Archive of Our Own

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Yoon Jeonghan had never stepped out of Busan all his life. He had never so much as visited another city, thus it was a big leap for him to move to Seoul right after finishing his degree in acting.

To say that he was nervous and a tad bit afraid was an understatement. He was so close to cowering against the change. But, alas, as his favorite professor told him, “Do it afraid.”

Thus, there he was, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, getting ready for his first day at work.

“You can do this,” he muttered to himself. “Just get through today and soon you’ll be one of these Seoul folks.”

He nodded, straightened his stance and practiced a smile.

It had only taken him fifteen minutes of walking to get to his new workplace.

An actor in Seoul.

He breathed in the early morning air and pushed through the double doors of the mall’s main entrance.

Ah, yes. An actor in Seoul…working at a kiosk at the local mall.

Sure, Jeonghan graduated with flying colors back in Busan but in Seoul, he was just another human with grandiose dreams.

Still, he refused to be put out. He had a dream and he’d be damned if he gave up on it.

But, for now, as he waited for his break, he’d be working at a nondescript kiosk which served artisan tea and sold beautiful pieces of ceramic tea cups and pots.

He marched to the second floor where the kiosk was located, determined to make his first day at work a great one.

It was kismet, really, that his cousin’s friend, Minghao, owned the kiosk and was in search for a new staff as the previous one got married off in Daegu.

Perfect, Jeonghan thought when he was first offered the job, I can earn a living while I audition for roles here and there.

Now, as he stood in front of the kiosk, he felt his stomach churn.

You can do this. It’s just tea. You can’t cower from these fancy Seoul folks!

“Hi, Minghao!” he said as he spotted the owner bending down while he organized the displayed tea cups by the cash register.

“Oh, Jeonghan! You’re early!” Minghao replied, straightening up.

Jeonghan smiled widely. “Wanted to start as soon as I woke up. I’m so excited!”

“That’s great! I could use a little sunshine around here!” Minghao smiled back, just as widely.

“So, how can I help you?”

Minghao hummed, looking around the kiosk and the three tables set around it for the customers. “I guess you can start by wiping the tables and arranging the chairs.”

“Got it!”

“I’ll introduce you to the different blends we have right after you finish.”

“I’ll get right to it!”

Thus the day passed, with Minghao pointing out to Jeonghan the different sets of ceramic they sold and familiarizing him with the different types of tea they served. It was a lot to take in, if Jeonghan was being honest. But he supposed that in a week’s time, he’d have everything memorized like the back of his hand.

And he wasn’t wrong.

By the third day, he’d gotten used to serving customers tea which, as Minghao proudly put it, were concocted and passed down from generation to generation of the Xu family.

The tea was wonderful as Jeonghan had the pleasure of tasting each blend. No wonder people constantly flocked to the kiosk. And no wonder they had regulars.

Speaking of regulars, in the three days that Jeonghan had worked at the kiosk, he’d seen a man ordering the same blend of tea from Minghao—always to go—and then marching back to the music store just across from the kiosk. Jeonghan assumed he worked there.

He wanted to ask Minghao about the regular but the question always slipped his mind, seeing as how busy they always were.

On the fourth day, Minghao wasn’t around when the man from the music store dropped by the kiosk.

“Hey,” he said to Jeonghan who was standing behind the cash register. “The usual, please.”

“The usual?” Jeonghan asked a little dumbly.

“Yeah.”

“Well…I, uh, I’m not sure I know what ‘regular’ is.”

The man’s eyebrows rose. “Right. You’re new, aren’t you.”

Jeonghan smiled meekly. “Yes. I just started this week.”

“I see….Anyway, I’ll have my usual white peony tea. Thanks.”

Jeonghan nodded and punched in the order while the man fished out his wallet from his backpocket. The man handed him the exact amount and Jeonghan went about preparing his tea.

Meanwhile, music store man got comfortable in one of the chairs in front of the kiosk, back against the chair and legs spread wide as though he owned the place.

Cocky, Jeonghan thought as he spared a glance at the man. But kind of really hot.

While the tea was brewing, Jeonghan took his time examining the customer. He had on tight black jeans, a black muscle T-shirt that showed off his muscular arms and black Chucks. Everything about him screamed rockstar.

He was, of course, pretty. That part Jeonghan couldn’t deny. The man’s lips looked plump and soft, and Jeonghan wondered how they’d feel to the touch. His dark eyes were framed by long, thick lashes, and his cheeks were full and high. And then there was his jaw—sharp and angular like it could cut through skin.

He was more than pretty, Jeonghan finally decided with a blush.

Oh, boy. It was an instant crush.

He stared and stared even as the tea finished brewing. He would’ve stared for longer if the man didn’t turn his head and looked at him. Jeonghan abruptly averted his eyes.

Clearing his throat, he finished up brewing the tea. He picked up the cup, walked around the counter and served the man his order. “Here’s your white peony tea.”

“Thanks,” the man said, eyes lingering for a second too long at Jeonghan’s face. For a moment, Jeonghan felt self-conscious.

“So, you’re new here, huh?” the man said.

“Yes. I’m, uh, from Busan,” Jeonghan scratched his cheek with his forefinger, a gesture he did whenever he was agitated.

“Cool,” the man nodded. “I’m Seungcheol, by the way. I own that music shop over there.” He pointed to the said store where another man—one looking like a kitten—glanced at them through the glass storefront.

“I’m Jeonghan,” Jeonghan replied with a nervous but pretty smile.

Cheol nodded. “So, what are you doing out here in Seoul?”

Jeonghan shifted from one foot to another, feeling his insides churn just by looking at Cheol’s handsome face.

“I’m an actor, actually,” he replied almost quietly.

“Oh, that’s awesome,” Cheol said yet his face didn’t show any sign of excitement or fascination.

They fell quiet after that and Jeonghan shifted on his feet once again while Cheol studied his face.

“I, uh,” Jeonghan decided to break the silence first. “I should get back to work—”

“So, if you’re an actor, why are you here?” Cheol clipped.

“Oh. I’m waiting for…auditions and stuff. I’m still climbing my way to the theaters for now,” Jeonghan stammered.

Cheol scoffed with a smirk. “Right. A small town boy living in a lonely world. Isn’t that a Journey song?”

“I…I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re kind of a cliché.”

Jeonghan tilted his head to the side, confused. What is this man trying to tell me?!

“You know, dreamers like you get easily devoured by this city. And I can tell you’re a soft one,” Cheol said, then lifted the cup to sip his tea.

“Well, that’s a little judgmental, isn’t it?”

Cheol scoffed again, holding the cup of tea with cool grace and nonchalance. “You’re a country bumpkin if you think you can easily find an acting job here. Creatives don’t have a place in Seoul.”

What the fuck?!

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse you?”

Cheol blinked once, clearly not expecting him to bite back. “I’m just being honest.”

“Honest?” Jeonghan frowned. “You barely know me.”

“I know enough,” Cheol replied coolly, setting the cup on the table with a soft thump. “I’ve seen dozens like you come through. Big dreams, empty wallets, gone in six months.”

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened, he balled his fists. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Cheol ran his forefinger along the lip of the cup, seeming totally nonchalant as though his words were not offending at all. “Someone has to. Better now than after you waste years pretending.”

“Pretending?” Jeonghan laughed, dry, sharp and humorless. “Wow. So because you run a music shop, you suddenly know everything about art?”

Cheol stiffened. “Don’t twist my words.”

“Oh, I’m not twisting anything,” Jeonghan shot back. “You’re saying I’m naïve. That I’m stupid for trying.”

“I’m saying you’re unrealistic.”

“There’s a difference,” Jeonghan snapped. “And you crossed it.”

Cheol leaned back in his chair, arms folding behind his head. “You’re getting defensive because you know I’m right.”

“That’s not—” Jeonghan stopped himself, fists clenching tighter at his sides. “You know what? Forget it.”

He turned slightly, as if to leave, then paused. He turned back to say, “Why are you even talking to me like this? I thought you were just… being nice.”

Cheol hesitated. For a split second, something uncertain flickered in his eyes.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said quickly. “I’m not trying to be nice. I’m trying to be realistic.”

Jeonghan looked at him, stunned. “So all that—introducing yourself, talking to me—what? Just another lesson?”

Cheol frowned. “You’re reading too much into it.”

“No,” Jeonghan replied, voice trembling now. “I think I finally understand.” He turned fully to face Cheol. “You looked at me and decided I was a joke.”

“That’s not—”

“You already wrote my ending in your head,” Jeonghan continued. “Poor Busan boy fails in Seoul. Goes home crying. Right?”

Cheol’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Wow,” Jeonghan whispered. “So now I’m dramatic too.”

He took a step back, hurt blazing through his chest. “I thought… for a moment, I thought you were different,” he admitted. “Guess that’s my mistake.”

Cheol’s brows furrowed. “Different from what?”

“From everyone who thinks people like me don’t belong here,” Jeonghan snapped.

“I never said you don’t belong—”

“You said creatives don’t have a place in Seoul,” Jeonghan cut in. “That includes me.”

Silence fell between them.

The man in the music shop—the kitten-looking one—shifted behind the glass, clearly sensing the tension.

Cheol finally spoke. “You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“And you’re pretending you didn’t say them,” Jeonghan quipped.

Cheol stood up abruptly. “Fine. If you want to take everything personally, that’s on you.”

Jeonghan’s eyes flashed. “Unbelievable.”

“You know what?” Cheol continued, irritation rising. “Go ahead. Prove me wrong. Waste your time chasing some fantasy.”

Jeonghan laughed again, bitter and dry. “I will.”

He stepped closer, meeting Cheol’s gaze head-on. “And when I do? Don’t pretend you supported me.”

Cheol’s expression hardened. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

“Good,” Jeonghan replied. “Because I don’t want anything from you.”

“Likewise,” Cheol said coldly.

They stared at each other, pride and anger crackling in the air.

Jeonghan broke first. “Next time we meet,” he said quietly, “I won’t be this polite.”

Cheol’s jaw clenched. “Trust me. Neither will I.”

Jeonghan turned and walked away without looking back.

Behind him, Cheol watched his retreating figure, chest tight with something he refused to name.

“Stubborn idiot,” Cheol muttered and picked up his cup, heading back to the music store.

From behind the counter, Jeonghan wiped at his eyes angrily. “Arrogant jerk,” he whispered.

And just like that, what could’ve been something else hardened into resentment—
two strangers now standing on opposite sides of the mall, already set on becoming enemies.

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The next day, Cheol came to the kiosk wanting to get his daily dose of tea.

From across the small space, Jeonghan saw him exit the music shop and make his way toward the kiosk—not that he was watching him. Not really. His eyes just happened to catch the store and the people in it.

Stupid fucking jerk,  Jeonghan thought bitterly as Cheol sauntered in the cool way he did toward the kiosk.

Jeonghan was in no mood to face, much less talk to, Cheol. Good thing Minghao was around.

“Hi, Cheol. The usual?” Minghao asked brightly behind the counter.

“Yep,” Cheol replied, making the “P” pop.

As Minghao punched in Cheol’s order, Jeonghan went about preparing the tea. Purposefully ignoring the way he felt Cheol’s eyes on him.

“You look chipper today, Cheol,” Minghao observed. “Good sales day?”

“You can say that,” Cheol said, hands in his pockets. “How about you guys? Good sales day?”

“It’s alright…” Minghao smiled warmly.

Having finished brewing Cheol’s tea, Jeonghan came over and placed the cup atop the receiving counter. Minghao turned to look at him and jolted as though he just remembered something.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” he said to Cheol. “This is Jeonghan. He’s helping me around here.”

“I know. We’ve met yesterday,” Cheol replied coolly.

Minghao raised a brow.

“I made him tea while you were on your break,” Jeonghan supplied.

“It was a…pleasant encounter, you could say,” Cheol added. To which, Jeonghan rolled his eyes sassily and turned away.

“Well, I’m taking this tea to the store today, Hao,” Cheol said, picking up his order. “Good luck on your sales.”

“You, too. Tell Jihoon to drop by too sometime,” Hao waved as Cheol backed away.

Then, he turned to Jeonghan. “Alright, out with it.”

Jeonghan refused to turn at the sound of his voice, pretending to be wiping the already-clean countertop. “What do you mean?”

“There’s obviously something going on between you and Cheol.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh, come on, Jeonghan. Did you think I didn’t see the way you rolled your eyes at him?”

Jeonghan sighed, folded the washcloth and set it to the side. “Fine. I met him yesterday and he was super rude.”

“Rude? I know Cheol comes off as arrogant but he’s never actually rude.”

“Well, he was to me.”

Minghao was genuinely surprised. Having known Cheol for the past year since he put up the kiosk, he knew the guy as someone who gave off the air of pure masculinity, unadulterated haughtiness, but in actuality he was never bad-mannered.

“What did he say to you?” he asked.

