Chapter Text
Like everything else Ivan did in his life, it was completely intentional.
Sua would side-eye him for that, as she did with his other little antics, but Ivan thought she should look at him with more gratitude. After all, he had been largely responsible for her successful love life—not that the older girl would ever admit to that.
The hobby begins the same way it always does with Ivan: curiosity. Curiosity was a fickle, wonderful little thing—pushing him to do things he would otherwise be content to ignore.
It was like noticing how his cousin Sua had started frequenting the small cafe he worked at, even though she didn’t really like him and had no real reason to care about the tea there. She could afford the best anywhere she wanted. Not that Ivan minded.
It wasn’t like he liked Sua at all either.
But she was the most tolerable of his insufferable family, and the expression on her face whenever she was in the coffee shop was interesting.
Ivan had never seen that look before.
Sua has always kept her distance. Her face rarely betrayed any emotion, much like Ivan's—in fact, so much so that their parents once joked they might as well be twins. Neither of them found this amusing, but a single shared glance was enough for Ivan to recognize that her disdain during these gatherings mirrored his own.
It was unsettling to find someone so similar to himself.
Sua and he usually stand on the sidelines, exchanging the occasional nod of acknowledgment as they wait for the hours to pass and another tedious gathering to come to an end. Either that, or until one of their parents finally relents and announces they're leaving—usually because of an unexpected business call.
Their families really ought to stop attending these gatherings every two weeks. Better yet, someone should put an end to hosting them altogether. It was obvious that everyone disliked one another, but Ivan supposed the wealthy had too much money to concern themselves with the practicality of how it was spent. Not that he was any better—he was, technically, cut from the same cloth.
Sua always keeps to herself whenever he sees her, her walls so firmly in place that Ivan cannot imagine her without them.
But this—the faint warmth spreading across her cheeks, the softness in her gaze as she sipped her chamomile tea, the small yet unmistakable smile on her lips—was new. There was something peculiar in the way Sua’s purple eyes nervously glanced at the door every now and then, scanning the coffee shop as though it were her first time there. As if she were waiting for someone who wasn’t coming.
It was something Ivan didn’t fully understand.
It was almost as if his cousin were an entirely different person—and perhaps she was. Despite their similarities, Sua and Ivan had never been close. They had shared little more than silence, lingering on the sidelines at their endless family functions.
He has never exactly kept their relation a secret, but it still surprises the people he lets close when they eventually find out. It’s not that he can blame them. He and Sua barely cross paths, and even when they do, neither of them goes out of their way to socialize.
At first, Sua at the coffee shop was no different.
The older girl barely acknowledged his presence, even when ordering her usual tea. Ivan sometimes found himself wondering, half-amused, whether she even acknowledged him as more than part of the furniture.
But then, Ivan finds her lingering by the counter where he worked the machine, and before long, they were exchanging small conversations. Small was an overestimation, but it was the best word he could use to describe their talks. The thing is, he doesn’t remember ever talking to Sua before.
Ivan would like to say it came from the kindness of his heart, a favor for his dearest cousin. Everyone would believe that—he’s good at making people believe things. But Ivan and Sua both know better.
It all started with a simple scone.
He knew it would make Sua hesitate, but he also knew it would make her speak. About what, he wasn’t sure—but somehow, it worked.
She may have refused it at first, saying she didn’t want it, yet it finally made her notice him. Nothing comes for free, Ivan knows that best—and from that, he forged an unlikely exchange with her.
Sua would ask about his work, his classes—the mundane little topics Ivan found annoying but answered anyway. In return, he would toss the questions back to her, learning something new about the person he shared a bloodline with. Before long, he found himself noticing the subtleties in her words.
Sua and Ivan were alike—perhaps their parents' unfunny little remark held some truth. Sua might be perceptive, as sharp as he was, but she made the mistake of lowering her walls a bit around Ivan.
Ivan had always been good at noticing the smallest shifts—like how her questions inevitably circled back to a certain pink-haired regular.
It didn’t take long for him to figure out the reason behind his cousin’s sudden change. She would glare at him whenever he brought it up once they had grown closer, but Ivan would justify that she hadn’t hidden it very well to begin with.
But perhaps that was because he and Sua weren’t as similar after all.
The catalyst for his cousin’s unexpected vulnerability takes form in Mizi, who was coincidentally on the student council with Ivan. Being the only two sophomores on the council had created a kind of rapport, so he had become familiar with her—definitely more so than he ever was with Sua.
Ivan was fairly sure he and Mizi weren’t friends, but she certainly acted as if they were. He didn’t mind—Mizi was… nice. She could be clingy, draping herself over his arm or leaning into his shoulder at random when they sat together, to the point that Ivan barely even noticed when she held his hand or rested her head on his lap. Even so, he found their conversations entertaining enough.
She was generous as well, sharing notes—whether from council meetings he had missed (not that there were many) or from shared classes. Ivan didn't have much reason to not indulge in her whims, so he let Mizi do as she pleased.
For some unknown reason, she always seemed to seek his company.
