Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s six o’clock in the morning on a Saturday and Seokmin forgets to turn off his workday alarm, but it doesn’t matter very much since he’s been awake for the past eighteen minutes anyway. “Moonshadow” by Cat Stevens (he can never remember his new name, so he’ll always be Cat Stevens to him) rings out from his phone, tinny and echoey in the small space, and Seokmin lets it play instead of turning it off. He likes this song, even though he associates it with things that generally exhaust him: getting up, soggy cereal, the morning news, living. But a creature of habit is Seokmin Lee, and even when he doesn’t want to, he does.

When the last strums of the guitar fade, Seokmin reaches over to grab his phone from his bedside to check for messages. The screen on his phone is empty, save for the picture of Minah in the background. His lips tug upwards almost involuntarily at the sight of her smile, and he allows himself a small sigh before easing out from under his covers and shoving his feet into the slippers by the side of the bed. There’s an ache on his lower back that makes itself known as soon as he gets upright, and he makes a face, stretches, before standing to make his bed.

On Saturday mornings he ordinarily sleeps in but apparently today was not an ordinary day, despite him not deviating from his morning routine of pouring cereal and milk into a white ceramic bowl his sister gave him years ago, turning on the TV to CNN, and waiting for his coffee to finish brewing. He sits and thinks about Minah, thinks about the last time he saw her instead of listening to the reporter on the screen drone on about the effect of the Brexit on the European Union. He wonders what she’s doing today, if she’s still sleeping or if she’s waking up early to play with the puppy she showed him when they Facetimed three nights ago.

He misses her, thinks about making the long drive to see her, but he has plans to see Soonyoung today. Besides, Yuna wouldn’t appreciate that, not without telling her in advance, and he doesn’t think the three hour notice would count. Still, he thinks, making his way over to the pot of coffee that’s finally finished brewing, he should call her.

The coffee machine lets out a soft whine, and his day begins.

——

Saturdays are days Seokmin spends doing just about everything he can’t do on weekdays working a nine-to-five job — he drops off his laundry, picks up his mail, finds a quiet coffee shop to sit around and read a nice book in.

“You don’t look great.”

Or he meets up with old friends and their partners and listens to them tell him their opinions on how to live his life.

Self-consciously, Seokmin flattens his sideburns. He’d just gotten a haircut and felt he looked pretty nice, all things considered.

“I don’t mean your hair, you idiot.” Soonyoung tosses his coat over the sofa next to Seokmin and plops down in the armchair right in front of him.

“Soonyoung,” Jisoo warns. Everything about Jisoo is soft, from his manner to the look he’s sending Seokmin now, apologetic and warm. Soonyoung purses his lips, folds his arms over his chest.

“Seokmin knows what I mean.” But his eyes soften when Jisoo looks at him again and squeezes his knee. “I just worry about you, man. All alone in your apartment.”

“My apartment is fine,” Seokmin replies. He gives them both a big smile that he hopes reaches his eyes. “I just got a new lamp.”

Jisoo cringes, but to his credit, he tries his best not to let Seokmin see.

“Jesus, Seokmin, listen to yourself,” Soonyoung exclaims, waving around his coffee stirrer to emphasize his point.

“What?” Seokmin is starting to get a little bit irritated, to be quite honest. He has half a mind to snap at Soonyoung, sitting there, content with his steady income and his steady partner and his steady life with his photography business and openly accepting family. It’s not like he ever envisioned his life turning out this way, a single gay man in his late thirties, a father to a wonderful little girl he barely sees once a month. He had life plans—he was going to sing, he was going to travel, he was going to be deliriously happy with a person who matched him in every single way.

Life just didn’t turn out that way and he didn’t see the point in bemoaning how things turned out. He had a healthy source of income, a little girl he adored and friends he liked (most of the time). So what if sometimes he goes to sleep at night wishing he heard someone else’s breathing aside from his own? So what if he watches movies and thinks about sharing his opinions with someone next to him rather than his college friend group chat? Those were things he’d decided he’d have to learn to live with or without. And that was fine.

“I mean,” Soonyoung starts, before his expression softens. “I’m just worried about you, Seok. We’ve been friends a long time now. It’s my duty to say something.”

Soonyoung was never one to mince words. “What do you mean?” Seokmin knows the answer though; he and Soonyoung have been friends for a long time, and have been through a lot together—graduation, first jobs, breakups, births and deaths.

“I mean… you were so bright and lively in college. You were… like a spectrum of color.”

Seokmin grins wryly. “I know I’m gay but calling me a rainbow is a little cliché, don’t you think?”

Soonyoung chuckles to himself. “I know, I know, but really. To continue with that train of thought, you were a fucking fruit basket. Now when I look at you, you’re just…”

“If you say gray, I’m going to walk out the door right now.”

“Not gray insomuch as… beige.”