Jeonghan sighed heavily, feeling the same hurt he felt yesterday. “That I’m an unrealistic country bumpkin. That if I thought I had a chance to get an acting career here then I’m dreaming.”

“Wow…” Minghao’s mouth fell agape. “That is a lot. So not Cheol.”

“What do you mean?”

“Usually he’s nice. When you get past his threatening exterior, he’s genuinely kind. I mean, I rarely make friends but somehow I got close to him.”

“Well, he was unbearable to me.”

Jeonghan went about arranging and rearranging the displays of tea cups and pots, trying to end the conversation with Minghao.

But Minghao wasn’t about to let it go. “Seriously, Jeonghan. Cheol’s a nice guy and a regular. You probably just got off on the wrong foot.”

“Maybe,” Jeonghan muttered.

“Give it another chance. I’m sure you’ll get along pretty well.”

“Sure.”

But Jeonghan didn’t believe a single word Minghao said.

Jeonghan said sure, but in his head, he was already writing Cheol off permanently.

Nice guy, my ass.

He stacked a row of ceramic cups with more force than necessary, the soft clink of porcelain echoing his irritation.

Minghao watched him for a moment, unimpressed. “You’re slamming the cups like they personally offended you,” he pointed out.

“They did,” Jeonghan muttered.

“Wow. Tragic.”

Jeonghan shot him a glare. “You’re not helping, Hao.”

Hao giggled. “I’m trying to help you to not turn into a bitter drama protagonist. Which, by the way, is very on-brand for aspiring actors.”

Jeonghan groaned. “Please don’t psychoanalyze me.”

“I’m not,” Minghao said lightly. “I’m just saying—you’re holding onto this pretty hard for someone who claims he doesn’t care.”

“I really don’t care,” Jeonghan insisted.

Right on cue, two people approached the kiosk.

Jeonghan stiffened.

Cheol stood there again. But this time, he wasn’t alone.

Jihoon—the cat-looking guy from the music store—trailed behind him, hands tucked into his hoodie sleeves, eyes already drifting toward the pastries in the neighboring stall.

“Hyung,” Jihoon murmured. “You promised this would be quick.”

“It will be,” Cheol replied. “Relax.”

Jeonghan turned his back immediately.

Minghao, traitor that he was, brightened. “Cheol! Back so soon?”

“Forgot my wallet,” Cheol said. “Left it on the counter.”

He leaned slightly forward and, unfortunately, that put him directly in Jeonghan’s line of sight.

Their eyes met. For half a second, neither of them looked away.

Jeonghan was the first to break it, scoffing under his breath.

Cheol noticed. Of course he noticed.

His jaw tightened.

“So,” Cheol said flatly, eyes still on Jeonghan. “Is that your thing now? Eye-rolling every time you see me?”

Minghao froze while Jihoon blinked. “Uh—”

Jeonghan spun around. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Cheol replied. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“Oh, I would,” Jeonghan snapped. “But I don’t think you’d listen.”

Cheol frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you already decided who I am,” Jeonghan shot back. “So, why bother?”

Minghao raised both hands in defense. “Okay, let’s—”

“You told Minghao?” Cheol interrupted, eyes flicking to Minghao.

Minghao hesitated. “I mean…he told me what you said.”

Cheol’s expression darkened. “I didn’t say it like that.”

“Oh, really?” Jeonghan laughed dryly. “Because it sounded pretty clear to me.”

“I was trying to warn you,” Cheol replied sharply. “Not insult you.”

“Wow! Amazing warning!” Jeonghan retorted. “Very motivational!”

Jihoon shifted awkwardly. “Hyung, maybe we should—”

“No,” Cheol said. “I’m not done.” He looked back at Jeonghan. “You’re acting like I personally attacked your entire existence.”

“You kind of did,” Jeonghan said quietly.

That made Cheol pause. Just for a moment. Then pride kicked in.

“I was being realistic,” he insisted. “You think this city is kind to dreamers? It’s not.”

“And you think crushing them is better?” Jeonghan fired back.

“I think lying to them is worse.”

Minghao frowned. “Cheol…”

Cheol ignored him. “People come here every day thinking talent is enough. Most of them end up broke and miserable.”

“So, now you’re assuming that’ll be me too?” Jeonghan asked.

Cheol hesitated. Too long.

Jeonghan noticed.

“Wow,” he whispered. “You really do think I’ll fail.”

“I didn’t say that,” Cheol replied.

“You didn’t have to.”

Silence settled, thick and uncomfortable.

Jihoon cleared his throat. “So…wallet?”

Cheol didn’t move.

“Look,” Cheol finally said, voice lower. “If you’re going to hate me for being honest, that’s your choice.”

Jeonghan’s eyes burned. “Don’t pretend this is about honesty. You looked down on me. Admit it.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then why did you talk to me like I was some charity case from the province?”

Cheol’s temper flared. “Because you were acting like Seoul was some fairy tale!”

“And you were acting like its gatekeeper!”

Minghao winced. “Guys—”

“You know what?” Jeonghan said suddenly. “Forget it.”

He grabbed a tray and shoved past Cheol, nearly bumping his shoulder.

“Enjoy your tea,” he added coldly. “Next time, make it yourself. I’m taking a restroom break, Hao.”

And Jeonghan began sauntering away. Cheol stared after him, stunned.

“That was uncalled for,” he snapped.

Jeonghan turned back, eyes blazing. “So was everything you said yesterday!”

“And you’re too sensitive!”

“And you’re too arrogant!”

They stood inches apart now, neither willing to back down.

Cheol’s voice dropped. “If you can’t handle criticism, you won’t survive in this industry.”

Jeonghan laughed bitterly. “And if you think crushing people makes you wise, you’re pathetic.”

That hit.

Cheol’s face hardened completely.

“Fine,” he said. “Prove me wrong.”

“I will!” Jeonghan replied without hesitation.

“Good!” Cheol shot back. “Because I’m done pretending to care.”

“Perfect,” Jeonghan said. “Me, too.”

Cheol grabbed his wallet from the counter, turned on his heel, and walked away.

Jihoon hurried after him, throwing Minghao an apologetic look.

Once they were away, silence returned.

Minghao exhaled slowly. “Well.”

Jeonghan’s hands were shaking. “That went…badly.”

Minghao glanced at him. “You know he didn’t mean to hurt you, right?”

Jeonghan swallowed. “He meant enough.” He turned back to his work, jaw set.

Across the hall, inside the music shop, Cheol slammed his office door shut harder than necessary.

“Stupid, stubborn country boy,” he muttered.

At the kiosk, Jeonghan whispered under his breath, “Conceited jerk.”

And neither of them realized yet that this wasn’t the end of their story.

It was the beginning of their war.

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That night, Jeonghan lay awake in his tiny studio apartment, staring at the cracked, yellowing ceiling. It was quiet—the only sound being the humming of the electric fan—he couldn’t afford an air conditioner just yet.

Then a motorcycle passed outside.

None of the sounds drowned out Cheol’s voice in his head.

If you can’t handle criticism, you won’t survive.

Jeonghan rolled onto his side and punched his pillow. “Shut up,” he muttered.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying hard to sleep and failing.

Do I really look naive? Does everyone see me that way?

No. He refused to believe that.

He reached for his phone and opened the audition app for the nth time that day, scrolling through listings with renewed stubbornness.

Small roles.

Commercials.

Student films.

He applied to five in a row. Then ten. Then twenty.

“If I fail,” he whispered softly, “it won’t be because of you.”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

The next afternoon, Cheol pretended that he wasn’t watching the kiosk from across the hall.

He failed.

From behind the counter of his shop, he could see Jeonghan laughing with a customer, head thrown back, eyes crinkling.

It annoyed him to an unreasonable degree.

Why does he look so carefree? Why doesn’t he look crushed?

“Hyung,” Jihoon plopped down on a stool beside him. “You’re staring again.”

“I’m not,” Cheol rushed out.

“You are.”

“I’m working.”

“On what? Air?”

Cheol scowled. “Mind your own business.”

Jihoon rested his chin on his palm. “You feel bad.”

“I don’t,” Cheol insisted.

“You do.”

Cheol hesitated. “Okay…Maybe a little.”

Jihoon grinned. “Called it.”

“I shouldn’t,” Cheol muttered. “He started it.”

“You kind of did too,” Jihoon replied gently.

Cheol sighed, rubbing his face. “I wasn’t trying to be cruel.”

“I know,” Jihoon said. “You’re just bad at being soft.”

“Hey—”

“But it’s true.”

Cheol couldn’t argue.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Two days later, fate intervened.

Violently so.

The mall was packed with weekend crowds, tourists, families—total chaos.

Jeonghan rushed between orders, sweat beading at his temples.

“Large jasmine! No sugar! Extra ice!” Minghao called out.

“Coming!” Jeonghan spun around—

And collided straight into someone.

Hot tea sloshed. A cup flew. Liquid splattered across a familiar black jacket.

“Oh, my God—I’m so sorry—” Jeonghan babbled, looking up.

Cheol.

They froze.

The tea dripped slowly down Cheol’s sleeve.

Behind the man, Jihoon stared in horror while Minghao gasped.

“I—I didn’t—” Jeonghan stammered. “It was crowded, I—”

Cheol looked down at his soaked clothes then back up at Jeonghan’s face. His expression was unreadable.

For one terrifying second, Jeonghan thought he was going to explode. But, much to everyone’s surprise, Cheol laughed—a short, incredulous sound.

“Unbelievable,” he said.

“I swear it was an accident,” Jeonghan said quickly. “I’ll clean it, I’ll pay for dry cleaning—”

“Of course you will,” Cheol replied flatly.

That hurt more than yelling would have. Jeonghan straightened, squaring his shoulders.

“You think I did this on purpose?” he said indignantly.

Cheol met his eyes. “Didn’t you?”

Minghao stepped in. “Cheol, he really didn’t—”

“Stay out of it,” Cheol snapped.

Jeonghan’s chest tightened. “So that’s it?” he asked. “One mistake and I’m a villain again?”

“Funny,” Cheol said. “Coming from someone who thinks I’m out to get him.”

“I never said that!”

“You didn’t have to!”

They were drawing stares now. Customers slowed. Phones tilted.

Jihoon tugged Cheol’s sleeve. “Hyung, let’s just—”

“No,” Cheol said. “I’m tired of walking on eggshells around him.”

Jeonghan’s eyes flashed. “Then stop pretending you ever were!”

Silence crashed down between them and Cheol’s face went cold.

“Fine,” he said quietly. “From now on, I won’t.”

He turned away. “Enjoy your stage,” he added over his shoulder. “Hope it doesn’t collapse.”

Jeonghan’s breath caught while Cheol walked off with Jihoon hurrying after him.

Minghao touched Jeonghan’s arm. “Hey…are you okay?”

Jeonghan stared at the spilled tea on the floor.

“I’m great,” he said softly.

But his hands were shaking. Again.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

About a week later…

Cheol told himself that he wasn’t avoiding the kiosk. He just…didn’t need tea that week. At all. Completely unrelated to the latest fiasco with Jeonghan.

Unfortunately, his body disagreed.

By Thursday afternoon, his head was pounding and his throat was dry, and Jihoon was staring at him like he’d lost his mind.

“You’ve been grumpy for three days,” Jihoon said.

“I’m always grumpy,” Cheol replied, not looking at him as he wiped the surface of an electric piano on display.

“No, you’re extra grumpy,” Jihoon insisted.

Cheol ignored him, set aside the mantle and grabbed his wallet from behind the counter. “I’m getting tea.”

Jihoon smirked. “Sure, you are.”

At the entryway, Cheol turned, “Don’t start.”

“Wait, I’m coming with you!” Jihoon exclaimed as he scrambled after Cheol.

The kiosk was busy when Cheol arrived.

Jeonghan stood behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck, a few strands escaping and sticking to his forehead.

He was concentrating so hard on measuring tea buds that his tongue peeked out slightly between his lips.

Cheol noticed. But then regretted immediately noticing.

What the hell is he doing with his mouth? he thought. Focus, Seungcheol!

“Next!” Minghao called out and Cheol stepped forward.

Jeonghan looked up and their eyes met.

Jeonghan froze. Then, very deliberately, he looked away.

“Hi,” Minghao said cheerfully. “Usual?”

“Yes,” Cheol replied, then hesitated. “Uh…less sugar.”

Minghao blinked. “You hate less sugar.”

“I’m…experimenting,” Cheol muttered lowly.

Jihoon, standing behind him, mouthed, Liar.

Jeonghan snorted—the sound slipping out before he could stop himself.

It was a tiny sound, barely audible, but Cheol heard it.

His ears burned. “Did you just laugh?”

“No,” Jeonghan said immediately.

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Minghao covered his mouth, trying to keep from laughing yet his shoulders were shaking.

