Chapter Text
it’s like rewatching an old movie;
the bus arrives late, the door almost falls off as it opens. the driver is the same old man. he’s gone bald and his face has gotten wrinklier, his glasses have thickened. soobin hands him some money for the ticket, nods at him in greeting and doesn’t expect any form of acknowledgement.
there’s barely anyone around this early in the morning, the idle town still asleep. a wave of unfamiliarity washes over him; he’s gotten too used to the everlastingly busy city, he realises. the well-known streets and buildings of his hometown look different somehow, smaller and less quaint than he remembers.
it doesn’t take long before the time to get off comes. there are only so many stops on the town's sole bus route, after all.
a short walk and he’s standing in front of a small building. the big and (always) dirty windows are misty; it must have been raining sometime through the night. as he opens the door, he notices the glass in it has gotten changed. (there used to be a crack from the left corner all the way to the bottom.)
particles of dust flicker in the morning sun when he steps inside.
he’s home.
“my baby!”
it’s soobin’s mother who materialises in the room first. her steps sound slow against the floor as she approaches him, and she’s certainly more languid than she should be at her age, so soobin doesn’t waste any time and meets her halfway. when she pulls him down into a tender hug, he yields immediately, not forgetting to let go of his luggage and wrap his arms around her fragile body.
breathing in the comforting smell of her fabric softener, he mumbles into her shoulder a small hi, mom.
“is that soobin?” a stern voice sounds from the staff room.
soobin pulls away from his mother and before he can confirm that yes, it is indeed him, his father appears in the doorway (oddly, not dressed in his work clothes and an apron);
“good to see you, son,” he says, voice raspy. he still refuses to quit smoking. the smile on his thin lips is barely noticeable, but it is there, and that’s more than enough for soobin. he mirrors the expression and doesn’t forget to bow his head.
“how was your journey?”
he nods. “it was okay.”
“did you have breakfast? you got so thin! ah, this kid! i told you to eat properly!” his mother’s voice gets lost in the staff room and then she’s back again with a tray. soobin goes to sit down at one of the tables by the window obediently, without having been told a single word.
where he always eats – where he always used to eat; the spot proves itself to still be the best one. he can see out of the window, notice every single customer coming in, but at the same time he’s able to monitor whatever is happening at the counter and the tiny kitchen corner right next to it.
perfect for a silent observer like himself.
the coffee tastes disgustingly sweet. his mother doesn’t know he’s been drinking it bitter for quite some time now, and he doesn’t tell her. instead he adds it to his mental list of things she’s unaware of and he needs to somehow avoid revealing.
the croissant, though, is a miracle. he makes sure to mention that even with his mouth still full. his mother smiles at him lovingly.
though the window in the main door might have gotten changed, the hinges remain ungreased, so when it screeches as the door opens, it has three heads turning in the direction of the entrance.
there stands a boy, long black hair almost covering his eyes, a huge black hoodie hiding away his body, a backpack in his left hand. “good morning,” he mumbles softly as he bows to soobin’s parents. the latter’s presence he ignores completely. (perhaps he doesn’t even notice him. perhaps he can’t really see much because of his hair.)
“oh quit it, darling, i told you to stop being so formal with us!” soobin’s mother exclaims and makes her way to the boy. they exchange a few sentences, but when soobin doesn’t catch the first nor the second one, he simply gives up and focuses back on his breakfast.
…
a couple hours and two unpacked bags later, soobin lies flat on his old bedroom floor. the ceiling above him is more yellow than white and he’s sure the number of cracks in it has doubled at least. his back hurts because of the hardwood, but he couldn’t care less, perhaps because it’s one of the very few things he’s been able to feel today.
it’s nice to be back home, even if it’s also a little bittersweet.
while nothing has changed per se (and if, it has only grown older), and the time appears to have stopped here (the calendar with pictures of puppies on his desk shows a september of 2018), something almost oppressive hangs in the air. soobin can’t quite pinpoint where it’s coming from. he only knows this room no longer feels like his safe space, a refuge. he’s become a stranger in his own home.
the floor creaks under his feet as he walks down the hall, the stairs, and into the living room. his mother, still knitting, almost as if she has never stopped since soobin had seen her like that last time, years ago, sits in the corner in a huge worn-out armchair. where his father has gone, he doesn’t know.
