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“This one’ll probably take something like Iced Caffe Latte.”
“No, hyung, she seems like a Frappuccino kind of person!”
“Let’s see, shall we?” Yoongi drums his fingers as he and Taehyung watched a girl, probably in her late teens, sashay to the counter with a sparkly purse in one hand and a rose gold iPhone in the other.
Yoongi and Taehyung have this little game wherein they guess a customer’s order judging by the way they look and act – Taehyung’s idea. Of course, the patrons don’t count. The one with the most correct guesses wins (though 80% of the time they get it wrong). Prizes are muffins courtesy of the money from the wallet of the loser. A business man in a suit and tie? Probably an Americano. A soft-spoken woman with her shoulders wrapped in a beige shawl? Maybe a Macchiato. It’s all fun, really. Working in Bangtan Café bores Yoongi sometimes, especially when the mellow instrumental tunes playing in the quaint shop almost lull him to sleep. At least, through this impromptu game, Yoongi actually looks forward to seeing customers enter the café.
“Strawberries and Crème Frappuccino, please.” The girl says, honey lacing her voice. She smiles coquettishly at Yoongi, and he smiles back, albeit awkwardly – almost like a grimace, actually. The lady’s a looker, Yoongi can’t deny that, but it’s not his fault he’s a solid ten in the Kinsey scale (and the Kinsey scale’s highest degree is six – that’s just how gay Yoongi is).
“Score!” Taehyung cheers, pleased. “That’s three orders right for me and one for you. Ah, I think I’m stuffing myself with muffins today. Get’cha head in the game, hyung!”
Yoongi’s eye twitches. He really can’t afford to lose. Sure, Yoongi won’t willingly do something or anything at all, but press his buttons right and he can get competitive.
Yoongi suppresses the urge to roll his eyes; the customer’s still in front of him and she might report him for displaying bad behavior. (Well, not that it hasn’t happened before, when a particularly rude customer had ordered a chai but when the drink was presented to him, he insisted that they got his order wrong and shouted at Yoongi, spit landing on his cheek. Yoongi had a rough day back then, and nothing could’ve stopped his potty mouth, so he let out a stream of colorful words at the man, cursing him enough for a dozen of customers to openly gape at him and a few to give him the Stink Eye. Seokjin had been nice enough to let it slide, but Yoongi decides he’s not taking chances.)
His day went on uneventful as usual. The steady stream of customers has been anything but out of ordinary. After all, the coffee shop might be small, but it has served to be a refuge for college students sporting dark under-eye circles and a few nice old ladies chattering about what nice old ladies are supposed to chat about. Throughout the afternoon, Yoongi managed to surpass Taehyung’s score by a point – five to four.
“Guess the muffins are going down my belly at the end of the day, huh?” Yoongi grins lazily, hand propped up against his head.
“Oh shut up, hyung. We have, like, an hour.” Taehyung grumbles.
However, Taehyung gets another order right and their scores are now even. The younger raises an eyebrow at Yoongi, silently mocking, and the latter pretends to ignore him.
It’s 9PM when the door opens once more and the chimes let out a soft sound. A tall, built but slim walks in. He is wearing a bomber jacket that is probably two sizes bigger, seeing as the seemingly smooth material looks baggy on his lithe yet muscular frame. There is a snapback resting atop his vermillion hair (blood orange – how can he pull off such bizarre color? But then again, Yoongi’s own mint green hair isn’t exactly that normal either). Yoongi reckons he’s younger than him by a few years. The boy locks eyes with him, and Yoongi swears he saw him dart his pink tongue out to wet his lips.
“This is going to be my win.” Yoongi whips his head at Taehyung, breaking eye contact with the red-haired boy. “He’ll get a Green Tea Frappuccino, for sure.” Taehyung concludes.
Yoongi observes the boy. Maybe non-coffee? He looks like one of those boys who go to coffee shops for the frappes and aesthetic and not the actual caffeinated concoctions.
“Caramel Frappuccino,” Yoongi decides, eyes not leaving him. “I think he’ll get that.”
When the boy walks up to the counter, Yoongi’s voice dies down in his throat. He looks like a literal Aphrodite spawn with his features looking like it’s crafted by the gods. Oval face, gorgeous wide-set eyes and finely-sculpted nose. His skin shines under the soft homely glow of the coffee shop and oh wow, his lips are nice. Shaped like a heart, actually. His everything is nice.
“Hi,” Yoongi greets, voice cracking. He resists the urge to slap his hand over his forehead. He hears Taehyung snort behind him, trying to hide his laughter (key word: trying). Yoongi sharply elbows his ribs, reveling at the pained groan Taehyung tries to suppress.
The bright-haired boy looks at them with amusement swimming in his eyes and a small smile playing on his soft-looking lips. Yoongi clears his throat. “Hi,” he tries again. (His voice doesn’t crack this time, but it’s an octave higher than usual. He supposes it’s less embarrassing than his first attempt but still.)
“Hello,” The boy pauses, glancing at Yoongi’s nametag. “Suga-ssi.”
Okay, the sound of his voice reminds Yoongi of many things. There’s a raspy quality in his voice but at the same time, it flows smoothly, and Yoongi hates himself for being cheesy just by hearing him speak. This kind of thing only happens in rom-coms. Yoongi’s life is definitely not a rom-com. (“It’d certainly be a tragedy, hyung. Your diary could pass off as a very sad handwritten novel.” Yoongi hears Taehyung snicker inside his head.)
