Work Text:
All things considered, with his usual source of income – a.k.a. his extremely pornographic web novel – temporarily on hold after he'd spilled his cup noodles on his laptop (and nearly got electrocuted in the process), Shang Qinghua was quite lucky to have found a solution so fast!
He was somewhat of a regular at said coffee shop, usually heading there in the early afternoons after lunch when his couch or bed suddenly became a little too appetizing and threatened his daily word count, therefore when he went up to the manager and asked if they had any openings, he’d been quick to say yes.
“You’ll need to work early mornings though,” he’d said. “It’s our busiest time.”
It actually worked out pretty well. He’d work from the early morning to the early afternoon, have lunch and breakfast there (employee perk, incredibly), and then he’d settle either there or at home, hopelessly trying to get some writing done on his phone (it didn’t really work, he hated it – he wasn’t as fast and the Zhongdian UI wasn’t very mobile friendly).
Another (surprising) perk was that Shang Qinghua quickly became familiar with the neighborhood comings and goings and all the regulars of the coffee shop.
One example was Fan Yun, an elementary school teacher who stopped in every Monday and Thursday morning before classes, because “Mondays, right?” but she also needed the little coffee treat on Thursdays to get her through the second to last day of the week.
Another example was Bai Song, a fancy executive who did not live in the neighborhood, but his mistress did, and every Tuesday and Thursday they would meet there before going up to her apartment and….. well, doing whatever it was that married men and their mistresses did.
He learned all of this through gossip in the break room with his coworkers, or little whispers behind the counter whenever one of them showed up.
Eventually, some of those people became his regulars, and if they failed their routine he would worry, or if they showed up with a happier face than usual he’d very casually ask them what was new, and be privy to their little personal moments.
“I went on a date last night!” or
“I just became an uncle!”
Then one day, he abruptly gained a new regular.
It was an early Monday morning, the same as many others, and he was still blearily trying to blink away the sleep clinging to his eyes.
Monday mornings were always busy and very much mechanical, and he was working the register.
“Morning, what can I get for you?” he asked, pleasantly but still in auto pilot, barely registering the face in front of his eyes.
“A tall coffee. Black.”
The voice from the customer made him pause, and he looked up so he could take a better look at him, to see if the face matched the impossibly deep voice.
It did.
The man in front of him was tall, with broad shoulders and pale blue eyes, paired with a very ‘no nonsense’ scowl on his face.
He was very much his type and, unfortunately, he would probably never see him again.
The coffee shop had plenty of one time, maybe two time customers, and the guy in front of him very much looked like the type to be in the neighborhood for a business meeting only.
It was fine. He was used to fleeting crushes on these types of customers.
To his surprise though, he saw him again the next day. And the next. And the next. And the one after that.
On Friday he finally learned that he was new to the neighborhood and had just moved into a building a couple of streets down from his.
“I saw him running by the park the other day,” one of his coworkers – Jiang Suyin, a sweet college student – said, stirring her coffee in the break room while Shang Qinghua helped himself to a pastry. “You liked his shoulders, right?”
“Yeah?”
“Well you should see his legs.”
Oh, he very much wanted to see his legs. He bet they were muscled and firm and–
Ahem.
So he entertained the thought of trying to force a meeting between them outside of the coffee shop. Maybe a little stalking or, as he liked to call it, ‘divine intervention.’
Ultimately, though, he decided against it.
He and the blue eyed guy, as he referred to him in his head, had barely exchanged any words other than requesting a tall black coffee and requesting payment in exchange – though an honorable mention should certainly be made to when Shang Qinghua had asked him if he was new in the neighborhood and had tried to ask if he liked it and, to his mortification, IF HE NEEDED ANY TIPS FROM A LONG TIME RESIDENT (the disbelieving look on the guy’s face still haunted him, days later) – and he was sure the blue eyed guy would have no interest in getting to know him outside of a customer/barista dynamic.
They did, however, end up meeting outside of the coffee shop.
If you were to ask Shang Qinghua, he would vehemently affirm that yes, it had 130% been a complete coincidence and he had not been trying to run into him, of course not!
