Archive of Our Own

☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎

The cafe’s door opens with a gentle chime, and Mingi looks up from where he’s wiping the counter. As soon as he recognises the customer, he grins without a conscious thought, greeting him with a cheery “Welcome to Twilight! What can I get you today?”

The man gives him a tired but pleasant smile, and Mingi inhales, feeling a little leap in his chest at the subtle curve of the man’s lips.

“I’ll get a cup of chamomile tea, please. Hot. With some honey.”

“For here?” Mingi asks, picking the items out on his tablet.

“Yes, please.”

“Got it!” Mingi reads out the total, and the man taps his phone to the card reader.

“Please have a seat, I’ll bring your tea over to you.”

The man blinks. “Are you sure?”

Mingi grins and nods. “Mhm. It’ll give me something to do.”

The man chuckles lightly in response, and Mingi admires how handsome it makes him look.

“Okay then, thank you.”

As he turns to find a seat, Mingi gets to making the tea. He’s glad he hadn’t totally fumbled with volunteering to bring him the tea, since he hadn’t done that the past few times he’d been here after all.

He steals a glance at the little digital clock on the counter, and it reads 01:20 am. The man had arrived roughly the same time last week too, and probably the weeks before that as well.

Mingi remembers him distinctly. Twilight was a coffee shop intended specifically to cater to night owls. Located on the ground floor of a 5-storey complex close to the business district, it drew a steady stream of professionals in rumpled suits or business casuals, burning the midnight oil to hit one deadline or the other, though the stream tapered off into a feeble trickle after 1:00 am. They would shoot Mingi polite but worn smiles, eyes a little red from staring at a screen for too long. They also almost always took their drinks to go.

This man was the first customer in a while who had come in after 1:00 am and wanted to sit in the cafe.

This man also stood out because he wasn’t wearing business casual or a suit. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt under a black Vivienne Westwood bomber jacket, and had jewellery glittering on both his ears, his knuckles, and his wrists. Even his glasses looked cool and edgy, an angular, rimless number with black enamelled arms. Mingi had tried to find them online, and after a bunch of digging, figured out they were Balmain. Fancy.

While he looked young, Mingi didn’t think he was a student either. He was shorter than Mingi but somehow felt larger than life, his aura projecting a self-assurance about his place in the world even as he idly sipped tea, bathed in the soft cafe lights. And he was so, so pretty in a pixie kind of way- elegant, slim, pointy nose, high cheekbones, almond eyes, and lips that seemed to turn up at the corners even when he wasn’t smiling. Mingi found himself a little bit infatuated with this handsome mystery man. What was the harm in a little crush? It wasn’t like anything would ever come of it anyway.

He places the cup on a saucer and carefully walks it over to the seat the man had chosen, next to the window. He sets it down and lays two packets of honey and a wrapped wooden stir stick next to it. “Here you go,” he says, and when the man smiles up at him, feels a little faint.

He opens his mouth, fails to think of anything charming to say, and promptly shuts it again. “Um, enjoy,” he mumbles lamely, immediately walking back to the counter. This is the harm in having a crush, he can imagine his boss teasing him. You forget how to act normal.

Not this time, Mingi decides. He’s going to be so normal.

☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ + ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎

It’s Tuesday night again, and as the clock reads 1:00 a.m., Mingi starts getting antsy. He starts wiping the espresso machine again just for something to do, trying not to keep looking outside, hoping to spot a handsome man with blond hair and a bomber jacket.

Just when he’s getting a little too invested in a speck that he can’t tell is an odd sticky bit or a spot of missing enamel, the door opens and in steps his blond customer, this time in a black and white patterned button-up under his signature jacket.

He’s got a large leather satchel slung over his shoulder instead of the smaller bowler bag he usually brings, and his collar is askew. He looks stylishly rumpled and magazine shoot-ready, and Mingi forgets to be normal.

“Chamomile tea with honey, right?” He offers, smiling brightly.

The man freezes, mouth quirking in an awkward smile. “Ah, I think I will take a hot americano. To go, please.”

Mingi tries not to die of pure mortification. “Oh! Right!” He says, voice a little too high-pitched as he pokes at the tablet. He only notices that he’s forgotten to tell him the total when he sees the man holding his phone up expectantly.

He apologises again, and once the transaction goes through, he hurries to make the latte.

He places the paper cup in front of the man and bows his head. “Hope you have a nice night.”

The man nods back distractedly, sparing him only a glance and a half-smile before he takes the cup and walks back out, tapping away on his phone.

Mingi feels anxious the whole time after. Luckily, only one customer comes in after that, and when he closes at 2:00 am he’s still thinking about the blond man. Had he offended him somehow? Or maybe he was just stressed from work, he did look quite absorbed with his phone.

He’s able to put it in the back of his mind by the time he gets home.

☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ + ☕︎ + ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎

Next Tuesday, the man doesn’t come.

Mingi tries not to dwell on it too much. Just because he came six weeks in a row doesn’t mean he’s going to come every week.

Mingi hopes he’ll come another day this week, and maybe then he can apologise. For what? He doesn’t know, exactly. For being presumptuous? For being overly familiar? He doesn’t know, but feels like he should apologise anyway. No one comes until close, and he lingers for ten minutes past 2:00 am, before he realises how silly he’s being and starts closing the cafe.

When he gets home, he notices light coming from under his roommate’s bedroom, and decides to say hi and maybe get a second opinion.

“Hey Yunho,” he says, pushing the door open and entering without knocking. As expected, Yunho’s fiddling with some flashcards, and he stifles a yawn as he grins at Mingi.

“You’re lucky all I do is study these days. Imagine I was jacking off and you just walked right in.”

Mingi plops onto the bed. “You lock the door when you jack off.”

Yunho’s easy, sleepy smile morphs into a disturbed, sleepy frown. “I think we’ve lived together for too long.”

Mingi scoffs and takes the flash cards out of his hand and puts them away, despite Yunho’s weak protests. “You and me both,” he says, and giggles when Yunho pinches his stomach. “Anyway, I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

Mingi explains what happened the last week, and Yunho, the best friend a man could want, listens with a considering pout before delivering his verdict. “You’re overthinking it.”

Mingi sighs, not reassured at all.

☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ + ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎

The man doesn’t show up on the following Tuesday either, and this time, Mingi lets himself be disappointed. He still hopes he’ll see him another day, even if that hadn’t happened last week. He’s not sure why he’s so hung up about it; he knows plenty of regulars who’d simply stopped showing up one day.

Maybe it’s because he’d made such a fool of himself the last time they saw each other, and the idea of that being their last interaction makes him want to shrivel up like a salted leech.

Then he wonders if the man had perhaps started coming during the evening instead, so the next day when he clocks in for his shift at six, the first thing he does is ask his boss about the man.

“Short blond in rimless glasses?” Seonghwa taps his chin as he looks at the ceiling with a contemplative frown, glass cleaner-stained rag tucked in his other hand. “I don’t think so.”