(possibly he’s out on the backyard terrace, smoking.)
they don’t talk much. soobin asks what’s new around the town (their neighbour, the nice lady who always gave him chocolates when he was a kid, has died, and his mother’s favourite restaurant got shut down a few months ago), then it’s quiet. there’s not much to say, he understands.
• • •
wonder still smoulders in his chest when he steps into his parents’ coffee shop the next morning.
it sends him back to his teenage years: then he used to spend all of his free time here, pretending to work.
…really he was only sitting behind the counter, reading mangas, or sometimes chatting with his friends from school if they stopped by.
it’s not going to be much better now. though his mother smiled at him sweetly when he offered to help out with the family business until he finds something different to busy himself with, the both of them knew it was quite unnecessary. a single employee is more than enough when it comes to taking care of the few customers they get through the day. still, he would feel bad if he just sat around the house doing nothing.
so here he is; standing in the middle of the rather small room, holding a huge box full of his mother’s pastries, gaping at the boy from yesterday.
a black hoodie much too big for him engulfs his body, whatever he is writing in his notebook has him engrossed, he’s sitting on top of the counter, humming softly. the early sun rays stroke his hair in such a delicate way it makes his aura almost glamorous, alluring soobin to come closer.
he ponders for a second, not wanting to invade the boy's bubble. it seems way too fragile.
however, he has only so much time before he’s supposed to open the shop, so he shakes away uncertainty and approaches the boy.
“hi?” he says, and his voice cracks in the middle of the single syllable.
though he made sure to speak quietly enough, the boy cringes and drops his notebook. the sound of it hitting the wooden floor echoes through the room, but soobin barely notices. instead he focuses on a pair of startled fox-like eyes staring right back at him.
the boy blinks once before he understands the situation, then gets off the counter and picks up his notebook. soobin clears his throat to stop the boy from turning his back at him right when he makes the move to. “what's your name?” he asks.
a beat of silence.
“i’m soobin,” he adds.
the smile on the boy’s face – ephemeral and chaste – appears when he replies, “yeonjun.”
and though the motion of his mouth is subtle, it still calls for soobin’s attention; the upper lip slightly fuller than the lower one, corners curved downwards. a unique shape, one soobin has not seen before. the natural pout is like a cherry on top.
“yeonjun,” he says, looking back up to meet the boy’s eyes again, and takes a step closer, “it’s nice to meet you.”
yeonjun’s body tenses at the change in their proximity. he quickly tries to hide it by clasping his palms together and fiddling with his fingers, but soobin notices, anyway. offering a somewhat comforting smile, he steps back to provide yeonjun more space, and the latter relaxes immediately.
then he seizes his notebook and disappears behind the spare room door.
by the time he comes back, his front covered by an old brown apron, soobin has unpacked the pastry, wrote today’s menu on the small board on the counter and put down the chairs. the shop is prepared for the day.
yeonjun walks to the main door and flips the sign on it to opened.
the both of them know it’s going to take quite some time before someone steps in, so when they share a brief look, they come to a silent agreement they’ll both mind their own business until there are customers to take care of.
• • •
if there’s something soobin doesn’t miss at all, it’s crowded grocery stores back in the city.
he walks down the narrow aisles, having nobody breathing right on the back of his neck, and the amount of happiness it brings him feels almost embarrassing.
sure, there is not much to choose from. he would consider it a luxury if there were more brands of certain products than one. but it’s how he’s grown up and what he’s used to, so he doesn’t complain.
it takes some memory digging to remember what else has his mother asked him to buy other than some vegetables, but eventually he’s ready to pay and go home, so he nears the counter.
the cashier raises his head to look at him, for the first time since soobin has entered. tall, with eyes big, nose sharp and lips stretched in a wide smile. he seems shocked.
“soobin hyung?”
a silvery voice, much too loud for the otherwise empty store. only one person that soobin knows speaks like this;
“hueningie!” he exclaims, and his expression mirrors the younger’s immediately. “what are you doing here?”
“hey, i’m supposed to be the one asking that.” he snorts, then makes grabby hands at the groceries the other is holding. soobin lays them on the counter and watches kai as he scans them lackadaisically, with practised ease. “i’m not the one who disappeared for actual years.”