Instead, what happened was that instead of going to the perfectly nice grocery store right below his apartment, he’d decided to head to the grocery store three streets down because it had better variety and fresher ingredients (even if his at home diet consisted mostly of cup noodles, but…….. let’s ignore that. Once again, it was a coincidence!)
When he first spotted the blue eyed guy near the dairy aisle, he froze in his spot. His first instinct was to make himself as small as possible so he wouldn’t notice him and he wouldn’t end up doing something stupid like actually striking up a conversation and being embarrassingly rejected next to the rows of almond milk.
He wasn’t fast enough, however, and not only did the blue eyed guy actually notice him, he also made his way towards him.
“Hi,” the blue eyed guy said, stopping right in front of him and– wow, he was tall. He knew that, of course, but somehow the difference in height between them seemed even bigger without a counter in the middle. “You’re Shang Qinghua.”
?????!!!!! “H-How did you know that?” he managed to ask, trying to somehow calm his rapidly beating heart. Had he- had he been stalking him?! (He refused to acknowledge the part of him that didn’t really mind that much if that were the case.)
The blue eyed guy gave him a look that wordlessly told him he thought he was just a little absurd. “Your nameplate.”
Right. Of course. Shang Qinghua wore a nameplate at work…
He let out an awkward laugh then, wondering to himself why exactly he’d even wanted to run into him?
But then, “my name is Mobei Jun,” and oh, he now had a name to go with his face, and he’d be damned if it wasn’t a kind of weird name but who cared? Certainly not him.
He really thought that’d be it – a nice little introduction, maybe an awkward handshake and they’d go on their own way.
He was therefore wholly unprepared for Mobei Jun to just kind of… go along for his grocery run, and before long he was standing in the actual vegetable aisle watching as Mobei Jun weighed two different courgettes in his hand, trying to see which one was freshest.
“How can you even tell?” he’d asked, but Mobei Jun had only shaken his head and dropped a courgette in each of their carts.
They paid at the same time, and when they were outside, about to part ways, with Shang Qinghua carrying far more groceries than he’d ever had in his life, he had the hysterical thought that maybe he should ask for his number.
And yet, he didn’t.
Instead, Mobei Jun went on his own way with a “see you tomorrow”, and Shang Qinghua simply stood there, wondering if he’d dreamed up the entire thing.
(He hadn’t. He confirmed it was a real, in the flesh interaction when Mobei Jun showed up the next day at his usual time and asked him if he’d used any of the vegetables he’d bought for dinner. He hadn’t, of course, but if this was going to become a regular thing he might need to rethink his whole approach to cooking.)
* * *
“Guess who was here yesterday,” Tian Meifen, one of the bakers of the coffee shop, told him as he walked into the break room before his shift started.
“Who?”
“The blue eyed guy,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at him.
Shang Qinghua could feel himself blushing, but he didn’t answer; he busied himself with making a coffee, trying to ignore the urge to ask embarrassing questions.
“Aren’t you going to ask?” Tian Meifen asked, almost as if she was reading his mind.
“Ask what?” he retorted, very innocently, as though they hadn’t been doing this same dance for the past few weeks.
Truth was, since that day at the grocery store, Mobei Jun had become more… involved.
For one, their interactions every time Mobei Jun went by when he was on shift became a little livelier. Shang Qinghua would ask him questions about himself, or compliment whatever suit he was wearing that day, and Mobei Jun’s expression would soften just the tiniest bit.
At first he’d been shy, for lack of a better word but, eventually, he’d started opening up and even asking Shang Qinghua questions.
Then, Mobei Jun started going by on the weekends, if he noticed that Shang Qinghua had been off during one of the weekdays. While at first he hadn’t asked any of the staff for him, eventually he became bold enough to ask about him and when his next shift would be.
His coworkers thought it was adorable and insisted he should ask him out. Shang Qinghua, on the other hand, knew better.
You see, apart from their usual coffee shop interactions, they’d run into each other at the grocery store a few more times.