“What can I get you today?” Yoongi musters. This is it, Yoongi thinks. His free muffins lie in the next words that will come out of this boy’s mouth. He’s so sure that this boy will get something caramel-ly or something.
“Regular black, dark roast, venti,” He says.
Yoongi drops a Styrofoam cup.
“Could you – could you, maybe, repeat that again?” He asks, disbelieving. “Just… making sure, yeah…”
The boy lets out a small laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I’ll have a regular black coffee, dark roast, venti.”
Yoongi blinks, trying to process the his order as Taehyung praises the boy for being a real warrior. Not only did this kid order a black coffee, but he also wanted it in dark roast. Size venti. He’s bluffing, right? Yoongi can’t even take a sip of the too-bitter concoction without his face crumpling up in disgust.
“Shit,” Yoongi gasps out. “You’re a beast.”
The boy leans over the counter, eyes trained at Yoongi, looking up at the latter with his orangey-red messy fringe. “I’d show you a beast, but he’s trapped in my pants.” He finishes with a wink, looking too proud of himself.
Yoongi barely registers what he had said until he hears Taehyung’s obnoxious guffaws. “You, sir, are a legend.” Taehyung commends him mid-chuckles, patting the boy’s shoulder like they’re already best buds. Maybe they are, considering the fact that both are wearing matching grins at the moment.
Yoongi’s face suddenly feels hot, and he’s pretty sure there’s red pooling in his cheeks. He silently curses himself his genes for his too-pale skin, making his blushing even more visible. Screw that heart-shaped grin. Damn this guy.
But Min Yoongi is a Professional Barista, capitalized, and he won’t let gorgeous vermillion-haired boys with stupid grins catch him off guard, so he focuses his eyes on the space between the boy’s eyebrows instead of his stupid face as he asks for his name. “It’s for the cup,” Yoongi explains for no apparent reason. Maybe he doesn’t want it to seem like he’s exclusively asking for his name. (Even though Yoongi kind of wants to know it so he can finally stop dubbing him as the boy in his mind.)
“It’s Hoseok,” The bright-haired boy says. “Jung Hoseok.”
Yoongi isn’t sure why this boy just gave him his full name but he responds with a him nonetheless. He scribbles the boy’s name messily on the cardboard of the cup. “Well, good luck sleeping tonight, Hoseok.”
When Yoongi receives the payment from him, Hoseok’s hands lingered on Yoongi’s for a moment before withdrawing it. Yoongi swears he’s doing it on purpose. He even had the gall to wink at Yoongi as he saunters to the other side of the counter to retrieve his coffee from Taehyung who tells him to come back soon, because ‘I haven’t seen Yoongi react like a bumbling schoolgirl before, good job, man!’ Yoongi shoots them a look, but both are unperturbed.
“Bye, sugar,” Hoseok raises his free hand, the other holding his coffee as he exits the shop. Yoongi wrinkles his nose at the addition of extra letter to his alias. It’s Suga, he grumbles in his mind.
“Yoongi-hyung?”
“Don’t say it,” Yoongi warns Taehyung, his usual fire gone.
“But you’re blushing,” The younger points out, chortling.
“Shut up, Taehyung.”
(Today’s game ends in a deuce, five to five. Taehyung whines about wanting to eat muffins without spending his own money. “Brat,” Yoongi scoffs.
“Oh wait, I know!” Taehyung shoots up, as if suddenly having an epiphany. “Hyung, since we’re both tied, what if we both buy each other muffins.
Yoongi stares at him incredulously. “Then we might as well buy each other our own muffins, dumbass.”
“Oh.”)
Taehyung is manning the front line the next day, and Yoongi can’t be more thankful. He’s only had four hours of sleep (which only felt like four minutes) trying to fix the music track he’s working on in his Maschine which he’d bought with his own scrap of money. Taehyung had made it clear that morning that he pretty much looks like he’d been dragged to hell (“As much as I’d like to compliment your smokey eye, I’m pretty sure the eyeshadow is meant to be put on your eyelids, not under your eyes, hyung.”) with a smile on his face, unconcerned about the fact that Yoongi is looking at him with a grim expression.
“Ooh, what about him, hyung?” Taehyung whispers, motioning with his chin to point at a meek, doe-eyed boy in a black hoodie, looking a little out of place.
“He looks like a prepubescent kid. With muscles. Maybe he’ll go for a hot chocolate or something,” Yoongi muses.
“He’s taller than you, hyung,” Taehyung sneers. “And I think he’ll go for a Vanilla Bean Crème Frap.”
The doe-eyed boy shuffles to them, head hung low. Taehyung shoots him his signature boxy grin, wide and blinding. Yoongi rolls his eyes at Taehyung. “Look, you scared him,” He whispers. The kid is looking at Taehyung with his mouth parted, eyes glazed over like a deer in the headlights.
Yoongi eavesdrops as Taehyung asks him what he wants, but the boy mumbles his order incoherently, fiddling with his hands. “Come again?” Taehyung coaxes softly.
The boy forces a smile before speaking. “D-double ristretto venti half-soy nonfat decaf organic chocolate brownie iced vanilla double-shot gingerbread Frappuccino extra hot with foam whipped cream upside down double blended, one Sweet’n Low and one Nutrasweet, and ice, please.”
