Work Text:
Yunho wasn’t one to develop crushes on people he merely saw passing by, be it on his way home, or even during work hours at the café. He was the type that needed time—where he and the other party would learn about one another organically, going on casual dates and spending free time doing nothing and everything together until their hearts beat in sync and they knew, without a doubt, that this connection was undeniably love.
It was the daydream of a hopeless romantic, and Yunho was aware. His coworker, Yeosang, constantly made fun of him both for his lack of a love life and for the subtle, loving looks Yunho would seemingly shoot at certain customers from day to day. What was worse were the endless stories Yeosang would tell Yunho during any downtime they managed to find.
It was emotionally exhausting for Yunho to say the least. Yeosang seemed euphoric with his partner, Jongho: his eyes would sparkle anytime Yunho asked a question about the two, and his cheeks glowed at the thought of being in Jongho’s warm arms after a long day of serving coffee to cold and unfriendly strangers.
Meanwhile, Yunho had never found any boy to call his own. Even if he had, Yunho was far too anxious about any kind of homophobia to be vocal about his love life.
Yunho was jealous of his coworker: Yeosang didn’t seem to care about the dirty glares or offensive language mumbled by customers and coworkers, but Yunho wasn’t sure he could handle it. Not to mention, Yeosang was not one to keep secrets well...or at all.
It was a slow Thursday night, and Yeosang had about five minutes left before he finished his shift for the day. He sat on the empty counter, a pack slung over his shoulder, and his iPhone brightly displaying a text chat between himself and Jongho. From where Yunho stood, he could only make out the abundance of heart emojis sent between the two. Yunho’s chest grew a bit heavy at the thought of him having no one to exchange hearts or corny love messages with, though perhaps that day would come soon.
“I don’t know why he hasn’t responded yet,” Yeosang whined, all of his energy devoted to the texts he and Jongho had sent throughout the day, “It can’t be because he’s mad, right? He loves me too much to be mad at me.” Yunho decided to keep silent about his differing opinion on Yeosang’s last statement.
Before Yunho could even think to form a response, reassuring or otherwise, Yeosang exclaimed at his phone and began to tap away a final message before sliding off the countertop. His eyes met Yunho’s for the first time in over an hour, that familiar glimmer in his eyes practically mocking the elder employee.
“He’s here, Yunho,” Yeosang’s voice wavered, a rare, genuine smile spreading into his cheeks, “Oh, my god, okay, I’m out for today; don’t miss me too much while you close,” Yeosang called to his coworker, his thoughts spilling from his mouth so fast that they practically melded together and created one run-on sentence.
Yunho let out a friendly giggle as he watched Yeosang scramble to clock out as quickly as possible, his fingers repeatedly pressing all but the right buttons.
“Give Jongho a kiss for me,” Yunho joked, causing a loud bark laugh to escape from Yeosang.
“You wish!”
With that, Yeosang disappeared into the small black car parked outside the café’s entrance, a red-haired figure waiting at the wheel.
And Yunho was alone.
It didn’t bother him too much at the end of a long shift like today; Yunho enjoyed a bit of time to gather his thoughts and wind down for the night. Sometimes, he’d even play some music as he cleaned up the bar, dancing and singing along to his favorite playlist. Barely anyone ever came in after 4 PM—especially on a weekday—and Yeosang’s departure had already marked another hour past that. It was almost certainly safe to say Yunho wouldn’t get any more customers for the night.
About an additional half-hour had passed before Yunho was practically finished closing for the night: he just had to empty out the drip coffee, clean the espresso machine, and sweep before he was home free.
The shop was filled with Ed Sheeran and One Direction, and Yunho was belting along to every word, virtually using the portafilters as his own makeshift microphones. He felt his cheeks glowing from amusement, enjoying every second of his off-brand karaoke session.
That is until he felt a light tap on his shoulder.
Yunho let out a yelp, immediately dropping the portafilter onto the floor, his gaze darting around to meet the figure who had seen him at the most humiliating time.
“Sorry!” Yunho exclaimed, awkwardly bowing before throwing himself onto the floor to grab the portafilter.
“Uh, I didn’t know you guys were a karaoke bar now,” the stranger joked. Yunho could feel the stranger’s gaze burning into the top of his head as he launched himself back up to a standing position, fiddling with the tainted utensil.
A loud silence floated between the two, only made less tense by the music blasting in the background.
“Just on the weekends, S-Sir,” Yunho bantered back, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.
The stranger seemed a bit put off by Yunho’s response, his eyebrows knotting together in confusion; his smile remained full, making his cheeks blossom like fresh spring flowers.
Maybe he had gone overboard with the formality, but in Yunho’s defense, it was much better than the alternative response his lips were practically begging him to form:
“Just on the weekends, Sunshine.”
Because Yunho wasn’t one to fall in love on the spot. He cared about personality far more than looks, and when describing his ideal partner, Yunho would never list any physical traits.