“Oh,” Seokmin shrugs. He knew the remark was coming but it still didn’t stop it from smarting just a little. “Beige isn’t a terrible color.”

He sees Jisoo and Soonyoung exchange a quick glance at each other, and he feels like shrinking a little. He hates thinking about how his friends talk about him behind his back, even more when he imagines how their conversations circle around how much they feel sorry for him.

“I know,” Soonyoung says, sympathy evident, and Seokmin hates this tone more than the earlier, more abrasive one. “But it’s not a great one either.”

—-

The thing is, Seokmin says to himself in the mirror of the coffee house as he washes his hands, he knows they mean well. Soonyoung has always looked out for him, ever since college. They were quite inseparable then, loud and unruly and always the center of attention.

Stuff happens, Seokmin thinks. People change. Circumstances change. People grow up, life happens. People happen.

Stop, he tells himself. You’re not going down that road. You’re having a good day, there’s literally no need to bring up uncomfortable memories.

An old face arises, unbidden, from the depths of his memories. He hates that Soonyoung’s apologetic, pitying smile reminds him of that moment.

Don’t try so hard, he’d said then, in that deep rumbling voice Seokmin had thrilled to.

He shakes his head. Nope. Not today. He pulls at the paper towels dispenser a little rougher than necessary, rubs them briskly over his drying hands.

When he returns to the table, not only is the coffee he ordered there, but another person is seated at their table. He shoots a questioning look at Soonyoung, who gestures him over.

“Oh, Seokmin, you’re back,” Jisoo says. “I was just saying hello to my friend. He manages the place.” Jisoo’s friend turns and the first thing Seokmin registers is that the guy is so ridiculously good-looking, he’s almost annoyed by it.

He’s tall, taller than Seokmin and considering Seokmin is pretty tall, that’s… a lot of height. Seokmin has to look up into his face, which lights up with a smile so wide that Seokmin can see the sharp points of his canines. “Hi,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Mingyu. Mingyu Kim.”

“I’m Seokmin,” he says, shaking his hand and automatically smiling back.

“Is this your first time here?”

“Ah, yes, these two suggested meeting here,” Seokmin provides. From the corner of his eye, he sees Soonyoung shooting glances between the two of them, and he’s suddenly hit with a realization that perhaps his friends’ selection of this coffee shop for today’s meet-up was not without purpose.

“I see. Well, I will have to thank them for recommending your business.” Mingyu’s hair is dark, streaked with gray at the temples, and Seokmin is fascinated by the way the waves of it settle over his ear.

“Ah, I will have to thank them for recommending it, I suppose.” Seokmin hasn’t met anyone new in a while and his social skills are kind of rusty.

“I hope you’re enjoying our little establishment,” Mingyu said, body bowing slightly. “If you need anything, just tell them you know the manager.” He winks a little, and it’s so unexpected that it takes Seokmin aback and he laughs.

Mingyu smiles at that, pleased with himself. “I have to go but please, enjoy your coffee.” He inclines his head at each of them, and Seokmin is sure he’s imagining the extra second he spent looking in Seokmin’s direction.

It’s five seconds from the time Mingyu takes his leave of their table when Soonyoung leans over the table to stage whisper at Seokmin. “Hey, he’s single right now. Jisoo said so.”

“Soonyoung,” Jisoo hisses, head whipping around to see if anyone was within hearing distance of Soonyoung’s distinct lack of discretion. Soonyoung huffs, not caring, and takes another sip of his mocha.

“You should date him, Seok,” Soonyoung says while smacking his lips in approval. “If anything he makes a fantastic cup of coffee.”

Jisoo sighs; he knows there’s no use in trying to put a gag order on him in this kind of mood. Soonyoung takes Jisoo’s hand, laces their fingers together, and smiles cheekily at him in mollification until Jisoo succumbs and smiles back. It takes remembering almost twenty years of friendship for Seokmin not to gag.

——

Seokmin’s not really sure what’s possessed him. There are things he could be doing right now—for instance, his favorite cardigan (the one with the soft pineapple pattern) needed patching up. He could be doing that, could be sitting in his apartment quietly with his sewing kit, fixing the tear. Instead, he’s clutching at a paperback he’s just started, staring at an open menu, wondering what on earth he’s doing back at the coffee shop he was at just the previous day.

To admit to himself that the guy—Mingyu, he said his name was—had been on his mind for the better part of yesterday was to admit that Soonyoung knew him far too well. While he’s never been loathe to admit that, this time he’s keeping it to himself.

It’s just coffee, he tells himself.

He sees Mingyu as he’s relaying his order to the pleasant-looking girl manning the cashier. He’s balancing a tray of muffins on his shoulder and placing them carefully in the refrigerated food display shelf; his tongue pokes out a little from the corner of his mouth and Seokmin cannot help but be terribly endeared.

“That will be twelve dollars,” says the girl (her nametag says Maureen). “Would you like anything else?”

