Chapter Text
Being a barista was not Jeongin's first choice. He does not think that he is particularly good at handling customers yet he decided to take a job in a cafe. He still does not think it is the best job in the world, but he is sure this specific cafe is the best place in the world.
Whenever he has to wash and simonize the glasses he looks through the bright window which encloses the room. Busy people walking through the filled, colourful streets, maybe a bit stressed, while he himself is wrapped in the warmth of the lights, which shine down onto the guests.
Round, wooden tables are set criss-crossed on the left and right of the bordeaux red carpet, which connects the counter straight with the entrance. The design of the shop overall is minimalistic, so it is easy to fill the room with happiness which is mainly shared through steaming cups of bittersweet coffee.
The calm atmosphere is interrupted by the crashing sound of the door swinging open. Fresh breezes sweep inside, disturbing the warmth of the room until the newcomer finally shuts out the cold. The man pulls down his scarf, revealing his pale cheeks which are painted pink. He shakily exhales, ruffling through his soft, dark brown curls with one hand, the bag appearing big in his other one, but apparently he has no problem with transporting it to a table in the corner nearby the firing.
“I can do that,” Seungmin, Jeongin’s co-worker, offers pointing to the glass in Jeongin’s hand, “Your interactions with guests need to improve.”
Sighing, Jeongin puts down the glass he has been polishing. Seungmin is not that much older than him but has more experiences as a waiter. Therefore, Jeongin should use any opportunity to practice being … well, friendly. Doesn’t sound too difficult, does it?
But Jeongin always has the problem of appearing a bit cold, even borderline threatening as soon as he forgets to smile. Maybe it is his sharp eye form or his prominent cheekbones or just his face, so he tries to maintain his smile, although it can be exhausting. (That is on him for choosing this job.)
He walks over to his guest and hands out the menu card. “Good afternoon, sir,” he greets.
The other smiles, revealing his dimples. “Hello. Uh, I don’t need a card. I’ll just drink coffee.”
Jeongin nods. “Do you want some sweets? We have delicious cake and cookies.” He seems a bit stiff but he tries to keep smiling.
“No, thanks. A cup of coffee will do.”
Jeongin may need some practice regarding his communication with his guests but he is exceptional at brewing coffee.
His hand movements are fluid and confident since he knows exactly how hot the water has to be and how he has to move his wrist to create perfect, circular motions, mixing the filtered ground coffee with the liquid. Satisfied with his work he sets the cup on the saucer and balances it over to the dark haired man. “Here we go,” he announces, placing the coffee cautiously in front of the guest.
The man is already busy, working on his laptop. However, he takes the time to smile once more, thanking Jeongin. After that Jeongin returns back to his other duties: cleaning the tables, sorting the crockery into the cabinets, printing out the bills and so on. It takes hours to finish his routine, so he blends out his surroundings to focus.
At the end of the day he realizes that the man he has brought a single cup of coffee to is still sitting silently at his table. He seems very concentrated and does not even notice that the other guests are leaving. It is not very pleasant but Jeongin has to walk over and tell him that the cafe is about to be closed.
The man gazes at his wristwatch. “Oh! It’s so late already!” He packs up and pays for his coffee. “I’m sorry that I didn’t pay attention to the time.”
Jeongin shakes his head. “It’s okay, don’t worry.”
With that the guest leaves.
That is not his last visit. Quite the contrary actually, since he keeps returning day by day. He always sits at the same table to work on his laptop, and he always orders a simple cup of coffee. Jeongin would not be bothered by that at all because it is great to have a frequent visitor.
Nevertheless, he does not miss the way this guest winces or even shakes a bit whenever he sips his coffee, needing hours to finish it. Firstly, Jeongin thinks that his coffee sucks and that the stranger is too nice to tell him that, so he lets Seungmin try one cup.
“It’s good, but I've already told you so.” And Seungmin is very parsimonious when it comes to compliments, so something different is the problem. As far as there is a problem at all. The stranger seems extremely nice. Still, there is something odd about him. He probably does not enjoy the bitter taste of coffee, so why does he keep ordering it?
One day Jeongin cannot deal with it longer. This procedure of the stranger ordering coffee every day and grimacing at its taste has been going on for weeks. Usually Jeongin would not dare to interrupt one of the guests’ work (especially this time, because the man has headphones on), but now he hardly cares about it. “Why don’t you try to order something different?” he suggests even before the man can ask for his usual, stupid cup of coffee.