Cheol narrowed his eyes at Jeonghan. “You think it’s funny?”

Jeonghan finally looked at him. “…A little.”

Cheol scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

Yet—he wasn’t actually mad.

Which was new.

As he waited for his drink, Cheol leaned against the receiving counter and tried not to watch. He failed.

Jeonghan hummed softly as he worked, some unfamiliar tune under his breath. When he messed up the measurements, he frowned dramatically and whispered, “No, no, no,” to himself and started over.

Cheol stared. He talks to tea now?

Jeonghan bumped his elbow against a stack of cups, making them wobble. He gasped, dived and caught them before they crashed onto the floor.

Then stood there, clutching the cups to his chest like he’d just saved a life.

“…Crisis averted,” he whispered to himself.

Cheol choked and turned away quickly.

Too late. Jihoon saw.

“Hyung,” Jihoon murmured. “You’re smiling.”

“Am not,” Cheol said.

“You are.”

Cheol ran a hand down his face. “Shut up.”

Soon enough, Jeonghan announced, albeit quieter than usual, “Order for… Cheol.”

He slid the cup forward and their fingers brushed accidentally. Jeonghan jolted like he’d been electrocuted.

“Oh—sorry,” he blurted.

Cheol blinked. Why is he so jumpy?

“It’s fine,” Cheol said instead.

Jeonghan nodded too fast. “Okay. Good. Great.”

He immediately turned around and walked into a shelf. Thump.

“Ow!” Jeonghan exclaimed, rubbing his forehead which banged against the shelf.

Minghao burst out laughing, Jihoon doubled over and Cheol stared.

Then—

He laughed. Really laughed—a warm, unguarded sound that surprised even himself.

Jeonghan peeked over his shoulder. “You—” he pointed at Cheol. “You’re laughing at me!”

“Maybe,” Cheol admitted.

“…Rude.” But Jeonghan was smiling, too—a small, shy one.

Something in Cheol’s chest shifted.

Cheol took his tea and lingered for no particular reason. Totally no reason.

“Uh,” Jeonghan said suddenly as he turned to the receiving counter. “Your jacket… from before. The tea accident.”

“Yeah?”

“I…I paid for the cleaning,” Jeonghan said quickly. “Hao gave me the shop number. They said it’s ready.”

Cheol froze.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Jeonghan replied. “But I wanted to.” Then, he hesitated. “…I don’t spill things on purpose.”

“I know,” Cheol said softly.

Jeonghan looked surprised. “Oh.”

They stood there, awkward. Close. Too close.

Minghao cleared his throat loudly. “Okay! Emotional moment over! Next customer!”

Jeonghan jumped back as Cheol smirked.

Cute. Ridiculously cute, Cheol thought, smiling to himself. Wait—no!! He’s annoying! Very annoying!

He turned to leave, but paused.

“Hey,” he said.

Jeonghan looked up.

“Your… humming earlier,” Cheol added. “It wasn’t bad.”

Jeonghan’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” Jeonghan grinned.

Cheol walked away with his tea and a stupid smile he couldn’t erase.

Jihoon nudged him. “So. Still hate him?”

Cheol took a sip. “He’s tolerable.”

Jihoon laughed. “Sure, hyung.”

Across the hall, Jeonghan watched him go, heart oddly light.

Maybe—just maybe—this war wasn’t permanent after all.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

“That good-looking motherfucker,” Jeonghan grumbled as he stared daggers at the man who was likewise throwing a scathing glare at him through the glass of the storefront from across the aisle.

The airconditioning at the mall was at full blast yet the heated glares between the two seemed to cancel whatever semblance of coldness pervaded the shopping mall.

“God, I hate his face,” Jeonghan said as he furiously wiped the surface of an already-spotless-clean table without taking his eyes off of his apparent opponent.

“Ugly bitch,” he mouthed almost exaggeratedly and the other man seemed to have gotten the message clearly because, with a pout, he raised his middle finger at Jeonghan.

“Oooh I hate you!” Jeonghan grumbled, flipping his own middle finger back at the guy.

“Jeonghan! Quit it!” Minghao admonished from behind him, sounding more than fed up with the two’s antics. And who could blame him when this sort of thing had become a daily occurrence, most of the time even accompanied by screeching and mild assault.

Minghao grabbed Jeonghan’s wrist mid–middle finger. “I swear,” he hissed, “if you two start a public fight again, I’m shutting down this kiosk.”

Jeonghan didn’t look away from Cheol though. “Did you see him?” he muttered. “He started it.”

“He did not,” Minghao said flatly. “You mouthed ‘ugly bitch’ first.”

“Semantics!”

Across the aisle, Cheol leaned against the glass of his shop, arms crossed and jaw taut. He was still glaring.

Still dramatic, Jeonghan  thought begrudgingly. Still annoyingly handsome.

Jeonghan scowled at him harder.

Why does he look good even when he’s being annoying? Unfair.

Suddenly, without preamble, Cheol raised his right hand and flashed Jeonghan a finger heart.

To Jeonghan, it was mocking. Provocative. Wholly evil.

“Oh, you did not!” Jeonghan screeched. He dropped the rag he was using and quickly formed his own heart with his hands.

Then ripped it in half dramatically.

Cheol burst out laughing, which only made Jeonghan even angrier.

“Stop smiling like that!!!” Jeonghan yelled silently while Cheol mouthed back, Make me.

MInghao sighed audibly, slamming a cup down on the counter.

“Both of you,” he said through clenched teeth, “are thirty seconds away from being banned from this kiosk.”

Jeonghan finally looked at him. “He’s provoking me.”

Cheol, somehow hearing from a few meters away, pointed at himself. “Me?” he mouthed faux innocently.

Yes. You, Jeonghan mentally gritted out.  Always you.

Just then, a customer stepped up to Jeonghan. “Um… can I order?”

Jeonghan snapped into professional mode almost instantly. “Hi! Yes, you can. What can I get you?”

Minghao blinked at him suspiciously. “Mood swings,” he uttered under his breath. “Terrifying.”

The customer ordered and  Jeonghan made the drink flawlessly.

He smiled sweetly, handed the cup over and gleefully said, “Have a nice day!”

But as soon as  the customer left, Jeonghan’s smile dropped. He turned back to the glass storefront of the music store.

Cheol was still watching. Still smiling. Still…soft.

Jeonghan’s anger wavered—but just a tad bit. Why is he looking at me like that…

Cheol tapped on the glass.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Jeonghan ignored him.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Still ignored him.

Tap. Tap. TAP.

“What?!” Jeonghan yelled.

Cheol pointed at his watch, pointed at Jeonghan then made a walking motion with his fingers.

Walk. With. Me, he mouthed.

Jeonghan’s heart skipped. “Absolutely not!” He crossed his arms and shook his head violently.

Cheol pouted—actually pouted—and Jeonghan hated that he found it charming, adorable.

Jeonghan very nearly folded. No! Stay strong!

While all of this transpired, Minghao was a silent witness. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Is he trying to ask you out?”

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan muttered. “He’s being weird.”

“He’s always weird.”

“True.”

Cheol left his post by the glass wall, only to grab a few things from behind his shop’s counter—a marker and a white board.

Very quickly he scribbled something down and then proceeded to hold the board up to the glass. 

Jeonghan read it aloud. “Walk you home? :(”

He froze while Minghao leaned in. “Did he actually draw a sad face?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s really asking you…like, genuinely?”

“Nope,” Jeonghan frowned. “He’s probably just pulling some shit to prove something to me.”

Minghao sighed, exasperated. “You’re both doomed.”

Ignoring just what Minghao meant, Jeonghan squinted at Cheol and whisper-yelled, “Go away!”

Cheol frowned, then he erased what he had written on the board, only to write on it again.

“I’ll buy you dinner,” the sign read.

Jeonghan’s breath hitched. “I’m busy!”

Cheol smirked and pointed at himself. “With me?”

Jeonghan internally combusted. “Why are you so goddamn annoying all the time!?”

Minghao smirked and, from behind Jeonghan, supplied, “You’re smiling, though.”

Jeonghan whipped his head around quickly. “I am not!”

“Yes, you are.”

“Hao…I know you’re my boss but please, shut up.”

Cheol also saw the slight smile on Jeonghan’s face, making him feel something soften inside.

He pressed his forehead lightly against the glass. Just for a second.

Jeonghan looked back at him and felt his chest tighten.

Idiot, he thought. Stupid. Handsome idiot.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Cheol realized he was in big trouble the day Jeonghan showed up to work wearing a sweater two sizes too big. It was soft-looking and cream-colored—the sleeves swallowed his hands.

From across the aisle, Cheol noticed immediately and hated that he did.

He hated that his brain short-circuited for a full three seconds when he saw Jeonghan. Cheol especially hated that he walked straight into a display stand right after, hurting his forehead and nose.

“Hyung!” Jihoon grabbed his arm, so that he didn’t fall backward. “You good?”

“Yes.” Cheol replied, rubbing his nose.

“You just attacked the guitar display!”

“Mind your own business!”

“Well, look where you’re going next time instead of staring at Jeonghan hyung!”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Jeonghan was rearranging the tea jars, standing on his tiptoes to reach the top shelf. He kept wobbling.

Minghao, meanwhile, was busy with customers.

Therefore, no one noticed what happened next. Well, no one except Cheol.

“Careful,” Cheol blurted out, watching Jeonghan from the receiving counter.

Jeonghan startled, “Huh—?”

And then he lost his balance. Cheol reacted without thinking. He rushed around the counter, surged forward and grabbed Jeonghan’s waist.

Solid. Warm. And too close.

Jeonghan squeaked while Cheol froze.

Just like that, their faces were inches apart. They were so close that Cheol could smell Jeonghan’s scent—cinnamon and lavender.

Cheol’s brain shut down.

“Uh…” Jeonghan whispered, looking back at Cheol’s eyes.

“Uh…” Cheol echoed dumbly.

They didn’t move.

Until Minghao coughed loudly. “Personal space, please.”

They jumped apart like magnets repelled.

Jeonghan’s ears were bright red as he stammered,  “Th–thank you.”

Cheol stared, likewise feeling heat creep up to his ears.

He’s… really pretty up close, he thought begrudgingly. Big eyes. Soft lashes. Slight blush. Totally unfair.

“Yeah,” Cheol muttered. “Don’t fall next time.”

“Sorry,” Jeonghan replied quietly.

“Don’t apologize for gravity.”

Jeonghan smiled, leaving  Cheol’s chest doing  a weird little thing.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

A few days later, it got worse.

Outside the mall, it rained like cats and dogs.

The customers thinned as the mall’s light dimmed slightly.

Jeonghan leaned on the counter, humming softly and doodling little stars on a receipt pad.

Cheol, meanwhile, sat on one of the chairs as he waited for his tea.

And watched.

Well, to be fair to him, he tried not to.

But he simply failed.

A new customer came and ordered, Jeonghan happily attending to him.

Mouthing the words to some lovesong only he could hear, Jeonghan went about brewing the customer’s order.

But then he messed up.

“Oh no,” Jeonghan whispered, staring at the cup. Then gently scolded the thing,  “You betrayed me.”

Cheol bit his lip.

Do not smile.

Do not smile.

Do not—

He smiled.

Minghao saw from behind the cash register.

“You’re gone,” he mouthed to Cheol. “Completely gone.”

“I am not,” Cheol hissed only for Minghao to hear.

“You’re staring like he’s art.”

Cheol snapped, “Shut up.”

But he didn’t look away from Jeonghan.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

“Cheol?” Jeonghan suddenly leaned forward.

It was a week later, and the kiosk wasn’t too busy.

Cheol stood by the receiving counter, leaning his hip against it, when Jeonghan leaned over.

Close again.

Too close again.

“Yes?” Cheol replied. Why the fuck did my voice crack?

“I was wondering…” Jeonghan fidgeted with his sleeve—he was wearing a different sweater that was still twice his size. “Do you…like this tea better hot or iced?”

Cheol blinked. “Why?”

“I want to make it…right,” Jeonghan said softly.

Oh, Cheol thought. Oh no. He cares.

“That—uh—hot,” Cheol stuttered.

Jeonghan smiled. “Okay.”

Jeonghan turned away and made the tea carefully. Extra carefully—testing the temperature, adjusting the lid, wiping the cup. He even drew a tiny smiley face on the sleeve.

He handed the cup over to Cheol and the man stared at it.

“You…drew on it,” Cheol said.

“Is that bad?” Jeonghan panicked. “I can redo it—”

“No,” Cheol said quickly. “It’s fine.”

It was adorable.

It was lethal.

When Jeonghan handed it over, their fingers brushed again. This time, neither pulled away immediately.

Jeonghan looked up and met Cheol’s eyes. Neither spoke.

Minghao, meanwhile, pretended to be very busy but he, too, was holding his breath.

“Your sweater,” Cheol said suddenly, almost dumbly.

