Chapter Text
The café’s door chimes sing as someone enters, making Ilya momentarily pause from wiping the coffee cups. Looking up, his breath gets stuck in his throat as a tall, black-haired, beautiful man sits down on the table by the glass wall, overlooking the tranquil sea.
Oh.
He’d seen his share of eye-catching people over years of travel, but no one ever attracted him this way, pulling him in strongly like a magnet. A desire to know this person better slowly grows, something not so easily ignored.
A smile unknowingly blooms on his lips as he steps out of the bar and approaches him.
“Good morning. What would you like to order?”
“Oh, hey,” Park Shihyeon mutters, not bothering to look behind, busy as he is in setting his laptop up. “Just the usual—”
He stops, belatedly realizing that the voice that greeted him isn’t the café’s main barista, Song Doyun. Only then does Shihyeon turn to see who it is.
For a moment, Shihyeon thinks he’s a little blinded.
The barista is several inches or so taller than him, and muscular. His messy mop of platinum blond hair glows like a halo in the morning sunshine, his silver gray eyes smiling warmly at him.
Something—
a blur of murky images flit past his mind—a bright morning, a busy street. Feet moving too fast, an almost collision—
“Sir?” the blond barista’s voice jolts Shihyeon out of his stupor. “Are you all right?”
“Uh, yeah, sorry,” Shihyeon immediately apologizes, trying to shake those images out of his mind. “You took me by surprise.”
“My apologies,” the barista says, a tad embarrassed. “Anyway, what would you like?”
“Uh…” Shihyeon considers for a moment. “I’ll have a cup of Americano, and several meat buns.”
“Anything else?”
“Those are fine.”
The blond man blinks, as if he does not expect that, but quickly composes himself. “If you say so, then. By the way, would you like your coffee refilled by request…?”
“Yeah, sure.”
With a nod, the blond man turns and ambles towards the kitchen, humming a tune under his breath.
It takes a while before Shihyeon’s order arrives, the blond barista carefully serving his food and wishing him a good day. With a rather awkward thanks, Shihyeon takes a sip of his coffee.
It’s good. No—more than good. Perhaps the best coffee he’s ever tasted all his life.
His morning in the café passes quickly as he works, barely noticing the silver gaze directed only at him.
Around the second or third day, the blond barista surprises Shihyeon by sitting across from him, a smile on his face.
“Uh…” Shihyeon asks, puzzled. “Is there anything I can help you with…?”
“Do you mind if we keep each other company?” the blond man asks, his smile widening a bit. “After all, it’s probably just the two of us here for the rest of the day.”
“D-don’t you have anything to do?” Shihyeon then glances at the papers the barista sets down on the table. “Other than these papers?”
Honestly speaking, Shihyeon doesn’t mind someone else trying to share the same space with him, as he was long used to it thanks to Song Doyun occasionally sitting beside him for some small talk.
However, Shihyeon barely knows this man—he’d only met him days ago, heaven help him.
The blond man shrugs nonchalantly, beaming. “What else is there for me to do, other than these documents? I’ve cleaned the café, prepared your food…and besides, this place gets little to no customers everyday.”
Shihyeon is silent, unable to refute.
The barista has a point—this seaside café, despite the cozy ambiance and excellent coffee, rarely gets any customers. They only tend to order iced coffee or milk tea for take out, not lingering to stay inside and preferring to frolic by the seashore.
And, well, Shihyeon is the only customer so far that comes by regularly, even staying for almost the whole day. Sometimes, he thinks it’s his money that somehow keeps this business running.
“Well, suit yourself,” Shihyeon sighs. “I’m not very good company, by the way.”
The barista smiles, and Shihyeon’s heart skips a beat. “I don’t think so.”
“By the way,” Shihyeon remembers after a brief pause, “since it will be the two of us here most of the time, I suppose we should know each other’s names…?”
“Ah,” the blond man mutters. “No wonder it feels like I’ve been forgetting something important.”
He holds out a hand, a cordial smile on his face as he introduces himself, “My name is Ilya. Ilya Maximovich Alekseev. And you are…?”
“Shihyeon, Park Shihyeon,” Shihyeon takes his hand, and a subtle hum of electricity flows from where their skin touches.
Ilya’s smile widens a fraction. “It’s lovely to meet you, Shihyeon.”
It eventually becomes a routine—for both of them.
Ilya opens the café half an hour earlier, setting up everything before Shihyeon arrives. Brews the coffee, prepares Shihyeon’s usual choice for breakfast, and cleans up the whole café while playing soft music in the background.
By the time Shihyeon arrives, the coffee is served at just the right temperature, and the breakfast is warm.