He’s not going to get a muffin.

“Oh! In case you’re hungry, our muffins are newly baked!” Maureen offers enthusiastically. “Our boss makes them.”

Apparently the universe is conspiring against him.

Mingyu looks up at the sound of a potential sale, and his eyes meet Seokmin’s. Recognition seems to dawn on him, and he smiles. Seokmin doesn’t know if he should feel terrified or relieved.

“Hi,” he says, sauntering over. Maureen smiles benevolently and moves aside to assist another customer, leaving Seokmin to handle himself on his own. “I know you. You’re Jisoo’s friend, right? From yesterday?”

Seokmin swallows, before smiling back. “Yes, that’s, that’s me.”

Mingyu nods, seemingly pleased with himself for remembering. “You’re back again so soon,” he observes. He tilts his head, almost wolfishly. Seokmin can see his canines, white and brilliant. He’s so damn rusty at this, and Mingyu looks unfairly good, slouched casually against the counter, pan of muffins in hand.

A part of Seokmin wants to just smile nervously, say something approximating polite and then take his coffee to go. The thought of his couch cushion, where he wants to bury his head under at this very moment, overwhelms him. But he remembers Soonyoung, and Jisoo, and don’t try so hard , and it strikes him, all of a sudden, just how much time he’s spent hiding away in his apartment, how much time he’s spent locked away from coffee shops with cute managers, from his daughter, from just taking a damn muffin.

“Yes, I am,” he says, trying to convey an easy confidence.

“Are you buying a muffin?” Mingyu says. He raises a single eyebrow, almost as if he’s challenging Seokmin to purchase the aforementioned baked good. Heat spreads across Seokmin’s cheeks, and he opens his mouth to refuse when…

“I will if it means you giving me your number.”

Holy shit. What on earth just happened?

Both of Mingyu’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. They stare at each other for a few beats, the reality of what Seokmin blurts out sinking in slowly between them. He’s absolutely mortified. Behind him, someone clears their throat.

It hits him a split second later that he’s holding up the line. Oh great. To add to his general misfortune, he has an audience for his terrible flirting.

“S-sorry,” Seokmin mutters to the person behind him, the sole witness to his shame. Maureen, completely oblivious still, bless her heart, hands him his coffee and change. He nods at her, clears his throat, and, avoiding the other’s gaze, spins around to make his way to his table to pick up his coat and beat a hasty exit.

He’s almost to the door when he hears Maureen call out, “Wait! Mr. Lee!”

He turns halfway and she jogs up to him, white paper bag in hand. “Here, you forgot your muffin,” she tells him, in the same cheerful tone she’s employed since he walked up to her counter.

His brow furrows. “But I didn’t order any-”

Maureen smiles at him kindly, winks. “Please take it. Have a nice day and we hope to see you again.” She giggles a little, before closing the door behind him.

He stares down at the paper bag in his hand. There, scrawled across the base in black marker, was a series of digits and the message ‘on the house.’

He looks up in surprise. Through the window, he sees Mingyu watching him from behind the counter. After a few beats, he lifts his hand to wave at him, his face amused. Seokmin is not aware that his cheeks could get any warmer but apparently it’s possible. Still, he looks back at Mingyu, smiling tentatively and even giving him a small wave back, before he hightails it to his apartment.

He’s not going to call him.

——

He gets a call from Soonyoung instead, the next day at work.

Seokmin is finishing a report on the company’s property acquisitions from the previous fiscal year for the department head. It’s a lot more interesting than it sounds, he tells Soonyoung (blatantly lying to his face), and he’d really like to get back to it, can he call him back later?

No, Soonyoung tells him in an oddly excited tone, he cannot call him back later they’re going to talk now because he’d heard from Jisoo that someone had gone someplace and seen someone and that someone had given the first someone his number.

Flirting used to be a private thing between two people, Seokmin grumbles to himself.

“So did you call him?” Soonyoung asks, after Seokmin begrudgingly admits to going back to the coffee shop and ending up with a muffin and Mingyu’s number. He leaves out the part where he dropped the most embarrassing pick-up line even known to man because he’s not going to give Soonyoung more ammunition to blackmail him with in the future.

“No, I didn’t,” Seokmin replies, phone braced against his shoulder as he continues to type up his report. He’s been at the bank for a substantial amount of years now, enough that he’s the supervisor for the whole mortgage division, but that still doesn’t mean he can while his afternoons away on the phone. He tells Soonyoung as much; Soonyoung dismisses his concern with a nonchalant ‘meh’.

“Well why the fuck not? Sorry.” Seokmin knows Soonyoung well enough to know that he isn’t the one he’s apologizing to. Jisoo must be next to him.

“Because it’s a terrible idea? He’s too…”

“Too what?”

“He looks too… everything for me.”

“Are you kidding me?!”