Jeonghan blinked. “What about it?”

“It’s…nice.”

“Oh,” Jeonghan smiled shyly. “Thanks. Minghao lent it to me.”

Cheol scowled. “He did?”

“Yes.”

“Take care of it.”

“I will.”

Goddammit, Cheol! Why did that sound like a threat? Cheol thought to himself.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Later that night, Cheol lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

He replayed everything that happened that afternoon.

Jeonghan’s smile, the blush on his cheeks, the tiny doodle.

The way Jeonghan said his name.

“Cheol.”

Soft.

Warm.

Like it meant something.

“Ah, fuck!” Cheol ran a hand down his face in frustration. “I’m fucking doomed!”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Jeonghan was in a foul mood. A very foul mood.

It began when he woke up later than usual, prompting him to miss an audition slot.

Then he accidentally spilled water on himself. Then Minghao accidentally used his favorite pen when taking an order.

When Cheol walked up to the kiosk, Jeonghan was already two seconds away from exploding.

Unfortunately, Cheol became the target.

“Hi,” Cheol said carefully. “The usual—”

“No,” Jeonghan clipped. 

Cheol blinked. “No?”

“No usual,” Jeonghan snapped. “You’re getting whatever I make.”

“…Okay?”

Jeonghan grabbed a cup aggressively, slammed it on the counter, poured ice into it and then tea leaves.

He did everything so violently that Cheol and Minghao stood by, cowering.

Minghao stared and slowly said. “Jeonghan, are you okay?”

“I’m fantastic,” Jeonghan replied flatly.

Cheol watched him with concern.

And, annoyingly, with fondness.

Jeonghan overfilled the cup, causing tea to spill over. He cursed under his breath, “Stupid lid—stupid cup—stupid—”

“Do you want help?” Cheol offered gently.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You sound—”

“I said no.”

Cheol shut up and just…watched.

Jeonghan’s brows were furrowed, his lips were pursed, as he muttered angrily at inanimate objects like they’d personally betrayed him.

He’s pouting, Cheol thought.  Why is he pouting? Why is it cute—stop! Stop it right there, Choi Seungcheol!

When Jeonghan finally slammed the finished cup onto the counter, it nearly splashed.

“There,” he snapped. “Drink it.”

Cheol picked it up, took a sip and paused. “This is very sweet.”

“So?” Jeonghan shot back.

“I always ask for less sugar.”

“Then you should’ve ordered earlier,” Jeonghan replied sharply.

Cheol nodded, confused. “O…kay…”

That was it—no argument, no sarcasm, no comeback.

This made Jeonghan falter.  “Okay?” Jeonghan crossed his arms. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Saying what?” Cheol tilted his head, baffled.

“I don’t know—” Jeonghan frowned. “Something annoying.”

Cheol hummed. “Do you want me to?”

“No!”

“Then I won’t.”

Jeonghan stared. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m being quiet.”

“That’s weirder.”

Cheol smiled a little, a small delicate thing.  “I think you’re just stressed.”

Jeonghan scoffed. “You don’t know anything.”

“Maybe not,” Cheol said softly. “But you look like you’re about to cry.”

Jeonghan’s eyes widened. “I am not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not!”

“Your eyes are shiny.”

“That’s the lighting.”

Cheol chuckled, making Jeonghan’s anger waver. Just a teensy bit.

“Why are you even here?” Jeonghan suddenly burst out. “Don’t you have a store to run?”

“Jihoon’s looking after it,” Cheol replied.

“Oh.”

Pause.

“Why did you leave it?”

Cheol shrugged. “I wanted tea.”

“That’s stupid.”

Cheol smiled. “Maybe.”

But he was still looking at Jeonghan like he was something precious. Jeonghan noticed and flushed. “Stop staring at me like that.”

“Like what?” Cheol sipped his tea.

“Like—like—” Jeonghan gestured vaguely. “That.”

Cheol leaned closer. “Like I care?”

Jeonghan froze. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Say things like that,” Jeonghan muttered.

“Why?”

“Because it’s confusing.”

Cheol’s heart skipped. Oh. He cares. He definitely cares.

Jeonghan huffed. “I had a bad day.”

Cheol softened immediately. “Care to tell me what happened?”

“I missed an audition,” Jeonghan admitted quietly. “Because I overslept.”

“Oh.”

“And it was important.”

“Oh.”

“And I’m mad at myself.”

Cheol reached out without thinking but he stopped. He instead opted to gently nudge Jeonghan’s sleeve. “You’re allowed to be mad,” he said. “Just…don’t take it all out on cups.”

Jeonghan sniffled. “They deserve it.”

Cheol laughed, soft and warm.

“Sorry,” Jeonghan muttered suddenly. “For being mean.”

“It’s okay,” Cheol replied instantly.

“Why?”

“Because you’re cute when you’re angry.”

Jeonghan’s head snapped up. “What?!”

“I mean—” Cheol panicked. “Not like—I mean—”

Too late. Jeonghan’s ears were red.

“You think I’m cute when I’m mad?” he asked.

“Yes,” Cheol replied honestly.

“You’re weird…”

“Well, that’s why you hate me.”

“No.” Jeonghan hesitated. “I don’t hate you, hate you.”

Cheol beamed. Worth it.

Across the counter, Minghao looked on, pretending he wasn’t witnessing everything that was transpiring. 

“They’re so doomed,” he whispered to himself. “Totally hopeless.”

And Jeonghan, despite himself, felt a little better.

Because somehow, Cheol was still there. Still smiling.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

The mall was loud. Much louder than usual.

There were kids running about, tourists taking photos of just about anything, and couples arguing about where to eat.

Jeonghan was barely keeping up.

“Two jasmine, one oolong, one—wait, no—three oolongs!” Minghao called out the orders..

“I’m trying!” Jeonghan replied, already juggling cups.

Across the aisle, Cheol stepped out of his shop, fixing his usual leather jacket around his shoulders.

He looked tired and Jeonghan immediately noticed.

Well, not that he cared. Obviously.

Cheol headed toward the kiosk alone.

Good, Jeonghan thought and relaxed a little.

That is until someone grabbed Cheol by the arm.

Jeonghan froze.

The guy was short, much much shorter than Cheol. He was stylish and annoyingly handsome. Hitched on his arm was a designer bag while his hair was styled perfectly.

His expensive perfume reached the kiosk five seconds before he did.

“Seungie!” he whined and  Jeonghan’s eye twitched.

Seungie?! Jeonghan frowned.

Cheol stiffened.

“Oh. Yejun,” he said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

Yejun pouted. “Wow. No hug? After all we’ve been through?”

He tried to lean in but Cheol dodged.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan nearly dropped a cup. Who is THAT?!

Yejun clung to Cheol’s arm anyway. “I was shopping and I thought, ‘Wow, I miss my ex so much’,” he sighed dramatically.

“You didn’t think that,” Cheol muttered.

“I did!”

“Right,” Cheol clipped. “You texted me ‘new phone who dis’ last month.”

“Details,” Yejun said, fluttering his eyelashes.

Jeonghan’s ears were burning.

Ex.

EX.

He very nearly poured salt instead of sugar.

Minghao whispered, “Uh…you good?”

“No,” Jeonghan whispered back. “I’m dying.”

Cheol stepped up to the counter, Yejun dangled on his arm.

“Hi,” Minghao said. “Usual?”

“Yes, please.”

“And for me,” Yejun cut in, “whatever he’s having. Because we still have the same taste, right, babe?”

Babe?! Jeonghan’s hand slammed on the counter. Accidentally.

Everyone around the kiosk jumped.

“Sorry,” Jeonghan said quickly, not sorry at all.

Cheol glanced at him, concern mixed with something else floating in his eyes.

Was that fondness?

Anyway, Yejun noticed it.

“Oh?” he said, tilting his head. “Who’s this cutie?”

Jeonghan choked. “I—I’m not—”

“He’s Jeonghan,” Cheol said immediately. “He works here.”

Just that. Nothing else.

Jeonghan felt weirdly disappointed.

Yejun smiled brightly. “I’m Yejun. Cheol’s…old mistake.”

“Yejun,” Cheol warned.

“Kidding!” Yejun beamed prettily. “Mostly.”

Jeonghan forced a polite smile. “I’m…Jeonghan.” Why am I nervous!? Stop it!

Yejun leaned closer to Cheol. Too close for Jeonghan’s liking. 

“So,” Yejun whispered to Cheol but was loud enough for everyone to hear, “are you still single?”

Cheol sighed, noncommittal, as though he was mentally rolling his eyes. “Yes.”

“Oooh,” Yejun grinned. “So I still have a chance.”

“No.”

“Rude!”

“Accurate.”

Jeonghan pretended not to listen. Yet, he failed. Horribly so.

Yejun suddenly grabbed Cheol’s hand and said,  “Come on, let’s get coffee instead—just like old times.”

Cheol pulled his hand back. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m busy.”

“With what? Staring at this kiosk?”

Jeonghan’s heart sank.

Cheol opened his mouth and indignantly said, “I like this kiosk.”

Everyone froze. Cheol froze most of all.

He mentally facepalmed. Did I just—

“I mean—the tea is good,” Cheol recovered quickly.

Jeonghan stared wide-eyed and pink-cheeked.

Oh.

Yejun narrowed his eyes at Cheol. “You’re lying.”

Cheol stared him down. “I’m not.”

Yejun narrowed his eyes. “You’re smiling, though.”

Cheol stopped. He actually was smiling.

Damn it.

Yejun followed Cheol’s gaze, which led straight to Jeonghan.

“Oh,” he said.

Oh, indeed.

“I see,” Yejun said slowly.

Jeonghan panicked. No no no no—

“There’s someone,” Yejun teased.

“There is none,” Cheol said immediately. Too fast and too loud that Jeonghan’s heart cracked a little.

Yejun hummed thoughtfully. “So defensive.”

Jeonghan finished the tea and, with hands shaking, slid it across the receiving counter.

“Here,” he said softly.

Cheol took the cup and their fingers brushed. It was just for a second but Jeonghan felt like it was some sort of reassurance.

He looked up and met  Cheol’s warm eyes.

Yejun sighed dramatically. “Wow. I’m third-wheeling at a tea stand.”

“You’re welcome to leave,” Cheol clipped.

“Fine,” Yejun huffed. “But just so you know—” he leaned close to Jeonghan. “He’s terrible at replying to texts.”

Jeonghan blinked. “Oh. Right.”

“And he hogs blankets.”

“Uh…”

“And he falls asleep during movies.”

Cheol turned red. “Stop.”

Yejun laughed, eyes still trained on Jeonghan. “Take care of him, okay?”

Jeonghan short-circuited. “T–take—I mean—we’re not even—”

“I know,” Yejun said gently. “Not yet.”

And then he winked at Jeonghan before walking away.

Silence.

Minghao stared.

The customers stared.

Cheol stared.

And Jeonghan was left dumbfounded.

Cheol cleared his throat. “Uh…Sorry about that.”

Jeonghan snapped his gaze back at Cheol. “It’s, uh, fine,” he lied.

“You’re not mad?”

“Maybe a little.”

Cheol smiled softly. “Good.”

“Why?”

“Because it means you care.”

Colors exploded behind Jeonghan’s eyes. “I—I don’t—”

“See you later,” Cheol said abruptly, retreating before he could say something worse. He walked away with his drink, grinning like an idiot, leaving Jeonghan hiding behind the tea menu.

“I’m in danger,” Jeonghan muttered to himself.

Minghao patted his shoulder. “You’re doomed.”

While somewhere inside the music store, Cheol whispered to himself, “I’m so done for.”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

A few days later…

Cheol came by the kiosk again to grab his regular tea.

Upon approaching the counter he saw Jeonghan handing over a huge paperbag to a customer—an officeworker who batted her eyelashes at Jeonghan as she received the bag.

“Thank you for your purchase,” Jeonghan smiled brightly at her. “Please come again.”

“Oh, I will…oppa,” she said, blushing to her ears.

Cheol rolled his eyes at the sight.

As the girl walked away, Cheol  approached the counter and cleared his throat to get Jeonghan’s attention.

“Hey,” Jeonghan said plainly, devoid of any expression. “The usual?”

“Yep,” Cheol replied curtly. Then— “So, who was that customer?”

“Huh?” Jeonghan looked up from punching in Cheol’s order.

“The girl who just left. The one with a bajillion photocards hanging on her bag.”

“Oh…her,” Jeonghan smiled, a small thing. “She just made a huge purchase. I guess I majestically bullshitted my way into selling our most expensive tea set.”

“I wouldn’t call that majestic bullshitting,” Cheol said, rolling his eyes. “Considering that she probably came here in the first place with the intention of being sold something by you.”

Cheol played the same infuriating mind game yet Jeonghan couldn’t prevent his hackles from rising. “What are you trying to tell me, that I have no sales talk whatsoever?”