Mingi pulls up a picture of the glasses to show him. “He has a really nice face, kind of small and angular and sharp, like a pixie? And he wears a lot of jewellery,” Mingi explains further, even though he knows it’s useless. If Seonghwa had seen him, he wouldn’t even need Mingi to describe him. Unless he wasn’t wearing the glasses? “He also usually wears a black Vivienne Westwood jacket, if that helps?”

He shows him some pictures again, and Seonghwa laughs. “Nope. I’m sure I would remember if someone like that came in.” They’re interrupted by a few customers stepping through the door; none of them is the one Mingi wants to see.

When they’re free again, Seonghwa asks the question Mingi hopes he wouldn’t ask. “Why are you asking about this guy?”

“Oh, just, you know,” Mingi hedges, fiddling with the portafilter he just finished cleaning. “He came every Tuesday for six weeks and then stopped so I was wondering if he maybe came in the afternoon.”

Seonghwa gives him a sideways look, like he knows Mingi is full of shit. “Mmhm.”

“Hyuuung,” Mingi whines, pawing at Seonghwa’s shoulder.

“I didn’t say anything!” Seonghwa laughs, poking Mingi gently in his stomach, and he responds by acting like he’s been stabbed. Seonghwa laughs harder, hiding the pretty sound behind his hand. “But I’ll let you know if he comes in during the afternoon.”

“You’re the best, hyung.” Mingi beams, straightening and pushing his glasses up his nose before gently poking Seonghwa back. He still feels a pang of disappointment. He thinks he hasn’t done anything crazy enough to completely turn the man off from ever coming to the shop again. He’s 99% positive it’s not his fault. Maybe the man was just busy. Or maybe he no longer worked in the area. That was way more likely.

The man doesn’t come the whole week.

Mingi resigns himself to the fact that he isn’t going to see the handsome man again. Perhaps it’s just as well; he was beginning to get a little bit obsessed and it probably wouldn’t have ended well for his heart. A man who looked like that would never be interested in someone like him anyway.

☕︎ ☕︎ × ☕︎ ☕︎ × ☕︎ ☕︎ + ☕︎ ☕︎

Mingi’s futzing with the cups, making all the handles face one way. He’s also arranged them by pattern, and he smiles to himself, knowing Seonghwa will appreciate the little detail.

The door opens with its usual gentle chime, and he looks up to greet the customer, only to freeze at the sight of familiar blond hair. The man’s rimless glasses are round this time, and he’s wearing a leather jacket, but his sharp looks are softened by his friendly smile. This is probably the most chipper Mingi has seen him.

“Hello!” He remembers to say, smiling wide, trying not to look too excited. “What can I get you tonight?”

“Hello again,” the man says. The beginnings of crow’s feet appear at the corner of his eyes when he smiles, and Mingi feels his heart go schwoop! “I’ll have a cup of hot chamomile tea, please. For here.”

“Coming right up!”

The man holds his phone out, and Mingi dutifully initiates the transaction without even reading the price.

“Do I grab a seat?” He asks Mingi, one slim eyebrow raised.

“Yes, go ahead.” Mingi grins and picks a ceramic cup patterned with cute stars around the bottom. He’s still smiling as he prepares everything and carries it over, and he knows he really should stop but he feels weirdly giddy and his lips refuse to straighten out.

The man is at his usual seat by the window, looking out into the calm, quiet street.

Mingi tries hard not to stare too much. “Here’s your tea,” he says, setting down the cup. He also puts down the honey packets and a stir stick even though the man hadn’t asked for them, and really, if he wanted honey, the self-serve bar was right there.

The man lets out a surprised “Oh!” when he sees the honey and shoots Mingi a brilliant smile, the crows’ feet appearing again. In that moment he looks unbearably lovely, sunshine incarnate, and Mingi’s heart goes schwoop-de-woop and explodes in a shower of rainbow coloured sparks. “Thank you so much. I forgot to ask for honey.”

“No worries!” Mingi should go back to the counter now, but he’s itching to say something about the man’s absence, even if that probably isn’t wise.

The man gives Mingi a questioning look, both eyebrows raised gently. “Yes?”

Mingi hides his fidgety hands behind his back. “I um, wanted to apologise,” he says hesitantly.

The man blinks, clearly taken aback. “What for?”

“Last time you were here, I assumed what you wanted, and I was worried I offended you. By— by being too familiar, or something.”

The man blinks again, his head tilting to the side in confusion. “Why would I be offended by that?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Mingi feels his cheeks go hot, and he looks down at the table. “I saw something on Twitter. People said they didn’t like it when a place assumed what they wanted because they always got the same thing.”

“Why are you taking the internet seriously?” The man smiles like he’s trying not to laugh, and the corners of his lips curl inward, cutely impish. This time it’s Mingi’s stomach’s turn at acrobatics. “In any case, I think it’s a wonderful thing to be so consistent that your joint knows your order as soon as they see you.”

Twilight’s his joint? This is fantastic news for Mingi. “Right, I think so too!” He nods eagerly. “There’s a little place by me where I always get jjin-mandu, and the nice ahjumma always tells me I’m her most handsome customer and has a plate ready for me as soon as she sees me walk up.”

The man laughs warmly, looking at Mingi with those crinkled eyes of his. “Oh, I bet.”

Mingi blinks, trying to figure out if he’s agreeing with the part about being a regular or the part about him being Han Ahjumma’s most handsome customer, and decides it’s better left unknown. “I’ll leave you to your drink then,” he mumbles, suddenly too flustered to keep talking.

He spends the rest of the time focused on prepping for the next day, carefully wiping down the counter surfaces and refilling the sugars, napkins and other items on the self-serve bar. He only steals quick little glances at the man, not wanting to get caught staring.

After about 20 minutes, the man gets up, slides his jacket back on and brings the cup to the counter, one honey packet remaining on the saucer.

“Oh, you didn’t need to do that.” Mingi gives him his tiniest, most professional pout.

“It’s no bother,” the man says, shaking his head. “Actually, I’m sorry too.”

Now it’s Mingi’s turn to be puzzled. “What for?”

“It’s been weeks and you still apologised, so I figured you probably worried about it at least a little. And the way I acted the last time I was here probably didn’t help either, so I just wanted to apologise if I made you feel bad.”

He looked contrite, and Mingi felt warm in his chest. “That’s— that’s really nice of you. To apologise, I mean. Thank you. But it was just me overthinking though, so it’s really okay.”

The man shrugs. “Still. I was all over the place because I had a trip come up unexpectedly and I had to fly to Japan the next morning. So I probably was less than cordial.”

Mingi laughs, mindful not to disturb the gentle hush of night inside the cafe. “Your ‘less than cordial’ is still leagues ahead of my ‘less than cordial’. But I guess that’s why you were gone the last three weeks?” Immediately he winces, because why did he have to say exactly how many weeks it had been?

“Yeah, that’s why,” he responds, seemingly not thinking anything about Mingi’s creepily accurate timekeeping. “I just got back yesterday morning.”