Seokmin sighs, saves his document before minimizing it. He supposes he needs more coffee anyway. Cradling the cordless unit in his hand, he makes his way to the break room. He nods at colleagues who greet him on his way while he listens to Soonyoung’s rant over the line.

“... and another thing—”

“Okay, Soonyoung, I get your point, thanks.” He scoops up more creamer to mix into his mug. “I’m just,” he hesitates a little, lowers his voice to make sure nobody hears. “I haven’t been out with anyone in awhile. Since…”

Soonyoung stops when he realizes Seokmin is referring to the thing. He exhales. “Wonwoo was a long time ago, Seok.”

“I know,” Seokmin replies, clearing his throat to get rid of the lump that always seems to catch whenever he hears that name.

“He never had the right to hurt you. He can’t keep holding you back like this.”

But he did , is what Seokmin thinks. And he is.

“You’re right,” however, is what Seokmin tells Soonyoung, because he is. It’s been almost five years, he can’t keep letting one person get in the way of whatever he wants to do.

Stop tryin—

“I have to go, Soonyoung.”

“Just promise me you’ll think about it,” Soonyoung begs. Seokmin makes a small non-committal grunt over the phone, before pressing the button on the cordless unit to end the call.

He sets his coffee mug down and re-opens the document.

He spends the next three days thinking about the muffin and the number scrawled across the bottom of the bag. The muffin has long since been consumed. It was, quite frankly, an excellent muffin. Seokmin admits to himself he finds it oddly adorable how the man could brew a good cup of coffee and bake some excellent muffins. He didn’t look the type; he looked the type to lead you on and break your heart, if he was being honest. This isn’t a slight on the guy—he just had that kind of face. The kind that would ruin you, though Seokmin doesn’t know if he’s the ruining type.

——

It’s Wednesday night and he’s standing in front of the coffee shop again.

(He really wasn’t planning on it, but he had been thinking about Mingyu all day, thinking about how much taller he was than him and how nicely he smiled and he really had to just get things over with lest he never hear the end of it from Soonyoung, and before he knew it his legs were heading in the coffee shop’s direction; he fixates on the chill in the air and the assortment of street noises that accompany him to distract from the destination and the anxiety.)

It’s quiet when he enters, the lights warm and cozy. There’s a handful of tables occupied; he sits at the one closest to the door. He pulls out his phone, sends a message to Soonyoung and Jisoo, and gets a flurry of emojis in response: encouraging thumbs-ups (from Jisoo) and a series of tongues (from Soonyoung). He narrows his eyes at the latter.

A shadow falls over his table and Seokmin knows, before he even looks up, that it’s Mingyu.

“Fancy seeing you again, Mr. Lee.” Seokmin looks up and Mingyu smiles at him, easy in a pale blue sweater, cup of coffee in hand. He looks like he should be gracing a magazine cover, and it makes Seokmin ten times more nervous. What is he even doing here again? Everything about this guy puts him on the edge.

He hands the cup to Seokmin, before sinking into the opposite armchair.

Seokmin is surprised. “What’s this?”

“A cappuccino,” Mingyu says, tilting his head. “That’s what you got last time.” Seokmin blinks, a little baffled, which makes him laugh. “Don’t be that impressed. What kind of coffee person would I be if I couldn’t even remember your order?”

“Oh. Thanks, I guess,” Seokmin replies. He reaches for his wallet, but Mingyu raises a hand.

“Please, this one’s on me.”

“It’s terrible business sense to keep giving your products away,” Seokmin mutters.

Mingyu shrugs, then grins slyly. “If it ensures returning customers, I’d say it’s a good move all the same.”

Seokmin pinks but says nothing, choosing instead to wrap chilled fingers around the mug, the warmth of it seeping through the ceramic. It’s plain and white, the froth perched at the lip of it looks soft and inviting. He takes a small sip, and it’s just as good as last Sunday’s cup.

“You know,” Mingyu starts, lacing his fingers together on his lap. “You’ve been here twice since we’ve met.”

The scarf around Seokmin’s neck feels heavy as he swallows, but he’s not going to reach up to take it off. “Because you have good coffee?”

Mingyu chuckles, amused. “Thank you, but that’s probably not it.” He pulls up the sleeves of his sweater to his elbows, before crossing his arms over his chest. The look he sends over to Seokmin is a dare.

“I, I’m,” Seokmin stammers, and curses internally. He’s so good-looking and Seokmin is faintly irritated, not because he’s fully acknowledged the fact that he’s attracted to the other person (you would probably have to be dead and buried not to be attracted and he’s not blind), but because he used to be able to do this—flirt, tease, date; he used to be able to navigate the murky waters of sex and relationships so easily and it’s frustrating, it’s infuriating to be reduced to this, whatever he was. He doesn’t want to keep blaming a relationship from five years ago but he had been so into it, so into Wonwoo, so into the idea that he was it, that when the other told him he was leaving because he was just too much for him, he’d crumbled.

