Chapter Text
Hyunjin glanced at the clock again. 7:15 AM, and he was already struggling to stay awake.
The café had only opened fifteen minutes ago, and he was leaning against the counter with his sketchbook spread open in front of him, a pencil loosely resting between his fingers. The early morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the artsy campus café, catching on the glass jars filled with coffee beans and dried flowers that decorated the shelves. It was quiet, except for the soft hum of the espresso machine warming up.
The semester hadn’t even begun yet, but Hyunjin had still agreed to take early shifts.
He had insisted on it, actually.
He now deeply regretted choosing this café job purely because the place had vibes.
In hindsight, vibes were a terrible reason to wake up before sunrise. Why had he chosen this over sleeping in like a normal person?
Actually, a normal person wouldn’t even be here yet. They’d still be at home, packing or getting ready to move into their dorms.
Minho was.
Hyunjin had tried—desperately—to convince his best friend to move in early with him. His reasons had ranged from “We could explore campus together and search for cute guys,” to “Please, Minho! We could practice in the dance studio before anyone else arrives.”
Minho had stared at him, completely unimpressed, and simply signed:
Sleep exists for a reason. And there are no cute guys on campus that early. The only one crazy enough to do such things is you.
Hyunjin sighed softly, tapping his pencil against the paper. He flipped the page, revealing his newest drawing: him and Minho as kids.
He kind of missed him.
Which was ridiculous, given that he’d seen him just two days ago. Still, Hyunjin couldn’t remember the last time they had gone that long without seeing each other.
It was probably after the accident.
Even then, when Hyunjin had woken up in the hospital, all groggy and confused, the first thing he had seen was Minho sitting beside his bed.
Two years had passed since then, and Hyunjin still carried the reminder of it across his body. A long scar stretched across his abdomen, and some mornings the dull ache in his foot made it difficult to even stand, let alone dance.
The doctors had strongly advised against him majoring in dance.
Hyunjin stubbornly ignored them.
He and Minho had been planning this since they were eleven and twelve, already convinced that becoming dancers together was the most obvious future imaginable.
Rooming together was the most obvious choice.
They always did everything together.
Hyunjin leaned back slightly, letting his mind wander as he absentmindedly flipped a page in his sketchbook.
Their first meeting replayed in his mind like a small, fuzzy memory.
He had tripped on the playground during third grade—dramatically, according to Minho. He had scraped both of his knees, and while the other kids had laughed, one quiet boy had walked over and simply offered his hand.
Minho.
They had become friends almost immediately.
Mostly because neither of them had many of those.
Hyunjin didn’t, because he talked too much, filling every silence with rambling stories and half-finished thoughts, while Minho didn’t have any because he didn’t talk much at all. Eventually the other kids had grown tired of conversations that felt like talking to a wall.
For them, though, it worked perfectly.
Hyunjin talked.
Minho listened.
It wasn’t until later that they realized maybe Minho hadn’t been ignoring people on purpose.
He just couldn’t hear them.
He was diagnosed with mild-to-moderate hearing loss not long after.
Hyunjin had been there for everything—sitting beside him during the doctor’s appointment, watching Minho nervously hold his first pair of hearing aids, and dragging him out afterward for ice cream because he had no idea how else to celebrate something that wasn’t exactly good news.
From that moment on, Hyunjin had attended every single sign language class with him.
At first it had just been so Minho wouldn’t have to learn alone.
But eventually, it became something else entirely.
A secret language that belonged to them.
Minho preferred signing over speaking most of the time anyway. It was easier, clearer, and far less exhausting than lip-reading in loud places.
There was only one person he really wanted to talk to that much anyway.
Hyunjin.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t talk; he was able to do so just fine. But Minho wasn’t quiet because he couldn’t hear well—he was quiet because that’s just who he was.
When he absolutely had to, Minho relied on his hearing aids and lip-reading. But when things got too chaotic to keep up, and those methods failed, there was always one person who never did: Hyunjin. He was always there, ready to interpret and make Minho’s life easier.
They had become practically inseparable after that, attached at the hip.
Hyunjin had probably spent more nights at Minho’s house than at his own, and when the idea of college finally arrived, their plan had been obvious: same school, same major, same dorm.
The soft jingle of the café doorbell suddenly cut through his thoughts.
Hyunjin blinked, startled out of his memories, and looked up.
A boy had just walked in.
He was slightly shorter than Hyunjin, his dark hair a bit messy like he had run a hand through it too many times. A pair of earphones hung loosely around his neck, and his backpack sat crookedly on one shoulder.
Hyunjin found himself staring for a moment.
He had honestly expected to be the only person insane enough to show up on campus almost two weeks before the semester started.
The boy approached the counter and offered him a small, shy smile.
“Hi,” he said quietly. “Can I please get a decaf?”
Hyunjin blinked.
Decaf?
Who orders decaf?
Still, he nodded quickly and turned to the espresso machine.
The boy stood there waiting, fingers absentmindedly playing with a silver bracelet around his wrist, occasionally shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he couldn’t quite stand still.
Hyunjin noticed it without meaning to.
He also noticed the way his glasses slid down his nose every few seconds.
Still distracted by his thoughts about Minho—and maybe a little by the fact that the stranger was unexpectedly cute—Hyunjin found himself muttering under his breath.
