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Three months.
For the past three months Thomas entered the diner at eleven minutes past one, every Monday and Thursday. And over the past three months, Minho had come to be watching that door at eleven minutes past one, every Monday and Thursday, waiting for Thomas to enter. They’d greet each other, Minho’s coworkers would start sniggering, and a moment later he’d go to take Thomas’s order. Usually pancakes, but Minho still checked with him anyway.
It took him less than a month to find out Thomas’s name, and that he came here when he had time to kill between college classes. That Minho’s schedule continued to line up was only partly because he begged his boss to let him take these shifts.
“Five more minutes,” someone said next to him.
Minho grinned, shook his head, noticed he’d already been staring absentmindedly at the closed door. “Shut up, Newt.” He looked at the clock. “And it’s six minutes.”
On the dot six minutes later the door opens, but - to Minho’s surprise - in walks a girl, followed by Thomas. He’s never brought anyone here before.
And Minho hates to admit that he doesn’t like it one bit.
“Looks like you’ve got competition,” Newt muttered, a smirk on his face.
Minho glared at him, then looked back at Thomas only to find the boy looking away.
Seconds later Frypan yelled from the kitchen for Minho to get his orders out. The boy retreated to the back, served the other customers with the smile his boss made him put on at all times.
“Glaring isn’t going to solve anything,” Newt said.
Still, Minho continued to glare. He’d never seen this girl – who Thomas had briefly introduced as Teresa – before. Thomas had never mentioned any girl. What was he doing here with her? And why did they look like they were having such a good time, too? Thomas hadn’t even looked at him when he went to take their orders! If nothing else, Minho felt hurt in his pride.
With a roll of his eyes, Newt handed Minho their drinks. “Just take these over there.”
He complied with a grunt.
Minho put down their respective drinks, all the while keeping his eyes on Thomas. The boy glanced up at him for a second, smiled almost shyly, and looked away again. It was really starting to get on his nerves.
“Um, I’m sorry,” Teresa said, finally drawing Minho’s attention. “I ordered Cola,” she added softly, pointing at the water Minho had placed in front of her.
He frowned, exaggeratingly so, and looked at his notepad. “Oh. I must have misunderstood.” He smiled up at Teresa again. “I’ll get it switched right away.”
Before he could take the glass away, though, Teresa held up her hand. “It’s fine. I’ll take this.” She smiled sweetly. “Thank you.”
Minho kept on the customer-friendly smile, but behind that his eyes sparked. “Again, I’m sorry,” he said before turning his back on the couple.
Behind the bar Newt stood grinning. “Well isn’t she nice,” he said.
“A real angel,” Minho said between clenched teeth.
“You plannin’ on messing up any more orders today?”
He looked back to see Thomas and Teresa laughing. “Maybe,” he muttered, earning him a deep sigh.
When he went to get their food a while later, Frypan was there waiting for him, grin spreading from ear to ear.
“Don’t, shuck-face.”
“Newt told me your boy’s got a girl with him.”
“I said don’t,” Minho huffed, taking the plates from him over the counter.
Frypan held his hands up defensively, but was secretly glad for the physical barrier between them. “I’m not saying another thing.”
As he went to bring them their food, Newt looked at him, gaze strong and warning him not to pull any more stupid tricks. Minho ignored him and chose to face the consequences later. For now, he had food to deliver.
“Waffles for the Misses.” Another wide smile on his face. Then, turning to Thomas, “And your pancakes, as usual.” Just to show that, yes, he knew Thomas and he knew his order. They had history, you see. Just a little bit, right here, in this very diner.
To say Minho was spiteful would be an understatement.
Before Teresa even had a chance to take a single bite, Minho abruptly swept the plate away. Fork and knife in hand, she looked at him, surprised.
“You know, I think there might be something wrong with this. I’ll be right back.”
“Minho, wait-” Thomas tried to stop him.
“Be right back!” Minho told them again, speed walking off towards the kitchen.
A couple of minutes later he was back at their table, the exact same plate in hand, and apologizing for the delay. “This should be better,” he lied. “Enjoy your meal.”
There weren’t any more hiccups after that; mostly because Newt forbade Minho from coming anywhere near them again.
For the next hour Minho worked his shift as usual, minus one particular table. He had just finished up one customer’s payment when there was a tap on his shoulder.
“Yes, can I help-” He stopped when he faced Thomas.
The boy smiled; for the first time that day a proper smile, not turning away or looking down. “I’d like to pay?”
Minho continued to look at him a second longer, before saying, “Sure,” and turning to the register.
“Teresa thinks you’re nice,” Thomas said out of the blue.
Minho frowned. “She does?” He didn’t mean to sound that surprised.
Thomas nodded. “Yes, actually. She’d been wondering who this guy was I kept talking about. Decided to check for herself.”
Minho turned his head away to hide the blush spreading through his cheeks, stared real hard at the register to avoid Thomas’s eyes.
“Yeah, she uh, really likes the place,” Thomas went on. “Said she’ll bring her boyfriend around sometime.”
The boy was onto him and Minho knew it. Still, he continued to look anywhere but at Thomas, even when telling him their total.
“I’ll be glad to have them,” he said.
As Thomas handed him the money, Minho finally looked at him. Thomas was smiling again. Grinning, more like it. And Minho felt his façade crumble. He finally cracked a smile.
Thomas laughed and so did he.
“I’m sorry about all that,” Minho said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I was feeling a little…” He wasn’t sure how to continue.
“Out of it?” Thomas offered.
With a nod, Minho agreed. “A little out of it.”
Thomas got his change back and put it away. Teresa sat waiting at their table, toying with an empty glass and pretending so hard not to look at them. She failed. She caught Minho’s eyes and waved. Minho dumbly waved back, feeling somewhat flustered. The girl really was an angel. And he’d treated her horribly out of, let’s face it, jealousy.
She then looked at Thomas, hard. The boy sighed, licked his lips and shifted from one foot to the other. Minho studied him like a mystery to solve.
Finally, he seemed to gather the nerve to ask, “Now do tell me, honestly - were you deliberately trying to ruin my ‘date’?” Air quotes and all. “Or did we really just catch you on an exceptionally bad day?”
Minho crossed his arms nonchalantly, pretended not to know what he was talking about. “What would the answer to that matter?”
“Well, it would certainly help me decide whether to complain about you to your boss, or to finally ask for your number.”
Minho had never admitted to anything faster.