“right, about that…” soobin begins to say, but nothing comes after. he realises he doesn’t have an excuse, so he stays silent. the younger doesn’t pry for an answer.
the small screen by the cash box shows him the total. he hands the money. “keep the change.”
kai helps him put the groceries in a tote bag soobin has brought. “don’t worry about it, hyungie,” he says, voice much softer this time. “i’m just happy to see you again.”
soobin smiles. “me too.” he hangs the bag over his shoulder. then, before he goes, he asks one more thing, “really though, what are you doing here?”
and kai breaks into a loud laugh.
it surprises soobin just how much he’s missed the demonic hahaha.
“i always told you i’d end up here.”
(“today mr. kim asked us if we wanted to go to uni, again,” kai complains.
they lie in the younger’s garden, bored but too lazy to get up and do something useful. kai throws a cricket ball in the air, catches it, throws it again.
soobin diverts his eyes away from the clear sky to look at his best friend’s profile. even from his point of view it’s obvious how annoyed the boy is. “and do you?”
the latter groans. “you’re making me want to punch you.” a loud exhale. “i don’t know! i have no idea what to do with my stupid life!” then he throws the cricket ball with more force than before. two seconds later it lands next to his feet. he doesn’t pick it up again.
soobin chuckles, sits up. he leans over kai’s legs, grabs the ball and throws it on the other side of the garden. “when i was your age, i thought the same thing.”
“you’re making it sound like you’re a century old.”
soobin stretches his arms and arches his back. he lets out a sigh of relief when his spine cracks. “honestly, i feel like i am.”
“whatever,” kai mumbles before covering his eyes with his forearm to prevent himself from going blind. the sun is merciless today. “i’ll just work as a cashier for the rest of my days. it’s not like i’d be the first or the last one to do so.”)
• • •
soobin doesn’t bother carrying something as an umbrella, ever, so when he steps out of the house right into the pouring rain, he pays it no special attention. the coffee shop is only a few streets away from home, anyway. he’ll be there in no time.
there is nobody in sight as he walks, the town even quieter than usual in a weather like this.
passing by his middle school feels weird. the bushes in front of it have grown taller, but other than that nothing has changed. even the big dip in the road is still there, now filled with water. (funding distribution has never been good here; every single mayor likes wasting money on useless things.)
the first person he sees today is a cyclist; a boy near his age, a brown beanie on his head with a black hood thrown over it. the bicycle is too small for him – perhaps that’s why the way he’s teetering on it looks almost comical.
soobin is about to laugh at the sight, but then the boy rides by him and right through the huge puddle on the road, providing him with a good spatter.
the smile freezes on soobin’s face immediately. he shivers at the cold sensation and wraps his arms around his torso protectively, as if it could make him warmer somehow.
well, now it truly doesn’t matter whether he had the umbrella or not – it wouldn’t have saved him from this attack, anyway.
the boy shrieks as he realises what’s just happened. he turns his head back at soobin, who’s standing and looking at him already, expecting an apology.
instead of saying sorry, though, the boy shrieks again.
soobin more hears than he sees the fall; the bicycle rattles against the asphalt and the boy groans loudly as he rolls from his side to lay flat on his back. “i’m okay, i’m fine!” he shouts. “sorry about the shower!”
“are you sure?” soobin asks, his voice raised because of the rain rustling in the trees, but he’s already half-turned to leave.
the boy waves it off, still lying on the road, as if he was comfortable and meaning to lie there all along. “‘s okay, don’t worry!”
soobin nods half-heartedly and then flees.
…
when he steps into the building, the chairs have already been put down. yeonjun is sitting in his usual spot on the counter, again scribbling in his notebook with hands almost entirely hidden by the sleeves of his black-and-white flannel shirt, and his hair seems dry (in all honesty, soobin wouldn’t guess for him to be one to actually use an umbrella. he looks more like an emo kid).
soobin clears his throat. “good morning.”
yeonjun raises his head and, upon seeing the state soobin is in, disappears behind the spare room door. he returns in a matter of seconds, holding a towel that he offers to soobin. “for your hair,” he mumbles.
soobin hesitates for a second, scrutinising the item in the boy’s hand. it looks quite dingy.
yeonjun’s next exhale is louder than necessary as he most likely realises what’s going on in soobin’s head. “it’s clean.”
soobin hums. “right, thanks.” then he accepts the towel and begins drying his hair haphazardly.