Awkward silence.
“Sorry. I know that a cup of coffee is the cheapest,” Jeongin murmurs, scratching his head, “You know, we have a lot of offers for people with a sweet tooth as well.”
Surprisingly, a lovely smile spreads across the man’s face. “That’s so nice of you! But I’m happy with coffee.”
Jeongin lifts an eyebrow, his smile dropping. He does not mean to but it is hard to keep up his happy facade when he knows that there is something wrong. “Is that so? To me it seems like you don’t like my coffee at all,” he admits. At this point he is practically accusing his guest, which is unacceptable, but he cannot help it. If this man visits this cafe basically every day he should either fucking enjoy or choke on this single cup of coffee — Jeongin does not care anymore.
Jeongin’s counterpart blushes, biting his lower lip. “Oh, uh … well … I guess your coffee is good, it’s just …”
Jeongin folds his arms. “Yeah?”
“Actually, I don’t like coffee that much. I only drink it to keep myself awake.”
Jeongin has already noticed the heavy eyebags, so this answer should not surprise him. Still, he wonders how draining this man's work has to be that he even drinks coffee despite not liking it. “You could try it with sugar instead of caffeine to keep your system flowing,” Jeongin says, “Eat cake.”
The man puts his hand onto the back of his neck. “To be honest, I’m a bit short on money.”
“My boss said that it’s on the house,” Jeongin replies.
Surprised, the other lifts his head. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re here every goddamn day.” Jeongin puts his hand over his mouth as he notices his bold choice of words.
Laughing is the response. “So, we’re on a familiar level now?”
“Pretty much everyone knows you here,” Jeongin confirms, still embarrassed, “So, what do you want, sir ?”
The man gazes over at the menu card. “I’d like to have a piece of apple pie then.”
Jeongin notes down the order and is about to return to the counter, although a lot of questions remain in his head.
“Bang Chan.”
He stops and looks over his shoulder.
“My name’s Bang Chan,” the guest says, grinning, “I thought that it’d be nice if you knew my name since we’re becoming familiar.”
Jeongin would like to tell Chan that he is becoming familiar with the cafe and not Jeongin himself but that would be, well, obviously rude. He figures that he should introduce himself as well, just to be polite. "Yang Jeongin."
"Yeah ... I know," Chan says, giggling and pointing at the name tag which is attached to Jeongin's uniform.
Jeongin can feel his cheeks colouring, coughing awkwardly. "Right, uh ... I have to go back to work," he mumbles before hurrying to another table as if he wanted to flee.
Jeongin has a good life. He appreciates the control he has over it. Currently he is educated to become a nursery teacher since he has always wanted to work with children, and it is a job which can make him genuinely happy.
He is good on money with his work as a waiter and if it is needed his parents support him financially. His flat is a bit empty and there is an unused bedroom, so he considers looking for a roommate. Living alone is kind of nice but it would be probably even nicer to have somebody, because, after all, the space is there. But aside from that? No bigger worries.
Sure, his schedule can get tight but he tries to meet his friends at least once a month, although he sees Seungmin regularly at work already.
Aside from Seungmin, his small group of friends consists of Jisung, Hyunjin and Felix. He knows them from school and after graduation he has managed to stay in contact with them. They used to refer to themselves as the Gossip Girls to make fun of the girls in their year, but now that they are by themselves and totally mature and grown up they do not need a name for their squad anymore — but frankly, they are still silly with each other, play games and have fun.
Tonight Jeongin is responsible for closing the cafe since his co-workers have to leave early and his boss Jamie has an important meeting with the bankery. Nobody seems to mind that he has to take care of the cafe as the youngest because he is seen as considerate and dutiful. Besides, the salary is really good and he would never risk losing that by doing his work sloppily.
Of course Chan claims his beloved table, but this time he does not have headphones on. Instead, he is sitting leaned back, a leather book in his lap, tapping his pen against the soft edge of it — not randomly but with a precise rhythm. Is he writing lyrics for a song? Why should Jeongin be even interested in that? And why is it so hard to stop staring?
Chan seems so comfortable on the little, red sofa with his oversized, black hoodie (he even has sweater-paws), his black beanie and his black pants. Jeongin wonders whether he has other colours in his closet. There is a weird, familiar atmosphere lingering around Chan. The feeling of … home. As already mentioned, the cafe is minimalistic, so it depends on the guests how positive the atmosphere is, and Chan increases the level of happiness so easily, it drives Jeongin crazy.