Yoongi chokes on his spit, disbelieving. Did this kid just use half of the words from the entire dictionary for his order? Fortunately, Taehyung had the kid run his order again but every time the doe-eyed boy repeats it, the words only jumble inside Yoongi’s head. He can only bite back a curse as he snatches the Styrofoam cup away from Taehyung’s hands, who mouths him a ‘good luck’ with a mocking smile. Yoongi bares his teeth at him before marching (stomping) off to make the complicated beverage. Maybe the kid won’t notice if he ever fucks up and adds two Nutrasweets instead of one. Curse that kid. Yoongi eyes the name Taehyung had scrawled in the cup. Jeongguk. Curse Jeongguk.
As Jeongguk leaves the café, Yoongi watches Taehyung stare forlornly at the boy’s retreating form. Yoongi is positive he can see hearts in Taehyung’s eyes, looking like that one tacky snapchat filter (not that Yoongi uses Snapchat, no, definitely not). “I think I’m in love,” Taehyung whispers, bringing the back of his hand to his forehead and sighing dramatically. Yoongi mock barfs.
The day goes on as usual, and there are no new customers, only the regular patrons with their ever-constant coffee orders so their order-guessing game is ignored, but still stands. Before Yoongi know it, the sky’s gone dark. He makes the beverages more and more sluggishly every passing minute and he ignores the fact that he’s actually starting to see doubles. Thankfully, Jimin tells him to rest for a minute and takes the cup overflowing with whipped cream from Yoongi’s hands. “I’ll handle it, hyung. You look like you’re about to fall over.” Yoongi lets Jimin cover for him with no complaints and gets his well-deserved rest. He makes a mental reminder to treat Jimin the blueberry scones he love for being the cherub he is.
It isn’t a while until he feels a shake on his shoulders. He opens his eyes and his vision slowly focuses on Taehyung’s distraught face. “Hyung, please take the cashier for a moment, I really need to take a shit.”
“Yeah.” Yoongi stands up from his seat, stretching his arms above his head. “Yeah, okay.” He plods to the counter. “Happy shitting,” Yoongi says dryly, a hint of sleepiness evident on his voice.
Taehyung gives him a grateful look before scurrying off to do his deed.
Yoongi unknowingly lets his eyes droop a little. Surely, he’d notice if there’s a customer, right? Yoongi lowers his head and completely closes his eyes, silently hoping no one would notice him and tell on him for sleeping on the job. There aren’t much customers anyway. Soon enough, the chattering in the café becomes distant and the noises gradually jumble, as if his head is being submerged into water.
“—ey, Suga-ssi. Wakey-wakey.”
Yoongi snaps out of his trance, eyes fluttering open only to find Hoseok’s face peeking up at him from below, eyebrows scrunched together in worry. His upper body is leaning over the counter, propping himself up with his forearms.
“Yah!” Yoongi abruptly steps back, startled. “Don’t go sneaking around like that!”
“Sorry,” Hoseok says, unapologetically before breaking into a cheeky grin. “I’ll have a regular black coffee, dark roast, size venti, by the way. Same as before.”
“Name?” Yoongi asks, hiding the fact that he already knows it. Hoseok humors him though, unsurprised about the fact that Yoongi ‘forgot’ his name.
As Yoongi scrawls the bright-haired boy’s name in the cup, the latter is still peering up at him with concern showing in his features. Yoongi doesn’t understand.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Hoseok doesn’t reply, but instead, he furrows his eyebrows even further. Yoongi finds himself getting more and more conscious under the boy’s unwavering gaze.
But as established way earlier, Min Yoongi is a Professional Barista, capitalized, and he won’t let gorgeous vermillion-haired boys with their stupid faces catch him off guard, so Yoongi returns Hoseok’s stare straight in the eye. “Spit it out,”
“But I swallow,” Hoseok states in all seriousness, voice dropping lower. Yoongi makes a noise that is definitely not a splutter before narrowing his eyes at Hoseok. Yoongi can also hear a faint ‘oh my god’ from Jimin, who scurries away, coffee cup in hand. Luckily, no one’s in line behind Hoseok and nobody in the café seems to notice them. Does he have any shame?
Hoseok lightly taps Yoongi’s nose with his index finger and all expression on Yoongi’s face is replaced with a confused one. “Get some sleep, Sugar.”
Yoongi blinks, opens his mouth to say something but decides on it and nods dumbly instead. Once again, the stupid heart-shaped grin is present in Hoseok’s face as he stands up properly and nods at Yoongi once before walking away to wait for his coffee, leaving Yoongi to stare at the surface of the counter where Hoseok once was.
(“Tae!” Jimin cries as he approaches Taehyung, arms outstretched. “Guess who’s being wooed by an admirer earlier?”
“Hmm,” Taehyung sits on a stool and attempts to do a ‘The Thinker’ pose. “Does his name rhymes uncannily with a Moongi?”
“Why, yes it does, Tae!” Jimin nods enthusiastically, trying not to laugh. “Do you have any idea who it might be?”
“Oh, I sure do!”