“Who even orders decaf?”
The boy laughed.
Hyunjin froze.
Oh.
He hadn’t thought that.
He had said that.
Mortified, he turned back around, simultaneously grabbing the finished drink.
Just as he stepped forward to hand it over—
His foot caught on absolutely nothing.
And suddenly half the cup was splashing directly onto the boy’s chest.
The boy gasped, jumping back.
Hyunjin stared in horror.
“Oh my god—I’m so sorry!” he blurted, immediately reaching forward with a napkin and trying to wipe the coffee off the stranger’s shirt.
Which only made things worse.
“I don’t think this is helping,” the boy said, laughing softly.
Hyunjin immediately dropped his hands.
“I’m so sorry—really—I’ll make you another one, on me of course! Does it burn? Of course it burns, it’s coffee, why did I—what am I doing—”
He had fully entered rambling mode now, not even addressing the stranger anymore.
“It’s okay,” the boy interrupted gently. “I probably needed the wake-up call anyway. Decaf doesn’t really do much.”
Hyunjin blinked.
“Then… why order decaf?”
The boy shrugged. “Habit, I guess.”
Hyunjin shook his head slightly, trying to regain some dignity.
“Right. Okay. Let me make you something actually drinkable. With caffeine.”
The boy smiled.
“No thank you. I’ll stick to the non-working decaf.”
He paused before adding awkwardly,
“And maybe… to go. I have to go. Should probably change my shirt.”
Hyunjin winced.
Right.
That was fair.
A minute later he handed over a new coffee in a to-go cup.
When the boy pulled out some money, Hyunjin quickly waved his hands.
“It’s on me, remember?”
The boy only grinned and set the bill down anyway.
“I know,” he said.
“That’s the tip. For the cute barista who just spilled hot coffee on me.”
Hyunjin’s brain short-circuited.
And just like that, the boy turned and walked out, not sparing Hyunjin another glance.
The doorbell jingled softly behind him.
Hyunjin stood there for a moment, completely frozen.
As the stranger started to disappear from his view, Hyunjin noticed two small pins attached to his backpack.
A baseball and a camera.
He tilted his head slightly.
Was he an athlete?
A photographer?
Both?
Would they ever meet again?
Hyunjin realized, somewhat embarrassingly, that he hoped they would. He wanted them to.
With a quiet sigh, he grabbed the mop and began cleaning up the coffee he had spilled all over the floor, still thinking about the boy who couldn’t stand still, ordered decaf, and tipped him after getting his shirt ruined.
Just as he was finishing up, the bell jingled again.
Hyunjin looked up to see a blonde guy walk in, a huge smile on his face, a duffle bag over his shoulder and hearing aids tucked behind his ears.
Minho.
Hyunjin dramatically dropped the mop and ran over to the door, pulling Minho into a quick hug before giving him a pat on the shoulder.
What the hell? I thought you wouldn’t arrive until next week? You literally told me so! But this is actually perfect timing. You see, I just met the cutest guy ever but I totally messed up and—
Hyunjin stopped his frantic hand movement and actually looked at Minho.
Why the hell are you blonde?!
Hyunjin signed and spoke at the same time, maybe for emphasis but mostly out of disbelief.
He quickly moved closer and ruffled Minho’s freshly bleached hair.
Minho just chuckled and raised a brow.
I wanted a change. You know, new year, new me or something. Looks great, right? I’m thinking of purple next.
Minho’s hand movements were effortless and fluent. They always were.
Hyunjin stood in disbelief for a second before breaking out into a huge grin.
I missed you,
he quickly signed.
Minho just playfully rolled his eyes at the dramatics. It had only been two days, and would he actually be Minho if he admitted to missing him too?
Instead of doing that, he asked about the cute boy Hyunjin was rambling about earlier.
Ugh. I actually messed up, Minho. I met like THE cutest guy earlier. He was really good-looking. Not the “hey look, I want to impress you” kind, but the kind that just looks smart and gorgeous, y’know? He couldn’t stand still for one second but maybe that’s part of the charm, right? And he ordered decaf. Who orders decaf, Minho? But I actually messed it all up! Minho, I threw his coffee on him. Actually it was decaf—again, who orders decaf? And—
“Hyunjin. Stop.” Minho had to verbally interrupt him before Hyunjin twisted his fingers with how fast he was signing.
Hyunjin looked at him, intrigued, but all Minho signed was:
You spilled coffee on him?
Hyunjin groaned and pulled his hands over his face, quickly removing them again to sign. He could just talk. Minho had become really good at lip-reading, and it was quiet enough in the café that Minho would be able to understand him.
But what kind of best friend would do that? Hyunjin had always signed with Minho. Because it’s about respect and caring, not about what’s convenient.
Plus, it had always been more intimate for them to sign. It was Minho’s preferred language, and Hyunjin had specifically learned it for him, after all. It had become a habit anyway—a given that they would always sign when they were together.
That’s what you’re focusing on?
Hyunjin signed back carefully.
Well, do you know his name?
Minho, always asking the logical questions.
And in that moment, Hyunjin realized
he, in fact, did not catch the beautiful stranger’s name.
He might’ve met the love of his life and he didn’t even get a name. All that remained of him was the tip and curiosity he left behind.