“Well, I hope you had a nice trip,” Mingi offers.

“Thank you, I did.” He pauses, then holds his hand out. There are dainty silver rings on his ring and index fingers. “My name is Kim Hongjoong, by the way. I figure since I’m a regular now, you should know my name.”

Mingi stares at his small hand for a moment before he remembers to take it, and it’s almost comical how completely his own engulfs it. Hongjoong’s grip is dry and firm, and Mingi hopes his suddenly frantic heartbeat isn’t obvious through their shared point of contact. “Song Mingi,” he says, and for some reason, pulls his apron up a little to show off his nametag, as if Seonghwa’s neat penmanship in thick black marker isn’t visible from across the cafe.

Hongjoong’s eyes flit down to his chest for a moment before he looks back into Mingi’s eyes. He withdraws his hand and adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder, rings and bracelets glinting on his hand. “I’ll see you next week then, Mingi-ssi.”

Mingi waves both his hands like a dork. “I’ll see you next week, Hongjoong-nim!”

Hongjoong gives him another one of his little smirks, and does this chic little single-handed bye, only his index, middle and ring fingers folding a couple times while his pinky sticks out. Then he walks out the door, and the moment he’s out of sight, Mingi puts his head on the counter and laughs incredulously.

He’s going to see his handsome mystery customer— Kim Hongjoong, what a cool name— next week again. He can’t wait.

☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ + ☕︎ ☕︎ + ☕︎ + ☕︎ ☕︎ + ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow when Mingi joins him behind the counter.

“What?” Mingi asks, giving his boss— and the closest thing he has to a big brother, really— a cheeky little grin.

“You’re cheery today,” Seonghwa squints at him and gives him a once-over like he can suss out the cause of Mingi’s happiness just by looking at him.

“I’m cheery every day!” Mingi protests, giving Seonghwa his puppiest pout and pushing his glasses up his nose. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s because of Hongjoong!”

Mingi turns to give Yunho a withering look. “Nobody asked you, Yunho. Aren’t you supposed to be focusing on your work?”

Yunho grins up at them from the table closest to the counter, where he’s finished setting up his notebook and pen case. His textbook is nowhere to be seen. “I’m here to kiss ass and take notes, and it looks like I grabbed the wrong textbook, so you know what that means.” He blows a kiss to Seonghwa and wiggles his fingers. “Hi hyung!”

One of the two women sitting at the table behind him has turned away, her hunched shoulders shaking. The other one is using her hand to hide her face, though Mingi can tell she’s just as disbelieving as Mingi is. Seonghwa, meanwhile, giggles and blushes, and while Mingi loves and respects his hyung very much, he cannot deny he feels some of that respect diminish at his response to Yunho’s atrocious flirting.

“You had one job,” Mingi says, thoroughly exasperated.

Yunho smiles, but Mingi can see the tiredness and self-deprecation in his eyes. “Maybe it’s just not a studying kinda day.”

Their shared apartment was a fifteen-minute walk away, and Yunho could easily go and get the textbook he needed, but Mingi keeps his mouth shut. Between his nine-to-six and his online classes, Yunho hardly has any free time these days, so if he wants to use stupid reasons like this to flirt with his crush, Mingi can’t really fault him for that.

Even if his flirting is downright appalling.

“Good evening, Yunho.” Seonghwa smiles at him, already moving to pull the espresso shots for his iced latte.

“Good evening, Seonghwa hyung. I hope you didn’t miss me too much?”

“Maybe just a little,” Seonghwa says shyly. Then he flicks his gaze between Mingi and Yunho. “Who’s Hongjoong?”

Mingi groans and Yunho puts his chin in his palm, grinning brightly. “His favourite customer, of course.”

Seonghwa snaps his fingers. “Oh, the blond man you were asking about! Did he come back?”

Yunho, as always, is happy to speak on Mingi’s behalf. “Yep! And apparently he’s coming tonight.”

“Oh, that explains it!” Seonghwa laughs and ruffles Mingi’s hair when he starts pouting.

They leave the topic alone as more customers come in. Yunho settles for going over the notes he’s already taken, and ends up staying until midnight and it’s time for Seonghwa to clock out.

“I’ll walk you home, hyung,” he offers, and Seonghwa shakes his head, looking a little pink.

“You don’t have to, Yunho-ya, isn’t it late? Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“It’s no bother, hyung, really.” Yunho looks at Seonghwa with a hopeful smile as he packs away his notebook and pens.

“He’s usually playing Valorant at this time anyway,” Mingi sniggers, sticking his tongue out at Yunho, who gives him double thumbs down.

“Boo, snitch!”

Seonghwa laughs as he walks into the back room. He emerges after a few minutes, apron off, coat on, a light scarf around his neck to ward against the autumn chill. “Goodnight Mingi-ya, have a good and safe rest of your shift.” He does some last-minute straightening of syrup bottles, before he finally steps to the door with a soft “Call me if you need anything at all ok?” like he does every night.

“Yes hyung, now get going.” Mingi waves the both of them off, feeling fond as he catches Yunho adjusting Seonghwa’s scarf as they walk away. He turns off the larger lights above the seating area, letting the little flower-shaped glass pendant lights and small table lamps shine brighter. It converts the usually cosy yet still well-lit cafe into something more intimate, the uniformly bright, cream-soft white lights replaced by dreamy yellow and pink hues puddling among the tables.

He watches some ASMR baking videos on YouTube between the few customers who walk in. At 1:17 am, the door chimes, and Mingi’s already standing up with a bright smile. “Hi Hongjoong-nim! Hot chamomile tea?”

Hongjoong looks tired, eyebags more pronounced than usual, but manages a little smile. “Yes please, Mingi-ssi. Thank you so much.”

He touches his phone to the card reader and goes to his usual seat, and Mingi can tell his shoulders are sloped a little lower than they usually are.

Mingi gets his tea prepped in no time at all and brings it to him. “I already added the honey for you. You usually do just one packet, right? Let me know if it’s fine?”

Hongjoong takes a sip and smiles up at him. “It’s perfect, thank you so much.”

Mingi nods, a pleasant feeling of satisfaction welling up in him, happy to do something, trivial as it is, to ease his exhaustion. “Let me know if you need anything else, Hongjoong-nim.” He wants to say more, ask him if everything’s ok, but decides to retreat and let the man enjoy his drink in peace.

Hongjoong takes his time with the tea, sipping it as he looks out the window, and Mingi takes a moment to admire his handsome profile illuminated by the pale pink light from the lamp directly above his table. It’s calm in the cafe, and the Studio Ghibli piano cover playlist that Mingi’s picked out today flows through the speakers, the soft notes settling in the space like gentle mist. He wonders how much more dazzling Hongjoong would look on a stage, surrounded by spotlights. Or at the beach, bathed in golden light from the setting sun. Maybe he’d wear nice beach-y shirt with the top 3 or 4 buttons undone, emphasising the gentle swell of his chest. Hongjoong had a really nice chest. Mingi wants to put his head on it so bad...