Whenever Chan enters the room Jeongin feels his heartbeat drop. This kind of warmth and comfort which rises with Chan's arrival is like a slap into Jeongin's face every single time because it is so incredible to him how one single person can look, act and be a safe place, although Jeongin has not properly talked to him yet. Everything Chan does is soft and careful — he would probably apologize to the table for bumping into it.
Jeongin tries to ignore Chan but only because he is too embarrassed to admit that there is that urge to look at him constantly . He focuses on work as much as he can, brewing coffee, washing the dishes, brewing more coffee, cleaning the tables, brewing another pot of coffee just to drink it himself.
In the late hours Felix shows up. He was on his way home from the dance studio but he really craved some coffee so he decided to stop by. Actually, he works part-time here as well because of his huge love for baking. He provides freshly baked cookies, brownies, cake, just all kinds of tasty sweets whenever he is here, but since he has been working on his career more his shift got cut.
The cafe is nearly empty, and Felix sits at the counter talking to Jeongin. “Oh, there’s still a guest,” he notices, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder.
“His name’s Chan,” Jeongin tells, putting the cleaned mugs in the cupboard, “He’s here every day.”
“Really?” Felix nips his coffee, wiggling his eyebrows. “He’s kinda cute.”
Jeongin frowns and throws the dishcloth over his shoulder (he can say with pride that he has gotten wider because of his workouts). “Well, ask him out if you think so,” he murmurs, sensing a weird tingle in his abdomen.
“No, thanks. There’s a really cool guy at the dance studio anyway,” Felix says, sighing in a dreamy tone.
Jeongin mops the work surface but pays close attention to Felix nonetheless. “Is that so?”
“Yeah! He’s a hip hop dancer and always wears caps, which make him super hot by the way. He had been on tour until last week, but I don’t have detailed information,” Felix chirps, rocking back and forth, excited, “So you can have this Chan guy.”
Jeongin rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t even like my coffee. How am I supposed to be with someone who doesn’t worship my coffee?” With an exaggerated gesture he grabs his chest, pretending to be stabbed.
“You’ve been hanging around Hyunjin too much.”
Jeongin gives a dangerous smile. “Soon you have to deal with the double package of drama.”
After Felix has left Jeongin tidies the storage and sorts the different boxes of drinks. He needs to refill the fridge behind the counter, so he takes two boxes and carries them through the corridor back into the cafe. No one is left in there except him.
And of course Chan.
Jeongin sighs heavily, shaking his head. He grabs two bottles of beer and walks to the corner, which is claimed more or less officially by Chan. (Jamie even joked about tagging the table with his name.)
Chan has been sitting here for more than four hours here yet he only drank one cup of cocoa (it is probably too embarrassing for him to order coffee). Without further ado, Jeongin drops on the opposite side of the table and sets down the two glass bottles, not caring about Chan’s surprised expression and then fumbling with his keys to catch the little bottle opener which is attached to the chain (a present from Jisung for his 20th birthday). Silently, he unsnaps the lids and places the mouth of one bottle against his thin lips.
“I thought one isn't allowed to drink alcohol at work,” Chan says, planting his leather book on the tabletop.
“Well, it’s past my shift,” Jeongin responds and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he supports his forearms on his parted legs.
Dumbfounded, Chan glances at his watch and groans. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t pay attention to the clock again.” Hastily he collects his utensils. It is funny that he did not notice anything because Jeongin has already dimmed the lights, mopped the floor and cleaned every table (except Chan's obviously), which signalizes that the shop is about to be closed.
Jeongin tries to stop him. “It’s fine, I have time.”
Chan still seems extremely embarrassed. “Nah, I don’t want you to stay unnecessarily longer.”
Suspiciously Jeongin looks at the open notebook, the flying papers around them and finally at the screen where Chan obviously is stuck at a project. “You're in the mid of a project. Are you really ready to go now ?”
“Sure, whenever you are.” Chan laughs, ashamed.
Jeongin sighs. “Today I’m responsible for closing, so it doesn’t matter much how long we’ll be here.” (And yes, he is a bit cocky about having this much responsibility.) “Have a beer. It’s on my bill.”
