Work Text:
Yeosang is on the ground before he realizes what happened.
Should have been paying attention, he berates himself as he tries to pry his face off the sidewalk. Shouldn’t have been going so fast, shouldn’t have taken a shift directly after his class ends.
He’s halfway up when he realizes he ran into another person.
“Oh shit I’m so sorry,” he stammers, shooting upright the remaining distance.
The person he knocked over looks to be a student about his own age. He’s still sitting on the sidewalk, one hand coming up to rub his forehead as Yeosang watches. He looks a little dazed, shaking his head in a way that causes his hair to flop forward into his face.
“I’m so so sorry,” Yeosang tells him, stepping forward to offer a hand. “Lemme help you up-”
“I’ve got it.”
Yeosang’s jaw snaps shut. There’s a guy stepping between him and the poor victim of his recklessness, glaring at Yeosang like he shot the kid or something.
He’s tall, and clearly no stranger to a gym. Yeosang likes to work out himself, but he doesn’t want to go up against this guy. He’s easily a good head taller than him, and is still glaring like Yeosang is a murderer or something.
“I’m so sorry,” Yeosang tells both of them, raising his hands in what feels a lot like surrender. “I didn’t mean to run into him it just happened and I’m so sorry-”
“I said I’ve got it,” the guy repeats, shifting his weight until he’s firmly between Yeosang and the student he ran into.
“Oh, um-” Yeosang stutters, not entirely sure what to do. “Okay then. I really am sorry but I have to go. Hope you didn’t hit your head too bad.”
He quickly turns, hurrying further down the street. He really should have stayed and made sure the student was ok, but that guy looked like he would bite Yeosang’s head off if he tried anything like that.
Plus he still has his shift.
Stifling a curse, he digs in his pocket, quickly pulling out his phone to check the time. He speeds up as soon as he realizes his shift starts in two minutes, doing his best to be a bit more careful this time.
-
A week goes by, and Yeosang mostly manages to forget about the instance. He spends some time wondering if the student is okay, and wondering why on earth the guy was so pissed off. He eventually decides he’ll never know, and doesn’t dwell on it tons after that.
He’s leaning against the counter, wondering if he could get away with pulling out his phone to shoot off a few texts without his manager catching him. The coffee shop is dead, and he doesn’t get off for the next hour.
Yeosang is just about to tempt fate and go for it when the bell over the door rings abruptly.
“HiwelcometoCoffeeRx,” he gasps, jolting upright on sheer instinct.
It’s only once the initial shock of surprise leaves that he actually sees who walked through the door.
He immediately gets another shock of surprise, this one with a bit more fear in it than the previous one.
It’s the two guys from a week ago, the ones Yeosang had been trying urgently to forget and convince himself it was a one time thing and that he would never see them again. But here they are, in the very coffee shop he works of all places.
The student he knocked over clearly recognizes him, grinning in a way that makes his cheeks look super round. He’s wearing a soft yellow sweater, and the distant photographer part of Yeosang’s brain notices how pleasing the color is paired with the brown of his hair and the afternoon light streaming in through the window behind him.
The other guy is also very much there and definitely not a figment of Yeosang’s imagination like he’d been hoping. He’s just wearing a plain grey hoodie, and gives Yeosang a glare before squinting at the menu.
“Kind of crazy running into you here,” the student says, stepping up to the counter. “I thought that was a one-time occurrence, but I guess not.”
“I am so sorry,” Yeosang tells him in a rush. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and I didn’t even see you.”
“It’s fine,” the student assures him, smiling again. “I’d be willing to forget everything for a coffee.”
“I can do that,” Yeosang quickly assures him. “What can I get started for you?”
“Oh, no-” he says. “I wasn’t serious. We’ll pay; it’s all good.”
Yeosang gives him a quick smile that he hopes doesn’t look super nervous. The other guy keeps looking at him, and while Yeosang is trying to convince himself he’s just looking at the menu beside him, it’s not working.
“Umm, can I get an iced americano?” the student asks. “And what do you want?”
He turns to look at the other guy, who frowns briefly.
His voice is surprisingly soft when he answers, and it takes Yeosang to realize he’s speaking Korean. He has no clue what the guy is actually saying, but he’s been around his aunts and uncles enough to at least recognize the language.
“He’d like a regular coffee, please,” the student says once the other is finished talking, looking back at Yeosang.
“What size for the americano?” he asks. “And do you want the regular coffee iced or hot?”