Mizi's interest in him, as Ivan observed, had increased since she happened to catch him working his shift at ALL-IN Coffee. It was a small coffee shop near campus which he had spontaneously decided to join part-time after seeing a flyer on the college bulletin.
She had since started coming by the shop during his shift, venting to him about frustrating classmates or raving about interesting classes, letting her frappe slowly melt on the counter.
Ivan found it fascinating how easily she opened up around him. There was a certain charm to the way she talked about her day, her words vivid enough to paint a picture. He found himself easily listening, nodding or occasionally affirming her.
“... So, he’s really cool and I told him to swing by here sometime,” Mizi rambled on about some underclassman that Ivan had zero interest in, but he listened attentively anyway. She finally took a spoon from her frappe, a strawberry pitifully falling to the counter as the pink-haired girl squealed in glee at the sugary sweetness.
Ivan mentally noted that he’d definitely have to wipe her side of the counter once she left for class.
“He’s very shy, but he’s passionate and talented, and he likes coffee! He’s been bummed recently because his favorite coffee shop closed down and, yeah, I told him I'm friends with the barista here—he’ll definitely like your Americano!”
He paused briefly, half-smiling. “You’ve never ordered anything but frappes.”
“I know.” Mizi nodded, then pointed her spoon at him as if to make a point. “But you’re so skilled, Ivan. I’m sure anything you make would be good—I mean, this is the best frappe I’ve ever had! I won’t be going to another coffee shop again, you can quote me on that.”
Ivan blinked at the compliment, then quickly regained his composure. “I’ll make sure to not disappoint then,” he replied. “If he comes over, that is.”
“Oh, he’ll come,” Mizi said with certainty. “I’m sure you two will get along—you guys like the same stuff.”
Like the softness Sua displayed inside ALL-IN, Mizi’s optimism also intrigued him. She clearly grew up sheltered and loved, giving it all away so freely without a second thought.
Truly fascinating.
He finds himself comparing it to how he saw Sua—almost like a doll on display during their countless family gatherings. She might as well have been, since she just stood there the entire time—not that Ivan was much different.
“Speaking of getting along,” Ivan started, measured. He briefly glanced at the ridiculous cuckoo clock on the wall. Mizi usually didn’t overstay her welcome—she had plenty of extracurricular commitments like Ivan, even if she wasn't as academically-driven—but that seemed to be out the window today. “My cousin goes here sometimes. Would you like to meet her?”
Ivan wasn’t particularly interested in playing cupid for his cousin, well, not initially at least. But curiosity got the better of him, so he thought, why not?
He had toyed with the idea for a long while anyway, and while it had been amusing at first, he was starting to get tired of his cousin fidgeting around her chair whenever she came over.
He almost smiles at the thought. He ponders what expression Sua would make next.
Mizi looked flattered by the suggestion, eyes shining with delight as she grinned. "I'd love to," she said. "I've never met your family before."
Ivan shrugged at that.
Maybe it did feel unfair to Mizi. After all, she had introduced him to her mother once, when her mother came to pick her up after a university event.
He takes a quick look at the ridiculous cuckoo clock again. The bells chimed right on schedule, announcing the arrival of a new customer.
Ivan wore his usual customer-service smile, one that had become second nature over the years, as he watched the older girl make her way to the counter. It didn’t escape his attention that his cousin was deliberately keeping her eyes away from the pink-haired girl sitting at the side.
“Hey, Sua,” he called, earning a sharp, wary look from the older girl. “Your usual chamomile for today?”
“Oh,” Mizi replied, not looking at Ivan. “Your cousin is Sua,” she said, the beam on her face undeniable.
He definitely expected Sua to be on high alert. She had always been perceptive like that, but he finds that amusing at the least. Mizi’s reaction, however, he hadn’t really taken into account.
Ivan smiles. “Do you know each other already?”
“Not really,”
“Yes!”
They said at the same time.
“I mean…” This Sua was definitely different from the one he saw at family gatherings, playing with her fingers as she avoided Mizi’s gaze. “I—we know each other from the music club, but we don’t really talk much. Sorry,” she spluttered, the apology more directed at Mizi than anyone else.
Mizi had a different look on her face as well. Her chartreuse eyes were wide, pink lips parted, and for a second Ivan thought he imagined it—except he had photographic memory and knew exactly what he saw.
“We should change that,” Mizi exclaimed, her smile familiar yet somehow new. Ivan had never seen that expression before. “I didn’t know you’re Ivan’s cousin! Now, we really have to be friends.”
Sua stared at Ivan, her purple eyes clouded with equal parts judgment and concern. She was clearly piecing it together, and Ivan knew she was on the right track. So, he kept his polite smile—the gears in his mind turning as his finger tapped lightly on the counter.
“What a small world,” Ivan bantered lightly as the two girls lost themselves in each other's gaze, the rest of the coffee shop fading away.
Ivan had never been one for weddings, but he thought that if Sua and Mizi ever decided to tie the knot, Sua should definitely give him something nice. Or maybe invite him. He thinks he might not mind performing the tedious pleasantries if it were for her.
He has witnessed everything after all. He saw the way they met up at the counter by Ivan’s side and blushed like teenagers each time. Ivan had watched the accidental touches between their fingers grow deliberate. He had overheard their conversations become quieter, more intimate.