The two then turns to Yoongi, wearing identical grins. Yoongi glares at them as hard as his sleepy eyes can. The two only snickers, whispering to each other while still looking at Yoongi with mirth in their eyes. Yoongi just resorts to brandishing his middle finger on their faces.)
As much as Yoongi wants to deny it, Hoseok had been a regular occurrence, always stopping by the coffee shop at 9PM. The boy had never once forgot his daily coffee fix. Yoongi doesn’t even ask for his order anymore; he knows it by heart already.
(“I’d have a—“
“Regular black, dark roast, size venti? Yeah, I know,” Yoongi cuts him off, already scrawling Hoseok’s name in the cup.
Hoseok looks at him with a hint of teasing in his eyes. “You remembered.”
Yoongi only scoffs. “It’s not like it’s hard to remem—“
“Oh, our Suga over here always remembers you,” Taehyung suddenly comes from behind Yoongi, slinging an arm over his shoulders. “Not that you’re dead or anything.”)
It had also been a regular occurrence for Taehyung and Jimin to make Yoongi’s life hell, especially when Hoseok’s around. The two had taken it upon themselves to play matchmaker, and even hit on Hoseok for Yoongi
(“Wow, Hoseok-ssi, nice pants you’ve got there!” Jimin comments casually as he stands next to Yoongi.
“Yeah, but we bet it’ll look better on the floor of Suga-hyung’s bedroom.” Taehyung magically appears, nudging Yoongi with his shoulders. They both share a high five, much to Yoongi’s chagrin.)
Jimin insists they’re only doing it to help Yoongi’s hopeless ass, because god knows how awkward he is in flirting, verbatim. Yoongi knows better, though. He is very much aware that the two are set on embarrassing Yoongi as some kind of entertainment.
(Yoongi confirms this fact when Hoseok suddenly chuckles in the middle of spouting his dirty pick-up line. Yoongi raises a brow at him, but the boy only laughs louder, looking at something over Yoongi’s shoulders.
When Yoongi turns around, he tries not to bash his head on the marble counter.
Taehyung and Jimin are behind him, doing the most ridiculous poses Yoongi has ever seen. Taehyung has his hands clasped, lips puckered up while making obnoxious kissy noises. Jimin is shooting chest hearts in their direction, wriggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.
And Yoongi wonders, why oh why did he have to be friends with people like Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin?
Yoongi mulls over his life decisions, dropping down on his knees. He runs his palm over his face, wondering what the hell could he possibly have done to deserve a punishment like this.)
Sometimes, Hoseok stays in the café. He often sits by himself, unbothered and focused on watching something on his phone with his earphones plugged; incessantly bobbing to something as if listening to music and making random hand movements once in a while. Yoongi had been curious about what he’s watching so he asks Jimin to switch tasks with him and ends up in table-cleaning duty.
Yoongi is aware he looks stupid wiping the nearby table with a cloth in his hands while his eyes are squinting at Hoseok’s direction, trying to peek at what he’s watching. But the task is easier said than done, because Hoseok’s form is blocking the phone. Somehow, Yoongi manages to catch a glimpse of what he’s watching, and oh. He’s watching dance covers. Real dynamic ones, with b-boying and popping and locking and all that shit. It makes Yoongi wonder if Hoseok dances. He does look like the kind, though. Yoongi sometimes catches a glimpse of his biceps when his jacket slips off by his shoulders. Not that Yoongi’s staring at him. He’s just catching a glimpse, not staring, no.
Yoongi also notices that whenever the he isn’t watching something, he’s thumbing his phone without a care in the world.
That, or he’s either staring at Yoongi with glint on his eyes.
Yoongi still hasn’t decoded why Hoseok needs his caffeine fix so late at night. Clearly, he intends to stay awake, but for what reason? Yoongi’s not curious, really. For all he knows, maybe Hoseok is some actual serial killer who lurks under park benches during the latest of nights to keep an eye out for his next prey. Yoongi remembers he had read an internet about a handsome psychopath luring people in with his impeccable charisma and chopping them up in the end. That is a thing, right?
When he voices his thoughts out to Hoseok, the boy only laughs. “I am too pure to be a serial killer, Suga-ssi.”
To which Yoongi huffs, “Pure? Do you even hear yourself sometimes? Like, when you speak?”
“Don’t be like that,” Hoseok says, crossing his arms. “I am pure. And look at this face. Too nice to be a serial killer’s, right?”
“Some kind of pure you are.” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “And my name’s actually Yoongi. Min Yoongi. Call me hyung if you’re under 22.”
“Yoongi,” Hoseok enunciates carefully, as if testing how it sounds in his voice.
“You forgot to tack in the hyung, brat,” Yoongi chides somewhat playfully. Hoseok only shrugs. “So, why do you always need a black coffee so late?”
“Well, Yoongi-hyung, since you’re curious about my life,” Hoseok starts, “I happen to be a dancer, and I pretty much do my choreographies at night, hence, the black coffee. Makes me think.”
It does make sense, Yoongi thinks. Pretty much explains the amount of times he’s seen him watching dance choreos on his phone. For the most part, Yoongi’s just relieved he isn’t serving coffee to a serial killer.
“What about you?” Hoseok asks. “What do you do?”
“I’ve been obligated to deal with annoying brats who crack inappropriate jokes every now and then like it’s their second language.” Yoongi says monotonously as he dabs the cloth on a coffee puddle on the table.
