a polite but friendly way. This should be easy enough…?
Okay, here we go.
“S-Sorry.” Hanbin mentally slaps himself and physically pinches himself for stuttering. Minus cool and collected points for him.
(He doesn’t notice how the angel – this beauty’s temporary name – seems to fall deeper in love with him.)
“Just um, can I have your number?” Hanbin finally asks. This is it. The highlight of your career.
The angel seems to blank out and, oh, his career is shattered.
4.) (SCRAPPED.)Ask for his number in a polite but friendly way. Fuck this, this is hard.
5.) (NEW!) Apologize, part two, for bothering him. Walk away. Cry. And then begin Plan 2.
Step 5 has a lot of steps, but that works for him.
“Nevermind, I’m sorry, that was dumb to ask–” Hanbin begins to say, cheeks and eyes burning with embarrassment. What was he thinking, honestly? This guy – this angel – is way too good for him.
Then, out of nowhere, the angel laughs, eyes crinkling into a smile. Hanbin swears the world stops because how does he get to see this beauty of a smile? A smile that could take over the world. A smile that was likely the downfall of the Roman Empire.
“Sorry, you’re just…really pretty.” Now this, this is the downfall of Sung Hanbin. His eyes widen, curiosity spilling out of them. He can practically feel the pink creep up his cheeks. (He can also hear Jiwoong nag at him about how a law student shouldn’t do things like this, as if he can talk.)
“Oh!” Hanbin can only remark dumbly. “Thank…you?”
The angel laughs again and Hanbin feels himself stop breathing. With a gentle smile on his face, Hanbin’s confirmed, real-not-fake guardian angel extends a hand towards him and Hanbin can do nothing but tilt his head to the side confusingly.
“You wanted my number?” The other asks and Hanbin visibly jolts, almost combusting from embarrassment. He isn’t usually like this, he promises.
Hanbin ends up fumbling for his phone, cheeks heating up all over again. He isn’t usually like this , he promises .
“Here!” He beams, embarrassed, laughing awkwardly. He really hopes Midnight Drizzle doesn’t turn his phone over to see his Jaehyun photocard through his clear phone case in all its glory. While he’s not exactly embarrassed to be an avid fan, he just doesn’t want to be known as a die-hard Valentine that carries a printed photo of a middle-aged man around by a man who could make it to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary as the definition of ‘elegant’.
The angel types quickly, glancing at Hanbin a few times, and hums, handing Hanbin his phone back.
Out of pure instinct, Hanbin stares at the angel with wide, confused eyes once again. “You…didn’t put in your name,” He states, almost dumbly. Not that he’s getting tired of ‘the angel’, but it feels disrespectful to call someone this flawless something so general.
The angel laughs again. Hanbin doesn’t know if he’s being ridiculed or what, but he doesn’t mind because that smile could probably power the entire Signiel Seoul if it was completely booked.
“You already have my number. My name’s a different story,” Hanbin should probably be turned off by this, but the confidence cancels it out because goddamn . (And he’s not losing the chance he has with a god’s possible assistant because they would only give that kind of beauty to someone so close to them.)
While he doesn’t really mind not knowing the love of his life’s name, he doesn’t mind knowing it either. Absent-mindedly, he pouts, until he gets the most genius idea that could rival Einstein’s theory of relativity. He cracks a smile, fingers clicking his phone keyboard.
The angel’s phone chimes in his pocket and he digs into it to retrieve the device.
“Gaeul?” He asks, eyes narrowing and raising an eyebrow.
Hanbin nods, smiling proudly. “Yeah! You remind me of fall! Isn’t it pretty?”
For the first time since this conversation, Gaeul’s cheeks tint pink, eyes widening. ‘Oh my god, he’s blushing. I’M BLUSHING,’ Hanbin realizes.
“Fall…” Gaeul mutters, smiling gently. That’s a good sign, right? “It’s cute.” Thank god.
Before Hanbin can thank him – or even say anything – Gaeul’s cheeks turn into a darker shade of red and he jolts, dialing a number and pressing his phone to his ear.
“Um, I’m really late– I’ll see you next time!” Gaeul says, smiling awkwardly and dashing out the door, leaving Hanbin’s calls in the cemented walls of that damned 24/7 convenience store.