Ilya spends most of the time sitting across Shihyeon, attempting for a bit of a small talk while the latter works. At first, Shihyeon is reserved, not answering much, preferring to focus on whatever he’s working on.
Not that Ilya minds. He knows Shihyeon is a bit wary of him still, and would prefer to observe Ilya more instead.
That, and Ilya still has a café to look after, not just a customer who caught his eye.
But as days pass by, through their small talk, Shihyeon shares more of himself when it comes to his preferences in food and people, and Ilya listens. Ilya notes of their similar tastes in literature, food, and alcohol, and casually discusses things with him.
Ilya finds himself more drawn to this beautiful man more than he thinks he would, something he’d once thought to be impossible.
“I’ve noticed something just now, by the way.”
“Hmm?”
Shihyeon stares at his cup of coffee, and then at the brunch served to him. “I don’t remember ordering a different recipe for coffee, and pickled radish, Ilya.”
Ilya laughs lightly from the bar. “I figured you deserve a different blend of Americano, Shihyeon. That, and I noticed you usually eat something light yet crunchy as you work. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh,” Shihyeon smiles slightly at him. “Thank you. Does it have an extra charge?”
“It’s on the house,” Ilya smiles playfully. “Consider it as our form of thanks for your patronage.”
Shihyeon chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. “Well, thank you. But really—I mean no offense, but I’m honestly impressed this café still stands strong despite the number of customers visiting here. Is the owner that rich or something?”
Ilya bursts out laughing. He then wipes his hands on his apron, walks out of the bar, and approaches Shihyeon.
“Well, maybe the owner is rich, bored, and insane enough to start a café by the seaside,” he shrugs, sitting on his usual seat across Shihyeon. “He should count himself lucky he even earned a patron like you, Shihyeon.”
“Oh, come on.”
Ilya’s grin widens. “Would you like a refill of the coffee, or more pickled radish?”
“I’m good here, thank you.”
More days pass by, and the slight awkwardness between them fades away, replaced by a friendly atmosphere both of them haven’t expected. Shihyeon lets Ilya sit a bit closer, chatting while Shihyeon works. Ilya prepares more food for Shihyeon, even going as far as slowly trying to introduce him to more coffee blends.
“For free,” Ilya always reassures him with a soft laugh. “I notice you have a good sense for coffee. Besides, I see more customers pouring in the more you stay. Our good luck charm, perhaps?”
Shihyeon wants to point out that the customers haven’t been this…many (or, at least, if an increase of two to three more customers per day counts as many) even way back when he was still here with Doyun.
He says, instead, “It’s your coffee, Ilya. Maybe someone put in a good word and spread the good news?”
Ilya chuckles once more, an odd twinkle in his eye. “Well, if our Shihyeon says so, then it must be so.”
For some reason, Ilya’s words make Shihyeon flush. A little.
“You tend to buy…exotic stuff,” Ilya remarks as Shihyeon pays for the live octopus. “Or is it just some preference among Koreans that I am not so aware of?”
“You should expand your vocabulary with Korean food,” Shihyeon suggests, smiling. “Do you know we sometimes eat octopus legs raw?”
Ilya stares at him weirdly, a hint of disgust in his eyes. “...I’d rather not try that for now, thank you.”
Shihyeon chuckles. “I figured.”
Shihyeon is accompanying Ilya to buy some ingredients from the wet market, after a short chat in the café earlier. Ilya mentioned wanting to buy some fresh seafood as a change to the usual menu, but his proficiency in Jeju dialect might not be helpful, especially in getting the amount of ingredients right. Shihyeon immediately volunteered to come with him, assuring the worried Ilya that he had to take a bit of fresh air, anyway.
“But I see you’re quite familiar with the stall aunties here,” Ilya remarks as they make their way out of the market. “Do you always come by here?”
“Sometimes,” Shihyeon replies. “I tend to stay here for a bit especially when the seafood is just freshly caught. You can’t go wrong with them.”
Ilya stares at him in surprise. “...you can cook?”
“Basic ones, like stew or fried dishes. Just don’t expect me to be able to cook rather complicated ones, though.” Shihyeon answers. “I don’t trust myself either with those kinds of stuff.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The two of them then take a small break in a small snack shop by the market entrance, ordering light snacks and cool drinks. They place their purchased goods on a safe corner, making sure they won’t leave a stain.
“Humor me a bit, if you don’t mind,” Shihyeon asks. “What made you come here to Jeju Island?”
“I have no idea either,” Ilya confesses. “I simply wanted to get outside of the usual city life and recharge in a small town. It’s a random internet search that made me come here, really—and with the help of Song Doyun, I managed to leave Moscow and settle here.”