“No. I’m saying she looked like she liked idols and, well, you look like one.”

“You’re discrediting my sales prowess!”

“You’re missing the whole point of my statement.”

“Hey, I sold that set because I’m a terrific salesman! Now, if you’re just gonna disrespect me—”

“Jesus! I’m saying you’re as pretty as an idol! Even prettier!”

“No, you were clearly mocking me—”

“It’s called flirting, Jeonghan! I’m trying so hard to flirt with you!”

Jeonghan paused just as he was about to spew vitriol at Cheol. “What?”

“Nothing. I said nothing.”

“No. You said—”

“Can I just get my order, please?”

Jeonghan squinted at Cheol suspiciously. “You’re acting weird today…”

Cheol scoffed. “Just make me my damn tea, Jeonghan!”

“Fine! Fine!” Jeonghan sneered before turning to make Cheol’s white peony tea.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

The mall was particularly quiet that afternoon as Jeonghan stood behind the cash register, waiting for a customer to come.

From across the aisle Cheol thought that it was dangerous. 

Mainly because Jeonghan was wearing a fluffy sweater again, making him look soft and delicate.

Jeonghan wore a soft pink hoodie that was, again, twice as large as his size.

What was up with him and oversized clothing?!

Cheol gaped at him from across the aisle.

Stupid, he thought. Stop staring at him!

“Hyung,” Jihoon said out of nowhere as he tuned  a guitar string. “Why are you glaring at the tea kiosk like it owes you money?”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m focused.”

“On what? Jeonghan hyung’s face?”

Cheol glared at him.

Jihoon grinned wide, a smile that challenged the Cheshire cat. “Called it.”

As Cheol continued to gaze at Jeonghan through the glass walls of his shop, a tall man stepped up to the kiosk.

He was well-dressed, had a neat haircut and a nice watch, Cheol thought as he surveyed him.

He smiled brightly and said, “Konnichiwa.”

Jeonghan’s eyes instantly lit up. “Konnichiwa,” he replied, bowing slightly.

Wait, Cheol thought. He speaks Japanese? Since when?!

Cheol stiffened.

“My name is Kento,” the man said in Korean aloud,  his accent thick. “You are very…pretty.”

Jeonghan froze. “Huh?”

Minghao dropped a cup while  Cheol stopped breathing.

Kento laughed softly. “Sorry. Handsome…Both.”

Jeonghan’s ears turned red. “Th–thank you,” he stammered.

Why the hell is he blushing?! Cheol though begrudgingly.

Kento leaned casually on the counter. “What do you recommend?”

“Our jasmine tea is really good,” Jeonghan said shyly.

“Only jasmine?” Kento teased. “I want something special…From you.”

From you?! Cheol’s pen snapped in half.

Jihoon stared. “Hyung?”

“I’m fine.”

He was not.

Jeonghan giggled. Actually giggled.

“Then…” he said. “Maybe this one” he pointed at the menu. “This one’s my favorite.”

Kento’s smile widened. “Your favorite? Then I trust it.”

He leaned closer, too close for Cheol’s liking.

Abruptly, he stood up.

“Hyung?” Jihoon hissed.  “Where are you going?”

“Business,” Cheol rushed out.

“What business?”

“War!”

Cheol marched over to the kiosk and planted himself beside it—right next to Jeonghan.

Personal space? Gone. Not a chance, he thought bitterly.

“Hey,” Jeonghan whispered to him. “What are you doing?”

“Ordering tea,” Cheol replied stiffly.

“You already ordered about thirty minutes ago..”

“I’m…still thirsty.”

“You just drank—”

“Very thirsty.”

Kento looked between them. “Oh,” he said slowly. “Your boyfriend?”

Jeonghan choked. “I— No! He’s—”

“I’m a customer,” Cheol blurted. Too fast. Too loud. Too defensive.

Jeonghan deflated. “…Yeah. Customer,” he echoed quietly.

Cheol immediately regretted everything.

Kento  smiled knowingly. “I see,” he said. “Pity.”

Cheol bristled. “Excuse me?”

“You are lucky,” Kento continued, looking at Jeonghan. “If he were mine, I would already take him on a date.”

Cheol’s soul left his body while Jeonghan hid his face behind a hand. “Y–you’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” Kento replied smoothly. “You are very charming.”

Cheol snapped. “His tea is getting cold,” he said sharply.

Both Jeonghan and Kento blinked.

Kento laughed. “Ah. Jealous.”

“I’m not,” Cheol said instantly, too defensively.

“You are.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Jeonghan stared at Cheol. “Wait…Are you?”

Cheol froze. Oh no.

“I just,” Cheol muttered, “don’t like people bothering you.”

“Right…” Jeonghan whispered.

Jeonghan went about sliding Kento’s drink across the counter. 

Kento picked up  his cup and nodded at Jeonghan. But, before leaving, he glanced at Jeonghan.  “If you visit Tokyo, call me.”

He slipped a card onto the counter and  Cheol’s eye twitched.

Jeonghan hesitated but took it politely, bowing back at Kento. “Th–thank you.”

Cheol looked absolutely betrayed.

After Kento left, Cheol crossed his arms across his chest. “Well, aren’t you popular?”

Jeonghan peeked at him. “Does it make you upset?”

“Nope.”

“Your eyebrow is twitching.”

“Okay…Maybe a little.”

“Why?”

Cheol looked away then mumbled. “Because… he looked at you too much.”

Jeonghan’s heart skipped. “Well, you do that, too.”

“I’m allowed,” Cheol replied without thinking.

And then there was silence.

Jeonghan smiled, a soft, gentle thing.

“Oh?” he teased. “Why are you allowed?”

Cheol realized too late. “I—I mean—”

“Too late,” Jeonghan said happily. “You’re jealous.”

“What the fuck?” Cheol retorted. “I am not!”

“You totally are.”

Cheol turned red, making Jeonghan guffaw.

And for the rest of the day, Cheol stayed right beside the kiosk.

Just in case another Japanese man planned to sweep Jeonghan away.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

It was three days later when Minghao nudged Jeonghan who was busy wiping down the counter.

“Don’t panic,” he said. “But your Japanese admirer is here again.”

Jeonghan looked up.

And there he actually was—Kento.

He was standing by the mall directory, staring at it like it offended him.

He was, unsurprisingly, well-dressed. Same nice watch. Same confident smile.

“Oh no,” Jeonghan whispered.

Cheol, who was inside his music shop, looked up and saw Jeonghan’s face. He saw where he was looking.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Cheol muttered.

Jihoon peeked. “Oh. Him again.”

Kento  spotted Jeonghan and his face immediately lit up. He walked over to the kiosk like a man on a mission.

“Hello!!” he greeted brightly. “Hello again!”

“Ah—hi,” Jeonghan said politely.

“I was hoping you would be working today,” Kento said.

Jeonghan blinked. “You…were?”

“Yes. I came yesterday, but you were not here.”

Jeonghan froze. “You…came yesterday?”

“Yes,” Kento  nodded easily. “And the day before.”

Minghao’s jaw dropped while Cheol, hearing all of this, felt his soul evaporate.

“You’re very dedicated,” Jeonghan said weakly.

Kento laughed. “When I like someone, I pursue them.”

Someone?! Cheol slammed a drawer shut.

Jihoon winced. “Hyung—”

“I’m calm,” Cheol lied coolly. “I’m calm.”

Kento leaned on the counter again. Same move. Same distance. Same audacity.

Cheol gritted his teeth.

“I tried the tea you recommended,” Kento said. “It is still my favorite.”

“Oh…I’m glad,” Jeonghan replied meekly.

“It reminds me of you.”

Jeonghan short-circuited. “I—it’s just tea—”

“No,” Kento said softly. “It is warm. Gentle and comforting.”

Cheol dropped a guitar pick on purpose.

Kento  pulled out his phone. “I went to many places in Seoul…but I think this mall is my favorite now.”

“Because of shopping?” Jeonghan asked hopefully.

Kento  smiled. “Because of you.”

Cheol stood up. That’s it!

“Business,” he muttered to Jihoon and the man  sighed. “Sure, hyung.”

Cheol nearly ran out of the music shop but he decided that he should keep the appearance of nonchalance and detachment. He marched over and parked himself on the receiving counter, as close as he could get to Jeonghan.

Reflex, he thought to himself. Possessive reflex.

“Hey,” Jeonghan asked him softly. “Why are you here?”

“Support,” Cheol replied.

“For what?”

“For…tea.”

“You’re not even ordering.”

“I might.”

Kento  noticed immediately. “Oh,” he said politely. “Hello again.”

Cheol smiled tightly at him. “Hey.”

They stared at each other for a long while, battlefield energy.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Kento said, finally.  “You are always with Jeonghan.”

Cheol replied without thinking. “I like being near him.”

Silence.

Jeonghan’s brain exploded while Minghao dropped a cup.

And Jihoon, from the music store,  whispered, “Oh, my God.”

Cheol realized what he said way too late. “I meant, the kiosk,” he added quickly. “I like being near the kiosk.”

“Uh-huh,” Jeonghan murmured, red on the face.

Kento  chuckled. “You are honest.”

“I’m not,” Cheol snapped.

Kento  turned back to Jeonghan, then. “I will be in Seoul for two more weeks. May I invite you to dinner?”

Jeonghan froze.

Dinner, he thought. A date. An actual date.

“I—” he stammered while  Cheol held his breath.

“I’m…” Jeonghan said carefully. “Kind  of busy.”

Kento  nodded. “Another day, then.”

Goddamn he’s persistent, Cheol thought begrudgingly. Almost scary.

Kento slid a small paper across the counter. His number.

“In case you lost my card from the other day,” he said. “Call me. Any time.”

Cheol stared at the small piece of paper like it was a bomb while Jeonghan hesitated…then took it.

Only because he was polite. Only because he couldn’t say no. Only because  he was Jeonghan.

Cheol died inside. A little.

After Kento  left, Cheol fell quiet and, of course, Jeonghan noticed immediately.

“Are you okay?” he asked

“Yes,” Cheol replied curtly.

“No, you’re not.”

“...No.”

Jeonghan fidgeted. “I’m not going to call him.”

Cheol’s head snapped up. “You’re not?”

“No,” Jeonghan said softly. “I don’t…want to.”

“Why?”

Jeonghan looked down at his hands. “…Because I like someone else.”

Cheol stopped breathing. “Oh. Really?”

“Don’t ask who,” Jeonghan added quickly.

“I—I won’t.”

But he knew.

Cheol  absolutely knew.

And for the first time since Kento  appeared, Cheol felt hope.

Dangerous, terrifying, wonderful hope.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Jeonghan sighed heavily and folded his arms across his chest when he saw the eyesore (read: eye candy) lounging so casually in one of the tables set up in front of the kiosk.

 “What are you doing still sitting around here? Can’t you see I’m closing up?”

“Wanted to wait up for you, Jeonghannie,” Cheol smiled charmingly at him, infuriatingly cute dimples and all. “It’s already dark outside, I’m gonna walk you home.”

“No you won’t. Now, scram.”

“Hmm. Make me.”

Jeonghan balled his fists and stomped his foot angrily on the marble floor but, like the far gone man that he was, Cheol merely thought it was adorable.

“Oh, I really will!” Jeonghan seethed. “I’m gonna force you outta that chair if I have to!” 

“Oh, yeah?” Cheol raised a brow in challenge and shifted in his seat so he could spread his legs a little wider in that particularly nonchalant way of his.

And in a move that turned Jeonghan into a mumbling, stuttering mess, Cheol looked up at him with a devilish smirk and tapped his lap twice. “Come here.”

Jeonghan’s brain short-circuited completely. He stared at Cheol’s lap like it had personally betrayed him.

“Are you insane?!” Jeonghan sputtered.

Cheol’s grin only grew wider. “Depends. Are you coming over or not?”

“I am not sitting on you!” Jeonghan snapped.

“Shame,” Cheol replied lightly. “You look like you’d fit perfectly.”

Jeonghan’s face burst into flames. “I—y-you’re—why would you even say that?!”

“Because you’re cute when you’re mad,” Cheol said with easy nonchalance.

“That is not a compliment!”

“It is to me.”

Jeonghan marched closer, pointing an accusing finger at his face. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Cheol hummed, “here you are.”

“I’m here because you won’t leave!”

“Same difference.”

Jeonghan scowled. “Get the hell up.”

“Nope.”

“Cheol.”

“Nope.”

“Seungcheol.”

Cheol’s smile softened just a little. “Full name basis, huh? Is it that serious?”

Jeonghan froze. “…So?”

“So…it’s adorable.”

“I hate you.”

“Liar.”

Jeonghan grabbed the edge of the table and leaned forward. “If you don’t move right now, I’m calling security.”

Cheol tilted his head. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“You’d feel bad.”

“Maybe.”

“Exactly.”