“Hey,” Mingyu says. He leans forward, torso stretched over the table and chin perched on his crossed wrists. He looks up at Seokmin from that angle, small smile on his face, and the image of an overly large Golden Retriever puppy springs into Seokmin’s mind. It’s a strange image to have of a nearly forty-something man. “I’m just teasing you. I don’t mean to make you nervous. That’s the last thing I want to do.”

Stop trying so hard.

Seokmin exhales. Okay.

Tentatively, he inches his elbows down until they’re resting on the table. He braces his weight on the frame of them, settles until he can lift his head and give the other a smile. “Sorry. It’s just... been some time.”

Mingyu smiles back, not unkindly. His face is so open; Seokmin feels like trusting him implicitly. That’s never gotten him anywhere good. “That’s okay. I get it.”

“Everything about this has just been really awkward.”

“I know,” Mingyu agrees. His eyes seem to twinkle and he looks endlessly comfortable with his head cradled in his arms like that. “But it’ll be a fun story to tell our grandkids, don’t you think?”

Seokmin chokes on a sip of coffee. Mingyu laughs. He likes to tease, Seokmin finds. He doesn’t quite know how to feel about it.

He spends twenty more minutes in Mingyu’s company. Most of the time is spent getting over the basics — name, age (they were born in the same year), school (“I went to St. Patrick’s—” “Oh, I had a cousin that went there!”), jobs (Mingyu did not have an account at Seokmin’s bank; he did most of his business at the Bank of America a couple of streets away—Seokmin thinks it’s too early on in whatever they had to take it against him). The questions continue until the other says that his break is over.

Before Seokmin leaves, however, Mingyu asks him if he could have dinner on Friday.

Okay, Seokmin says again, and Mingyu smiles. He’s always doing that too.

——

“How was dinner?”

Seokmin stops what he’s doing (pouring cereal) to consider the question Jisoo asked. How was dinner?

Dinner was quiet. He’d met Mingyu at a small Italian restaurant a couple of blocks away from his coffee shop. He’d ordered the roast chicken. Mingyu got penne arrabiata. They split half a bottle of Chianti between them.

Dinner was informative. They had continued talking about their backgrounds, about the things they had in common, about the places they had been. Mingyu traveled a lot in his twenties, before his parents asked him to take over the management of their store for them when they retired. Seokmin sees where he’s been to in the warm and easy way he talks about places like Bruges, Jakarta, Nagoya, even Seoul. Seokmin’s never thought much about going outside the tri-state area, but the way Mingyu’s face comes alive when talking about walking along a bridge in Prague makes him think.

Dinner was distracting. Mingyu looked downright beautiful in candlelight.

Dinner was… “Dinner happened. And apparently will be happening again tomorrow.”

He hears a strangled whoop in the background. “Are you on speakerphone, Jisoo?”

“Um… no,” Jisoo says. Seokmin snorts. Jisoo is a terrible liar.

——

The next day someone knocks on Seokmin’s door.

He’s startled at first. He and Mingyu had made plans for the latter to come over and pick him up because Mingyu wanted to pick the place and surprise Seokmin. After repeated reassurance from Jisoo that he was truly not an axe murderer, he agreed to give Mingyu his address. He looks at his watch; it’s only half past six. Mingyu said he’d be over at seven.

Curious, he stands up, pats down his sweater, and looks through the peephole. He opens the door immediately after seeing who it is.

“Minah!”

He gets on his knees as soon as the door swings wide, and a little girl with short black hair and the sweetest smile barrels into his arms. He buries his nose in her hair; she smells of the sun.

Someone clears their throat and he looks up, realizes that Minah’s mother is also standing there. “Yuna.”

“Seokmin,” she replies. Her voice, which has always been faintly melodic, is quiet in the hallway. “May we come in?”

“Of course, of course,” he says. He backs away, Minah still clinging onto his knees, waits for her to come in before closing the door.

“You look—are we disturbing you? I’m really sorry, Seokmin,” she says, after she notices how nice he looks—probably nicer than the last few times she’s seen him. He’s already dressed for his evening out—a long-sleeved navy blue sweater that he planned to throw a jacket over, and his khakis (newly-pressed).

“Is anything wrong?” he asks, neatly evading the question.

“Oh, it’s nothing too major,” Yuna assures him, but she looks on the edge, and Seokmin starts to worry. “It’s Dan.”

“Oh,” Seokmin says. Yuna’s husband, someone she just married a few months ago, and the man that Seokmin envies because he gets to tuck his little girl into bed every night. “Is he okay? He didn’t hurt you, or Minah did he?”

