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Kim Dokja wouldn’t say that he was a busybody. In fact, he was the exact opposite. That was why he never questioned it when men and women would walk into the shady building opposite the coffee shop he manned by himself and never come out, why he paid no heed to the burly men walking out from there, why he would mind his own business when those burly men were oftentimes bruised and battered. Kim Dokja was quite sure it was the headquarters for some gangster operation, something he most definitely did not want to get mixed up with.
He never received any customers, since the shop was practically in the middle of nowhere, and its atmosphere was pretty predictable just by looking at the run-down building opposite it. He seriously pondered who in their right mind would look at the area and go, “ Hey! Wouldn’t it be a super cool idea if we set up a coffee shop in this place?” and he looked down on the person who replied saying, “ I totally see the vision! Let’s do it!” even more. That was why it really sucked that the former was his best friend, Han Sooyoung and that the latter was himself.
He shook his head at the memory, completely regretting the way he abandoned his stable office job to run this place. When he looked up, he spotted a man walking out of the previously mentioned suspicious building, with a bloody nose and sweat trickling down his forehead. He wore a black shirt and matching jeans, and ran a hand through his dark hair. Damn, Kim Dokja thought. He looks like he had a really shitty day.
Kim Dokja watched as the man continued to walk away—or was he walking towards the coffee shop? And, oh god, the bell hooked to the door of the shop rang, as if it was warning its owner of the impending doom which was sure to follow the moment it silenced.
“One cup of coffee, black.” The man pulled out a few coins from his pocket, his voice raspy as if he hadn’t had a glass of water in days. Oh my god was a gangster seriously standing in his coffee shop?
Kim Dokja blinked at him, slowly taking the coins and counting them, before stashing them in the cash register sitting before him. Many thoughts flew through his mind at that point, many which he didn’t manage to register before they left. One of them was, embarrassingly, that he had really nice eyes?? And now his mouth was once again moving as well.
“Hello?”
Kim Dokja flushed.
“Yes, yes, right away. You can sit there for a second,” he said, pointing to a nearby seat.
As Kim Dokja nervously readied the coffee, the other man walked over to where the former had pointed to, watching the shorter man work, hand smoothing over a part of his arm wrapped in a bandage.
After a few minutes, the coffee had been prepared, the scent of the coffee beans wafting through the small space, wrapping around the furniture. After hurriedly pouring the liquid into a paper cup and slotting the lid on, Kim Dokja brought it to the tall man who had been waiting, familiarising himself with a cushioned chair.
“Sorry for the wait,” Kim Dokja said, as he neared the man, “your coffee is ready now.” And that was the last moment of peace he reckoned he would have for the rest of his life, as his one foot tripped over the other, and everything seemed to suddenly slow down, from his bewildered face, and the coffee which practically flew out of his hands, wishing to be freed, to the tall man who had barely managed to turn his head before hot liquid splattered all over his lap.
Kim Dokja swore he saw his life flash before his eyes as a shocked look appeared in the eyes of the man standing before him. Note that all this happened within a second or two, the few seconds when Kim Dokja was still falling, the few seconds before he promptly hit the corner of his head on the sharp edge of the wooden table this man had been sitting in front of.
After these seconds passed, the coffeeshop co-owner immediately stood up, rushing back to the counter to retrieve a cold, wet, cloth and prepare an apology speech.
Then, he rushed back to the customer, and started speaking.
“I am so sorry, I swear that wasn’t on purpose, it’s just that I’m really clumsy sometimes when I’m nervous and that—”
“Stop,” The man said, pinching the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes momentarily before looking Kim Dokja dead in the eye. “Do you not have any pain whatsoever from that wound on the side of your forehead?”
Kim Dokja frowned. Wound? What wound? He briefly touched the area this man had gestured to, a sticky, red substance attaching itself to his hand as he pulled it away. Come to think of it, he had hit his head pretty badly. Yeah, now that he thought about it, his consciousness did seem to be fading away.
“Ah… never mind about that, just clean your… pants?”
Darkness filled his vision.
——
“Hey. Wake up.”