Cheol reached out and gently tugged at Jeonghan’s sleeve. “Come on,” he said quietly. “It’s late. You’re tired. Let me walk you.”

“I said no.”

“Why?”

Jeonghan hesitated. “Because you’ll make it weird.”

Cheol smiled softly. “I already am weird,”

“That’s not helping.”

After staring Jeonghan down for beats too long, Cheol stood up suddenly.

Jeonghan yelped and stumbled back a step. “W–what are you doing now?!”

“Compromising,” Cheol said. He stepped closer—too close.

Now, Jeonghan had to tilt his head up to look at him, which was unfair. Extremely unfair.

“I won’t carry you,” Cheol continued. “I won’t tease you. I won’t even hold your hand.”

“You sound disappointed about that.”

“Maybe.”

Jeonghan swallowed. “You promise?”

“Cross my heart.” Cheol made a small motion over his chest, still smiling.

Jeonghan stared. Why does he look sincere when he does that? Why is that dangerous?

“Fine,” Jeonghan conceded and Cheol’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“But just to the bus stop,” Jeonghan added quickly. “Not all the way.”

“Deal.”

“And no touching.”

“Define touching.”

“Cheol!”

“Okay, okay! No touching!”

After Jeonghan and Minghao closed up the shop, Jeonghan and Cheol walked side by side out of the mall and to the bus stop.

Too close to each other, if Jeonghan was being honest. But he allowed it.

“You were really serious about kicking me off the chair earlier,” Cheol said casually as they stepped out of the mall.

“I was,” Jeonghan replied. “I could’ve done it.”

“I know,” Cheol smiled. “You get scary sometimes.”

“I do not.”

“You do,” Cheol insisted. “Your eyebrows go like this.” He demonstrated and Jeonghan snorted before he could stop himself.

Then he froze. “Did I…just laugh?”

“Yes,” Cheol said triumphantly. “My victory.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late.”

Outside the mall, the night air was cool and crisp. Streetlights reflected on wet pavement.

Jeonghan hugged his jacket tighter around himself.

Without thinking, Cheol took off his own jacket and draped it over Jeonghan’s shoulders.

Jeonghan gasped. “Hey—”

“You’re cold,” Cheol said, matter-of-fact.

“But I’m fine.”

“You’re shivering.”

“I’m—”

He was.

Damn it.

“Thank you,” Jeonghan  muttered, making Cheol smile—soft and proud.

Soon, they reached the bus stop.

Jeonghan stopped and turned to Cheol. “Well…this is it.”

“Oh,” Cheol replied. “Already?”

“Yes.”

“Right.”

Silence. Neither moved as cars passed and a bus whooshed by. Neither of them noticed.

“You’re staring,” Jeonghan said quietly.

“So are you,” Cheol replied just as softly.

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Okay, maybe a little.”

Cheol’s heart skipped. He leaned in slightly—not touching, just close.

“I’m glad I waited,” he said.

“Why?” Jeonghan blinked up at him.

“Because you walked with me.”

Jeonghan’s cheeks warmed. “That’s…dumb.”

“Maybe,” Cheol agreed. “But it made my day.”

Jeonghan looked away, flustered. “You’re still annoying, by the way.”

Cheol grinned. “And you still like me.”

“I do not!”

“You didn’t kick me.”

“Low standards.”

Cheol laughed as the next bus arrived. 

Jeonghan stepped back and handed Cheol’s jacket back. “I’m going,” he said.

“Text me when you get home,” Cheol blurted.

“But I don’t have your number.”

Cheol hummed for a split second and said, “Give me your phone. I’m going to save my number.”

Dutifully, Jeonghan fished out his phone from his satchel and handed it to Cheol who very quickly punched in and saved his digits under the name “Hot Music Store Guy”.

He handed the device back to Jeonghan. “There. Text me when you get home.”

Jeonghan blinked once more. “Okay.”

Then he got on the bus.

Cheol watched it disappear down the street, hand still half-raised in a gesture of goodbye.

“Goodammit…” he whispered. “I think I might actually be in love…”

Meanwhile, across the window, Jeonghan pressed his forehead to the glass and smiled.

“Stupid Cheol,” he said with a gentle sigh.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Right around this time, Jeonghan had been in Seoul for about six months and slowly he was feeling his heart sink.

Six months and no successful auditions, no interviews, no opening for a budding actor like himself.

Each day that passed left Jeonghan feeling more and more dissatisfied with his life, fearful of the future and, if he was being honest, disappointed in himself.

But, then again, as Minghao put it, it’s only been six months—most creatives spend years upon years trying to build up a career.

Still, the days that dragged by felt bruising for Jeonghan, and soon he felt listless, wholly inadequate. He was afraid that all he would be in Seoul was a silly little country boy trying to make ends meet by working at a kiosk in the middle of the bustling city.

“You know, it’s bad luck for the business if you keep sighing like that,” Minghao said, interrupting Jeonghan’s negative musings.

“Sorry, Hao,” Jeonghan replied quietly.

“I can tell you’re spiraling again. Do you want to talk about it?”

Jeonghan offered a small smile. “Nah. I don’t want to burden you with all the stuff going on in my head.”

“Don’t say that…you know I’m not just your boss, I’m also your friend.”

“Thanks, Hao. Really. But right now everything’s just a jumble of bleh right up here,” Jeonghan pointed at his head.

“Hey,” someone suddenly said from behind Jeonghan and, of course, he knew who the voice belonged to. He had heard him speak every day for six straight months, for Pete’s sake.

“Cheol,” Jeonghan replied plainly, turning around. “Usual?”

“You know me.”

As Minghao took care of the cash register, Jeonghan busied himself by making Cheol’s drink.

And Cheol, as observant as he had become with anything related to his “arch enemy”, noticed the way Jeonghan’s shoulders drooped. There was certainly something bothering him. And he decided he had to know. 

You know…just because.

When Jeonghan ambled to the receiving counter and set the drink there, Cheol decided to take the plunge.

“Hey…uh, are you okay?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jeonghan replied monotonously.

“I don’t know…you just seem off.”

“Look, Cheol,” Jeonghan sighed. “I’m not in the mood to fight today. So can you just take your tea and scram?”

Cheol frowned at Jeonghan’s defensiveness. “What makes you think I’m here to fight?”

Jeonghan scoffed. “What—you’re suddenly so concerned about me now?”

Yes! Cheol wanted to yell but he held on tightly to his better judgement. “You’re extra mean today, Jeonghan. And I’m not exactly enjoying it.”

“Right. Because me losing my temper is entertainment to you.”

Cheol flinched, just a little but enough for Minghao and Jeonghan to notice.

“That’s not what I meant,” Cheol said quietly.

“Then what did you mean?” Jeonghan snapped, arms crossing defensively on his chest. “Because it sure sounds like you’re saying I’m being annoying.”

“I’m saying you’re being…different,” Cheol replied. “And it worries me.”

Jeonghan froze. “Worries you?”

Cheol cleared his throat, trying to look anywhere besides Jeonghan’s face.  “Yeah…You’ve been spacing out all week. You messed up my order twice yesterday. You never messed up before.”

“That’s because you’re too picky,” Jeonghan muttered.

“Maybe,” Cheol retorted. “But you still notice.”

Jeonghan looked down at the counter as he dropped his hands, his fingers tightened around the edge of the wood. “So what if I’m tired?” he murmured. “So what if I’m not okay?”

Cheol’s chest tightened. That was the first honest thing Jeonghan had said all day.

All the while, Minghao discreetly stepped away to pretend to restock supplies from behind the kiosk. Bless him, he knew when to give space.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cheol asked Jeonghan gently while his mind raced. This is dangerous. This is DANGEROUS! 

Jeonghan laughed under his breath, the sound brittle and uncertain. “You and Hao sound the same now.”

Cheol shrugged. “Maybe he’s rubbing off on me.”

“Scary thought.”

Cheol smiled faintly. Then he softened. “Seriously, Jeonghan.”

“It’s nothing,” Jeonghan said weakly.

“That’s a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

Jeonghan sighed, giving up. “Okay, it is.”

Cheol relaxed slightly. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not lying to me.”

Jeonghan sighed and leaned against the counter. “I’ve been here six months,” he admitted quietly. “Six. And I still haven’t gotten anything. Not even a callback.”

Cheol listened. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t tease. He just listened.

“I keep telling myself it’s normal,” Jeonghan continued. “That everyone struggles. That I just need to be patient.”

His voice wavered when he continued. “But what if I’m just…not good enough?”

Cheol’s heart clenched. “You’re good enough,” he said immediately and he meant it.

Jeonghan scoffed. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“How?”

“I watch you.”

Jeonghan blinked. “You what?”

“Not in a creepy way!” Cheol rushed out, flushing red. “I mean—you’re always practicing lines during breaks. You read scripts on your phone. You cry over bad auditions and still show up the next day.”

Jeonghan stared at him, unblinking. “You noticed that?”

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

Oh.

Only then did Jeonghan blink, his eyes casting down to his hands. “I’m scared.”

There it is,  Cheol thought.  The truth.

“I left everything in Busan,” Jeonghan said with sadness. “My family, my friends, my old life. I came here because I believed in this dream.” He swallowed. “And now I’m scared I was stupid for believing.”

Cheol reached out, but promptly stopped himself. He settled on gently placing his hand on the counter near Jeonghan’s own hands—not touching, just close.

“You weren’t being stupid,” Cheol said firmly. “You were being brave.”

Jeonghan’s eyes stung. “Brave people fail all the time.”

“Yeah,” Cheol replied. “But so do successful ones. The difference is they don’t quit.”

Jeonghan looked up slowly. “You really think I shouldn’t quit?”

“Not even a little,” Cheol said with his whole chest. “If you quit, the city wins. And I hate when things beat you.”

Jeonghan laughed weakly. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You like it, anyway.”

“Maybe I do…”

Cheol lowered his voice further and fixed Jeonghan with a glance.  “You know…when I first met you, I thought you were reckless—”

“Hey!”

“Let me finish,” Cheol smiled. “I thought you were naïve. Too hopeful.”

Jeonghan braced himself for the worst.

“But I was wrong,” Cheol admitted. “You’re stubborn—you don’t give up. You keep smiling even when you’re tired.” He paused. “And that’s kind of amazing.”

Jeonghan’s breath caught in his throat. Was Cheol really complimenting him? Cheering him on? Was this really happening?

“You’re serious?” he asked.

“Unfortunately,” Cheol replied. “Yes. And I’m so sorry for being an asshole to you the very first time we met.”

Very quickly, Jeonghan wiped at his eyes where tears had begun forming. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Like what?” Cheol tilted his head, confused.

“Like I’m important.”

Cheol softened. “Well, you are.” Not just to the city but also to me, his mind supplied.

A comfortable silence befell them as they smiled at each other.

Jeonghan was the first to speak again. “Stay.”

“What?” Cheol quirked a brow.

“After closing,” Jeonghan said. “Walk me home.”

Cheol’s heart soared high to the skies, but he had to gain control of himself lest Jeonghan found him weird, much less desperate.

“Sure,” he said simply.

That night, as they walked side by side under neon lights, shoulders brushing against each other from time to time, Jeonghan felt lighter. He was still afraid, of course. Still uncertain.

But he definitely didn’t feel alone.

And for a moment, he thought, This is enough.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Jeonghan hadn’t told Cheol—not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t know how.

How could he casually say, “Hey, I’m going home for a few days to remember who I am” without sounding like he was giving up?

So, he told Minghao first.

They were closing up when Jeonghan finally blurted it out. “I’m going to Busan this weekend.”

Minghao paused mid-wipe on the counter. “Oh.”

“Just…for a few days,” Jeonghan added quickly. “My mother’s been nagging me that I haven’t visited them in months.”

Minghao smiled softly. “That’s good. You probably need it.”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan said. “I think I do.”

“And you’ll come back refreshed,” Minghao supplied. “Ready to start again.”

Jeonghan nodded. “I hope so.”

Unfortunately, Cheol walked in at exactly the wrong moment.

He only caught bits of what Jeonghan and Minghao had said—

“…Busan…”

“…need it…”

“…start again…”

“…hope so…”

And then his brain did the rest. Wrongly. Very wrongly.

He froze near the kiosk.

Jeonghan is going back? He’s leaving? He’s not coming back?!

That’s what it all sounded like, and his chest tightened.

No.

No, no, no.

The following day, while Jeonghan was away on a bathroom break, Cheol cornered Minghao.

“Hey,” he said too casually. “What was that about Busan yesterday?”

“Yesterday?” Minghao asked.

“I kind of heard you and Jeonghan speaking about it.”

“Oh,” Minghao replied easily. “Jeonghan’s going home tomorrow.”

Cheol swallowed. “For… long?”

Minghao shrugged. “Hard to say. He sounded pretty done lately.”

Done.