“But you love me, don’t you?” Hoseok then brings his arms over his head, forming a heart shape. Yoongi almost throws the coffee-stained cleaning cloth at him before he realizes he and Hoseok are still not in that level of friendship.
“No I don’t. Shut up and drink your coffee before it gets cold.”
Hoseok obeys, taking a sip of his demon coffee before speaking. “No, seriously, what do you do? Outside this coffee shop, I mean.”
“I make music,” Yoongi pauses. “I write lyrics too.”
“Woah, really?” Hoseok looks at him, admiration evident in his eyes. “That’s actually cool. Maybe I could dance to your tracks. What kind of lyrics do you write?”
“Nothing you’d appreciate,” comes Yoongi’s clipped answer.
“Nah.” Hoseok leans his chin upon his palm. “If it’s you, I’d appreciate it.”
Yoongi blatantly ignores the warmth spreading in his chest as he only huffs in reply, because damn, no one’s ever made Yoongi feel like this about his music and Hoseok sure knows his way with words. Yoongi leaves the table with his cleaning cloth in hand, head ducked low so Hoseok couldn’t see his rapidly reddening ears.
When Yoongi arrives at the coffee shop a little but late than usual (read: twenty minutes late), Seokjin is waiting by the counter in his spruce rich man clothes. Once he sees Yoongi, his smile grows wider and that’s how Yoongi knows that this day will not go very well. He breaks eye contact with Seokjin and opts to stare at the ground instead.
“Yoongi!” Seokjin hollers cheerfully. “Come here!”
Yoongi walks up to him, shifting his weight on one foot to the other. “Let’s have a talk, shall we?”
Yoongi grumbles under his breath. “Oh no, what did I do now.” He mumbles sarcastically while Seokjin leads him to the empty staff room.
Maybe Seokjin’s going to kill him. Possible, Yoongi’s mind agrees. Seokjin can get away with murder, he’s sure of that. He’s a rich man with his visuals crafted by the gods. No one would ever suspect him even when they find him and Yoongi’s corpse in one room. Tragic.
“So,” Yoongi turns to face Seokjin, looking back at him like he’s found something out about Yoongi. “Why am I here? Why are we here?”
Seokjin’s face morphs into a neutral one, blank and expressionless. “I’m firing you.”
Yoongi chokes on his spit. He stares at the older man, biting his tongue. Did Jin-hyung just say that? Maybe his first speculation is kind of actually true. Seokjin basically killed him.
“Yoongi—“
Oh god. Yoongi’s actually going to die. He still has to pay for rent and Seokjin is robbing him off his job. Taking it away. He’s actually going to die. Min Yoongi, dead.
“Hey, Yoong—“
How could he buy this one music software program now? He hasn’t even conquered the charts with his music and he’s going to starve. And die. Maybe it’d be better if Seokjin actually killed him.
“Yoongi, I was just joking,” Seokjin tries to splutter out mid-chuckles. “You look stricken. God, the first reaction your face had made ever since I last saw you. Devastated.”
Yoongi smoothens his eyebrows and un-frowns his lips. “Never joke again,” he says monotonously. “Ever.”
“Can’t promise that,” Seokjin composes himself, brushing his hands over the creases of his pink suit. “Anyways, I heard some news about you.”
“What is it this time?” Yoongi furrows his brows, seeming disinterested but is actually curious. “News about me from who?”
“From Taehyung and Jimin. They told me some real scoop about you.”
Yoongi furrows his brows even further. “Never believe what the two menaces say. They’re lies. Lies, I tell you. Lies.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin smirks knowingly. “They seem to be telling the truth. Something about a loverboy named Hoshik or something? They said that he makes you – I quote, the human incarnate of a tomato. I swear, Jin-hyung, a tomato! Green-haired and red-faced! – end quote. Min Yoongi, blushing? Truly amazing. Now that’s something I want to see.”
“What the fuck?” Yoongi interjects, baffled. “What did they – they are so dead.” Yoongi stomps off, frowning like a child. “Dead, I tell you.”
“So, does that mean it’s true?” He hears Seokjin’s voice from behind.
“No!”
“Oh, and Yoongi?” Yoongi turns around.
“You were twenty minutes late. Don’t think you’re off the hook now.” Seokjin’s voice was stern, and Yoongi inwardly gulps. Seokjin can be intimidating at times. He nods, walking away again.
“Also,” Yoongi halts in his steps.
“I missed you, Yoongi.”
It really has been a while since he had last saw Seokjin. The elder had been busy with his rich man duties, travelling from city to city for business meetings and spending his remaining time with his husband-to-be, Kim Namjoon, another friend of Yoongi’s. Seokjin is one of Yoongi’s closest friends who truly understands him and his snappy behavior.
He mutters “Same.” under his breath as he continues to walk away and do his coffee shop duties.
When Seokjin said he wanted to see Yoongi blush he actually meant it.
The older even cancelled all his rich man duties, and is now with his fiance, almost cuddling in the café’s loveseat. The two are huddled together, immersed in their own lovey-dovey stuff. They seem to be playing a game of, “I love you,” “No, I love you more!” and Yoongi is actually about to go crazy. He would’ve ushered them out the goddamn coffee shop and told them to “Get a room for fuck’s sake!” but decided against it, considering that 1/2 of the couple basically owns the café and is capable of killing him.
