Work Text:
Writers’ block really hits you where it hurts and when you hate it the most. It’s a week before his deadline and Mingyu knows he’s utterly fucked. He knows that his editor, Jeonghan, would bury him six feet under if he couldn’t come up with a plot line, or at the very least a decent prompt soon.
He gives his apartment a double take. His desk is a mess with piles of used paper for his book layouts and old printed works, previously discarded (and harshly rejected by Jeonghan), coffee staining the sides of each pile. The dishes were piling on the sink as the water from the tap dripped slowly, the sound now giving Mingyu an ick. On the couch, used hoodies littered the armrest and as he looks at his calendar he sees that Sunday still isn’t crossed out, realizing that he’s missed his laundry and clean up day. Twice.
He runs his hands through his hair in frustration, fighting the urge to start ripping it out as he hears the droplets of water come in contact with his windowsill.
It’s raining. Hard.
and Mingyu hates the rain.
Maybe hate is too strong of a word. If Mingyu were to phrase it in a different way, he’d call it distaste. The moist feeling, stepping on puddles, soil becoming mud. He doesn’t like the fact that he has to stay in everytime it rains. He loathes how much of an inconvenience it is when he goes out while it happens.
On the other hand, Mingyu likes the smell of the rain as it hits the green grass, reminding Mingyu of the quaint family home near a park in Ansan that he grew up in. It reminds him of the old days, where life was simpler, easier.
It’s not that Mingyu hates being a novelist. It’s one of his many passions. He knows that modeling, photography, and writing just sound like an unlikely trio but it’s a part of who he is and that will never change. If it isn’t this trinity then that’s just not who he is. Not one or the other but all three.
Sometimes though, it gets too hard. Just like how he has Yoon Jeonghan nagging him to write more enticing plots or how Seungkwan pushes him to go through another casting call he doesn’t want to do. Or how Vernon, bless his poor soul, is expecting another batch of Mingyu’s photos being asked for by his mom through him (despite him making zero progress on his film photography prospect). Sometimes doing three jobs at the same time drains.
and that’s why Mingyu does what he does best.
He runs away.
Not forever, maybe just for a little while.
He grabs a clean hoodie (at least, he hopes so) from the armrest as he gets his windbreaker hung on the rack. He leaves his home with nothing but his keys and a few ten thousand won, hoping that it’ll be enough for a decent cup of coffee and some cookies (fuck his diet, he’ll only live once anyway).
and so, he runs.
quite literally.
His run around Hangang Park was a quick lap to keep his mind off things. He knew he looked both dumb and psychotic, soaked in the rain on a Tuesday as he ran with nothing but a windbreaker on, sopping wet as he boarded the train to go back to Hongdae. The stares people gave him made him feel all the more vulnerable. His towering height probably didn’t help.
He takes a detour before going back to his apartment, walking around the residential areas to find a decent cafe with a good cup of coffee. And then it hits him: who in their right mind would build their cafe near a residential area with the bustling air of Hongdae being on the other side of the place? He scoffs at his own stupidity, promptly giving himself a well-deserved facepalm. But, Mingyu is desperate.
and so he sets off in the rain, his red windbreaker clutched tightly through his pockets.
He eats his words a few seconds later when he rounds the corner and spots a soaked, dainty but colorful chalkboard that reads “Heaven’s Cloud Cafe and Perfumery”. A weird combination, Mingyu thinks. The exterior facade has black and brown wood lining the front of the windowsills, contrasting the clean white of the house. A two-storey apartment turned into a cafe on the first floor stood out around all the houses, stores, and apartment buildings.
The rain, now stronger than before, forces Mingyu to enter the cafe, soaked from head to toe. He shivers as the air conditioning hits him when he enters but that feeling is immediately replaced by an allure that a flurry of scents combined with the smell of coffee brings. Shutting the door behind him, Mingyu gawks at the white, black, and beige interior, dried purple limonium* in vases decorated each table and the windowsill, black wooden shelves lined with essential oils paired with a shot glass full of coffee beans beside each one. Tall wooden stools were lined across the counter and to the side of it, a cake fridge filled with various pastries. At the very top, a variety of the most delicious looking cookies that Mingyu has ever seen sits. The cafe, although full of glass windows, looks equally dark. It looks welcoming yet expensive and Mingyu relents the fact that he hadn’t been to this beauty in the past year of him residing in Hongdae.
The cafe screams the vibe of a speakeasy, not a cafe, and Mingyu feels out of place with only 50,000 won to his name.
A crash and a string of curses pulls Mingyu out of his reverie as he realizes that the cafe is currently empty. The person meant to man the counter, nowhere in sight.