Shang Qinghua had been going solely for the purpose of trying to run into him again, and eventually he managed to realize which days he usually went for grocery runs (Tuesdays and Fridays without fail).
They’d always chatted and Mobei Jun continued to sneak more vegetables into his basket but, for all their conversations and all the times Mobei Jun clearly went into the coffee shop hoping to run into him, he’d never once asked for his number.
Why hadn’t he done it? Well, Shang Qinghua was merely realistic. He knew he was out of his league.
Still, he was happy enough to be able to call Mobei Jun one of his regulars; if that was all he could get, he would take it.
It was precisely with this sort of reasoning that two months ended up flying by.
Before he knew it, he’d saved up enough to get a new, decent laptop.
He was overjoyed, of course: he hadn’t written in ages, had noted down countless ideas in his Notes app, and he was brimming with creativity.
However, enough time had gone by that his subscriber base had dropped a little, and he would need to build it back up before he would be able to quit his job at the coffee shop.
His routine quickly changed to afternoons spent at the coffee shop with his new laptop rather than his phone, rapidly typing away while fully absorbed in his web novel, barely paying attention to the world around him.
His subscriber base recovered soon enough, and eventually it became unsustainable to maintain two full time jobs. He needed to choose one.
Naturally, he chose to give up the coffee shop.
“Are you sure?” the manager asked him, fixing him with a desperate look. “How about a part time job, hm? You could save up a bit more for emergencies!”
“I’m not worried,” Jiang Suyin said, “I know you’ll still come visit us and write in the afternoons, right?”
“My my,” Tian Meifen had teased, “your blue eyed man is going to be so sad.”
“What if we have an emergency and someone calls in sick? Can I ask you to cover a couple of hours? I can pay you extra,” his manager had insisted.
Still, Shang Qinghua really wasn’t that worried – he’d given a two week notice, had offered to train the new hire, and he was sure he would definitely keep up his habit of writing in the coffee shop.
However, if he were being honest with himself, he was really worried about his budding friendship with Mobei Jun.
Despite the clearly preferential behavior the other man displayed, and despite their multiple run-ins with each other, they’d never once attempted to take it a step further.
In truth, Shang Qinghua was sure that once he stopped working at the coffee shop, he would probably stop seeing him often, if at all.
Mobei Jun went in in the early mornings, before leaving for his job, while Shang Qinghua preferred to wake later and stay up writing.
The only place where they would be able to run into each other would be the grocery store, but even that would quickly become empty and meaningless without their little daily interactions.
Mobei Jun would easily forget about him.
And while, during his last two weeks working at the coffee shop, he often entertained the idea of just– taking a step himself and asking Mobei Jun for his number, he was simply too much of a coward to do it.
So time went on, and without him even realizing it, his last day dawned just a little too soon.
It didn’t even start the right way: when 7:30 appeared on his clock, the coffee shop door opened but it wasn’t Mobei Jun who came in.
He was late.
He finally showed up 15 minutes later, composed as always but clearly stressed from whatever it was that made him late, yet still with a small smile on his face for Shang Qinghua.
“Qinghua,” he greeted, because– yes, they were that casual with each other at that point, “my usual, please.”
“Rough morning?” he asked, ringing up his order.
“I forgot to charge my phone and it died halfway through the night,” he explained. “As you can see, I overslept.”
He hummed, holding out the ATM terminal so Mobei Jun could hold out his card and pay wirelessly. At least, this confirmed that he was single and hadn’t been delayed by some late morning with his girlfriend or boyfriend.
“By the way,” he started, a little nervously, taking the full cup of black coffee from his coworker so he could hand it over to Mobei Jun, “today is my last day.”
Mobei Jun seemed to freeze in place, not reaching out for the coffee in front of his face despite Shang Qinghua dangling it.
“What do you mean your last day?” he demanded, after he recovered a little from his shock.
“I’m a writer,” he said, placing the cup down on the counter instead, since his fingers were becoming uncomfortably warm. “This was a temporary job until I could get a new laptop.”
“Oh.”
Mobei Jun picked up his cup, no longer looking as stunned as before, though his eyebrows were definitely still a little higher up on his face than they usually were.