But this stranger’s eyes were far more beautiful than anything Yunho had ever seen, an entire solar system hidden away in each one. And when he had smiled, even for the second Yunho had seen it, he felt as though he could melt in that feeling, the glow in his cheeks warming Yunho’s chest as though it itself were the center of the universe.
In that moment, Yunho knew all he wanted was this stranger to be his. Something deep in his heart knew this beauty radiated from the inside as well, if not more so. And if Yunho wouldn’t trust it as the hopeless romantic he was.
“—Hello? Anyone named...Yunho in there?”
Yunho’s eyes focused on the stranger as he returned to reality, despite how dream-like this moment felt.
“Ah! Thought I’d lost you for a second there,” the stranger smiled. Yunho was almost too lost in his beauty to notice the stranger was lightly clutching a large, black wallet.
“I was actually gonna ask if you guys were still open, or if I could buy a drink?” Yunho’s eyes made it down to the stranger’s hands, fiddling a few crinkled bills between his fingers.
“Well, we are closed, but I can make an exception since you had to witness my terrible dancing,” Yunho chuckled, flashing the stranger a genuine smile before retreating back behind the counter.
“Seriously? Are you sure?”
“Consider this my attempt to keep you from blackmailing me,” Yunho lightly joked once more, “What can I get for you?”
The stranger let out a wildly loud laugh, one that boomed throughout the café and drowned out Yunho’s playlist, as though it were the next song to play. As the stranger laughed, he clapped his hands together a couple times before regaining composure, letting out a joyful sigh.
“Oh, wow, okay, um,” the stranger choked out between chuckles, “Could I just get an iced mocha? A medium?”
“Nothing fancier? Are you saying a medium mocha is all my dignity is worth?” Yunho let out an exaggerated scoff before securing the tamped portafilters into the espresso machine.
“Well, if you’re insisting…” the stranger hummed, falling more silent than he had been the entire encounter.
“How about a large mocha with your finest hwhipped cream,” Yunho let out a small chuckle to himself at the stranger’s attempt to make his voice sound as though he were a royal of great wealth, purposely mispronouncing his desired topping.
“And...”
Yunho let out a soft, uptoned hum as he mixed the chocolate syrup into the customer’s drink, quickly halving his height to grab the whipped cream from the fridge before turning to face the customer.
“And?”
The stranger’s face seemed preoccupied in thought, one that was puzzling him deeply.
“Nevermind. Uh...you said you were closed when I got here, right?” He inquired, seemingly posing the question more towards himself than Yunho.
“Ah, yeah. I usually stay behind to close up shop since my coworkers get busy in the evenings. Though, I’ll admit it doesn’t usually take this long.”
“Oh?”
Yunho let out an embarrassed chuckle at the stranger’s intrigue, a bit confused as to why his eyes suddenly lit up a bit brighter than before, if that was even possible.
“Ah, well, we had a bunch of supply shipments come in yesterday, so I wanted to get all of it sorted out—since I know Yeosang won’t do it,” Yunho explained, mumbling the last piece under his breath, “—and I just...got caught up in my music, I guess,” he motioned around the room to gesture at the corny music still loudly phonating throughout the small space.
“So...hypothetically, if I came in tomorrow at the same time, you wouldn’t be here, yeah?”
Yunho shook his head lightly, proceeding to give the unfinished iced mocha a little bit more attention than he had been for the past couple minutes. Yunho quickly popped the cap off and circled a clean swirl of whipped cream onto the top of the cold beverage.
“I’m off Fridays, actually.” A soft, relieved smile naturally grew on Yunho’s lips at the thought of tomorrow: sleeping in, maybe practicing his dance routines if he felt up to it, freedom from Yeosang’s love life stories. It sounded like heaven right about now.
“And the weekends?”
“It depends on everyone else, honestly. San and Yeosang are never the best at giving me any kind of advanced notice. ”
“Huh. That’s a weird schedule you got going on.”
Yunho let out a soft sigh in agreement, admiring the almost-perfect tower of cream sitting atop the stranger’s drink, begging to be scooped off and eaten in one clean bite.
“It’s a good type of weird in its own way,” Yunho shrugged, handing over the drink and an accompanying straw to the stranger. He could still see the gears spinning rapidly behind the stranger’s eyes, as though the trivial information Yunho had supplied him with was somehow the key to a puzzle he had been struggling to solve for years.
The stranger mumbled a soft “thanks” before breaking the straw free from its paper prison and plunging it into the iced mocha.
Yunho watched his face as he took the first sip, far too curious to see the stranger’s reaction to his first drink at the café. Yunho wasn’t one to get cocky, but he prided himself in the quality of his drinks, customers always complimenting him, claiming it was the best coffee they had had in months. It was one of his favorite moments of any day to watch a new customer take their first gulp of Yunho’s creation, and watch the small smile spread up into their cheeks at the taste.