Soon, they didn’t even sit at the counter anymore. Ivan would see Mizi waving at him as Sua nodded in acknowledgement before they settled into a small corner table, far enough away to be out of Ivan's earshot.
Well, that was supposed to be the end of that.
And Ivan was truly happy for them—or at least he thought he was. That was if the books and movies he watched were any guide.
Mizi and he had grown a lot closer; he thought he could call himself her friend now—she even confided in him sometimes when Sua wasn't there. His relationship with Sua improved too. She even spoke to him during functions, so the constant reunions weren't quite as dreadful as before (although he maintains his opinion that his relatives should stop hosting them altogether).
Ivan still found teasing her about Mizi the most fun, but he had since dialed it down when the older girl resorted to physical measures to shut him up.
He supposed his interest had really begun, if it could be traced, when Mizi gave him a list of movies and books to watch. The recommendations were predominantly romance, though Ivan didn't mind. He studied it over and over—almost like an assignment rather than the pastime Mizi had probably intended for him. He observed how, despite the tediousness of the chase at times, the end was always mostly satisfying.
He supposed that’s all there was to it.
There was that similar satisfaction when he looked at Mizi and Sua huddled at a corner table in the back, so engrossed in their own world. If he thought about it too long, he guessed it wouldn’t be so bad to admit that it was partly because of him, right?
Yes, perhaps that was what a romance writer feels to at every pay off, or the director when the credits roll.
But still, as Ivan stood behind the counter, every task for the day was done, he was bored.
The second time around was more purposeful. It was a random Tuesday when Ivan noticed his teammate Isaac and his lingering gaze. He noticed that the older boy had been visiting the coffee shop intermittently for quite some time.
Like everyone else in his life, Ivan didn’t really care about his teammates.
He was still cordial with them, able to go out for a drink every now and then. On any other day, he would’ve ignored Isaac outside of practice (unless he greeted him first). But just like the first time around, he didn't think he had ever seen the brunet—usually so intimidating—with such tender eyes.
It didn’t take long for Ivan to realize who Isaac was looking at with that gaze so full of affection that Ivan could almost feel his organs twist inside.
And so, his second plan was set in motion. He brewed a cappuccino and approached his teammate with a gentle smile.
“Isaac, nice to see you,” he greeted, settling the steaming cup on his table.
“Oh, Ivan, I didn’t know you work here,” Isaac replied, smiling, and turned to look at the cup, “Ah, I didn’t order this.”
“It’s on the house,” Ivan said easily. “From that guy.” He gestured to Dewey, his co-worker, who was currently entering the staff room to replace him shortly for his shift.
Dewey won’t come out for a while. He'd wait exactly until Ivan's shift was done before taking over.
He had once mentioned, offhand and without a care, that he wasn't going to work outside the hours he was paid for, choosing to waste the minutes lying on his stomach on the couch in the staff room, doomscrolling on his phone and watching cat videos.
Ivan didn't really care—it wasn't like Dewey didn't replace him exactly on the dot anyway.
It worked out perfectly, in fact.
It was the very foundation of the current ship he was trying to sail. A little miscommunication was necessary to make a relationship stronger (or in this case, get their start).
He noted once that it was a recurring theme in all those romance movies Mizi recommended.
“Huh?” Isaac’s fairly tanned skin reddened, and Ivan saw his brown eyes widen as his teammate looked at the cup again, as if Ivan had just given him the moon. Clearing his throat, he mumbled, “Tell him I said thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” Ivan said, raising a finger to his lips as he winked. “He’s a little shy.”
Okay, so maybe Dewey hadn't ordered that cup of coffee for Isaac. But Ivan knew Dewey knew that Isaac liked to order cappuccino, and it wasn't like he wasn’t doing Dewey any favors either.
He had seen how the blond looked at the jock during the off-chance they shared a shift.
He saw the way he added a little more than standard to Isaac’s coffee order (which Hyuna would definitely be angry about if she found out, but Ivan didn't really care enough to report that measly bit of information to her).
Ivan found the thrill fun and refreshing, so he didn't stop there. Even when Dewey and Isaac had seemingly cozied up to one another (Ivan had seen them holding hands under the table once when Dewey should've been doing inventory), he found someone else.
It could be the shy girl who came up to get his number, the student council vice president who kept getting flustered when it was Jacob manning the cash register—it was really anyone's game. As long as they caught Ivan's eye, they were in for a hell of a matchmaking.
It was a momentary stimulation—Ivan thought of clever ways to get the pair to see each other in another light, watch as they become more comfortable, then again. Rinse. Wash. Repeat.
It made its way into his work routine before he could even realize it, and Ivan didn't mind at all. It certainly made his work more entertaining.
So the hobby continued to snowball into something larger with every pair he laid his eyes on. Ivan envisioned that it was really only supposed to accelerate from there. That was supposed to be the plan—at least until it all came crashing down one Thursday when chaos in the form of gray hair, eyeliner, loose clothes, and piercings entered the coffee shop and broke his perfect streak.