Yuna’s eyes widen. “Oh, no, nothing like that! Sorry, I don’t mean to make you worry. I was just hoping you could take Minah for the night. It’s a rush, I know, but Dan’s here because his doctor asked him to see this specialist and, well, they’re asking him to stay overnight for tests and I just—”

“You want to be there for him, I get it,” Seokmin nods. She smiles at him, relieved he understands, and briefly Seokmin wonders what life would have been like, settling with a nice girl like her who would spend an uncomfortable night on a hospital chair just to be there when you woke up. The night Minah was conceived was a terrible drunken mistake between two very good friends who were now two very awkward parents, but it didn’t change the fact that Yuna was, and still is, one of the most important people in his life, the mother of his child, and someone he cared very deeply for.

Minah wanders off to climb his couch. “Dad, do you have Disney channel here?”

Seokmin panics. He doesn’t know if he has the Disney channel. “Um…”

She picks up the remote, clicks a few buttons and the screen changes to something bright and loud. “Never mind, I found it.” Crisis over.

“She’s gotten so big.” Seokmin marvels at how much longer she looks, even if her cheeks remain as apple round as ever. Her hair, cut in a neat bob, hangs a few inches over her shoulder. The serious expression on her face adds to the overall impression that she’s more mature than her four years on this planet.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? Did you have plans?”

“Kind of, but it’s fine.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Were you going on a date?”

Seokmin makes a face at her. “I might have been.”

“Oh Seok, I’m so sorry,” she says, and she genuinely looks it. “Maybe I can ask her grandparents to take her…”

“Don’t you dare. It’s fine, I can just reschedule it.”

Yuna tilts her head at him. “So who’s the lucky guy?”

Seokmin shrugs. “Just a guy. No idea if he’s any kind of lucky.”

“Well, I hope he deserves you.”

“Huh,” Seokmin replies, surprised. “That’s a really nice thing for you to say.”

“Well, I mean it.” Yuna rubs her shoulders, looks at Minah. “I mean, I know it was a weird thing that brought her into our lives, and while I’m not looking for a repeat, I just want to tell you that the other guy, well, he was a jerk. A jerk that brought us our daughter, but still a jerk.”

Seokmin smiles, laughs a little. He’s missed her. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

She jerks her head. “I have to go. If you need me, we’re at Room 14 at the Greenfield Clinic. On 5th.”

“Oh. Near our old offices.”

She chuckles. “Right. Minah goes to bed at around nine o’clock. You remember her allergies right?”

“No nuts. Don’t worry, I just consumed my whole nut pantry.”

She makes a face at him this time and he smiles. It’s so easy between the two of them.

“I know I should have called beforehand but I didn’t think we’d have to stay overnight.”

“It’s really fine, Yuna, don’t worry,” he tells her. He takes her by the elbow, walks her to the door. “I’ll call you if anything happens. It’s not the first time she’s stayed here. I know the drill.”

“Alright,” Yuna says. “Minah, mom’s going now! Behave!”

“I will, love you! Tell Dan I love you!”

“I will,” Yuna says, and she looks like she’s about to cry. She shakes her head, roughly, before giving Seokmin a bracing smile. “I’ll be back before lunch tomorrow.”

When Seokmin shuts the door behind him, Minah’s eyes are still glued to the television. Seokmin can’t help but feel awkward, a little. He loves his daughter, more than anything in this world, but he also doesn’t always know how to start talking to her. Usually she’s the one asking him a billion questions, but tonight she seems to be more interested in what’s on TV.

Also what the fuck is he going to feed her? He could just order pizza but he can just imagine Yuna’s face when Minah tells her that’s what she was fed on her impromptu sleepover with her father.

“Are you hungry already?”

“Mmmmm, maybe in a bit,” is the response. Seokmin flails internally, thinking of how bare his fridge is right now.

The doorbell rings again. Seokmin thinks that maybe Yuna’s forgotten something, but when he opens the door, Mingyu’s on the other side. His hair is brushed away from his forehead and he smells really good, like the early morning sea. Seokmin curses internally. Shit, he’s a mess.

Mingyu’s eyebrows automatically furrow when he sees Seokmin’s expression. “Are you okay? Are you not ready?”

It hits Seokmin, all of a sudden, that he’s never brought up his daughter in any conversation he’s had with Mingyu.

“It’s not that, I just, there’s an emergency and I can’t leave, and I was going to tell you—”

“Daaaaaaaaaaad, are we ordering pizza?”

Shit.

Mingyu laughs. “Sounds like you have a kid in there. A hungry one.”

“I do. And she… she is,” Seokmin says. He didn’t think he’d be telling Mingyu about Minah this way but, as was already established, the universe really despised him.

Mingyu seems to come to a realization; he looks at Seokmin with a weird expression. “So… dad?”

Seokmin sighs. “Yes. Dad.”

“As in you?”

“As in me. I’m Dad.”

Mingyu’s eyes widen. “Oh. You never...”

“Mentioned my daughter? It’s... complicated.”