“Oh ….” Chan hesitates, but then grabs the bottle. “Thanks.”
“I mean, you’re old enough, aren’t you?” Jeongin teases.
“I’m 25!” Chan complains, nearly pouting.
Honestly, to Jeongin he looks like maybe 22, at least with his bare face. He has seen Chan with some make-up the other days, but his current appearance? Rather soft, especially when his sweater paws cover his small hands.
“So, should I keep calling you sir?” Jeongin asks a bit sarcastically.
Chan opens his mouth in surprise. “Oh, I thought we were on that hyung-dongsaeng-level already.”
“How do you want to know who is the younger though?”
“Well, I'm old as dust. No way that you can beat that.”
That sincerely makes Jeongin chuckle. “Well, yeah. I’m 21.” He wants to bridge the awkward silence by taking another sip, thinking about what to say next. Then he sets down the bottle. “So, what are you working on?” He looks at Chan's notebook.
“Oh, I was just adjusting some lyrics before working on some bars. I have a fundamental but it needs to be polished.” Chan pulls his laptop closer.
“You’re a producer,” Jeongin asserts.
Chan shrugs. “Well, not professionally or … no, I mean, I am a licensed producer, but I’m also … jobless.” He laughs but Jeongin recognizes the tint of pain in his voice. “Went to a school, did my degree and now I’m trying to find a company.”
“Can I hear the track?” Jeongin questions more carefully, afraid that he has hit a sensitive topic.
“Yeah, sure,” Chan answers, “It’s just not … well, really finished.” He plays the track and leans back, apparently a bit nervous as he keeps fumbling with the drawstrings of his hoodie.
A deep bass echoes through the room, playing out in a crescendo and climbing the ladder of notes until the similar pattern spuds in again. There are soft ad-libs and Jeongin wonders whether that is Chan’s voice. The four quarter tact beat begins with subtle percussion in the background. The whole song’s tone is thoughtful, a bit dark and Jeongin senses how goosebumps crawl over his shoulders.
“That sounds good. Unique.”
Chan smiles lightly. “Thank you.”
“Kind of crazy that companies don’t want to hire you. The quality sounds very high.”
Chan lowers his head just simultaneously with his eyelids as if he remembered something unpleasant. “I think that companies do like my production but it’d be expensive to actually pay that kind of quality, you know? So they accept my free commissions for auditions and then …” He gulps.
“They never call back,” Jeongin finishes the sentence. The warmth of this room has definitely toned down by now.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to bother you with my problems,” Chan says sheepishly, “I think that I should go home.” He packs up. “Thank you.”
Jeongin leans back and rests on the palm of his hands. “That one beer isn’t a big deal.”
Chan smiles. “Yeah, that’s not what I’m thankful for.” He zips up his fluffy jacket and leaves after having placed some money on the table.
Jeongin looks at the tips Chan has left.
Chan does not return for several days, but Jeongin is not worried of course. He is just sceptical. Could it be that their late night talk is the reason why Chan is too scared to show up again? But why? They were really comfortable around each other (at least, that is what Jeongin wants to tell himself).
“Isn’t it weird that this one guy hasn’t come here for days?” Seungmin questions.
“What guy?” Jeongin knows that it is foolish to act like he did not know but it is like a reflex.
“The one guest you always serve. What’s his name again?”
“Chan,” Jeongin responds quietly. He does not want to talk about him, so he hurries to carry the order to the regarding table.
A week passes.
Two weeks pass.
Three weeks pass.
Now it has been nearly a month since he has seen Chan the last time. Sometimes he catches himself thinking about Chan although he does not quite understand why. Specifically their short interaction while drinking beer is stuck in his head.
“You’re working late again,” Jamie says with her bag already packed because she needs to go sooner again to manage her paperwork. Usually she does that in her cafe office but she has forgotten one of her folders at home. “Is it really okay for you to close the shop again?”
“Yeah, yeah. The kids have holidays, so I have plenty of time.”
“Great!” Jamie smiles brightly. “I hope that you can work more. The guests like you.”
Jeongin can always use some extra cash, so he nods. He likes being here all alone late at night. The cafe closes around 10 pm, which is late in comparison to other shops, but the cozy atmosphere attracts some night-walkers, so it is surprisingly profitable to open the cafe for a bit longer. He expects to finish mopping the floor, tidying the counter and then closing the cafe but last minute somebody enters the shop. He already knows who is standing there before turning around.