Hongjoong brings the cup and saucer back to the counter when he’s done, and gives Mingi a soft, peaceful little smile. “Thank you again for the tea, Mingi-ssi. I’ll see you again next week.”

Mingi nods and returns a smile of his own, hoping his daydreams aren't splashed across his face. “See you next week, Hongjoong-nim. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” With a flutter of his fingers, Hongjoong turns to walk out the door, the chime announcing his departure.

Mingi quickly washes the used dishes and puts them on the drying rack. It’s almost 2:00 am, so he starts preparing to close, humming to himself. He hadn’t been able to talk to Hongjoong today, but he didn’t mind it at all. He had next week.

☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎ × ☕︎☕︎ + ☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎

When Hongjoong steps through the cafe door, he looks significantly more awake than last week, greeting Mingi with a wide smile. “Hello, Mingi-ssi.”

Mingi grins and salutes playfully. “The usual?”

Hongjoong nods, smile curling into something mischievous, like he’s acknowledging the inside joke. “The usual.”

Mingi brings him his tea, prepped exactly how he likes it, and since Hongjoong looks a bit more relaxed today, Mingi risks a question. “What do you do, Hongjoong-nim? If that’s ok for me to ask.”

Hongjoong takes a sip of his tea before he answers. “Of course, Mingi-ssi. I’m a music producer.”

Mingi’s eyes go wide. “Oh! Do you work at KQ then?”

Hongjoong nods, looking surprised. “Yeah, how did you guess?”

“I know it’s close. We have regulars who come in the evenings, mostly staff, some trainees. Plus, Seonghwa hyung says we should be aware of the companies around us. Know our clientele, something like that.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Are you coming straight from work, Hongjoong-nim?”

He chuckles, looking a little sheepish. “Yes. Tuesdays are my in-office days.”

Mingi’s eyes widen. “Isn’t it late? Do you always work this late? Not that I can judge.”

“You can judge,” Hongjoong shrugs. “I keep odd hours, and being a workaholic doesn’t help. I’m trying to change that, though.”

“Is that why you drink the chamomile?”

“Yes, actually, I’m hoping that forcing myself to sit with some tea and just not do anything will help me relax enough so I can just head straight to bed when I get home. I have a bad habit of looking at emails and getting sucked into work. Then I’ll only sleep at seven in the morning and I can’t be doing that because I need to be up by noon for meetings.”

Ah, the circadian struggles of a night owl. Mingi’s all too familiar with it. “Is it working?”

Hongjoong makes a see-saw motion with the hand that’s not holding the cup. His rings catch the light prettily. “On the days I visit the cafe, yes. On the days I do it myself at home, not so much.” He gives Mingi a teasing smile. “I think it helps when a professional makes it.”

Mingi tries not to blush too much. He thinks maybe Hongjoong should come every day then, but is too shy to say that out loud, so he settles for an “I’m glad it’s helping you, Hongjoong-nim” and a flustered bow.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Hongjoong indicates the seat across from his.

“Oh, I shouldn’t. I don’t want to keep you from your relaxing.”

“Do you have work to do?” Hongjoong asks, chin tilting up a little, eyes wide, expectant. And he looks. So cute. Mingi’s heart feels swoopy.

Mingi shakes his head. Hongjoong is so cute, and cool, and handsome. And polite. And he wants him to sit so they can talk more. This is all Mingi wants too, but he resists a little, for decorum. Right? He shouldn’t look too excited to slack off at work. “No, nothing really pressing, unless a customer comes in…”

“Then sit, I promise you’re not interrupting anything.”

Mingi asks Hongjoong more questions about his work, and he answers them patiently, even though he must have been asked the same questions countless times. Mingi finds it all fascinating. He likes music, learned how to play guitar as a teenager, but didn’t really get too involved in its technical aspects. Hearing Hongjoong talk about it so knowledgeably fills him with a sense of awe and respect.

He’s startled out of his focus when his watch vibrates with a text from Yunho, and he notices it’s 2:15 am already.

“Oh god, I’ve kept you way longer than you usually stay!” he exclaims, standing up and bowing in apology. “I’m so sorry Hongjoong-nim, hopefully you can still get home and fall asleep on time.”

“It’s no trouble at all, really,” Hongjoong assures him with the teasing smile that always makes Mingi feel a little lightheaded. “Talking to you was a good change of pace. Usually, I’m just thinking about work even when I’m supposed to be relaxing.”

Mingi gathers the cup and saucer and looks at Hongjoong with a pensive frown. “If you’re sure...”

“I’m sure.”

He brightens. “Then, ok. I really enjoyed talking to you, I feel like I learned a lot. Though I think I asked you way too many questions.”

“You’re fine, Mingi-ssi. And I enjoyed talking to you too.”

As Hongjoong slips his coat on and shoulders his bag, Mingi asks, “See you next week?”

Hongjoong looks at him, and for a moment, just a split second really, Mingi feels the weight of his focus settle entirely on him. He smiles, his lips curling inward at the corners in his familiar, teasing way, but there’s something in his gaze that seems… sweet? Mingi’s too nervous to put a name to it. “Yes, I’ll see you next week, Mingi-ssi. Goodnight. Get home safe.”

“You too. Get home safe and uh. Goodnight.” Mingi bows again, flustered under his attention. “Goodnight.”

☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎ + ☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎ + ☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎

The passing of days feels strange to Mingi and his sparkly, infatuated mind. Tuesdays seem to be the only days that matter anymore, his conversations with Hongjoong like prizes for a week of work well done.

It’s been three weeks since Hongjoong first asked him to sit and chat, and every time he visits now, Mingi makes himself a cup of jasmine tea when he makes Hongjoong’s chamomile, and they sit and chat about music, fashion, and art until it’s time for Mingi to close. He learns that Hongjoong is 30, and tells him that he’s 5 years younger. Hongjoong says he can call him Hyung if he likes, but Mingi doesn’t know if that’s crossing a line somehow. Things are easy with Hongjoong-nim, the cool older man whom Mingi looks up to and admires and idly dreams about going on thrift shopping dates with. Hongjoong-hyung feels… close, feels within reach.

Hongjoong-hyung feels like he’s stepped off a pedestal.

It’s probably unfair to the man for Mingi to idolise him like this. He’s never behaved loftily, and in fact, over the last couple months, Mingi has seen him at his most human: sleepy, pensive, exhausted, yet still indulging Mingi with conversation, laughing at his stupid jokes, and shaking his head at the stories about rude customers.

Is it cowardly to not want to change the status quo, just because he’s afraid of... what, exactly? Is he afraid, even? His emotions are all over the place, and Mingi doesn’t know what to do.

What he does know is that he genuinely likes Hongjoong, perhaps even more so than when he was just a hot man wearing cool clothes. Now he knows what makes him frown with disgust or gasp with disbelief, knows he speaks fast and sometimes slurs his words when he gets excited, knows he hates vegetables and isn’t much good in a kitchen. He knows Hongjoong listens attentively, considers things thoroughly, and is patient enough to deal with Mingi and his endless curiosity.