“Hello?” Mingyu voices out and another crash sounds again, followed by the same litany of curses and some clanks as a head of white with glasses askew pops out from the side of the wide backdoor.
“Hi, I’m so sorry.” the stranger breathes out, panicking. “I’m in a bit of a dilemma right now, I’ll be right with you in a sec!” The white-haired stranger calls out, immediately disappearing back into the room.
Mingyu blinks once, twice, until it finally sinks in. That guy was hella cute. It took one glance at this man to have Mingyu mentally cooing at how adorable he was, with cheeks flushed pink while panic was written all over his face. And the way he shouted at Mingyu, although frantic, sounded so deep yet also soft. He didn’t know if the man was just panicking or it was just the adrenaline talking but gods, Mingyu would definitely want to find out more.
It only took a second for Mingyu to become whipped.
Jack Frost (as Mingyu had mentally dubbed him as since he didn’t know his name) emerges from the backroom seconds later with a tray of chocolate chip cookies in hand, the other holding a tray of three muffins. His panicked demeanor was replaced with a cool and composed business smile and Mingyu returns it with his own. He places the trays on the counter for a while as he turns to Mingyu to finally take his order.
“Sorry for that,” His nose scrunches a little when he tries to get the bridge of his glasses in place. “What can I get you?”
Snap out of it, Mingyu he thinks. You’re here to get coffee and take shelter from the rain. Not to flirt.
“Hello again,” Mingyu starts. He starts with a smile, ready to further explain the situation.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t really been to this area a lot and I saw the chalkboard out front that says that this is a cafe?” Mingyu points outside. “Are you guys open already? I might have barged in on impulse to take shelter and I didn’t notice if there were any ‘open’ signs so I just went. I’m really sorry.”
“No worries, it’s been a few hours since we’ve opened.” The stranger smiles, genuine this time. “So what’ll it be?”
“It’s my first time here,” Mingyu flushes pink to admit it. “I have no idea what to order so I’d appreciate any of your recommendations,” His eyes traveled to the nametag on his chest. “Wonwoo-ssi?”
“Are you sure?” Wonwoo (as Mingyu now knows his name) smiles wider, his eyes turning into crescent lines and Mingyu would like nothing more than to drown in those adorable brown orbs.
“Of course,” Mingyu returns with a wider, adoring smile. “You work here, Wonwoo-ssi. Your recommendation would be a godsend.”
Wonwoo eyes Mingyu from head to toe, seeing that he’s sopping wet. “Oh, goodness. Let’s get you dry first.” He then rushes off to the backroom, a big towel in hand when he returns. “Sorry, I only have this towel here if you want it. The air conditioning’s pretty strong, you’d get sick if you stay wet like that.”
Mingyu sends him a smile. “Okay,” he says softly, grabbing the towel from an expectant Wonwoo. “So what’ll it be, Wonwoo-ssi?”
“Well,” Wonwoo starts as he pushes the menu towards the still dripping Mingyu.
“Tuesdays are unofficial Americano Tuesdays since I can’t whip up anything else except for Americanos. On other days, Jun and Soonyoung do the drinks so yeah, the other drinks are available on most open days.”
“Except on tuesdays?” Mingyu smiles cheekily.
“Except on tuesdays.” Wonwoo shyly bows his head before continuing.
“Our beans are exquisite, though. It smells and tastes good, I assure you. Even a novice like me would look like a coffee making expert because of how good our beans are.” Wonwoo says, matter of factly trying to convince, no, assure Mingyu that their coffee was good enough.
Mingyu laughs, already enamored by the prospect (of the coffee and Wonwoo.. But mostly the coffee) the second Wonwoo started talking about it.
“I’ll take you up on that, Wonwoo-ssi.” Another cheeky smile. “I’m an Americano guy anyway, so.. It was already a yes from the get-go.”
“Oh.” Wonwoo shyly avoids his gaze, embarrassed by his persuasion. “You should’ve said so earlier.” He sticks his gaze on the tablet, punching in Mingyu’s order with a look.
“So, pastries?” Mingyu eyes the tray on Wonwoo’s left, red velvet muffins and chocolate chip cookies.
“Have you had breakfast?” Wonwoo asks, eyes still glued on the tablet. A ghost of a smile growing on his cheeks.
“Not yet, no. I came back here from a run.”
“Then, I recommend the pancakes. We serve mean pancakes here.” Wonwoo shoots him another warm smile.
Mingyu eyes the menu for a second and looks back at Wonwoo. “There aren’t any pancakes on the menu though?”
“It’s a special thing we do on Tuesdays. We serve pancakes from 7 in the morning to 11.”
“Pancake Tuesdays, then?” Mingyu grins. “Shouldn’t your promos have some sort of catchphrase, Wonwoo-ssi?”