When Kim Dokja opened his eyes, a blurry vision of black hair and broad shoulders greeted him. He had seen that silhouette from somewhere before. Where though?
Oh right.
The memories came flooding back to him instantly, and he sat up straight, immediately hitting the other man on the forehead.
“I am so sorry,” he blurted out, rubbing the forming bruise on his forehead, matching his other one, which now had a bandage over it.
The man whose name he was still unsure of narrowed his eyes, muttering something incoherent to Kim Dokja under his breath. Then, he stood up, confirming that the store owner was alright, before exiting the cafe.
Upon realising that the taller man had left, Kim Dokja’s head abruptly fell into his hands, mourning his pride. He absolutely did not just faint in front of a gangster. No way. It was impossible. Unless it wasn’t.
Oh god.
Anyways, it should be fine now that the event had passed. It wasn’t as if that guy would ever visit the coffee shop again after that terrible experience. Hell, he would probably avoid it like the plague, right?
Wrong.
The next day, at nine in the morning, guess who walked through the doors of the shop?
That day, there had been a noticeable amount of customers, and Kim Dokja had thus not noticed the man walk in, despite the fact that his presence was rather noticeable.
It wasn’t until Kim Dokja was keying in his order to print a receipt, and asking him for his name to call out later did he finally look up, recognising that all too perfect face.
“Yoo Joonghyuk.”
This Yoo Joonghyuk now had a slight bruise on his jaw, and Kim Dokja supposed it would be best to keep his questions and speculations to himself.
“Ah… right. Your order will be ready in a few minutes.” Then, raising his voice over the chatter in the small shop, he repeated the order to a woman with black hair reaching her shoulders.
Yoo Joonghyuk seemed to hesitate for a moment, before nodding and leaving. Kim Dokja watched him head to a corner seat, and wait for his order.
After that, everything proceeded quite easily, since he had an extra person in the shop for once. He had called over the other owner and his best friend, Han Sooyoung, after noticing that there would be more customers than usual that morning.
The memory that the scary man had entered the shop soon faded from his mind, and when peak hour finally passed, he slumped down against the counter, assuming that all the patrons had finally exited. That was, until Han Sooyoung came from behind and patted him on the back.
“So, what are you gonna do about that guy? He seems pretty eager to talk to you.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him with a smirk, to which Kim Dokja scowled. Kim Dokja looked over to where Han Sooyoung’s eyes were facing, and nearly fainted, once again, when he saw that Yoo Joonghyuk had not left yet.
“That’s the guy I was talking about. The gangster,” Kim Dokja whispered, looking over uneasily at Yoo Joonghyuk, who was still seated in the corner.
“You mean the guy you think is a gangster,” Han Sooyoung corrected.
“Whatever. Are the bruises not enough proof?” He replied, pointing over. Han Sooyoung shrugged, giving him a slight shove in the direction of Yoo Joonghyuk, before rushing out of the shop for a smoke.
Surprisingly, while he was still gathering confidence to go over, it was Yoo Joonghyuk who came first.
“Is your head fine?” He asked, voice barely above a murmur, as he gestured to the part of Kim Dokja’s forehead which had come into contact with the edge of the table.
“Oh. Yeah. Don’t worry. Is there anything else?” Kim Dokja inwardly cursed the moment he said that. Did he sound as if he hated the man? Well, it wasn’t as if he particularly liked him. But he definitely didn’t despise Yoo Joonghyuk. How was he supposed to feel about a gangster?
Yoo Joonghyuk continued to look at him, presumably trying to form a response.
“Nothing much. I was wondering if you needed any compensation of sorts. After all, you did hit your head pretty badly because of my drink. I thought I could buy you a meal or something similar.”
Kim Dokja subconsciously widened his eyes. If he was any dumber, he would’ve thought that this was some method to take him out on a date. Of course, it wasn’t, right? There was no way somebody like him would want to go out with Kim Dokja.
Besides, it was fine if it was just a drink, right? It didn’t sound like a good idea to deny a gangster.
“Oh, well, I can give you my number… or something? We can discuss this further online. If you want.”