Chan looks like he has run a marathon, his cheeks red, his eyes wide and his hands shaking. His jacket is open, revealing a tight polo shirt beneath it, and it flutters around his torso as another wind gust busts into the room. “It’s too late, isn’t it?”
Jeongin finds the view so absurd. Chan has not been here for a whole month and then he chooses to come near closing time. Jeongin focuses on cleaning the timber floor board, humming as if he needed to think about that question first. “Well, the tables are cleaned, but I’m not finished with the counter. You can sit there.” Chan’s regular seat is pretty far away from the bar, he is aware of that, but perhaps Chan wants to stay desperately enough to accept his humble offer.
Without saying anything, Chan brushes his jacket off his broad shoulders and follows the carpet to sit down on one of the high stools. He does not even take the menu card but sits there, patiently waiting for Jeongin to finish. Jeongin wrings the rag out one last time, carries the bucket of water behind the counter and disappears in the storage in order to get rid of it in one of the big sinks. He washes his hands and returns to the counter.
"So?" he asks, lifting an eyebrow.
“I need something to drink,” Chan states.
Jeongin furrows his brow, tying his apron tighter around his narrow waist. “What exactly?”
“Anything.”
Jeongin sighs and shrugs with his shoulders before getting to work. The stove is still heated, so he boils some water and grabs the ground irish coffee. On another ring he cooks milk and pours cocoa into the pot, ignoring Chan’s stares and gliding into a robotic mode where his practiced hand movements shine through. With a little mixer he whips the cold cream and then fills in the water from the kettle through the filter which is wrapped around the coffee pulver. He takes out a big mug, fills half of it with the coffee and the other half with hot chocolate. In another pot he has warmed up gold-brown caramel and uses it to refine the drink. In a final step he sprays up the whipped cream in accurate twirls before he sets the mug in front of Chan on the wooden surface.
Chan raises his eyebrows. “When I said that I needed something to drink I meant like … alcohol, you know?”
Jeongin smirks sourly. “Well, you could’ve just worded that more specifically.”
“I thought that it was obvious on my desperate face.”
Jeongin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I see that desperate face, and it tells me that you need something warm for your stomach.” He pushes the mug closer to Chan. “It's a cocoa-coffee-mix with caramel. You could use some caffeine but it’s like very sweet-tooth-friendly, I guess.” He chops some dark chocolate and decorates the cream with some sprinkles. (Guests love it when the icing on the cake is done right in front of them, and Jeongin quite enjoys it as well.) Then he picks up some mini marshmallows out of the glass, his long fingers easily reaching the bottom of it. Satisfied with his work, he pops the marshmallows into the snow white softness. “Enjoy, sir.”
Chan’s pale fingers wrap around the ceramic and set it on his plush, pink mouth. He closes his eyes, basically inhaling the scent as he drinks carefully. His eyes begin to sparkle as the taste travels along his tongue, warming it. “That’s so good ,” he rejoices and licks his bottom lip greadily.
“Right? It’s one of our guests’ favourites. We call it “Fuzzy Cuddles” and I hate that name, but ... it fits,” Jeongin says, smiling at Chan’s excited expression. He taps his own mouth. “You got something there.”
Embarrassed, Chan grabs a napkin and wipes away his little cream beard. “Okay, yeah, that’s way better than alcohol.”
Jeongin leans on the lower counter, looking up to him. “So, usually people want to drink their problems away if they look like you and ask for alcohol.”
“How do I look?”
Jeongin needs a few moments to find a fitting term. “Anxious. But also agitated. I don’t know.” He supports his chin on his hand. “I have no right to ask you but I wonder why you decided to stop coming here.”
A heavy sigh stumbles over Chan’s lips, which start to tremble. Maybe he is still cold. “Yeah, sorry. The last few weeks were stressful.”
“Work?”
“It’s always work, isn’t it?”
Jeongin lifts an eyebrow. “Well, that kind of tells me that you don’t look after your friendships, huh?”
“I do have friends but they’re busy themselves. We understand our feelings in a very mutual way,” Chan explains.
Jeongin waits for further tellings.
“It’s just …” Chan falters. “You remember the one night where I showed you my music?”
Of course I do, idiot. “It’s not that present in my mind anymore,” Jeongin states a bit awkwardly.