“Your standard size,” the student tells him. “Hot or iced, Mingi?”
The scary guy, who is presumably Mingi, just shrugs.
“Iced,” he says, glancing over at Yeosang, who immediately avoids eye contact.
He quickly punches the details into the tablet in front of him, going ahead and putting the order onto his account.
“Can I get a name for the order?” he asks, reaching for the stacks of cups beside him.
“Jongho,” the student says.
Yeosang writes that down, repeating the name to himself in his head to remember it. Jongho and Mingi.
“All right then,” he says, setting the cups down. “If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll have these done in a second.”
“I didn’t pay?” Jongho says with a raised eyebrow, wallet already in his hand.
“It’s no big deal,” Yeosang calls over his shoulder, turning away from the register. “Consider it an apology for the head injury.”
He takes half a step to get to the espresso machine, already reaching for the ice bucket. He quickly fills the cup up, then sets it on the drip tray, making sure it’s properly positioned.
While the machine is doing its thing, he grabs another cup, filling it with the pot someone started this morning. He puts a lid on it, quickly setting it on the counter by the register before heading back to the espresso machine to check its progress.
Yeosang glances out past the register as he grabs the now semi-full cup, trying to see what Jongho and Mingi are doing.
The two are leaning against the table by the front window. Jongho is scrolling on his phone, but looks up to say something to Mingi as Yeosang watches.
To the barista’s absolute surprise, Mingi actually smiles at whatever Jongho says. He looks entirely unintimidating when he smiles, eyes flattening almost completely.
Yeosang looks away when he realizes he’s staring, stepping over to fill the americano the rest of the way with water.
“Order ready for Jongho,” he calls out, feeling a little silly for making such a big deal when the shop is empty except for the two of them.
Jongho immediately gets up, slipping his phone into his pocket as he crosses the store.
“You really don’t have to pay,” he says when he gets to the counter. “I was just joking.”
“It’s already rang in,” Yeosang tells him, pushing the coffees towards him. “It’d be a bigger pain to change it now.”
“Then let me get you one next time,” Jongho suggests, smiling.
“Sure thing,” Yeosang replies, a little sarcastically. He is pretty sure there won’t be a next time; this was all just a coincidence in the first place.
But Jongho’s smile just widens.
“I’ll see you around then,” he says before picking up the coffees. “Take care, Yeosang.”
He heads back across the store, towards the door this time. Mingi straightens up, meeting him halfway there.
The bell chimes again as they walk out onto the street, and Yeosang wonders how Jongho knew his name.
Name tag, he reminds himself with an eye roll. You’re wearing a name tag.
Feeling a little dumb, he turns away from the register to find something to clean.
-
Yeosang doesn’t know it, but Jongho and Mingi return to the coffee shop three different times over the next week. He isn’t working, but they order coffee anyway, and Jongho makes a mental note of when to try next time.
The fourth time, he is.
Yeosang is just as surprised when they walk in the door, but he smiles in response to the excited look on Jongho’s face.
He’s wearing red this time, a deep maroon color. It looks just as good as the yellow did, and Yeosang is again itching to capture the warmth he seems to radiate.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he grins, stepping up the counter.
Mingi goes right to the table they were at last time, sitting down this time. Yeosang does his best to focus on Jongho, who is definitely not as scary.
“What can I get you?” he asks. “Same as last time?”
“You remember?” Jongho asks, tilting his head.
Yeosang just nods, already reaching for the cups.
“It’s a pretty standard order,” he tells Jongho. “And guilt makes facts stick, I guess.”
Jongho laughs at that. The sound is just as warm as the rest of him.
“Maybe I should use that as a study technique,” he says. “Think it would work?”
Yeosang frowns, filling the cup with ice before punching the double shot option on the espresso machine.
“I don’t know,” he finally shrugs. “It might.”
“I’ll have to try it then, and get back to you,” Jongho says. “Speaking of…”
He trails off, and Yeosang is in the middle of pouring Mingi’s coffee so he can’t look up. When he finishes and has the lid on the coffee, he steps over to the counter.
Yeosang is met with the sight of one of the shop’s napkins, with a number hurriedly scrawled on it.
“So I can pay you back,” Jongho tells him, pushing the napkin closer to him. “Let me know when you’re free.”
“Sure,” Yeosang says, folding the napkin carefully and slipping it into the pocket of his apron.