The door opens with a chime, and Hongjoong steps in, smiling warmly at Mingi.

“Hi Hongjoong-hyung!” he says, grinning at the man, only a little pink in the face.

Hongjoong’s smile widens.

☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎ × ☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎

Mingi’s surprised when the door opens and Hongjoong walks in.

He looks at the clock to double-check, and no, it isn’t 1:17 am. In fact it is only 11:45 pm, and Hongjoong looks just as surprised to see Seonghwa behind the counter, working next to Mingi.

“Hongjoong hyung,” he greets, and notices Seonghwa dart a shocked look between the two of them.

“Mingi-ya, hello,” he responds, bobbing his head at Seonghwa before smiling at Mingi like he usually does. “I’m early, I know. But I finished work early today.”

Mingi gasps and starts clapping, and Hongjoong bows with a flourish, making Seonghwa duck to hide his smile behind his curtain of hair. “Incredible! Wow! I can’t believe it!”

Hoongjoong chuckles and adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Exactly. So I’m going to go home and sleep early today.”

“Gotcha, your super special sleep brew is coming right up!”

“Thank you so much,” he says, and Mingi nods easily.

“Seonghwa hyung, can you please ring him up for a chamomile tea?”

“Sure can,” Seonghwa says, and Mingi leaves him to it so he can get started on the tea.

“Ah, so you’re the owner?” He hears Hongjoong ask, and peeks out of the corner of his eye to see what they’re doing.

Hongjoong is leaning on the counter, looking at Seonghwa with an appreciative smile. It makes Mingi’s insides twist uncomfortably.

He’s used to seeing people hit on Seonghwa; he’s an objectively gorgeous man. He’s often teased his hyung about it too because it’s kind of funny how Seonghwa flusters when someone is being particularly forward.

He’s never experienced someone he likes flirting with him though. And okay, maybe it’s not flirting, because Hongjoong and Seonghwa are having a perfectly normal conversation about the cafe’s inception. And besides, Seonghwa has been solidly into Yunho for the past few months now, even if they haven’t actually gone on a proper date yet.

But Hongjoong is looking at him with a gleam of interest in his eye, something Mingi has never seen directed at him. He feels petty, then feels stupid for feeling petty, because really, what right did he have to feel that way?

Hongjoong sits right next to the counter so he and Seonghwa can continue talking, only pausing when a new customer steps into the cafe, and then when Seonghwa excuses himself to go to the back room and get ready to clock out.

“The cafe looks different,” he says, taking in the decor in the brighter light. “It’s really nice.”

“Yes, we change to night mode after midnight,” Mingi explains, making air quotes around ‘night mode’. He hopes he sounds chipper as usual. “You’ll see it when hyung leaves.”

Seonghwa leaves with a wave to both of them, wishing Mingi a safe shift and wishing Hongjoong a good night and good luck sleeping. Mingi turns the big lights above the seating area off, and Hongjoong makes a small sound of amazement. Mingi grins at him.

He stays behind the counter, taking care of the customers that trickle in.

After a bit, Hongjoong brings his empty cup to him, and Mingi gives him an apologetic smile. “Sorry I couldn’t talk much today.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Hongjoong waves a hand dismissively. “I had a relaxing time. Your boss seems really nice, does he treat you well?”

Mingi’s brows scrunch up at the mention of Seonghwa. “Huh? Yes, hyung treats me very well.”

“Good, I’m glad. You must like working for him then.”

“Ah, yes... I do.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence, then both of them start at the same time.

“Actually—”

“I don’t—”

They laugh, and Hongjoong gestures to Mingi. “You first, Mingi-ya.”

Mingi swallows and licks his lips nervously. “Uh, I don’t, I don’t know if I should be saying this, but,” he ducks his head, too embarrassed to look at Hongjoong while he says it, “Seonghwa hyung is, uh, interested in someone else right now.”

When Hongjoong says nothing, he hazards a peek through his lashes, and sees him sporting an amused little smile.

“Thank you for telling me, Mingi-ya,” he says, coughing into his hand, obviously covering a chuckle. Mingi pouts.

“Don’t laugh,” he mumbles, crossing his arms in front of himself. “I just wanted you to be aware.”

“Of course, consider me aware now,” Hongjoong replies, clearing his throat. “Okay, now let me tell you what I wanted to say. I’m going on a work trip again, for about three weeks. Maybe more, but I don’t know yet.”

“Three weeks?” Mingi asks, and he hadn’t meant to sound so disappointed, but he does.

“Mhm, I know,” Hongjoong replies, smiling softly. “I’m going to miss your tea.”

Mingi feels a familiar swoop in his stomach. “I’m going to miss you too— I mean, our chats, I mean. Yeah.”

Then Hongjoong surprises him with a “Don’t go replacing me with another late-night customer, okay?”

Mingi grins. “Only if I remain your favourite barista.”

Hongjoong archly raises a single eyebrow. “Who said you were my favourite barista?”

Mingi’s jaw drops, and he pretends to stumble with a hand over his heart. “After all I’ve done for you...”

Hongjoong laughs loudly, a bright, lovely ‘hahaha’ that reveals two rows of perfect pearly white teeth before he brings up a hand to cover his mouth. There’s a mole on his neck that Mingi hadn’t noticed before.

“I kid. You’re the only barista I know.”

Mingi huffs, trying desperately to stop cheesing like a fool. “I don’t know if that’s better, but sure.”

Hongjoong grins at him. “Okay, I need to get going now. I’ll see you in three weeks.”

Mingi nods. “I’ll hold you to it. Safe travels, Hongjoong hyung.”

“Thank you, Mingi-ya. Goodnight and get home safe.”

He watches Hongjoong leave, tossing a smile and wave over his shoulder as the glass door closes behind him.

The colours of the cafe feel dimmer already.

( ☕︎☕︎☕︎ × ☕︎☕︎☕︎ ) + ☕︎ + ( ☕︎☕︎☕︎ × ☕︎☕︎☕︎ )

The cafe was closed on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, Tuesday and Wednesday respectively. Seonghwa had invited them to a party on Christmas Eve, and since Yunho was whipped and Mingi didn’t want to dwell on another Tuesday without seeing Hongjoong, they agreed to go.

It was a very lowkey affair at Seonghwa’s place, and the only others in attendance were San, who worked Mingi’s shift on Saturdays, and Yeosang, San’s boyfriend and cafe regular.

Seonghwa introduced San and Yeosang to Yunho, and they drank beer, ate Christmas cake, and played some drinking games for a bit, until it became clear that San was falling asleep where he sat, and Yeosang decided that they should get going so San could pass out in peace.

Mingi wanted to leave, but Yunho wanted to stay, and was too nervous to be alone with Seonghwa in the man’s house. Mingi, being a great friend, agreed to stay, though not without extracting a favour from Yunho to be cashed in at a later date.