“Aww,” Taehyung sighs dreamily, wiping the marble counter. “Are they not the cutest?”
“Cute my ass.” Yoongi retorts, rolling his eyes.
“Nah, yours is pretty flat, hyung.” The younger replies cheekily. “But our Jiminie over there… He has a pretty nice one.”
“What the fuck.” Yoongi will never ever be able to keep up with Taehyung’s shameless humor. Kids these days. “Why would you stare at Jimin’s ass? Okay but seriously, I’m about to hurl. Jin-hyung and Namjoon are those annoying couples you see everywhere. Bet you they refused to let the other pay on their first date. I’m 'boutta get sick.”
“Sick? The only illness you have is lovesickness, hyung.” Taehyung chuckled tauntingly. Yoongi actually wanted to hit him.
“And I found the cure,” Jimin pipes up from behind them, before shouting, “Loverboy at 2 o’clock!”
Yoongi feels hands (probably Taehyung’s because they’re large as hell) forcefully turn his head and he sees Hoseok walking toward the café. The chimes let out their melodious trills as the boy opens the doors, but the sound is muffled in Yoongi’s ears because he can only focus on Hoseok. Hoseok, who is wearing a black muscle tee and snapback, his forehead showing. Not to mention that he’s all sweaty and there’s a towel hanging on his shoulder. Yoongi is actually threatened.
However, Taehyung drags Hoseok to god-knows-where (when did Taehyung even got out of the counter?) and Yoongi feels someone fiddling with his nape. He turns around to see Seokjin untying his apron and Jimin is removing his Bangtan Café hat. They both drag him out the counter, and Yoongi is perplexed.
“This is a one-time thing, Yoongi,” He looks at Seokjin who is putting on the apron he was using earlier. Yoongi’s still confused. He gets pushed unceremoniously into the loveseat where Seokjin and Namjoon had been seating earlier (ew) but his ass lands on something rather hard. “Now go and triumph your love conquest!”
“What.” Yoongi looks around for someone to help him, but all the customers are suppressing their laughs and are probably as confused as him. Namjoon and Taehyung are standing side by side, the latter covering his face from laughing too much (why are they even laughing?) and the former is hitting the older’s shoulders from outright cackling.
When they leave Yoongi alone, he is still rendered speechless. Less and less people had been looking his way, and he’s quite relieved. However, when he feels someone’s breath tickle his nape, he’s baffled.
“Your ass is kind of bony, hyung,” a voice says from behind him, lips dragging dangerously near his nape and Yoongi jumps up from shock.
“Ow, what the—“ Yoongi sees Hoseok, clutching his face and wailing in pain. He has been sitting on Hoseok’s lap. How did he not know?
“Shit,” Yoongi curses, actually worried. “Hoseok, you okay?”
“I think you broke my nose,” Hoseok says nasally from clutching his nose.
Yoongi plops down the loveseat to sit beside the younger. He circles his fingers around Hoseok’s wrist. “Let me see.”
“Yeah, let me just—“
Yoongi leans in closer to inspect if he’d potentially fucked up someone’s face but there’s nothing actually wrong with his nose. What’s wrong is how Hoseok’s face is close, too close for comfort. Yoongi could see every strand of hair in his eyelashes. And oh god, his eyes. They’re plain dark brown just like his but how could they seem so mesmerizing? And his lips—
His face is so beautiful it’s illegal.
But Yoongi is Yoongi, so he pokes Hoseok’s nose without knowing. He snaps back to reality when he hears Hoseok’s yowls. “Yoongi!”
Yoongi scoots back before trying to glare at Hoseok (and failing). “Yoongi-hyung.”
“You don’t seem like a hyung,” Hoseok comments offhandedly. “You look like a toddler.”
“Excuse me?” Yoongi scrunches up his nose at him.
“Cute.” Before Yoongi can open his mouth to say anything, Hoseok cuts him off. “So, what do you want? My treat.”
“I can pay,” Yoongi insists, though he wants Hoseok to actually pay. He just doesn’t want to seem like he’s incapable or something. He still has this tiny bit of pride in him.
“Nuh-uh,” Hoseok tuts. “I’m paying. Don’t you worry your cute little ass. You can pay next time.”
Yoongi raises his brow. “What makes you think there’s a next time?”
Hoseok just smiles, before winking. How cryptic.
Yoongi glances at the counter to see Jimin and Taehyung watching them just in time before the two duck, trying not to be seen. Namjoon, however is unabashedly watching him and Hoseok, smiling. He waggles his fingers as a hello once Yoongi catches sight of him. Yoongi gives him the finger.
He turns back to look at Hoseok. “White chocolate mocha.”
“Noted.” The younger then walks to the counter to pay for their orders, leaving Yoongi alone in his thoughts. What happened earlier was… he was just not prepared for it. But he gives himself a mental high-five for managing to carry on a casual conversation with Hoseok without saying something embarrassing.
Speaking of conversations, Yoongi doesn’t know what to do now. He doesn’t even know if Hoseok and him have something in common. He doesn’t even know what to talk about. If it were any other person, Yoongi would opt to stay quiet and not speak; he’s too lazy for that. Hoseok, however…
Yoongi wanted to know him better.
“So.” Yoongi’s head snaps up once he hears Hoseok’s voice from beside him. He didn’t even notice the younger boy sit down.