He looked as though he meant to say something else, but then his eyes strayed to something behind Shang Qinghua, and his eyes widened and– “I have to go,” was all he said, before he was racing out of the coffee shop.
Right. He’d been late for work.
Shang Qinghua was a little – not a lot, as he tried to convince himself – disappointed; in truth, he’d expected a little bit more. More concern. More “will we keep in touch?”
Maybe he’d really misread things between them the entire time.
* * *
Shang Qinghua was quick to break his promise.
When his last shift at the coffee shop had ended he'd promised all of his former coworkers – even his manager – that he'd be around all the time! They wouldn't even notice he didn't work there anymore!
(But no, he wouldn't cover any shifts, sorry ex-manager!)
Two weeks later, Shang Qinghua hadn't set foot in the coffee shop once.
If you were to ask him, he would tell you it was a part of the creative process – now that he had all the time in the world to dedicate himself to writing and writing only , he was simply immersed in it.
His sleeping schedule was all over the place, his diet was back to its old misery of cup noodles, energy drinks and cereal, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd left his apartment other than the singular time he'd gone to take out the trash.
All part of the creative process! He was an author, this was fine!
And yet.
And yet, the truth was, he was feeling too sorry for himself to go back to the coffee shop.
The coffee shop had been like a second home to him over the past few months. He'd made friends there, or at least close to it, he'd had regulars, he'd established an entire routine around it, and it was a place that held countless good memories.
Unfortunately, it was also where he’d met Mobei Jun.
Everyone had been convinced Mobei Jun liked him just as much as he did; and yet, when he'd told him he wouldn't be there anymore, he'd turned around and left.
He hadn't even said goodbye.
If he were to be honest to himself, more than sad or sorry or whatever it was he was feeling, he was embarrassed.
Still. He'd made friends, actual connections, and they were all waiting to see him again.
His phone had countless unread messages asking where he was, why he hadn't been going there – 'Mrs. Li asked about you the other day', one of them read. 'Mr. Ming said he promised you a sandwich once you stopped working here, he's been looking for you', another one read.
He couldn't disappoint them.
So, he went back.
When he absolutely couldn't put off rejoining civilization anymore – because he needed to get groceries and he'd had a headache for three days straight due to his terrible diet and not sleeping for more than 4h straight for a week –, he took a hot shower, put on clothes other than sweatpants and an old t-shirt and shoes other than flip flops, and headed to the coffee shop.
It was early afternoon – 3pm –, considered right after lunch though he hadn't actually had lunch yet, and he spent the way there thinking about what he would order.
As it turned out, he needn't have worried.
Mr. Ming was there and forced him to eat the mozzarella and pesto sandwich he vouched for (obviously Shang Qinghua had already eaten it several times, but he was definitely not about to say anything! Free lunch!) and Tian Meifei, who was already off shift, bought him a large cappuccino and a cup of pre-cut fruit.
"We were worried about you!" she said, sitting across from him at the table. "Where have you been?"
"At home," he admitted, trying to sound casual and not at all like he'd been sulking about a certain blue eyed man. "I've been writing."
"You could have written here," she scolded. "We've been saving your usual table."
Oh. That was so– He wasn't used to people doing nice things for him. Thoughtful things. Frankly, he didn't really think he deserved them.
"I can practically hear you thinking," she said. "Whatever nonsense it is, quit it. You're family."
Shang Qinghua ignored the way his sight went a little misty and the tears threatening to spill from his eyes and focused on finishing his late lunch.
He wrote very little that afternoon.
His laptop was right in front of him, the document was opened and so was his outline, but there were customers – regulars – and staff alike going up to him all the time, greeting him, asking about him, telling him their news, and he found he really couldn't focus on whatever it was he'd been trying to write.
Surprisingly, he didn't really mind.
Near the end of the afternoon, almost early evening, when it was almost time for him to pack up and for the last shift to start closing, he got a bit of a surprise.
Quite unexpectedly, Mobei Jun walked in.