“Doesn’t ‘Americano Tuesday’ and ‘Pancake Tuesday’ suffice?”
“Well, in hindsight it does,” Mingyu thinks hard (?) “But something like.. Wontuesday would work too, right?”
“Wontuesday?” Wonwoo sounds both amused and baffled.
“Well, Won sort of sounds like the word ‘one’, and Tuesdays sound like the word ‘two’.” Mingyu pauses to think.
“And since Wonwoo-ssi is the one doing everything on Tuesdays, then shouldn’t it be a ‘Wontuesday’? Like how tuesday only happens ‘Wons’ a week?” A second later, Mingyu internally cringes at his own word vomit, ready to slap himself right then and there. How could he embarrass himself like this in front of the cute barista?
He suddenly feels relief wash over him when Wonwoo erupts into a fit of laughs. Instead, he feels a blush creep in. His face is close to crimson, for sure.
“Has anybody told you that you have.. An amazingly eccentric way of thinking?” Wonwoo chuckles.
“Not really, no.” Mingyu shrugs. “People say I’m too much of an insider for their liking. Too normal, they said.”
“So, you make up for your lack of personality with attempts at witty wordplay?”
“Ah, you got me.” Mingyu drags the last syllable out, feigning hurt and Wonwoo shakes his head at him mock disapprovingly.
“So, Pancakes?” Wonwoo starts tapping away on the tablet. “It’s on the house today.”
“Oh, it’s all good, Wonwoo-ssi. I’ll pay, of course.” Mingyu starts to reach for his pocket when Wonwoo reaches out to stop him, cold fingers reaching out to grasp his wrist and Mingyu flinches at the cold, regretting it immediately when Wonwoo pulls away from the contact.
“Sorry,” Wonwoo almost whispers. “It’s just that… I think Wontuesday would be a great name for the promo and it was your idea so I wanted to treat you for that.”
Mingyu smiles, happy to help. “You think your boss would be okay with that?”
Wonwoo’s eyes widened a little before smiling softly again. “He’d be happy that the promo finally has a name. We can finally write it outside on the chalkboard.”
“I’m glad I could be of service,” Mingyu says gently. “I’ll get a red velvet muffin and those cookies too,” Mingyu points at the trays littered beside Wonwoo. “They smell freaking ethereal.”
“No!” Wonwoo frantically says, his deep voice sounding slightly startled. He regains his composure a second later with a cough. “I mean,” He gathers the trays and puts them on the shelf below the table, an attempt to hide it from Mingyu. “These can’t be sold.”
“Why not? They smell amazing. They probably taste amazing too.”
“I messed them up,” Wonwoo looks down at the pastries and sighs. “I dropped them both by accident because I, like a dumbass, forgot to use an oven mitt while getting it out.” Wonwoo holds up his hand with bandaids littered across some of his fingers. “They have floor germs now.”
Mingyu fights the strong urge to coo at Wonwoo for saying ‘floor germs’. Damn this cute barista and Mingyu’s love for cute things.
“Doesn’t the five-second rule still count?”
Wonwoo smiles at the dumb inquiry meant to console him, giving Mingyu a teasing look. “Who in their right mind would sell cookies that touched the floor?”
“No idea,” Mingyu eyes the cookies from a distance. “But I’d buy those cookies in a heartbeat.”
“You’d eat floor germ cookies.”
“In a heartbeat. They smell amazing. It truly lives up to its name.”
Wonwoo gives him a confused look, eyeing the cookies before turning to Mingyu again. “These cookies have a name?”
“Aren’t those cookies meant to be named something along the line of ‘Heaven’s Cloud Cookies’ or something eerily similar to fit the cafe’s theme? It smells like heaven too,” Mingyu takes a whiff of the cookies’ smell. “Is that cinnamon I smell?”
A ghost of a smile passes Wonwoo’s lips as he punches in Mingyu’s order for the last time.
“A magician never reveals his secrets.” Wonwoo says fondly, punching the last few details of the order in before he turns to Mingyu again.
“Just to give you a repeat of the order, one Americano and one Heaven’s Cloud Pancake.” Wonwoo shoots him a smile. “Will the Americano be iced or hot?”
“Iced, please.” Mingyu says brazenly while Wonwoo raises a brow at him. “I like chewing on the ice!” Mingyu says in his defense.
“Whatever you say, sir.” Wonwoo pauses a little before looking back at Mingyu. He looks hesitant, looking at Mingyu like he wants to ask him something. He relents, looking back at Mingyu saying, “So, this order is for..?”
Mingyu smiles. He’s finally asking for my name, huh?
“Mingyu.” He looks Wonwoo in the eye. “But you can also call me ‘yours’.”