Shihyeon’s eyes widen. “You and Doyun knew each other from a long time ago?”
Ilya’s smile is crooked. “Well, yeah. He used to work in a bar in St. Petersburg where I often frequented in the past.”
“Is it why you’re being his sort-of replacement while he’s away?”
“You can say that, yes. How about you?” Ilya asks. “Why come here to Jeju?”
Shihyeon smiles. “This is actually my mother’s hometown. I’ve always wanted to come here and experience island life, even for a while.”
“And she stays with you?”
“Oh, no. She’s currently staying in Seoul. We often communicate to make up for the distance.”
Their orders soon arrive, and Ilya helps the server with the food.
“But why go as far as Woljeongri though?” Shihyeon wonders. “Ah, sorry, I mean not to be nosy. But I’m curious, since this place isn’t usually the first place foreigners would go on Jeju Island.”
“The cafés,” Ilya says.
“...what.”
“Feel free to laugh, Shihyeon. But it’s true.”
“...you have that much interest in cafés?”
“Is it not that obvious at this point?” Ilya snorts.
“But why choose to stay on that one, out of all the cafés?”
Ilya grins. “Because it gets the least customers. I’m not very fond of being around too many people, you see. Well, not so least now, but compared with the neighboring cafés…you get what I mean.”
“I…see…”
“Does it sound strange?”
“...a little? But from how I knew you so far,” Shihyeon pauses, taking a sip of his fruit shake, “I guess that makes sense. Pity that only very few get to taste your coffee, though.”
Ilya’s grin brightens further. “I’m glad to hear my coffee suits your taste. Ah, that’s right. Do you mind having lunch with me?”
“Oh, sure,” Shihyeon agrees. “Wait, where?”
“In the café, of course.” Ilya shrugs. “As the usual.”
“...wait. With all that seafood you bought?” Shihyeon stares at him incredulously.
“Of course. Won’t it be a waste if I don’t share them?”
Shihyeon stares at him, still bewildered, then sighs. “Do I get to pay extra for that, Ilya?”
“Of course not,” Ilya smiles charmingly. “Your company is more than enough payment.”
Later on, after Shihyeon left the café, Ilya stares unseeingly into the night, leaning his head against the glass wall. The waves are a little louder than the usual, he notices, the stars partly hidden by the clouds.
Park Shihyeon’s face still lingers in his mind—the way he chuckles, the way he smiles. The way his eyes light up each time he tries the dishes Ilya cooked for him, the way he does his best to express his sincere appreciation with his mouth full…
The way Shihyeon says his name, the way Shihyeon offers him to eat more, the way Shihyeon makes Ilya’s heart race without even doing anything.
Ilya closes his eyes, laughing quietly to himself.
I’m kinda fucked, aren’t I.
The next day, Ilya notices something amiss.
The café door chimes do not sing at seven in the morning, there is no beautiful man sitting on his usual spot by the glass wall, typing away on his laptop. There is no one asking him how his day went, no one offering him freshly steamed rice cakes he’d bought on his way. There is no one commenting on how odd yet delicious today’s coffee is, there is no one offering to share his food.
Customers have already come and gone, and still there is no sign of Shihyeon.
The same thing happens the next day, then the next, then the next…
Ilya starts to worry, wondering where Shihyeon is.
Is he all right? Is he sick? Where should he be right now? Is he in his apartment? But if he is, where is his apartment?
…should I call him? But would it not be strange?
Should I…?
Ilya sighs heavily, putting his phone down. He sets the bag of coffee beans aside, knowing his current mood will affect how his coffee will taste.
He does not open the café for the rest of the day.
[ 10:30pm ]
Hey, it’s me, Shihyeon.
Mind if I call you?
[ 10:32pm ]
Sure
The moment the other man calls, Ilya presses [answer] a bit too quickly.
“Shihyeon?” Ilya says. “Where have you been?”
“Uh, hi, Ilya,” Shihyeon says, his voice sounding a little raspy on the other line. “Sorry about the sudden MIA. I had to deal with a sudden work emergency, and I had to go back to Seoul as soon as I could.”
“I-I see,” Ilya utters, taken a bit aback. “Are you all right? Has everything been well, so far?”
“Sort of, yeah,” Shihyeon sighs. “It’s not as bad as I’d thought. I think. Anyway, I’ll be staying here for a few more days.”
“Oh,” Ilya wonders if his disappointment is obvious in his voice. “When will you come back here?”
“...around next week, I guess? Not sure. Until this storm settles down, I guess.”