Shang Qinghua, having spent months working at the coffee shop, including the entire time since Mobei Jun had moved into the neighborhood, was well aware that the man only visited the coffee shop once a day, at exactly 7:30am.
He'd spent most of his afternoons in that same coffee shop, surrounded by the familiar scent of coffee and fresh bread and by all the neighborhood regulars who liked to spend their time there, and he had never, not once, seen Mobei Jun walk in at any other time. So why was he there now?
"Qinghua," he said, spotting him immediately and moving towards him. "You came back."
"Uhm, hi?" he said, more than a little confused. "What's up?..."
"I've been looking for you."
Those were words he definitely didn't expect to hear from Mobei Jun, (though he'd definitely dreamed about a similar moment, that was for sure), and in his shock he only distantly registered the fact that the entire coffee shop seemed to have fallen silent, and everyone seemed to be staring at them.
"I– you've found me?" he finally said, still at a complete loss as to what was going on. "Is something wrong?"
Mobei Jun seemed to be at a loss himself, despite being the one who'd gone in– searching for him? Apparently? – so Jiang Suyin, who was very casually wiping the table next to his, decided to pipe in.
"He's been coming in every day since you left," she offered, throwing a sly grin Mobei Jun's way. "Not just in the morning, I mean."
"Uhm."
"He asked us when you usually come around," Tian Meifen added, which– Shang Qinghua had been sure she'd already left after his lunch, but. Okay.
He looked at Mobei Jun expectantly, a little lost. "Is this true?"
"It is," he confirmed, taking a step closer to him. "I didn't get to say goodbye on your last day," he explained, suddenly much closer to him. "I was late that day and I wasn't expecting it and–" he paused then, suddenly realizing the silent crowd they had inside the coffee shop, not even bothering to pretend they weren't listening in. "Can we talk outside?"
"Yeah," he said, somewhat breathlessly, hurrying to pack his laptop in his backpack and following Mobei Jun outside.
They stood outside the coffee shop, right beside the front door, and he was acutely aware that everyone could still see them, but at least they couldn't listen to what they were talking about anymore.
"That day," Mobei Jun started again, looking at him intently, "I thought I'd still get to see you again, at the grocery store."
Right. His last day had been on a Friday, the last day of the working week, when they usually met at the grocery store in the late afternoon.
"When I didn't," he said, "I went in on the weekend as well, a little later, looking for you. But you simply didn't come back anymore."
Shang Qinghua gave him a complicated look. "All of this just to say goodbye?"
Mobei Jun swallowed visibly, but he didn't falter when, "No. I wanted to ask you on a date."
Oh. He'd–
"A date date?" he asked, trying to make sure he'd heard him right. "Like, a romantic date?"
"Is there another kind?" Mobei Jun asked, smirking slightly.
Shang Qinghua sputtered, but he recovered quickly. "You never asked me for my number," he said, crossing his arms. "I didn't think you were interested."
Mobei Jun simply shrugged. "I was working up to it. I didn't realize I was running out of time."
Shang Qinghua hummed, pretending to think over his words.
" Am I out of time?" Mobei Jun finally asked, seeing as Shang Qinghua didn't seem to be worried about giving him an answer.
"You mean, you still want to get my number?" he asked, trying to come off as coy.
"Yeah," Mobei Jun confirmed, smirk back on his face. "And a date as well."
Shang Qinghua averted his gaze, looking up as though lost in thought. "I guess... that'd be nice."
Mobei Jun was suddenly much closer to him then, and Shang Qinghua's eyes widened as he felt his big hands on his waist.
"How forward," he commented, but he placed his hands on his chest anyway. "We haven't even gone on a date yet."
"How about we go on one right now?" Mobei Jun asked, leaning down and nearly brushing his lips against his.
Shang Qinghua leaned up then, closing the distance between them, softly brushing his lips against Mobei Jun's.
"I have an idea."
Their first date was a little unconventional; they went grocery shopping. Still, Shang Qinghua pondered, the home cooked dinner they had afterwards at Mobei Jun's apartment more than made up for it. (And the rest of the night as well.)