“Ah.” Mingyu stops talking. Seokmin watches a strange sort of confusion come over his face and thinks, this is probably a record for how quickly he screwed up a thing. He can’t deny that a part of him inside twinges at the idea. He still doesn’t know much about Mingyu, but he does know that he’s funny, that his eyes shone whenever he liked what he was talking about, and that right before they parted ways the night before, Mingyu had looked at him in a way he didn’t know he deserved, like he was the biggest present under the tree and it was Christmas morning. No one’s ever looked at him like that, not even Wonwoo. He doesn’t really know why, but he’d liked to have taken the time to find out.

“I’m going to—go. Now. I’ll be right back,” Mingyu says, backing away slowly, and Seokmin watches him turn around and walk briskly. Seokmin doesn’t think he’s coming back, and a part of him crumbles again.

“Dad?”

He looks back. Minah is perched on the edge of his sofa, peering over at him, expression curious. “Who was that?” Dressed in a woolly sweater with leggings stretched over her heels, she looked to Seokmin the picture of softness and loveliness. He sighs, and gives her a reassuring smile.

“A friend, sweetheart. A friend.”

“Oh.” She stops, looks closer at him, before throwing her arms open wide. “Dad, you look like you need a hug.” He laughs.

Minah is really all he needs. Maybe tomorrow he can be sad for a little while but tonight he has his daughter all to himself. He marches over and gives her the biggest hug he can. “Thank you.”

“You’re my daddy. You always get free hugs.”

Seokmin sniffles a little. “Good. I’ll need them.” He holds her like this for awhile.

He hears a faint knock at the door which, he realizes, is still open wide.

“Sorry.” It’s Mingyu. Again. He is standing in Seokmin’s doorframe, arms full of brown paper bags, filling up space and looking a little bit terrified. Seokmin straightens up in surprise.

“Mingyu?”

Mingyu shifts one of the bags in his arms, gives Seokmin a sheepish smile. “I just, I just needed to get a few things from the car.” He raises both eyebrows, bites his bottom lip. Seokmin thinks this is the most uncertain he’s ever seen him. “May I come in?”

Seokmin continues to stare at him in a state of shock, looking almost comical, until he feels a finger drilling into his side. “Dad, tell your friend he can come in,” Minah says, an incredulous look on her face, as if she couldn’t believe the state of her father’s manners.

“Um, yeah, I mean, yes. You can put those inside,” Seokmin shakes his head, before striding forward to help Mingyu. He takes one of the brown paper bags from him before stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in. Mingyu does, still trying to juggle the bags in his arms.

“Thanks. Is it okay if I put these in the kitchen?”

Seokmin nods, “Yeah. It’s right through this door.” He takes a peek into the bag he’s carrying as he shoves the door closed behind him. A copious amount of greens, onions, bright red tomatoes… “Are these your groceries?”

Mingyu hums a little. Seokmin suddenly feels like his apartment is way too small, the steps between the door and the large opening in the opposing wall that allows a glimpse into the kitchen easily swallowed up by Mingyu’s long gait. He rounds the corner into the kitchen, carefully placing the bags on top of the counter. Seokmin follows suit, laying the bag he’s carrying next to it.

“Okay,” Mingyu starts. He crosses his arms, fidgets a little.

Seokmin waits.

“I was going to take you back to the shop. I, uh, closed it down for the night. And I was going to cook.” The flush across Mingyu’s cheeks deepens with every word that comes out of his mouth.

“Cook?”

“Yes, cook.” Mingyu leans against the countertop, rubs the back of his neck. He looks terrifyingly at home against the speckled gray of Seokmin’s kitchen cupboards. He smiles gently at Seokmin. “You have a daughter.”

“I do. Her name is Minah,” Seokmin says. He sticks his hands in his pockets because he has no idea what to do with them, they’re shaking so much. “Her mom left her with me tonight.”

“She’s beautiful.”

Seokmin lowers his head to hide the smile that spreads across his face. “She is.” Hot tears spring to his eyes, for reasons he still doesn’t want to think about or acknowledge.

“I have all this food,” Mingyu gestures at the bags. “And, I’d still really like to cook for you. Both of you, if that’s okay. No pressure.”

Seokmin looks back up, into Mingyu’s eyes. He has a soft smile spread generously across his face and not for the first time Seokmin wonders what on earth this beautiful man is doing in front of him. “You want to cook for my daughter?”

“Well, for both of you.”

It takes Seokmin aback how heartfelt he sounds. He’s not used to this forthrightness, this straightforward generosity. With Wonwoo, he was always second-guessing. Always doing too much, and not enough.

“Seokmin,” Mingyu says, in a low voice. He steps forward, arms still crossed. Like he doesn’t dare reach out lest Seokmin shatters into glass. Seokmin’s not sure he won’t. “Whoever he was before, I’m not him.”

“I don’t understand,” Seokmin blurts out. “I just. I don’t get why you would be interested in me.”