yeonjun watches the movement of his hand for a moment, expression unreadable, before he turns on his heel and gets comfortable back on top of the counter. soobin only then notices a mug sitting right next to the boy. the mug is red with a faded picture of a christmas tree, it’s ugly and it’s definitely the one he bought for his mother with his first pocket money when he was seven.
he bites his lower lip to stop himself from smiling dumbly and makes his way to the staff room to get rid of his soaked jumper and grab an apron. tying it around his waist, he returns to the counter, where yeonjun stands already back on his feet, the mug in his hand. with his other one he snatches the towel from around soobin’s neck. then he carries both things to the spare room.
• • •
when he was a kid, soobin used to like staying up late at night next to the weak bedside lamp. the house becoming silent made his mind calm and serene, the rustling leaves along with the annoying sound of crickets he heard through the opened window brought a strange sensation of comfort. he didn’t even care that the light in his room drew mosquitoes and moths in.
now, as he’s sitting on the windowsill, trying desperately to bring the feeling back, the insects outside are shrieking. the sound irritates him almost unbearably, but closing the window is out of the question. the air inside gets oppressive too quickly.
the clock above his door hits one in the morning and he needs to get out.
his father’s snoring has gotten even louder over the years, he finds out when he tip-toes by his parents’ bedroom. he wonders just how much sleep does his mother actually get through the night. he knows that she’s always been a light sleeper. if soobin was her, he certainly wouldn’t be able to bat an eye.
the door to the garage screeches obnoxiously when he opens and closes it hastily, making him clench his teeth. there’s barely any light, but soobin can see that the room as cluttered as ever, even though his father had promised to clean it long before soobin left for university.
some things never change.
when he finally finds what he was looking for – his bike – he hopes it’s not in too bad of a state. despite his worst expectations, the tires need only a little more air, but that is an issue he can get rid of within minutes, and so soon enough he’s out and in the lonely streets.
he passes by the store kai works at (the sole neon light above the entrance still blinks every now and then), and by the coffee shop, too.
he or yeonjun have probably forgotten to switch the light off when they leaving, he realises when he notices that the shop is not engulfed in darkness. he almost gets off his bike to go in, but his keys stayed in a basket in the entrance hall back at home, so he simply keeps on pedalling and turns left at the end of the street.
a couple more turns and then he’s back in time, eight years ago.
(flames swallow the first floor almost petulantly, blinding him in yellow, orange and red, a veil of smoke floats above the roof and flies up in the sky, but it burns his lungs even as he stands down on the ground. everything is silent, except for the cracking of the wood.
he looks around, but he doesn’t see anyone;
he’s alone in front of a house on fire.
panic creeps through his chest, a lump in his throat, his hands won’t stop shaking. he’s not sure if there are people inside the house, but if yes, the amount of carbon dioxide in the air is reducing their chances to survive with every other second.
he needs to call for help.
it takes him a good minute until he finally shoves his hand in the pocket of his sweats, fishes for his phone and manages to unlock it, his grip on it too tight. he doesn’t trust himself enough, too afraid of dropping it.
the rest of the night is a blur.
distant wails, red and blue, so many people, someone grabbing him by shoulders and leading him away, wrapping him in a blanket, water cold in his throat, terrified faces of his parents, his bed.)
nobody survived.
the foundations and the skeleton are still standing, remnants of a house that has turned into ashes, a sombre reminder of the past; someone’s childhood, unfulfilled dreams and plans for the future.
soobin has been carrying the grief for them with him ever since that night.
around the town the words spread just like the fire did: about a brave boy who was at the right place, at the right time.
soobin doesn’t feel brave.
he didn’t rescue anyone, and he definitely wasn’t there at the right time;
perhaps, if he hadn’t spent so many minutes just staring at the disaster, marvelling at the hunger that the flames possessed, when the wooden beams of the house did barely any difference trying to assuage it, perhaps then his presence would have made any good.
perhaps he could have saved them, if he had decided to go and check the weird source of light sooner, if he had left his house a little earlier, if he had pedalled a little faster, if it hadn’t taken him so long to call for help...
countless times his mother had told him not to blame himself, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop spinning in his head.
if, if, if...