So they’re now in Seonghwa’s living room, Yunho and Mingi on the loveseat and Seonghwa in the plush armchair, each holding a glass of sparkling grape juice, courtesy of Seonghwa.

Mingi follows along as Seonghwa and Yunho talk about work, family, and Yunho’s classes. After a while, Mingi feels a squeeze on his shoulder.

“We’ve been calling you for a while now,” Yunho says, tilting his head and looking at Mingi like a confused puppy. “Where did you go off to?”

“Nothing, sorry I zoned out.” He shook his head and patted his cheeks to snap himself out of it. “What were you saying?”

“Just asking about your plans for New Year’s,” Seonghwa replies, topping up Mingi’s juice.

“I was thinking about visiting my family. I’ll probably leave early in the morning and be back by dinner?”

“Nothing for New Year’s Eve?”

“Nope. Were you planning on opening the cafe?”

Seonghwa looks thoughtful. “I thought about it, but I think it’ll be more hassle than it’s worth. We had so many drunk people come in last year. I think I might close on Tuesday for NYE then open on Wednesday if San’s available. If he’s not, I guess we’ll just stay closed.”

“I could help with the cafe, if you like,” Yunho offers with a hopeful smile.

Mingi wonders if Hongjoong had returned from his trip this week, or if he’d only come next week, but since the cafe would be closed on Tuesday, he would probably only be able to see him the week after. Well, it’s not like Hongjoong would have shown up to the cafe on New Year’s Eve anyway, he would probably be at a work party, or any number of other parties filled with other cool and interesting people. Would he kiss anyone when the clock struck twelve?

He snaps out of his contemplations, and notices Yunho and Seonghwa have finished talking and are looking at each other with dopey smiles. He takes a few long sips of his sparkling juice and burps.

They both immediately look away from each other, and Yunho smacks him on the chest for being gross, as if he and Yunho didn’t regularly have burping contests at home. Mingi doesn’t mention it, laughing at them instead, and they settle back down, talking about the cafe again.

☕︎☕︎ + ( ☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎ × ☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎ ) + ☕︎☕︎

It’s the day after New Year’s, so the cafe is a bit slower than it would be on a regular Thursday. Mingi’s watching a YouTube video over Seonghwa’s shoulder, one of their favourite baristas whipping up a complicated but no-doubt delicious drink that Seonghwa’s planning on attempting that weekend.

The door chimes, announcing a customer, and Seonghwa pauses the video and sets his phone down. “Oh, hello Jongho-ya! Happy New Year!”

Jongho smiles at him. “Happy New Year, hyung.” He looks at Mingi and smirks. “Hey.”

“I will give you decaf,” Mingi threatens. “Not today, but one day, when you least expect it.”

“Did you beat him at that game again?” Seonghwa laughs softly, and Jongho grins, looking very satisfied with himself.

“Sure did. Just like I did all the other times before. Also, can you please add a vanilla latte to my order?”

Seonghwa nods. “Of course.”

As Jongho pays for the drinks, Mingi gives him the stink eye, and Jongho sticks his tongue out at him.

“He didn’t beat me every time, hyung,” Mingi pouts at Seonghwa as he pulls the espresso shot for the latte. “And besides, he loses to Yunho all—”

“This isn’t about my games with Yunho,” Jongho interrupts. “This is about you being a sore loser.”

“Alright, no arguing in my cafe, thank you,” Seonghwa gives them both a smile that means business as he sets up the Hario V60 dripper and filter for Jongho’s pour-over coffee. Jongho obediently shuts up and moves so he can see Seonghwa prep everything. “Also, Jongho-ya, it’s been a while since I saw you or Wooyoung, how have things been at KQ?”

“Our new group is getting ready for their first comeback and we’ve been slammed.” Jongho sighs, watching the coffee drip steadily into the glass carafe. “I haven’t seen or even caught up with Wooyoung hyung for the last couple weeks. He’s probably drilling the choreo into them and giving himself a stress ulcer. The kids had a couple days off for the New Year but I think they need more. One of them cried in vocal class today. The latte is for him, actually.”

“Oh, poor thing.” Seonghwa shakes his head.

Mingi picks up a marker to doodle a little stick figure on the go-cup, along with a ‘hwaiting!’, feeling bad for the idol and hoping the latte can cheer him up.

As Mingi pours the espresso and vanilla syrup into the cup and tops it up with steamed milk, the door chimes again, and he hears Seonghwa say “Oh, Hongjoong-ssi! Happy New Year!”

Mingi almost spills the milk on his hand, but manages to safely make the latte and top the cup off with a lid before he lifts his head to grin at Hongjoong.

“Hello, Seonghwa-ssi, Mingi-ya, Happy New Year,” Hongjoong says, and his eyes widen when he sees Jongho standing there. “Oh, Jongho! Happy New Year to you too.”

“Hey Joong hyung, Happy New Year,” Jongho replies with a small wave of his hand. “I didn’t know you were coming to the studio today.”

“No, I’m not. I was just taking a walk and wanted to stop by.”

“How was your trip?” Mingi asks, handing the latte off to Jongho and coming back to the register. “And what can we get you today? Also, your coat is sick.”

Hongjoong laughs softly, looking down and scratching the back of his neck before he looks up at Mingi again. “Thank you. The trip was good, we got a lot done,” Hongjoong smiles. He’s wearing a different pair of glasses today, simple silver wire-frames with oval lenses. His black peacoat is embellished with a variety of rhinestones, safety pins, buttons and chains. Like Mingi said, sick.

“Is this one of your projects?”

“Yep, I thrifted this in Japan on my last work trip. Fixed it up on this one.”

Seonghwa clears his throat lightly, and Mingi blinks. “Oh, right, your order? I figure you don’t want chamomile right now.”

“No, just a hot americano, please.”

“I’ll get it,” Seonghwa says, pouring the drip coffee into a go cup for Jongho before prepping the puck for the espresso.

The door chimes, announcing a new customer, and Hongjoong steps to the side to wait for his americano.

Mingi rings up the new arrival, then steps to the side to continue his conversation with Hongjoong. Hongjoong reaches into his pocket to pull out a small black pouch and holds it out to Mingi. There’s something printed on it in white, a logo Mingi can't identify.

“What’s this?” Mingi asks, holding his hand out to receive it. He looks at him for permission to open.

Hongjoong nods with a smile, so Mingi unfastens the little button and tips the contents into his palm.

“Oh my god!” He almost squeals, eyes widening at the sight of the bracelet, carved black wooden beads strung together with what he’s afraid are genuine baroque pearls, because he’d gushed to Hongjoong one time about how pretty and unique they looked.

“Hongjoong hyung,” he wails softly, looking at the man and pouting with all his might, even if everything feels hot and fuzzy inside him. “I can’t accept this!”

“But I got it just for you.” Hongjoong smiles at Mingi. “It’s just a little souvenir. And I promise, it’s not as expensive as you think.”