Cheol felt sick. “Done with…?”

“With being exhausted,” Minghao finished. “You know how he’s been.”

Cheol swallowed the lump in his throat and croaked, “Do you know what time he leaves?”

“I think around noon.”

“Okay.” Cheol barely heard the rest. He merely nodded numbly and walked away.

That night, he couldn’t  sleep. Every memory replayed in his head—Jeonghan smiling at customers, Jeonghan humming under his breath, Jeonghan crying quietly once after a bad audition.

He’s leaving. He’s giving up. Without saying goodbye.

The next morning, Jihoon found Cheol pacing the music store.

“You look like you’re about to commit a crime,” Jihoon said.

“I’m going to the station.”

“Station?”

“The bus station!”

“But why?”

“He’s leaving.”

Jihoon furrowed his brow. “Who?”

Cheol threw his arms up in the air, an act of exasperation. “Jeonghan! Look, I don’t have time. I got to run.”

And with that, Cheol grabbed his jacket. “Cover the shop.”

“Hyung, wait—”

Too late, Cheol was already running out of the shop and heading to the bus station.

At the station, Busan-bound trains were already boarding—the announcements echoed and the crowd surged.

Jeonghan stood on the platform with a small suitcase, phone in hand.

He was texting Cheol.

“I’m going home for a bit. I’ll explain when I’m back,” he said.

He hesitated for a moment and then added, “Don’t miss me too much.”

He smiled to himself and hit send.

“Jeonghan!” the shout echoed through the station, making Jeonghan jump.

He whipped around to the direction of the voice and there was Cheol, panting, sweaty, hair a mess, eyes frantic.

“Cheol?” Jeonghan asked. “What are you doing here?”

Cheol staggered to a stop in front of Jeonghan. “Don’t—don’t go,” he gasped.

Jeonghan stared. “What?”

“Don’t give up,” Cheol continued desperately. “You can’t just leave like this—without telling me. Without—”

“Cheol,” Jeonghan said gently. “I’m not—”

“I know you’re tired,” Cheol rushed. “I know it hurts. But you’re strong. You’re— you’re everything—” His voice broke. “You can’t disappear from my life.”

There was silence as the station and its crowd seemed to fade around them.

“Disappear? What do you mean?” Jeonghan whispered.

Cheol froze. “I—I thought—”

“That I was quitting?” Jeonghan finished for him.

“Yes.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, then teared up a little. “Oh my God,” he said. “Cheol… I’m just visiting my parents.”

“What?”

“For three days,” Jeonghan continued. “I’m coming back on Monday.”

Cheol’s knees nearly gave out. “Three days?”

“Yes.”

“Not forever?”

“No!”

“Not giving up?”

“Never.”

Cheol exhaled shakily. “Holy shit, I almost died!”

Jeonghan smiled through the tears. “You ran all this way because you thought I was leaving?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s because…?”

Cheol looked away but spoke honestly.  “Because I need you here.”

Jeonghan’s heart melted. “Oh.”

The boarding call sounded once again, bursting the bubble that seemed to have formed around the two..

Jeonghan picked up his bag and glanced at Cheol.  “I have to go,” he said softly.

Cheol panicked again. “Wait—”

“But,” Jeonghan added, stepping closer, “I’ll come back.”

Jeonghan hesitated. Then, in a move that shocked them both, he hugged Cheol.

It was brief but it was warm and real.

“I’ll text you every day,” Jeonghan whispered.

Cheol hugged him back without thinking. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Jeonghan pulled away, smiling. “Take care of my kiosk while I’m gone.”

“It’s not yours.”

“It is, in my heart.”

Cheol laughed.

As Jeonghan boarded, he waved. Cheol waved back, heart full with stupid fondness.

“Next time,” Cheol muttered to himself, “I’m just asking.”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Busan felt more bland than Jeonghan remembered—not physically, but emotionally.

Sure, the streets were the same, the salty breeze from the ocean still curled through alleyways and the corner convenience store still sold the same popsicles.

Everything was familiar and yet it didn’t quite feel like home.

“Eat more,” his mother insisted, piling another spoonful of stew into his bowl.

“Mom,” Jeonghan laughed, “I’m full.”

“You’re too thin,” she scolded. “Seoul is starving you.”

“It’s not,” he protested. “I eat plenty.”

He just forgot sometimes whenever he was busy or tired. Or when he was thinking about someone annoying.

His father watched him quietly from across the table. “You look better,” he said finally.

Jeonghan paused. “Better?”

“More…settled,” his dad continued. “You looked lost when you first left for Seoul.”

Jeonghan blinked. Did I?

“I think I’m just tired,” he replied, which was half true.

That night, he lay in his childhood bed and stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on his ceiling.

He thought Cheol would laugh at the small decorations. He smiled—and then caught himself.

Why am I thinking about him?!

His phone suddenly buzzed with a message.

It was from Cheol.

“Did you eat?” he said. “Don’t skip meals just because you’re home.”

Jeonghan groaned. How does he know?

He typed back quickly. “Yes, mom fed me like I’m ten.”

Three dots appeared immediately. “Good. Listen to her.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Bossy!”

“Only to you.”

He froze and stared at the screen, heart thumping. Then he replied, “Whatever!”

The following day, Jeonghan went to the beach to get some fresh air. He sat on the sand and watched the waves crash against each other.

He took pictures but sent none of them because he knew exactly who he wanted to send them to.

He refused. I’m not that obvious.

Later, he had lunch with a high school friend.

“You keep smiling at your phone,” she said.

Jeonghan looked up. “I do not.”

“You just did, Jeonghan.”

“Okay, maybe a little.”

She propped her chin on her hand and squinted suspiciously at Jeonghan. “Boyfriend?”

“What? No!” Jeonghan flushed.

“Crush?”

“Shut up, Soojin.”

She laughed. “So. Crush.”

Jeonghan buried his face in his hands. “Ah, God. I’m hopeless.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Very hopeless.”

Later that night, as he sat on the balcony of their home, he finally cracked.

He opened his chat with Cheol and scrolled too far, all the way back to their first awkward texts.

Jeonghan’s chest ached. “Stupid,” he whispered. “Stupid Cheol.”

He typed something, then deleted it. And then typed again and deleted.

Finally, he sent, “It’s too quiet here. I miss Seoul a little.”

Cheol replied almost instantly, “Only a little?”

Jeonghan smiled. “Maybe medium.”

“Liar. You miss me.”

Jeonghan stared at the words and slowly typed, “In your dreams.”

Cheol replied, “Always.”

Jeonghan set his phone down and looked up at the dark sky. He hugged his knees and told his chest, “I’m fine. I’m just adjusting. But I’m fine.”

Deep down, he knew that Busan was still home.

But Seoul—well,  Seoul had Cheol.

And that made all the difference.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Soon enough, Jeonghan was back in Seoul, tending the tea kiosk with Minghao.

Jeonghan had been back for a week and yet everyone could see that there was something completely wrong with Cheol—Jihoon knew. Minghao knew. Hell, even the music store’s customers knew.

“Hyung,” Jihoon said carefully one afternoon, watching Cheol rearrange the same shelf for the fourth time. “You’ve been moving that ukulele for twenty minutes now.”

“It’s crooked.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “It moved two centimeters.”

“Exactly.”

Jihoon sighed, exasperated. “You’re thinking about him again.”

“I am not.”

“You just sighed and said ‘Jeonghan’ under your breath.”

Cheol froze. “I did?”

“Yes. Loudly.”

“Well, shit.”

Ever since Jeonghan came back, things had gotten a tad weird. Not bad…just awkward. Loaded.

They still bickered and teased, still walked home together sometimes. But now there were the silences, lingering looks, and accidental touches that lasted a few seconds too long.

Moments when Cheol almost said something and chickened out.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan was suffering quietly. Pathetically.

He kept thinking to himself,  Why hasn’t he said anything? Did I imagine everything? Was I just convenient?

Minghao noticed, of course he did. “You’re staring at his shop again,” he said.

“I’m checking if he’s open.”

“He’s always open.”

“Then I’m checking if he’s alive.”

“He texted you this morning.”

“Okay…but still.”

Minghao scoffed at him and went about fussing over the kiosk, leaving Jeonghan sighing over the music store’s owner.

Saturday night came and the mall was closing while it rained heavily outside.

“Looks like you’re stuck,” Minghao told Jeonghan, peering out. “Last bus must have passed around this time.”

Jeonghan groaned. “Ah, crap!”

“I can call Cheo—”

“No!” Jeonghan yelped.

“Why not?”

“I mean—he’s probably busy.”

Minghao raised a brow. “Is he? They’re also closing up, you know.”

Across the aisle Cheol had been pacing for ten minutes, waiting for an excuse to take Jeonghan home.

And that’s when fate delivered.

Ten minutes later, Cheol appeared at the kiosk, holding an umbrella like a knight with a very cheap sword.

“I heard someone’s stranded,” he said casually.

Jeonghan’s heart leaped. “You did?”

“Minghao texted me,” Cheol lied.

Minghao stared from behind the counter. He did no such thing, but he respected Cheol’s grind.

Soon, Jeonghan and Cheol walked out into the rain under one umbrella, shoulders pressed—too close, too intimate, too dangerous.

Water splashed around them and the traffic hissed but all Cheol could hear was the pounding of his own heart.

Say it.

Say it now.

Say it before you chicken out again.

Halfway to Jeonghan’s apartment, a car zoomed past, splashing water all over the two.

Jeonghan gasped. “Hey!”

And then Jeonghan slipped. Good thing Cheol was quick to grab him by the waist. His touch was firm, protective.

They both froze, staring into each other’s eyes while rain continued to pour around them.

“Are you okay?” Cheol whispered.

“Yeah,” Jeonghan breathed. “Thanks.”

They didn’t move, didn’t let go, didn’t look away.

That’s when something snapped inside Cheol.

“Jeonghan,” he blurted.

“Yes?”

“I, uh—I—”

Jeonghan’s lips parted, anticipating what Cheol had to say next. His heart raced, his hands shook.

Say it, Cheol…Say it—

A car raced by them, honking its horn so loudly that it drowned out the sounds of the other cars. It splashed water all over Cheol and Jeonghan anew, catching them by surprise and prompting them to pull apart.

“Jesus Christ!” Jeonghan yelped while Cheol said, “Fuck! Fuck!”

They looked down at their clothes, totally soaked now.

“Shit, so much for keeping dry, huh?” Jeonghan asked Cheol.

“That driver’s a prick,” Cheol supplied.

Jeonghan looked at Cheol for a moment, heart still pounding. He licked his lips nervously. He had to say it, he had to ask Cheol.

“Hey, Cheol. What was that you were going to say?”

“What…?” Cheol looked alarmed. His brows raised and his eyes averted Jeonghan’s. “I—uh, I—”

Come on, Cheol, Jeonghan urged mentally. Say it, please.

Cheol swallowed. “...Just wanted to say it’s nice walking in the rain with you.”

“What?” Jeonghan deadpanned.

“It’s nice! I, uh, get to walk you home.”

“You’re kidding.”

Goddammit! Cheol mentally kicked himself hard. You stupid son of a bitch. You’re a chicken!

“Okay…” Jeonghan sighed and nodded defeatedly. “It is nice. Now can we continue walking?”

And just like that they continued their way to Jeonghan’s apartment in silence, but this time the silence was more loaded, a lot heavier with unspoken words and worrisome thoughts.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan wondered if he’d just imagined the spark in Cheol’s eyes when he was leaning into his space earlier. Was he being delusional? Or was there really something behind Cheol’s scorching look?

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

It happened on a Tuesday, of all the days. Nothing was supposed to happen on Tuesdays.

It was a busy day at the kiosk—midday rush with office workers, students, tourists.

Jeonghan was in his element, smiling, moving fast and sometimes joking with customers.

Cheol watched him from his shop, wholly enraptured. He tried not to but there was just something about Jeonghan that reeled him in.

It was just another Tuesday. It was supposed to be just a regular Tuesday.

That is, until Kento showed up. Again.

He was still the same tall, polite and soft-spoken man. Who was very clearly into Jeonghan.

Cheol scowled at the back of his stupid head.

“Hi, Jeonghan,” Kento said warmly in Korean.

“Oh, hi!” Jeonghan replied, bright. “What brings you here again?”

“I was around the area, so I thought why not visit you again.”

They smiled at each other. Too much.

Cheol’s eye twitched.

“So, what can I get you?” Jeonghan finally asked.

“Oolong, please,” Kento smiled and fished out his wallet from his pocket.

While Jeonghan prepared the drink, Kento leaned across the counter.

“I was wondering,” he said nervously, “are you free this Friday?”

Jeonghan paused. “Friday?”

“Yes,” Kento nodded. “There is a café near Hongdae. Very nice. I thought…maybe we could go together.”

Silence.