Chan clears his throat. “Well, I told you that I wanted to get into a company. And I got an audition again.”
A bust of joy explodes in Jeongin’s chest and he does not understand why. “That sounds great!”
Chan swallows heavily, picking one marshmallow up to nibble on it. “It sounded great until they demanded more commissions, so they could actually be sure whether to hire me.” He looks at the counter avoiding eye contact. “Since my last commission they’ve been ghosting me. The deadline was two weeks ago.”
“Seriously?” Baffled, Jeongin stares at him. “What a dick move.”
“That’s not the worst.” Chan seems to be torn apart whether he should tell about it but he has already started, so there is no reason to hold back if someone is here to listen. “They published my tracks on the Internet and one of them went viral. Of course without credits.”
“What?! Isn’t that like illegal?!” Jeongin asks, very angry.
“It’s just a dick move but not illegal. It was a commission of mine and I offered to do free work so they could evaluate it.”
“But they make money out of your work! You should go to the police,” Jeongin exclaims in disbelief.
Chan wrinkles his nose. “I want to but that would be such a long court process and I would lose anyway. Companies have power and money. I don’t.” He laughs bitterly. “I feel like someone who stands in front of a taco restaurant offering free mini tacos. The people grab the whole plate and never turn back to actually visit the shop.”
Jeongin cannot even express how disgusted he is. Yes, he does not know much about Chan but his love for music oozes out of every pore of his body, Jeongin can feel it. How can the world be so cruel to him? “Gosh, hyung, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. I thought that it could get worse,” Chan mumbles, “And then it got worse. I wasted my time too much on those free commissions.” He buries his face in his hands. “That was so stupid. Now I have bigger problems than my music career.”
Jeongin frowns and peers at him until he understands. “Wait, were you kicked out of your home?”
As if he were caught red-handed Chan pulls his head back and breathes aloud, his fingernails tracing along the mug. “I mean ... of course I was. I don’t have the money to pay for the rent.”
A bit shocked Jeongin stares at him. “What about your parents?”
“They haven’t been talking to me ever since I moved to Korea without telling them.”
Jeongin needs a few seconds to sort his thoughts. “But where do you live now?”
“At my best friend’s house. It’s just temporary. I hope that I can get some money with some gigs and that … I don’t know, maybe I can get another job.”
Jeongin thinks of the empty room in his own flat and has a hard time to resist asking Chan whether he wants it. He pities Chan and yes, he has no problems with talking to him and being around him, however, living together is a whole other level. Hell, he could not even live with half of his friends in one flat since he cannot endure noise 24/7.
But then he looks closely at Chan, who gazes out of the window, tapping his finger against the mug. A soft curl has fallen into his face, but he does not bother to brush it away. As Jeongin realizes that he would love to do that for him his heart stutters in confusion, his fingertips tingling weirdly and his face becoming red. Before he can stop himself he hears himself saying: “I have a free room.”
Surprised, Chan turns his head around.
Jeongin blushes but maintains eye contact. “Uh, I’ve been looking for a roommate for a while.”
“Oh,” Chan mumbles, “Well, I don’t have the money, as I already said.”
“I mean, I’m able to pay this room nonetheless or I wouldn’t have this flat in the first place,” Jeongin explains, “You can live with me until you find a job and then pay everything in small ratios. No interest rates.”
Chan sucks on his puffy, cherry blossom pink bottom lip and Jeongin catches himself staring at it. “I don’t know what to say. That’s very ... generous of you.”
It is, and Jeongin cannot understand himself. But he still hopes that Chan would say yes.
Nearly mortified Chan withdraws and lowers his head, shifting on his seat. “Uhm ...”
“It’s like … easy. No problem for me at all and-”
“No, no! It’s fine. I’m going to figure this out,” Chan objects, looking at his watch, his eyes empty, “It’s late, I should go back.”
A bit disappointed, Jeongin nods. What else did he expect? Chan is just a stranger after all. A stranger with mellow curls, cute dimples and the most beautiful smile ever, but still a stranger.
Chan fumbles out his wallet, but Jeongin shakes his head. “It’s okay. You gave too much the last time anyway.”
Ashamed, Chan puts on his jacket and brushes a lock behind his ear. He does it so tenderly that Jeongin feels the urge to hug him. But he lets him go, watching the darkness clasping around Chan when he leaves the cafe.