Mingi pouts harder, well aware that their definitions of expensive were wildly different.

“If it’s really too much, I’ll take it back,” Hongjoong says, and Mingi immediately pulls back with a “No!” that has Seonghwa, Jongho, and the new customer looking at him.

“I mean, you bought it for me, so I don’t want to be rude. I’ll accept it gratefully. Thank you so much, hyung. It’s really beautiful.”

“I’m very happy you like it, Mingi-ya.” Hongjoong looks pleased as punch. “Well then, I’ll be off. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“See you then, hyung.” Mingi waves shyly, and Hongjoong makes to leave with a smile and nod to Seonghwa and Jongho as well, when Seonghwa interrupts him.

“Hongjoong-ssi, your drink!”

Hongjoong turns around, smiling sheepishly and grabbing the cup Seonghwa is holding out to him before he hurries out of the cafe.

“That was something,” Jongho says, looking at the door in disbelief. “I didn’t know Hongjoong hyung’s face could look like that.”

“I didn’t know Mingi’s face could look like that,” Seonghwa says, and picks up his phone. “I should take a picture to show Yunho.”

“No!” Mingi shrieks, covering his face with one hand, the other still holding tight to the bracelet. He’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

☕︎☕︎☕︎ × ☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎ + ☕︎☕︎☕︎

Hongjoong visits on Tuesday, just like he said he would.

“I’m sorry if I put you in an awkward spot,” he says as soon as he walks into the cafe, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I just wanted to give it to you as soon as I could.”

Mingi blushes at the confession. “It’s okay, I just got teased a little for the yelling, that’s all.”

Seonghwa had been kind enough not to mention it again, only giving Mingi gleeful little smiles whenever he saw the bracelet on Mingi’s wrist.

And considering Mingi had been wearing it every day, he’d gotten a lot of those.

“And look, it looks really good hyung!” Mingi grins, holding his hand out so Hongjoong can see.

“It looks great on you,” Hongjoong says, hovering his hand under Mingi’s wrist, and Mingi’s half glad Hongjoong isn’t touching him, sure he’ll probably explode at the contact.

“Right? I’ve been wearing it every day, but Seonghwa hyung says I shouldn’t because pearls are delicate and very sensitive to body acids. I took it off yesterday, but wore it today to show you.”

“Wear it as much as you like, Mingi-ya,” Hongjoong says, shaking his head. “If the pearls get damaged, I’ll buy you a new one.”

There’s something really hot about the casual way he says it, like money was no issue if Mingi was happy. No one had ever made Mingi feel like that before, like he was important, and worth indulging, except his mother.

“No, I want to cherish it,” Mingi says, smiling down at it. “I’ll wear it carefully, hyung. Thanks again.”

“You’re very welcome, Mingi-ya. How was your Christmas and New Year?”

They catch up on all the things that happened since Hongjoong left for his trip, and before long, it’s time to close. Mingi walks Hongjoong to the door, and there’s a moment where Hongjoong pauses, looking up at him.

Mingi hums, raising his eyebrows in question. Hongjoong lifts his hand, hesitates, then slowly reaches out to straighten Mingi’s glasses.

Mingi stares in shock.

“Good night, Mingi-ya,” Hongjoong says, and he sounds unsure of himself for the first time since Mingi’s met him. He smiles a quick, helpless little smile before he tips his head in a bow. “Get home safe.”

!!

Mingi’s watching baking ASMR videos again, bored after not having anyone come in for the last 30 minutes. Thursdays were usually busier since more people worked late so they could leave on time on Friday, but apparently not today.

It’s about 1:30, and he goes to the backroom to bring over the dried cups and utensils from the dishwasher. When he returns, he’s surprised to see Hongjoong standing at the counter.

“Hyung?” He asks, blinking as he sets the basin with clean cups down. “Did you go into the studio today?”

Hongjoong looks tired, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. “No, working from home today. I was getting a bit antsy so I decided to take a walk, and thought I may as well get some tea.”

Mingi nods. “Sure, I’ll get that right over to you. I don’t think I can sit down to chat though…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I doubt I’ll be decent company anyway.”

He gets the tea prepped for Hongjoong and drops it off, along with an almond cookie.

“It’s not very sweet and pairs well with the tea,” he says when Hongjoong gives him a quizzical look. “Just a little something to cheer you up.”

Hongjoong’s brows scrunch up, and he looks up at Mingi with a grateful smile. “Oh, Mingi. Thank you so much.”

After making sure Hongjoong has everything he needs, he resumes stacking the cups with renewed enthusiasm, happy to see Hongjoong twice in one week, and happy to cheer him up however he can.

He looks a bit better when Mingi tells him it’s time to close, seemingly having worked out whatever it was that was making him upset.

“See you Tuesday, Mingi-ya,” he says, smile more settled than when he walked in. “Get home safe.”

“See you Tuesday, hyung,” Mingi waves goodbye. “You too!”

☕︎ - ( ☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎ × ☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎ ) - ☕︎

!!

Hongjoong had come to the cafe twice a week for two weeks in a row, so Mingi’s not surprised when he shows up again today, even if they’d parted on Tuesday with their customary “see you Tuesday.”

They didn’t talk as much on Thursdays since Mingi had to attend to customers, but Hongjoong seemed to like just sitting by the window and smiling at Mingi every time their eyes met.

Mingi checks on him a little after 1:45 because he’s pretty sure no other customers will show up. Hongjoong is still sitting quietly, staring out the window when Mingi comes up to him. “Are you okay, hyung?”

“I’m fine, Mingi-ya. Just thinking.”

Mingi sits down facing him, chin in hand. “What about?”

Hongjoong smiles at him and shakes his head. “Nothing important. Is it time for you to close?”

Mingi nods and stretches. “Mm, in a few. Just gonna put the leftover pastries in the freezer and lock up. You can stay until then if you like.”

“Sure,” Hongjoong says, but he sounds distant, distracted, even when he’s looking at him.

He shoots Hongjoong an encouraging smile and gets up to finish his last tasks for the day, then comes back out with his coat, scarf, and beanie on.

“I’m gonna lock up now, hyung.”

Hongjoong startles but quickly stands up, zipping up his puffer jacket as he walks to the door. “Right, sorry.”

Mingi closes the door and locks it, aware of Hongjoong standing off to the side, practically broadcasting his nerves.

“Is something the matter, hyung?” he asks, tucking the key into his pocket.

“Actually,” Hongjoong starts, looking up at Mingi with slightly furrowed brows. “I am really sorry if this is inappropriate, and you can tell me to fuck off, really,” he says, lips pressing into a flat line before he relaxes them again. “Can— could— would you let me walk you home?”

Mingi stares at him for a moment, unable to process what’s happening exactly.

“You know, forget I asked,” Hongjoong says, immediately stepping back and bowing almost 90 degrees at the waist. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have— I must have made you so uncomfortable, I’m sorry, Mingi-ya, really.”

“No, no, hyung, wait,” Mingi says, holding both hands up. “I’m just trying to make sense of things— you want to walk me home?”