He turns away to deal with the americano, trying to figure out if Jongho is serious or not. He’s been given a whole lot of dud numbers in the time he’s worked here, and he’s reached a point where he doesn’t even try anymore. It’s not worth the effort.
He finishes the americano, bringing it back to the counter to pass to Jongho. The student pays this time, and is soon thanking Yeosang.
Jongho doesn't immediately leave this time, going to sit across from Mingi at the window. They both sip their coffees, and Jongho eventually pulls out a laptop to work on something.
Yeosang doesn't get to watch them as much as he would like; the shop inexplicably fills up, and he is kept busy at the register and espresso machine for the next little bit.
When he finally does get a chance to look up, Jongho and Mingi have both left.
-
Yeosang doesn’t text Jongho right away.
He is about forty-five percent convinced it’s all some kind of a prank, and it takes multiple days to logic his way through the issue.
With the fear of being stood-up out of the way, there’s only his social anxiety to deal with. That also takes a bit to overcome, involving some pep talks and moments of more self-doubt than usual.
He has to remind himself that he’s had multiple interactions with Jongho at this point, (he’s counting two as multiple), and hasn’t hugely messed up any of them. His parent’s whole idea of having him work at some place where he has to interact with people to get him out of his shell has actually worked, and Yeosang is a lot better than he used to be at dealing with people as a whole.
When he eventually does reach out, he sends possibly the most boring message to ever exist. But it’s sent, and that’s the important part.
He is just telling himself that now all he has to do is wait when his phone buzzes with an incoming text.
Yeosang opens it quickly, not having expected Jongho to get back to him so quickly. His message is simple as well, just a ‘Good to hear from you!’.
As Yeosang watches, the bubbles pop up at the bottom of the screen to show Jongho is typing.
‘Are you free to get coffee tomorrow?’ Jongho sends a second later.
‘Sure,’ Yeosang replies. ‘I get out of class at 3.’
‘Perfect,’ Jongho texts.
He sends an address a second later, and Yeosang clicks on the link.
“Thompson and 3rd,” he mutters to himself as he adjusts the map. “That’ll work.”
He quickly texts Jongho to confirm the location and time, and they end the conversation a few minutes later with all the details sorted out.
Yeosang turns his phone off, tossing it on his bed. He does his best to not examine the entire interaction in great and exacting detail, instead heading over to his computer to begin going through some photos he recently took.
That takes his mind off Jongho and tomorrow entirely, and he’s soon happily lost in the much simpler world of depth of field, focus, and all the pictures he keeps accidentally taking of his thumb.
-
Yeosang turns onto Thompson Street, hands tucked firmly in his pockets. It’s a nice day, and he walks a little slower than usual. He’s early, and the afternoon light is shining through the trees lining the street so nicely, casting a network of shadows across the sidewalk.
He must be going a lot slower than usual, because someone taps him on the shoulder. Yeosang immediately reaches up to push back one ear of his headphones, already opening his mouth to apologize when he realizes it’s Jongho.
“Hey,” he says easily, smiling. “I’m glad it was you; I was scared I got the wrong person for a moment.”
Yeosang smiles back, letting his headphones fall around his neck. He slows a bit more, and Jongho speeds up a little until they’re walking at the same pace.
“How did you know it was me?” he asks, looking back up at the trees while waiting for a response.
“Your hair,” Jongho tells him. “And I saw that jacket hanging up in the shop the other day.”
Yeosang is halfway through thinking this is a little weird and maybe even creepy when he remembers he has devoted stupid amounts of brain power to each outfit Jongho has worn since they met.
“Fair enough,” he says with a shrug. “Are you a student here?”
“Yeah,” Jongho says. “I’m majoring in law. What about you?”
“Photography,” Yeosang tells him. “Do you want to be a lawyer, or something else?”
“Lawyer for now,” Jongho answers. “In the future… I could go for judge, maybe.”
He says that with such easy confidence that Yeosang doesn't doubt for a moment he could do it if he wanted to.
They slow, coming to a stop at the intersection of Thompson and 3rd street. Yeosang watches a few cars drive by, momentarily distracted by the changing reflections and patterns of light as they move.
“So what do you want to do after this?” Jongho asks, waving a hand to encompass the street, campus, and maybe all of the city.
“I’m not sure,” Yeosang tells him honestly. “I’m hoping I’ll figure it out when I get there.”
Jongho laughs at that, tipping his head back slightly. Yeosang smiles automatically at the sound.
“I think you’ll figure things out just fine,” Jongho says. “You seem like you have things figured out.”