“What,” Yoongi responds monotonously.
“Tell me about yourself.” Hoseok leans closer to Yoongi’s face, staring at his eyes. Yoongi backs off just a little bit, cheeks starting to feel warm.
Yoongi narrows his eyes. “What do you even need to know?”
“Hmm, anything, really. I don’t mind. Just want to hear you speak,” Hoseok says before leaning in closer to Yoongi. “Or, you could tell me your secrets,” He punctuates while wriggling his eyebrows.
Yoongi, the-ever prideful leans in closer too, not wanting to back down. “What makes you think I’d do that? Are we even…” He narrows his eyes further. “…friends?”
Yoongi didn’t expect the younger to lean even closer, their noses barely touching. “Oh, I don’t know. You tell me, Min Yoongi.” Hoseok’s voice is barely above a whisper, and it sends shivers down Yoongi’s spine. Not to mention that he can feel the younger’s breath fanning his lips.
Yoongi moves a tiny bit closer, almost getting dizzy and cross-eyed from how Hoseok’s face is so close to his, ignoring how his heart seems to be beating faster than usual. He glares at Hoseok, turning his chin up because he’s Min Yoongi, and he should be at least superior to the younger. “You forgot the hyung, brat.”
Yoongi barely hears the, “Drinks at the bar for Hoseok!” from the counter. He pokes Hoseok’s nose again, before walking to the counter to retrieve their drink from Seokjin who’s grinning at him, smirking at Hoseok’s wails of pain.
Once he gets back to the loveseat, two coffees in hand, Hoseok is holding his nose. “Do you like seeing me in pain that much?”
“What the fuck,” Yoongi shudders. “You could’ve worded it differently, you know.”
“Could’ve, didn’t.”
Suprisingly, Hoseok was easy to talk to. The younger was chatty, even bringing up his past life stories between sips of coffee. Yoongi was more of a listener, and is perfectly content with listening to Hoseok blabber about his high school grudges, and how he managed to pick the lock in his school’s dance studio every midnight with a face mask on just so he could dance. Hoseok asks him to talk about himself, and this time, Yoongi talks. They’ve had a fair share of highschool woes – those woes being embarrassing bowl cuts and terror teachers.
“You know,” Yoongi takes a sip of his coffee. “I never went to prom.”
“What?” Hoseok looks at him, wide-eyed. “Why?”
“Eh, didn’t feel like it.”
It was partly true. Yoongi doesn’t like social events – that’s a fact. Plus, he had no one to go to prom with, and no, that’s not because he was ugly (although he did look a little awkward in his high school days). A few girls had wanted to dance with Yoongi, waiting for him to ask them out but no, Yoongi just doesn’t like… girls. People were so close-minded back then, and Yoongi was so sure he’d get shamed if he ever danced with a boy.
“I swear, Yoongi,” Hoseok says, “You’re that one person who wouldn’t go to his own wedding because, eh, didn’t feel like it.”
Yoongi snorts. “Maybe.” He sets his coffee cup down the table, and notices the sleeve of the cup slip down a little. He narrows his eyes. There’s something written there. He brings the cup near his eyes for inspection.
Fat dick him or let him fat dick you. Your choice!
Sincerely, your only friends. <3
Yoongi slowly turns his head to where the counter is, and finds Seokjin and Taehyung sharing a popcorn (where did they even get that from), Jimin not-so-discreetly taking pictures on his phone, and Namjoon still watching.
Yoongi quickly covers the writing on the cup with the cup sleeve. He tugs at the hem of Hoseok’s muscle tee softly, catching attention. “Say, wanna get out of here?”
The next day, when Yoongi enters the coffee shop, he is immediately greeted by the teasing smiles of Jimin and Taehyung.
“So,” Taehyung starts. “Did anything happen yesterday?”
“Did you get some…” Jimin makes an circles his stubby fingers into thin air and bobs his hands up and down. “…dick action?”
Yoongi splutters, before bristling and turning at the two to glare at them. “What the hell?”
“Oh, come on, Yoongi-hyung, no need to be shy.” Taehyung pokes Yoongi’s sides with his index finger. Yoongi wriggles away, and slaps the former’s hands off him.
“Fuck’s sake,” The oldest of the three grumbles. “We just… walked to his dance studio.”
“And?” Jimin urges him to continue.
When Yoongi doesn’t reply and glares at them some more instead, the two are staring at him in disbelief.
“Yoongi-hyung, really? You didn’t even flirt?” Jimin asks, incredulous.
Taehyung then looks at him like a begging puppy. “Please, hyung. Just tell me you held his hand.”
Yoongi turns his nose up, ignoring the two’s complaints about how Yoongi is indeed hopeless in love and how they need to rev up his flirting game real fucking quick.
“And to think that you tugged the hem of his shirt yesterday before you two went out…”
“What about it?” Yoongi asks Jimin. Is there something wrong with it? He did it to catch Hoseok’s attention after all.
“It looked like you were asking for a good dicking!”
Taehyung sighs. “Oh no… You’ve led the poor boy on…”
“Poor, poor, Hoseok…” Jimin continues.
To sum it up, the whole day consisted of Yoongi pointedly ignoring Jimin and Taehyung’s pestering about how he should claim Hoseok’s ass already.