Hongjoong nods. “Only if you feel comfortable, of course.”

Mingi can feel his cheeks heat, even in the cold winter air. “Why do you want to walk me home?”

“Ah,” Hongjoong’s eyes go wide, darting from Mingi’s face to the cafe door, then to the signboard hanging unlit above the narrow awning. “I just worry,” he mumbles, both hands tucked behind his back. “Even though you walk home every day.”

“Is that really why?”

Hongjoong huffs, glaring at Mingi playfully. “You’re being a bit of a brat, aren't you?”

Mingi giggles. “Only because you're being so cute.”

“Mingi, I really like you,” Hongjoong says simply, looking Mingi right in the eyes, sincere and open. “I apologise if this makes you uncomfortable, or I’m overstepping, or if it’s sleazy of me to hit on you at work.”

“No, I’m just...” Mingi stands and stares for a bit more. “You like me? Really?”

“Yes, really,” Hongjoong says, some of his usual mischief coming back to colour his smile. “And I thought maybe my interest was reciprocated? Unless I totally misread this whole situation, then I’m sorry.” Then, realisation seems to dawn on him, and he asks with a slightly horrified look, “Do you like men?”

That startles a laugh out of Mingi. “Yeah!”

“Oh, thank God,” Hongjoong says, pressing a hand to his chest. “I had a feeling but my feelings have been wrong before, so...”

They both look at each other and burst into giggles, and the tension around them seems to dissipate.

“I really like you too, hyung,” Mingi mumbles, ducking his head like some shy schoolgirl. “I’ve been dreaming about going thrifting with you for ages.”

Hongjoong’s face softens. “Yeah? That can be our first date, then.”

He holds out his hand, and Mingi takes it shyly, blushing when Hongjoong squeezes it and gently tugs him closer. Hongjoong’s hand is smaller than his, but it’s warm, and his grip is sure.

“So, which way is home? he asks, looking up at Mingi and gently swinging their hands between them.

“This way,” Mingi points, and they walk slowly, hands still swinging between them.

“Where should we go on our second date, hyung?”

“Hmm, there’s a couple of galleries that I’d like to visit. Maybe we can pick one of those?”

As they walk, Mingi feels small, gentle fireworks going off in his chest, little rockets swooping around, dissolving in pops of rainbow sparkles every time Hongjoong smiles at him or squeezes his hand.

“Talking to you is the best part of my week,” Hongjoong had said a couple streets ago, and Mingi’s still grinning.

When they reach Mingi’s apartment building, Hongjoong tugs him closer and lifts Mingi’s hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. Mingi squeaks in surprise, and Hongjoong just grins at him, seemingly fully aware of the effect he has on him. Mingi can’t even be miffed.

“Goodnight, Mingi-ya. See you Tuesday.”

“G-Goodnight hyung,” Mingi manages to stutter out, flustered beyond compare. “See you Tuesday!”

☕︎

It had been a long, long day. Hongjoong was walking home when he passed what looked like a cafe, its lights surprisingly still on, with someone at the counter. He remembered Jongho and Wooyoung mentioning a cafe in the area that only closed at 2 am, and figured this must be it, because aside from a couple convenience stores, nothing else was open.

He stepped inside on a whim, even if he didn’t particularly want anything to drink. It was too late for coffee, and he wasn’t much for tea, but why not take a look?

“Welcome to Twilight!”

Hongjoong blinked, looking away from the pretty lights of the cafe’s interior to look at the barista. He was a handsome man, tall and broad, bespectacled, black hair falling over his eyes, with a strong jaw. The most striking thing about him though, was his wide, beautiful smile, his full lips parting to reveal one front tooth slightly longer than the other. It gave him a sweet, boyish innocence and brightness that slipped past Hongjoong’s exhaustion, pulling a smile from him almost involuntarily, like weariness could only fade to the back in the presence of such a radiant expression.

“What can I get you?” he asked, and his voice was deep and slightly husky, pleasant, just like his smile. “We don’t offer blended drinks after 12 am, but everything else on the drink menu is available.”

Hongjoong looked at the chalkboard menu above the counter, scanning the herbal teas listed. “Can I get a cup of chamomile tea, then, please?”

“Yep, absolutely.”

The man read the total and pointed at the card reader on the back of the tablet. After confirming the transaction, he turned away to walk to a shelf lined with tea tins, all branded with the same elegant logo. He was muscled in a way that suggested he might do weights or some type of athletics, his broad shoulders tapering into a slim waist, emphasised by the apron’s tie. He had a nice ass too, not that Hongjoong was checking him out or anything, of course.

He focused on how his large hands nimbly put together his tea: paper cup, hot water, tea bag, plastic lid, cardboard sleeve. His beaded bracelets jingled softly as he moved around, and Hongjoong found it a little funny how his hands seemed to dwarf the regular-sized paper cup.

The barista set the drink on the counter and looked at Hongjoong with another smile, this one a bit smaller than the one he’d received before, but still as sweet. “Here you are.”

“Thank you very much.” Hongjoong picked it up and looked consideringly at the empty tables. The cafe was dimly lit, with soft instrumental music filling the space and giving it a cosy, soothing atmosphere. It felt like he was in some pocket dimension where there were no emails, no deadlines, no thinking about what needed doing next. Just him, and his cup of tea.

He looked back at the barista, who’d been patiently waiting as Hongjoong looked around. “Can I drink my tea here?”

The barista’s eyes went big, and his lips parted, revealing just the hint of his top teeth, like he was genuinely baffled by Hongjoong’s question. Hongjoong made sure to look at his eyes and not his pretty mouth. “Oh, sorry!” The barista said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I should have asked if you wanted to have it here or to go. My bad. But yeah, you can totally drink it here. We close at 2, so you’re welcome to stay until then!”

Hongjoong inclined his head in thanks and made his way over to a two-seater table by the window, right under a pink glass pendant lamp shaped like a flower. The chair was padded and deep enough to sit back and cross his legs comfortably. Steam unfurled from the small opening of his go-cup, and he breathed it in, holding the gentle aroma in his chest before he exhaled it all, letting his shoulders slump and all his responsibilities tumble to the ground.

As he slowly sipped at his chamomile tea— it was good, but next time, he would ask for honey— he glanced at the barista every now and then. The lights were brighter above the counter, and Hongjoong could see him clearly as he quietly tidied up, lips parted slightly. He swayed and bobbed his head along to the music, lost in his own world, and Hongjoong couldn't help but smile to himself. It was so peaceful, and for the first time in a while, Hongjoong felt his mind go truly blank, no tasks fighting for his attention.

Perhaps he would come here again the next time he went in to work. Perhaps the blessed peace was a fluke and he might not experience it again, but he’d at least have a beautiful man with a lovely smile to admire while he drank some delicious tea, and that would do just as well.

☕︎°•*✶ ⁀➷
          ⭒ .  ❤︎‬ ⋆ ⁺ .