Minghao paused mid-serving a customer. Jihoon stopped tuning a guitar. Cheol stopped breathing.

Jeonghan blinked. Once. Twice. “Oh.”

Kento hurried on. “As a date. I mean— if you want. If not, it’s okay—”

“No, it’s okay,” Jeonghan said quickly.

Cheol’s soul all but left his body.

“It sounds…nice,” Jeonghan added.

Cheol died.

“I mean,” Jeonghan continued, “I’m free, so—”

“So…yes?” Kento asked hopefully.

Jeonghan smiled. “Yeah. Sure.”

Cheol’s heart exploded and not in a good way. He dropped the box of guitar strings he was clutching.

Clang.

Jihoon stared at him. “Hyung.”

“I’m fine,” Cheol whispered. No, he was definitely not.

Kento beamed at Jeonghan. “Really?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan nodded. “Why not?”

Why not, Cheol wanted to scream. WHY NOT?!

“Can I have your number so I can text you?” Kento said, practically glowing.

“Okay,” Jeonghan replied.

They exchanged numbers.

Right in front of a very murderous Cheol.

After Kento left, the kiosk was quiet. Too quiet.

Jeonghan went back to work like nothing happened, humming, smiling and completely alive.

Cheol, meanwhile, was suffering violently.

Jihoon leaned over. “You good, hyung?”

“No,” Cheol whispered.

“Then do something.”

“Like what?”

“Confess.”

Cheol stared. “Are you insane?”

“Yes. Now go.”

“But—”

“Are you just going to stand here like an idiot while someone else sweeps off Jeonghan hyung?”

“But—”

“You keep saying but! No buts!” Jihoon scolded. “Now, go get your ass over there and win over Jeonghan hyung!”

“You know what…you’re right.” Cheol squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and sauntered out of the music store.

He  marched over to the kiosk, hands shaking, brain reciting, Jeonghan, Jeonghan, Jeonghan…

He stopped in front of the said man. “Hey,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Jeonghan looked up. “Huh?”

“Now.”

“Cheol, I’m working—”

“Now.”

Jeonghan blinked. “O…kay?”

They rounded the kiosk so that they stood among the small boxes of supplies piled there.

It was behind the kiosk, surely that was private enough?

Cheol put his hands on his waist and breathed out. Once. Twice. Three times.

Jeonghan frowned. “What’s wrong, Cheol?”

“You,”  Cheol rushed out.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean—not you— I mean—,” Cheol sighed. “You dating someone—I mean—”

“Cheol,” Jeonghan said gently. “Breathe.”

“I am  breathing.”

“Yeah, barely,” Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Relax.”

“Why did you say yes?” Cheol blurted out.

Jeonghan froze. “…To Kento?”

“Yes!”

“Well, because he asked?”

“That’s it?!”

Jeonghan frowned. “What do you mean, that’s it?”

“Don’t you—” Cheol stopped himself. Swallowed. Tried again. “Don’t you…care?”

Jeonghan tilted his head. “About what?”

“About me.”

A heavy silence fell upon them, heavy, dangerous.

Jeonghan’s heart skipped. “Why would I think that?” he asked softly.

Cheol snapped.

Here goes nothing.

“I’m in love with you!” he yelled, his voice somehow echoing around the floor..

A customer at the kiosk gasped while Minghao dropped a tray.

Jihoon, still inside the music store., whispered, “Oh, my God.”

Cheol slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh no…Oh no, I said it.”

Jeonghan stared, dumbfounded. “Cheol—”

“I said it out loud. Shit, I wasn’t ready—”

Jeonghan stared, wide-eyed. “…You’re in love with me?”

Well, it’s too late to take it back now, Cheol chastised himself.

“Yes,” Cheol admitted miserably. “Since forever. Since you first yelled at me. Since you smiled at me. Since you existed.”

Jeonghan’s breath caught. “Then why,” he whispered, “did you never say anything?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” Cheol replied instantly.

“That’s fair.” Then Jeonghan looked away. “I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

“I’ve been dying for months,” Cheol said.

“You hid it well.”

“I really didn’t.”

Jeonghan turned back at him, eyes soft and hopeful. “I said yes to Kento because I thought I had to move on.”

Cheol froze. “From me?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan admitted. “Because you weren’t choosing me.”

Cheol’s heart broke. “I’ve been choosing you every day,” he whispered. “I was just too scared to say it.”

Silence. Then—

Jeonghan smiled. It was small, a bit shaky, but oh so beautiful.

“I love you too, idiot,” Jeonghan murmured.

Cheol stopped functioning. “What.”

“I’ve loved you since you first walked me to the bus station,” Jeonghan continued. “I was just waiting for you.”

Cheol laughed, then teared up. This was really happening. Jeonghan loved him back. Jeonghan, precious, beautiful Jeonghan.

“I almost lost you,” Cheol chuckled airily.

“Yes,” Jeonghan said. “You almost did.”

“So,” Cheol asked carefully, “about… Friday…”

Jeonghan pulled out his phone. Typed and sent. “I canceled.”

Cheol’s heart soared. “You did?!”

“Yes.”

“Why?!”

“Because,” Jeonghan said, stepping closer, “I already have a date.”

“With me?”

“Yes, with you!”

Cheol collapsed emotionally. “Oh, my God.”

From in front of the kiosk,  Minghao wiped fake tears. “Finally!”

While Jihoon nodded. “Painfully slow.”

And Jeonghan smiled at Cheol like he’d won something precious.

Because he had.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

The argument started over something stupid.

As usual.

“Why would you reorganize my entire shelf without asking me?!” Jeonghan snapped, hands on his hips.

“Because it was crooked,” Cheol replied calmly.

“It was not crooked!”

“It was leaning three degrees to the left.”

“You measured it?!”

“Yes!”

“That’s insane!”

“That’s organized!”

Jeonghan groaned and dragged both hands down his face.

“You are unbelievable,” he muttered. “I leave this kiosk for twenty minutes and you turn into a control freak.”

“I was helping,” Cheol argued. “You said you were on a break.”

“I didn’t say ‘redecorate my life’!”

They were at the kiosk which had no customers at the moment—thankfully, or else they’d be witnessing two idiots in love sword fighting each other.

Cheol and Jeonghan were standing too close. Way too close.

The tension had been building since yesterday when Cheol confessed—lingering looks, accidental touches, unfinished sentences. Neither of them wanted to admit it.

So, instead, they fought like idiots.

Cheol crossed his arms on his chest and Jeonghan tried hard not to stare at the flexing of his muscles.. 

“You’re overreacting,” Cheol said.

“Oh, don’t you dare say that,” Jeonghan shot back. “You always say that when you know you’re wrong.”

“I’m not wrong.”

“You are!”

“Prove it.”

“I—” Jeonghan stopped.

Because Cheol was smirking—that stupid, confident, devastating smirk. Exactly the one that made Jeonghan’s heart race and his brain shut off.

“You’re doing that thing again,” he said accusingly.

“What thing?” Cheol challenged.

“That smug thing. Like you know you’re attractive and you’re using it against me.”

Cheol stepped closer. “Am I?”

“Yes!”

“How?”

“Like that!” Jeonghan pointed wildly. “With your stupid face!”

Cheol chuckled darkly. “You like my face.”

“I do not!”

“You stare at it all the time.”

“Only because it’s always in the way!”

“In the way of what?”

Jeonghan opened his mouth then closed it, finding no other excuse. He instead glared at Cheol.

“God, Seungcheol! You’re so freaking annoying, I want to beat your ass!”

“Well, that’s cute,” Cheol stepped forward, forcing Jeonghan to take a few steps back until his butt hit the edge of a table.

Cheol then set his hands on either side of Jeonghan on the wooden surface, effectively caging the slighter man between his arms. Then Cheol leaned in, eyes raking from Jeonghan’s slightly parted lips up to his wide-blown eyes.

And in his low, dark chocolate voice he said, “I’ll have you know, sweetcheeks, I’m always the one doing the ass beating.”

Seeing that he had nowhere else to go, Jeonghan took the first plunge. He wrapped his arms around Cheol’s neck and captured his lips in a surprisingly hungry kiss.

Cheol froze for exactly half a second.

Then his hands slid instinctively to Jeonghan’s waist, steadying him, pulling him closer as if afraid he might disappear.

The kiss was clumsy. Desperate.

Too fast and too slow at the same time.

All bottled-up feelings and unsaid words crashing together.

Jeonghan’s eager lips set his entire being alive and, right then and there, Cheol knew that he would crave Jeonghan in every way, every day, always.

Jeonghan let out a small, breathless sound, and Cheol felt something inside him snap.

Not in a bad way.

In a this-is-it way.

He deepened the kiss just slightly, careful, as though asking permission. Jeonghan answered by gripping his collar tighter.

“Cheol…” he murmured against his lips.

“Yeah?” Cheol whispered back.

“I’ve…wanted to do that for a long time.”

Cheol smiled softly, forehead resting against Jeonghan’s. “Me too.”

They stayed like that for a moment, breathing each other in.

Then—

“Oh my God.”

They both froze.

Minghao got back from his restroom break and was now standing by the kiosk, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“I leave you two alone for five minutes,” he continued flatly, “and you turn my kiosk into a drama set.”

Jeonghan yelped and tried to escape, but Cheol held him firmly.

Minghao pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jeez…I’m not earning enough for this.”

Jeonghan buried his face in Cheol’s chest, giggling.

Cheol, too, laughed, tightening his arms around Jeonghan. “You kissed me first.”

“I was provoked!” Jeonghan exclaimed.

“I flirted.”

“You trapped me!”

“Romantically.”

“Shut up!”

Minghao pointed at them accusingly. “You two. Stop canoodling. Now.”

“Canoodling? Who, are you, my grandmother?” Jeonghan quipped, much to Minghao’s chagrin.

Still laughing, Cheol let Jeonghan go so he could get back to work.

But before completely releasing Jeonghan, Cheol squeezed his hands. 

Cheol squeezed Jeonghan’s fingers gently. “So,” he said quietly, “are we…?”

Jeonghan smiled, cheeks pink. “…Yeah. We are.”

Cheol grinned.

Best argument he’d ever had.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

EPILOGUE

“If it’s a minute waltz why does it last for more than a minute?” Jeonghan asked as he walked astride Cheol, their hands clasped together and swinging between them.

“​Don’t they teach you homonyms in acting school?” Cheol frowned. “It’s called that because it’s a miniature waltz. As in, it’s a small music piece.”

“Ah…” Jeonghan said, not really understanding what Cheol explained. “I still don’t  understand,” he admitted.

Cheol chuckled, squeezing Jeonghan’s hand. “See, this is why I want to kiss you all the time—you’re kind of always clueless.”

“Hey!” Jeonghan protested, much to Cheol’s amusement.

They walked in silence after that, listening to the sounds of Seoul’s night, feeling the chilly breeze wrap itself around their bones.

“You know…” Cheol began as they passed the bus stop. “Ever since I met you, I keep hearing different songs in my head. I think I’m developing synesthesia.”

Jeonghan looked sideways at him, baffled. “Synesthesia?”

Cheol shrugged. “It’s when your senses get mixed together in your brain. So instead of working separately, they overlap. You start relating different experiences to different songs or colors.”

“And with you it’s just songs?”

“Yep,” Cheol beamed at him. “Somehow, every time I’m around you, I hear music playing in my head.”

“Really?” Jeonghan said, failing to hide his glee.

“Every single time.”

“How about now? What do you hear?” Jeonghan asked as he leaned his head on Seungcheol’s shoulder. 

“Antar by Rimsky-Korsakov.”

“I have no idea what that sounds like but I’m guessing it’s a love piece.”

“It is,” Cheol chuckled lowly. “I’ll play it for you later.”

Jeonghan straightened at that. “Later? But where?”

Cheol stopped walking abruptly, pulling Jeonghan to a halt. He flicked Jeonghan’s forehead playfully. “Silly. Didn’t you think I have a piano at home?”

A soft, gentle smile slowly bloomed on Jeonghan’s face as a warm glow seemed to come alive in his chest, painting his ears and his cheeks a lovely shade of crimson. Yet, ever the playful man whom Cheol fell for, Jeonghan masked his reaction rather cheekily,

“You know,” he said. “You could’ve just said you wanna take me home.”

“Well, I do wanna take you home—”

“Aha!” Jeonghan pointed accusingly at Cheol.

“—to play the piano for you! What, you think I’m some sleazy guy? We just kissed for the first time, Jeonghan, jeez!”

“Oh, quit being so defensive. I know you secretly want me anyway. You just got caught off-guard because I’m sharp like that.”

Cheol sighed, not out of frustration this time but out of sweet, pure adoration. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty. I think I have no choice from now on but to be a sucker for you.”

“Nah, I’m just right all the time.”

“Yes, you are, sweetheart,” and Cheol  planted a kiss right on Jeonghan’s lips.