• • •
yeonjun is talking to someone over the counter, and he sounds different from when he talks to soobin (putting aside the fact they've barely had a conversation). his voice is softer, a little more nasal and almost frisky. soobin, immersed in the soul-melting tone, doesn’t even pay attention to what the boy says. only when the stranger laughs searingly soobin starts and wakes up from his trance.
the coffee shop is mostly empty, and the very few people sitting by the small tables don’t seem to mind the boy’s loudness, making it look almost like they’re pretty much used to it.
“no, we’re playing at the summer fest, actually,” the boy renders the volume of his voice back to normal, and soobin tunes in to the conversation despite his best efforts to not eavesdrop. he still keeps his distance though, loitering in the door frame and scrolling on his phone, trying to look nonchalant.
“quit making it sound so fancy already, it’s literally going to be just you guys standing on the square playing for a couple grandmas,” yeonjun says gruffly, but it only makes his friend snort.
“excuse you, my grandma loves our music,” the boy fights back.
“yeah, probably because she doesn’t understand a single word of the lyrics.”
“the most important part in music is the feeling.”
soobin can practically hear the roll of yeonjun's eyes. “well, i’m currently feeling a very strong urge to kick you out of here.”
their bickering is quite endearing and soobin genuinely doesn’t want to interrupt them, but the lack of sleep he’s gotten through the night is starting to get to him, so he really needs to make himself some coffee.
he pockets his phone and makes his way to the coffee machine. the pair of friends shuts up immediately, their eyes glued to his tall frame. his cheeks grow warm under the sudden attention. “sorry, just pretend i’m not here,” he mumbles, turning his back to them, already minding his own business.
“no way, i’ve been wanting to meet you!” the boy exclaims over the sound of crushing coffee beans, excitement dripping from his loud voice.
soobin gives him a questioning look over his shoulder and the boy grins in response, his smile wide and pretty. (he looks familiar. perhaps someone from his elementary school?)
“name’s beomgyu, the local rockstar.”
he ruffles his hair dramatically, and as the strands fall back to their place, soobin notices just how long his hair is – it almost reaches his shoulders. cool.
yeonjun sighs at the comment, but his lips turn upwards.
“i’m soobin, the local…” only when the words leave his mouth he realises he doesn’t have an actual function to assign to himself. so after a second of thinking, he settles with “...soobin.”
beomgyu laughs again. (he seems to be laughing a lot. it’s kind of adorable.) “nice, a local soobin is just what this place needed.”
soobin smiles at him and turns to finish making his coffee, then he grabs the nearest cup to pour it into and opens a carton of milk to add.
someone clears their throat loudly and soobin almost spills the milk as he jumps at the sound.
he puts down the carton and faces the two yet again, ready to tell them off. to his surprise, though, there stands another boy, one he doesn’t think was standing there before, and he hasn’t noticed him coming in, either. a ghost, maybe.
a ghost with large eyes and a wide smile, showing off his perfect teeth.
“i believe you’re soobin?” the boy says. the aforementioned nods his head uncertainly, wondering why there are so many people aware of his arrival, and on top of that this one even knows his name. soobin doesn’t think they’ve ever met before, though he vaguely remembers seeing the boy, once or twice, talking to kai in the school corridor.
“yeah, i think so,” he replies, stagnant.
“my name’s taehyun, it’s nice to meet you.” taehyun offers him a polite smile and then no longer pays him any attention, instead turning to the brown haired boy next to him. “beomgyu hyung, seriously? again?” the tone of his voice is almost admonishing as he grabs the other by the wrist to examine his arm. only then soobin notices the bruises and a couple of plasters covering his skin. his face seems a little scratched as well.
beomgyu shrugs nonchalantly. “same old shit.”
taehyun sighs at that while yeonjun snorts. “why are you even surprised, tyun? it’s just another tuesday.”
soobin frowns. “it’s thursday.” yeonjun looks at him, perhaps for the first time today, and soobin’s breath hitches. “a– at least i think it is?”
one corner of yeonjun’s mouth goes up, forming a smirk, but the other one soon follows and he’s smiling. “it’s an expression,” he explains.
soobin purses his lips, feeling a little bit stupid. “of course it is,” he mumbles. yeonjun’s smile grows a little bigger and then he’s on his way to check on the customers. beomgyu and taehyun are already immersed in their own conversation. soobin takes that as a cue to finally pour milk in his coffee.