It’s Yeosang’s turn to laugh at that, and he hopes the laughter doesn’t sound too pained.
“I wish,” he tells Jongho. “It must be nice to have everything sorted out.”
The crosswalk light flips to green, and the two of them step out onto the road. They don’t say anything until they’re safely on the other side of the street, and Yeosang notices how Jongho looks around almost continuously.
They have to wait again to cross the street a second time, the coffee shop Jongho chose waiting just a short distance away. They chat some more as they stand there, and Yeosang learns Jongho lives in Queens, commutes daily, and is also an only child.
The coffee shop isn’t super busy by the time they finally get inside, and they each order coffee. Jongho is insistent on paying, and Yeosang eventually caves.
They end up at a window seat, sipping their drinks. Yeosang’s loyalties aren’t super strong, and he freely admits this coffee shop is better than the one he works at when Jongho asks.
“A traitor?” Jongho gasps dramatically, eyes wide.
Yeosang rolls his eyes.
“They don’t pay me enough for loyalty,” he snorts. “Give me a raise and then we’ll see.”
“Fair enough,” Jongho laughs, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Do you work?” Yeosang asks.
“Nope,” Jongho tells him. “I’m a freeloader.”
“Oh yeah?” Yeosang raises an eyebrow. “Scholarship, or are you a trust fund kid?”
“Trust fund,” Jongho admits with a sigh.
“Shut up,” Yeosang says with a laugh. “Don’t go saying it like it’s a bad thing. I’d sell an arm for my tuition paid.”
“It does sound like a good gig,” Jongho says. “Can’t deny that.”
Yeosang hums in response, taking a sip of his drink.
“Sorry for waiting so long to text you,” he ends up blurting when the silence stretches. “I had to convince myself it wasn’t a prank or something.”
Jongho laughs at that, not seeming at all off-put by the randomness of Yeosang’s statement.
“It’s fine,” he says with a wave of his hand. “I would absolutely do the same in your shoes.”
“I’m glad I did it,” Yeosang tells him. “This is nice.”
“It is,” Jongho agrees, smiling. “We should hang out sometime. If you want to, of course.”
Yeosang blinks at him for a second, already mentally rejoicing because he might have made a friend. Yunho isn’t going to believe this, and his mom most definitely won’t.
It’s only when Jongho tilts his head and waves a little that Yeosang realizes he’s been zoning out in self congratulations instead of actually being a normal human being.
“That sounds great,” he says quickly. “Sorry; I was hung up on the whole ‘potential new friend’ thing.”
Jongho laughs again, and Yeosang thinks distantly that if his laugh was a color, it would be the exact shade of the yellow sweater he wore when he first showed up to the coffee shop.
“I absolutely get that,” Jongho tells him. “I was telling my mom about you and she almost didn’t believe I had maybe made a new friend.”
“I haven’t told my mom yet,” Yeosang says. “Both she and my roommate aren’t going to believe me until they actually meet you or something.”
“Thankfully I don’t have to convince my roommate you exist,” Jongho laughs. “You kind of met him the other day; Mingi, tall guy? Was with me at the coffee shop?”
“Yeah,” Yeosang quickly says, like he could possibly have forgotten the guy. “He seems like a good friend.”
“He is,” Jongho says with a smile. “I don’t really have friends other than him. And you, if we get to that point.”
“Well, if we do get there,” Yeosang tells him. “You’ll probably end up friends with my roommate too. He’s super friendly and everyone automatically loves him.”
They continue talking about anything and everything, only wrapping up when they have both finished their coffees and it’s starting to get late.
“Thanks for the coffee,” Yeosang says as they head down the street together. “Sorry again for literally running you over.”
“Hey, no big deal,” Jongho tells him. “It’s a great story.”
Yeosang has to admit this is true, and they continue for a while in comfortable silence.
“This is where we parked the car,” Jongho says, coming to a stop in front of a parking garage. “If you want to hang out in the future, let me know.”
“I will,” Yeosang says, smiling. “Good luck driving in all of this.”
“I appreciate that,” Jongho tells him with a rueful smile. “See you later.”
Yeosang repeats the sentiment, only watching for a moment as Jongho steps into the parking garage.
He heads off down the street, still smiling to himself. The sun has begun to set, leaving the streets cast in a gorgeous blue light that Yeosang knows he wouldn’t be able to capture on just his phone.
That’s fine by him. He’s happy to savor the blue all on his own.