“I don’t even know if he’s single or not.” The words left Yoongi’s lips before he even took the time to realize what it meant. It made him pause in his tracks. What if Hoseok really is taken already? Fuck, he doesn’t even know if the boy’s gay.
“He is, hyung,” Jimin insists.
Yoongi looks at him with doubt. “How did you know?”
“Duh, have you seen the way he looks at you? Pure sin. He looks like he wants to jump you on the spot.” Taehyung reasons out. “If he has a girlfriend – or boyfriend – might as well call him a cheater.”
Yoongi lets Taehyung’s words settle down his mind. Does Hoseok really look at him like that? Maybe Taehyung was just exaggerating. Sure, Yoongi does catch Hoseok staring at him sometimes, but had thought nothing of it. Hoseok isn’t one of those bashful starers (you’re a songwriter, Yoongi, you should be better at words) who whips their head as if pretending that they’re not actually staring. Whenever Yoongi catches Hoseok staring at him, he doesn’t turn away, but instead, holds his gaze and it turns into an intense round of eye-staring contest.
But maybe Yoongi should make the first move. Yes, he likes Hoseok. Tried to deny it until now. Wasn’t a surprise, really. Yoongi’s totally seen it coming, but tried to dodge. It’s like a game of softball, with Hoseok continually throwing his – uhm – balls at him and Yoongi could only dodge for long. A shitty comparison, probably.
He’s made up his mind.
Yoongi looks at his wristwatch. It’s past 9 o’clock.
Maybe he’s not coming, Yoongi thinks.
Still, he’s waiting for Hoseok. He drums his fingers and taps his foot incessantly, looking at his wristwatch every now and then (discreetly, because Taehyung and Jimin might see and tease him for it).
“Waiting for him, aren’t you?” He hears Jimin’s voice beside him.
Yoongi only sighs. Denying is futile. It has already been almost three hours since 9PM. He checks his watch again. Ten minutes before closing time.
He can’t help but get pissed at himself. It’s not like you’re never going to see him again. He berates himself for being clingy, which is not Yoongi-like at all. They aren’t even together.
It’s stupid.
The clock strikes twelve and Yoongi gets up, switching the “OPEN” sign to “CLOSED”. He feels a tap on his shoulder, and sees Taehyung offering a muffin to him.
“I know we didn’t play our coffee-order-guessing-game today, you look like you needed it, hyung.”
Yoongi hums in reply. He takes a bite of the delicious pastry. “Thanks.”
He’s halfway into finishing his muffin when suddenly, the lights turned off. “What.”
He stays rooted to his spot, considering he can’t see shit. He hears the door creak open, and the chimes let out a twinkling sound. “Jimin. Taehyung. What are you two up to?” He says, stern yet tired.
He’s about to speak when he hears the soft sound of the piano reverberate around the room. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. The piano continues to let out a melodious sound, flooding Yoongi’s troubled mind with calmness.
“Look, you two,” Yoongi starts. “I get that you’re trying to make me feel better, but—“
The lights are switched on, and he finds himself face-to-face with—
“Hoseok.”
The younger boy nods, before smiling. “The one and only.”
Yoongi lets his eyes travel down Hoseok’s build. He looks like he is wearing a rugged version of a suit and tie. Hoseok is wearing a white top underneath his black bomber jacket, black jeans that hugged his leg muscles nicely and a tie… And black Yeezy’s.
Yoongi lets out a soft chuckle. “What are you wearing?”
“I am a self-employed dance instructor for a living and I eat cup ramyeon everyday to live so,” Hoseok shrugs. “Got no money for a proper suit and tie.”
“Relatable.”
Yoongi looks around to see the Seokjin hitting Namjoon’s shoulder repeatedly out of excitement (Yoongi doesn’t even know why, and more importantly, when did they even get here?) and Jimin is smiling really hard, cheeks bunching up under his eyes and all, while holding a tray of muffins. Taehyung is beside the speakers tapping wildly on his phone. The aux cord from is connected to his phone, and Yoongi can see that he is playing—
“Piano tiles? Really? That’s where the piano sounds are coming from?”
“I know, I know. I don’t have any money to pay for a private orchestra. Taehyung said he’ll cover for the music. I’m really, really poor. Like I said, I am a self-employed dance—“
“I get it,” Yoongi cuts him off, smile badly concealed considering that he is amused. Confused, but still amused. He can’t even help but grin, gums and teeth showing. “But really, what is this all about?”
Hoseok steps back, and reaches his hand out. Yoongi barely registers Jimin’s excited shrieks and Seokjin screaming “Fuck yes, finally!”, or Taehyung suddenly hitting the wrong note in piano tiles, making the cheesy music stop.
Yoongi is focused on Hoseok, bright-haired, bright-eyed, and is currently flashing a bright smile.
“I’m late today, I know. I had to finish my choreography so I can be free for the whole night, although it’s already past 12AM, but still... You get what I mean, right?”
Yoongi only nods, not trusting his voice to speak.
“So yeah, that. Also, you see, I kinda really like you, and I want to get to know you better, go on dates with you, and all that stuff. But you see, I’m broke as hell so I’m starting off with this because baby steps, Hobi. Alright, so Min Yoongi…” Hoseok closes his eyes and inhales. Once he blinks his eyes open, he reaches his hand out further.
“Can I have this dance?”