• • •
“soobin!”
the boy starts upon hearing his name. blinking rapidly, he looks up from the piece of paper lying on the counter. in the doorway stands his father, a huge box in his hands, an unreadable expression on his face.
soobin gulps.
“care to explain why you left this at home?” the man grumbles as he walks toward his son. the door behind him doesn’t close fully. soobin glances at it, as if trying to force it to close shut with nothing but his will – unsuccessfully – and then looks at his father again. a frown has formed on his eyebrows. soobin doesn’t like the sight of it in the slightest.
he struggles to force a word out of his throat for a second. “i–” the box lands on top of the counter with a dull thud– “i completely forgot about it, i’m sorry.”
“it’s your only job,” his father says, voice low and rough. he smells of cigarettes. soobin wrinkles his nose.
“i’m really sorry,” he mumbles again, “i was in a hurry this morning and it slipped my mind.”
“this better be the last time.”
somewhere behind himself soobin hears a door opening, closing, and then yeonjun rounds the counter and stands next to soobin. “good morning,” he greets the man, bowing his head a little.
the man hums in his direction, looks back at his son. “it won’t happen again,” the latter says, glancing at the piece of paper in front of him. cappuccino, flat white. he needs to go do his job.
“i’ll take your word for it,” his father grumbles at last, then turns on his heel and stomps out of the coffee shop. soobin stares at the main door seconds after it’s closed.
“you can unpack the pastries,” yeonjun’s voice brings him back to reality, “i’ll take care of those.” he nods his head in the direction of the list. soobin blinks at him. the grinder starts working.
• • •
“kind of a pretty boy, isn’t he?”
soobin almost breaks his neck with how fast he snaps his head to look at his mother. she's doing the dishes with such tranquillity that he thinks nobody else could ever possess.
he lets out a bewildered huh?
his mother turns to him with a sweet smile. her hands, wet and covered in soap, are shaking, so she wipes them with the nearest dish towel, hides them behind her back and leans against the counter to relieve her thin legs. she’s lost weight. her face lacks its usual colour and she looks older than she truly is. soobin’s chest fills with worry. he makes a mental note to check on her health later.
“yeonjunnie,” she says, breaking the silence in the kitchen, though her voice is rather weak. “don’t you think?”
“oh.” soobin scratches the back of his head, looking at the smooth surface of the kitchen table in front of him. there is a small, almost unnoticeable scratch on the edge of it, one he remembers having caused when he got into his creative mood as a kid. back then stains and scratches were the only thing he could actually get creative with – his handmade products usually fell apart.
his skill hasn’t gotten better with time, at all.
when his mother blinks at him in anticipation, he realises he hasn’t answered. “yeah, sure,” he mumbles under his nose at last.
• • •
soobin stops dead in his tracks.
behind the counter stands yeonjun in all his glory, a bird nest on his head, a grey baggy t-shirt and black sweatpants, a cup of coffee in his hands, a look of terror on his face.
they stare at each other for a while. the deafening silence echoes through the small coffee shop, bounces from the walls.
yeonjun opens and closes his mouth for a couple of times, but no sound comes out, making him look like a shocked fish gasping for air. then he massages the bridge of his nose. another second passes. “you– you’re here early,” he finally stutters out. his knuckles have turned white and soobin hopes his grip is not strong enough to shatter the cup. that would be a shame. it’s a nice one.
“yeah, i... couldn’t sleep,” he says, scratching his nape.
(that’s a lie. he wanted to avoid running into his father. yeonjun doesn’t need to know that.)
“okay,” the boy points towards the spare room, “i’ll just go, uhm... change.”
soobin, not sure what else to do, simply nods. and then, yeonjun doesn’t walk away, no– he flees.
soobin watches his lanky figure disappear behind the door and stares there even seconds after the boy’s gone. then he shakes his head in an attempt to get him off of his mind. it doesn’t really work. it’s not like he actually expected it to.
he turns on his heel with the intention to go to the staff room and get changed as well, but in his second step he stops as his attention gets caught by something else.
on the counter there lies yeonjun’s notebook. it has remained open, and soobin doesn’t need to be a genius to understand it is a journal.
not standing close enough, he can’t really make out the words written in yeonjun’s rather messy handwriting – for all of his rushing he’s left his glasses at home – nevertheless, it is quite obvious the boy has poured all of his passion into whatever he was writing about.
the spare room door screeches and soobin snaps out of his thoughts. yeonjun comes back in loose trousers and an oversized black sweatshirt, his hand holding his apron that he has yet to put on.
soobin stares at the black haired boy for a second before he wordlessly turns round and escapes to the safety of the staff room.