Mingyu tilts his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Seokmin throws his hands up. “I don’t know? I just, look at you. You’re—” He gestures at Mingyu’s person wildly. “Tall! And gorgeous!”

Mingyu bites back a smile. His canines gleam white against his bottom lip. “Thank you. But, you know, so are you.”

Seokmin snorts. “Now I know Soonyoung paid you to say that.”

Mingyu sighs, and steps forward. He uncrosses his arms, and Seokmin stumbles backward because all of a sudden Mingyu is very close and very much in his personal space. He has to lift his chin up to even look into Mingyu’s face, which is set and serious. The gray crowding above his ears is dashing up close and Seokmin wonders how it would feel against his fingers.

“Seokmin Lee,” Mingyu says, soberly. “The only reason I’m not trying to kiss you right now is because your daughter is in the next room, and when I kiss you, I don’t intend for it to be the last.”

Seokmin nearly chokes on an exhale.

“Jisoo told me that someone you trusted before hurt you, and I don’t want you to think that that’s what I’d do.” Mingyu very carefully places his hands on Seokmin’s shoulders. “But to answer your question, I similarly find you tall, and gorgeous, and warm, and you have the nicest smile I’ve ever seen in my life. And as someone who hands people their first coffee of the day for a living, I know all about smiles.”

“Huh.”

“We don’t know each other very well yet, but I’d like to keep on getting to know you. For awhile. Maybe for a long time. We’ll see where it goes.” He brushes a thumb against Seokmin’s jawline, before smiling. “How’s that for honesty?”

Seokmin coughs. “Pretty decent,” he mutters. His breath is still trying to extricate itself from his chest somehow.

Mingyu smiles. “Does your daughter have any allergies?”

Seokmin blinks. “Nuts.”

“Okay, duly noted,” Mingyu says, before he steps back. Seokmin inhales gratefully. “So will you let me cook for you both?”

He looks so eager standing in his kitchen, like a giant puppy wagging its tail, asking for permission to be set loose, that in that moment Seokmin decides, fuck it. He reaches up, holds Mingyu by the neck, and tiptoes to bring their faces together. He presses his lips to the corner of Mingyu’s softly. Underneath the ocean, he smells faintly of coffee and mint, and looks so surprised that Seokmin is, for one of the few times in his life, incredibly smug.

“Okay.”

He lets go. Mingyu still looks fairly dazed. “Okay?”

Seokmin walks out of the kitchen, intent on making his way to the living room back to Minah’s side, shooting a brilliant smile over his shoulder. “Okay. No nuts.”

——

It’s another six o’clock on a Saturday, and once again Seokmin forgets to turn off his workday alarm. “Moonshadow” by Cat Stevens, as usual, as he hasn’t gotten sick enough of the song to bother changing it. His eyes remain shut as he reaches out blindly to find his phone.

“God, Seok, turn it off, it’s too early for Cat fucking Stevens,” whines a voice from behind him. Arms wrap around him and tighten, a nose presses against his nape.

Seokmin smiles. “Hey, I’ll have you know this was Cat Stevens’ favorite song.” He finds his phone under his pillow and fishes it out. He rubs a finger over his phone, the lockscreen making him chuckle. It’s a picture of Minah on Mingyu’s back; both of them are giving the camera the biggest and cheesiest grins they could muster, fingers in a V for Victory sign. Seokmin took the photo after the pair beat Yuna and Dan at Mario Kart last weekend for Thanksgiving.

“I liked ‘Wild World’ more,” Mingyu grumbles. Seokmin laughs, turns off the alarm.

Saturdays are different now. Mingyu cooks breakfast, Seokmin does the dishes. Mingyu has the shop, and Seokmin usually comes over after he runs his errands. Seokmin reads a book, and Mingyu sends him a freshly baked muffin. Sometimes, when Yuna, Dan and Minah are in the city, they all have dinner. It’s a strange sort of circumstance, Seokmin thinks, but when he watches Mingyu and Dan talk about restaurants they’ve been to recently while Yuna tells him about how Minah’s doing in school, Seokmin believes that maybe he isn’t all that beige anymore.

(Maybe life doesn’t need to be lived in technocolor; life can just be different patches of browns, reds, lime greens and aquas. It’s still a life, a good one.)

“Hey Mingyu?”

“It’s too early for questions, Seok. I haven’t had coffee yet.”

“What do you see when you see me?”

Mingyu grumbles but his eyes flutter open anyway. He’s fucking gorgeous even at barely past dawn, and Seokmin can’t help but press his lips against his temple, the part with the gray streaks. Mingyu scoffs into his neck, but brings him closer fully against him. Under the covers, they share a warmth.

“A maker of terrible coffee,” Mingyu murmurs into his skin. “Someone with bad taste in TV. Great dad. Someone I love.”

Seokmin smiles, content. He goes back to sleep.