As he said this, he didn’t realise that a woman in a purple hoodie had re-entered the shop through the back door, and now had her side pressed against the door in the staff room, ear cupped on the door.
It wasn’t eavesdropping. She just needed some context which Kim Dokja would fail to provide when he later asked for her advice.
Then, Han Sooyoung heard the bell of the shop ring, signifying that Yoo Joonghyuk had left. Anytime now, Kim Dokja would come in, requesting for her help. Let’s see… should she make him beg? Or to take over her shifts for the next week, rendering him without any breaks.
Three, two, one…
Huh. Now that was strange. How come he wasn’t storming in yet? She frowned, prying her body off the door, and opening it.
The store was absolutely empty. That crazy bastard… don’t tell her that he really… when she was entranced in her own thoughts, too!
——
Kim Dokja had ended up grabbing lunch with Yoo Joonghyuk, after they talked a bit more, and were now at a nearby food truck. He felt bad leaving Han Sooyoung to man the shop herself, but knowing the woman, she had probably been eavesdropping, which would have erased whatever guilt he originally had.
Kim Dokja surveyed the menu on the truck. It sold all types of weird sandwich combinations, even some unspeakable options which had a definite zilch chance of tasting good. It wasn’t really an appetising selection, to say the least. Kim Dokja stole a glance at Yoo Joonghyuk, who looked completely fine.
Did he really eat this stuff?
Before Kim Dokja could look away, Yoo Joonghyuk locked eyes with him.
“…Do you not like it?” He questioned, referring to the food truck.
To that, Kim Dokja could only reply with, “do you?”
It turned out that Yoo Joonghyuk seldom ate outside food and mostly cooked his own meals. From movies, Kim Dokja had assumed that gangsters ate mostly from fancy restaurants and had everything served to them on expensive plates, so he tried to resist letting out a surprised sound.
Oddly, the more he continued to talk with the man, the more Yoo Joonghyuk drifted from the stereotype Kim Dokja had expected of him.
He didn’t enjoy going out often, didn’t like his face getting bruised, and even had a young sister he took care of. It was almost as if he was the opposite of what you would expect from a gangster.
“You’re really different from what I expected…” Kim Dokja spoke up, as they walked along the bustling streets, in search of somewhere else to dine.
“What did you expect of me, then?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked, his voice low as usual. Kim Dokja didn’t mind the man’s voice. It was nice. Soothing. He wouldn’t mind hearing it more. As soon as he thought that, Kim Dokja fought to resist the blush growing on his face, but to no avail.
Hoping to arouse no suspicion from Yoo Joonghyuk, Kim Dokja scrambled to think of an answer to the question.
“Ah… well—you know, things gangsters would do normally, like be scary and—”
Kim Dokja clamped his mouth shut.
An expression soon formed on the taller man’s face as he registered those words. His eyes widened slightly, lips curving slightly in some sense of amusement.
“Gangster?”
“Oh, uhm—nobody would be any the wiser with all the bruises all over you, right—?”
It wouldn’t be a bad time for the apocalypse to start right then. Kim Dokja admired the blue sky and the nearby stalls, in any and every attempt to avoid Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes.
“I’m a boxer, Kim Dokja. You know, like the ones in the movies who work underground?”
Kim Dokja’s face reddened even more. But what about that building? The creepy one?
“But the people! The ones who come out battered, those who go in and never exit?”
“There’s a back exit, and you can’t really fight and come out clean.”
Well, that did explain everything… oh wow, it seemed Kim Dokja had really had a major misconception of… everything, in general. Well, this was really embarrassing.
On habit, Kim Dokja immediately apologised, bowing his head in shame.
“I am so sorry. Really, I’m not kidding. I seriously didn’t know—”
He had a strange urge to pull out his phone and search up how to quickly get rid of one’s spreading blush.
“It’s fine,” Yoo Joonghyuk let out a small chuckle, one which Kim Dokja hadn’t expected from the stoic man. The former continued hesitantly, mumbling, “it’s… cute.”
Then, he quickly turned away, combing his hand through his hair.
Kim Dokja spotted a faint blush on his ears. Faint, but there.
It’s really adorable.