“want some coffee?” yeonjun calls after him.
soobin’s answer is not quick enough; he can already hear the crushing of coffee beans.
when he steps back in, yeonjun is still fiddling with the cup, not facing him. soobin turns on the radio, puts on a random station and prays it’ll save them from the awkwardness that’s filled the room and is threatening to break the windows and spill outside, too. the cracking sound in the song, caused by the bad signal, may be unpleasant to the ear, yet it also holds a strange sense of familiarity. soobin lets himself enjoy it for a while.
“here,” yeonjun says later, handing him the drink, and soobin thanks him with a soft smile. gratefully, he takes a sip. and then another.
“oh.” he blinks. “how’d you know i don’t sugar my coffee?”
yeonjun shrugs and jumps up a little to sit and make himself comfortable on top of the counter, right next to his, now closed, journal.
“when your mom made me coffee for the first time, it was so sweet i almost threw up,” he says, a hint of mirth in his voice, as he watches soobin lean against the counter next to him and stir the contents of the cup absent-mindedly. “plus i saw the horror on your face when you drank it the other day.”
soobin scrunches his nose in disgust as he’s now unwillingly reliving the memory. yeonjun watches him go through all five stages of grief, and then, for the first time since they’ve met, he laughs. truly laughs, as in the throws-his-head-back-and-squeezes-his-eyes-shut laughs.
he’s pretty, and soobin doesn’t bother trying not to stare.
• • •
yeonjun doesn’t really take an official lunch break; there are rarely any customers around noon, so it’s easy to just bring his food to the front and eat it there.
soobin has put that in practice, too, though he doesn’t go as far as yeonjun, who sits on top of the counter shamelessly as he munches on whatever kind of vegetable he’s prepared for himself this time. he instead loiters around or sits by an actual table.
on the weekends the first half of the day is the quietest, people like to sleep in. soobin would love to sleep in, too, but his mother insists on having the shop fully open every single day of the week, and soobin feels bad leaving there yeonjun all alone.
they don’t talk much. usually the both of them just do their thing and exchange a word here and there, only when one of them needs something, but soobin likes to think the air between them isn’t that awkward anymore.
it seems that yeonjun thinks the same, if the way his lips stretch in a lazy smile whenever the boys’ eyes meet is anything to go by. soobin makes sure to reciprocate the smile every time.
…
the entrance door screeches and huening kai walks in.
it is not odd per se – him and soobin have been in regular contact these days, even if mostly because of the younger’s shifts at the grocery store, and have finally passed the awkward stage of small talk and sort-of-catching-up. anyway, it is a bit unexpected to see him nonchalantly walk into the coffee shop on a saturday.
“incredible morning, my amazing hyungs,” he sing-songs, putting down a bag of whatever from the store right next to yeonjun’s thigh, who sends him an unimpressed glare. the other only giggles teasingly.
“jung huening, it’s literally one in the afternoon.”
they talk like they’re some good ol’ friends and soobin watches the whole scene unfold right in front of his eyes with his mouth agape. it takes him a second to process it, but before he can ask a single question, the sound of someone opening the entrance door again beats him to it;
“well, well, well!” beomgyu walks in, a big grin on his face. “if this isn’t my two favourite pabos in this world!” soobin only blinks once and then taehyun is in the coffee shop, too.
the latter at least has the decency to properly greet them, “hi hyungs! what’s up, hyuka?”
they break into a casual banter, nobody paying attention to soobin, whose malfunctioning brain is currently trying to catch up with the situation (and failing). he can’t even hear what they’re talking about, too lost in his own head, filled with confusion and question marks.
he takes a deep breath to ask, but his vocal cords refuse to cooperate. he clears his throat and tries again;
“wait, you guys know each other?”
everyone’s eyes fall on him in an instant and his face grows warm under all the attention. he looks down and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. maybe he should have kept his mouth shut.
taehyun speaks first;
“we’ve been in a band together for about two years and all, so, well, yeah. we do know each other a bit, i’d like to think.” he grins, subtly pointing to beomgyu and kai.
soobin chokes on his spit.