“I see.”
Ilya hears Shihyeon chuckle. “I’ll make it up to you soon, all right? Besides, I’m not the only customer there keeping you company.”
You’re the only customer I’d rather serve my food for. “Well, you’re the only customer that keeps this place running.”
Shihyeon laughs, and Ilya hears the tinge of exhaustion in his voice. “Is that so? Gotta make it up to you, then. Ah, sorry—gotta go now, Ilya. Talk to you later, eung?”
The call ends before Ilya can say anything.
Shihyeon stares at his phone longer than necessary, swallowing down another heavy sigh.
Try as much as he can to deny it, he can hear the sadness in Ilya’s voice, and perhaps disappointment. Well, it was Shihyeon’s fault for not letting Ilya know, at least, despite the sudden emergency in Seoul…
He realizes that he has gotten so used to this routine—wake up a little early, exercise, meditate, and then spend the rest of the day working at the café while chatting with Ilya. As if his day isn’t complete without having a taste of Ilya’s coffee, without hearing Ilya’s stories about his days in Woljeongri.
And perhaps, his mind whispers, Ilya has also gotten used to it, too.
Shihyeon closes his eyes, trying to ease his heart rapidly beating like a maddened drum.
When will this work end…
The café does not open for the rest of the week.
“Aish, this is so strange,” Song Doyun mutters to himself as he stares at the sign on the café’s main entrance. “Since when was this place still closed at this hour? Guess I should enter from the back door, then.”
He does, opening the back door with the spare key he keeps for himself. To his shock, he sees someone re-organizing coffee bags on the cabinets, too preoccupied to notice someone’s presence.
“B-boss!” Doyun exclaims, finally realizing who it is. “What a surprise to see you still here.”
The boss turns, glaring frostily at him. “Did you expect me to leave so soon, Song Doyun?”
“N-not really!” Doyun says hastily. “But didn’t you mention that you won’t stay here for long, though?”
“Changed my mind,” his boss mutters, turning back to his coffee bags. “I’ll stay here for as long as I want to.”
“Huh,” Doyun settles down on one of the stools, putting down his luggage. “Strange. You’re not one who easily changes his mind. What made you rethink your life choices, hm?”
It’s a long while before his boss finally answers. “That man who orders the same coffee and bread combination every morning, and leaves after sundown.”
Doyun’s jaw drops to the floor. “Oohhhh,” he utters after a moment, realizing who his boss meant. “Huh. Huh. Perfectly understandable, though. Although again, I’m surprised it took someone like him to finally make you stay in this small town.”
His boss glares at him once more, his silver gaze sharper than a blade’s. “What do you mean by that?”
Doyun is unfazed, smiling widely as he says, “What? He’s tall, he’s witty, he’s charming. He can be sweet if he wants to. It will be quite a surprise if you’re resistant to that.”
“And are you attracted to him?”
Doyun almost stumbles off the stool. “What?”
“I said, are you attracted to him—”
“I’m not!” Doyun answers quickly. “Okay, I do find him handsome, but he’s not my type, if that makes you feel at ease.”
His boss stares at him for a moment more, then sighs, albeit heavily. “He hasn’t been coming by for the past few days,” he says after a pause. “Said he’ll talk to me again, but…”
“Oh, boy,” Doyun says, finally getting the picture. “You’re down bad, aren’t you.”
“...does it sound like a bad idea?”
Doyun chuckles, smiling at the other man. “It will be a bad idea,” he says, “if you don’t do something about it.”
“But what should I do?”
“Aish, you,” Doyun reaches out to playfully punch his boss’s shoulder. “What did you tell me before, when I once told you I wanted to go back here in South Korea but I was all hesitant and shit?”
His boss blankly stares at him, not remembering what he’d exactly said that day.
Doyun hops off his seat and pats the other man’s shoulder good-naturedly. “You once told me that it doesn’t hurt to try. Besides, you won’t know shit if you don’t try.”
His boss chuckles, lightly patting Doyun’s hand away. “Try, huh.”
“Yes, just do that. And if you let me, can I open the café, at least for this day? The tables and the coffee maker are getting a little dusty, ah. Goodness, all those missed sales…how will you pay for the expenses and my salary if you keep moping around?”
“Go ahead. I’m not in the mood to brew coffee, anyway. And,” he frowns at Doyun, “what makes you think I’ll let this café go out of business?”
“Truly you wouldn’t,” Doyun snickers as he puts on his apron, “especially now that you have someone that’s caught your eye.”
Alone in the stockroom, Ilya rests his head on the cool tabletop, wondering what to do.
Try, huh.
Try, how?