“you what now?” he coughs before he turns to kai, his hand almost punching his own chest to force the new information down. it doesn’t go smoothly, at all.
anything else has happened while he was gone?
kai shrugs. “didn’t get the chance to mention it,” he says, and it sounds so easy, as if he was talking about something as casual as the weather. soobin doesn’t reply, only blinks at him, frozen in place. kai takes that as a signal to continue;
“hyung, do you think you were the only reason why i was always here?” he asks, voice gentle, smile oh so soft. “i also like coffee, you know. even if it didn’t even taste that good when your mom used to make it. anyway. the fact that you left didn’t mean i had to stop coming here.”
well, yeah.
sadness stings in soobin’s chest at those words. and regret. lots, lots of regret.
but, he can blame no one other than himself.
(“you’ll text me every day,” his best friend says, threatening him with a plastic gun. soobin stares at it with eyes crossed as it’s pressed to his forehead, and nods frantically.
“yes, sir!” he salutes. kai grins, satisfied, and drops the toy.
“and, seriously, you have to stop by often, because otherwise i won’t survive. i live in a house full of mad women!”
soobin punches him in his shoulder playfully. “what do you even mean, hiyyih is like the definition of cuteness,” he points out, smiling dumbly.
“ew!” kai cries out, his upper lip curling in disgust. “don’t tell me you have a crush on that little gremlin?!”
soobin scoffs, then bends down to grab the gun. he points it at kai’s chest. “first of all, you’re her brother, how dare you talk about her like this?” he walks closer to him and presses the barrel against the younger’s body. “second of all, speaking of brothers – no, i see myself as her older brother, thank you very much. a better one, also.”
kai rolls his eyes. “yeah, whatever, brother. just come visit us often.”
“okay,” soobin says, putting the toy away again, “i promise i will.”)
“no, no, of course. of course i get it,” he manages to force out in a strained voice. he meets kai’s eyes.
the younger has always been good at seeing right through him. soobin doesn’t really need that at the moment – so he looks away almost immediately, and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.
sliding against the cold wall he sits down next to the staff shower stall and lets his head fall in his hands, pressing the heels of his palms in his closed eyes to create some grounding pressure.
perhaps if he’d actually bothered enough to call and catch up every once in a while–
“soobin-ah, are you okay?”
it’s yeonjun’s voice, low and ever so soft, and right after it there’s the sound of the bathroom door closing shut. quiet steps tap against the tiles. the boy sits down next to soobin, careful enough to keep distance between their bodies.
soobin exhales heavily and raises his head. “yeah i’m fine, it was just kinda unexpected reality check.” yeonjun only hums in acknowledgement. soobin’s eyes study the yellowish wall in front of them. “you know, living in a big city, it’s easy to forget other people have their own lives, too. you’re strolling down the streets on your own and the strangers seem more like… npc-s?” he explains, then chuckles humorlessly.
“yeah, i get it, i think,” yeonjun says. “although i’ve never really been to a big city. but i’ve read books an’ all, so i probably can imagine.”
soobin turns his head to the other boy, but the smile formed on his lips freezes instantly, and his breath hitches. because like this, up close, yeonjun is even prettier. soobin didn’t think that was even possible.
there’s a mole below the outer corner of his right eye that soobin hasn’t noticed before. it underlines his feline gaze.
timid, yeonjun looks away. “i think we should get back. or at least me, if you are not ready yet. leaving the three of them alone never brings anything good. ‘specially in my workplace.” at that, his eyes widen comically. “oh no.”
soobin snorts. “i guess you’re right. hueningie is the embodiment of chaos and that kid– beomgyu it is, right? he doesn’t seem to be much better.” he stands up swiftly and holds out a hand to help the other get up, too. yeonjun takes it with a grateful smile on his mouth. a second later they’re standing face to face.
yeonjun pulls his hand away hesitantly, brings it to scratch the back of his head instead. his brows contort in plaint. “oh yeah, if stress causes people to age faster then i’m dying at fifty. at the latest.”
the grief in his voice punches a fit of laughter out of soobin’s chest – he squeezes his eyes shut and hides his wide smile in his palms. and then, when he calms down and looks up again, yeonjun is gone.