However, this time Yunho felt all the blood rush from his face as a grimace formed on the stranger’s face. He removed his lips from the straw and took a moment to regard the drink from a slight distance, holding it up to his eye level.
“Is something wrong with it?” Yunho quickly inquired, a little too much concern flooding into his voice.
“Ah, uhm…” the stranger uncomfortably started, placing the plastic cup back down onto the counter, “yeah…” His voice was soft, almost somber, and even though Yunho had only just met this man, the tone of that once bright, brilliant voice almost shattered his heart into a million pieces.
“Sorry...I-I really don’t mean to be a pain, or anything, it’s—”
“Hey, it’s not a big deal, trust me. I’ve had to remake drinks thousands of times over,” Yunho replied, forcing himself not to sound as distraught as he felt at that moment. It was true, though: he had messed up on more drinks than he could count. So why did it hurt so much knowing he had messed up this one in particular?
Perhaps it was this huge, dumb crush he had for someone who hadn’t even introduced themselves to him. Maybe it was the fear of never seeing the handsome stranger again, knowing how Yunho had majorly fucked up his first experience at the café. Maybe it was just sheer embarrassment piling up as the minutes ticked forward.
“Oh, you don’t have to remake it,” the stranger loudly reassured the barista, waving his hands back and forth as some kind of warning to stop Yunho from moving back towards the espresso machine. “I think something’s just missing from it?”
Missing? Yunho was just about certain he had remembered everything. He had put in the espresso, the milk, the syrup...was the syrup too overpowered by the espresso for his liking?
“What’s it missing?” Yunho’s voice was barely above a whisper, the question practically escaping his lips without his body’s permission. Every last section of his mind was focused on the stranger and his needs: anything he wanted in this moment, Yunho would supply. Perhaps the mocha was trivial to him, or to either of their lives in the long term, but to Yunho in this very moment, this man’s satisfaction was what made his heart keep beating on.
The stranger’s eyes met Yunho’s own, a beautiful amber all Yunho’s own, just for this moment. Seeing his eyes this close up made Yunho’s breath hitch, made his breathing go shallow instantaneously, as though the room suddenly lacked enough air for the two of them.
The stranger’s volume matched Yunho’s own as he answered:
“Your number.”
Yunho practically choked on the spot, the whipped cream bottle slipping from his grasp and plummeting right to the ground with a disturbingly loud clang! He could feel his entire face burning up an unnatural shade of red as though his skin was sunburned.
And with that, he watched as the stranger’s bright smile returned into his cheeks, lighting up the stars in his eyes as though they had never gone out to begin with.
“If that’s okay, of course,” the stranger added, quickly grabbing his beverage from the counter and taking a long sip through the straw.
And there it was: the smile Yunho had been searching for which the stranger had managed to suppress for the sake of such a corny pickup line.
Nevertheless, it worked well on Yunho. Perfectly, even. So much relief flooded into his person at that moment that Yunho felt he would float away on the fantastical high and ride it like a wave until it crashed on a foreign shore.
“It’s...more than okay,” Yunho felt his face flush at the thought of the two seeing each other again, maybe a multitude of times after that, “But only if I get yours back, and a name to go with it.”
“Deal,” the stranger sputtered out, mouth full of mocha. Yunho chuckled at the sight, the stranger’s cheeks puffed out like a squirrel holding onto its hoard of nuts. He just barely suppressed his laughter, swallowed the drink down before continuing:
“Oh, my god, Yunho! This is, like, the best mocha I’ve had in my life!”
“Ah, you don’t have to flatter me,” Yunho shyly beamed, then proceeded to search through a large cup by the register for a writing utensil. He quickly found one of the few Sharpies the employees used to write names and orders on cups when they got too busy, only to find it—along with his entire arm—engulfed in a warmth Yunho wished to never stop basking in.
“Thaaaank you!”
The stranger uncapped the Sharpie with his teeth and held the cap in his mouth as he began to graffiti Yunho's inner arm. Yunho did everything in his power to remain still, but couldn’t help letting a few laughs break out as his arm twitched in awkward intervals.
“Stay still,” the stranger managed to command, the cap in his mouth making it a bit harder to understand, but Yunho got the hint from context: he could never hide the fact that he was ticklish, almost too ticklish, to the point where if someone brushed against him the wrong way at work, it would cause his body to spazz.
“It tickles, okay?!”
“How are you gonna know what number to text if you don’t let me write it?”
Lighthearted laughter between the two filled the emptied space, once a café, then a karaoke bar, and now a tattoo parlor of their own making. And although the world outside was cold, coated with darkness and fatigue, the two had never felt so warm, a brand new energy coursing through their blood like the drug of romance every rom-com makes you yearn for.
“Okay,” the stranger let out, dropping the cap into his hand and covering the Sharpie’s tip, “if this isn’t legible, it’s your fault, got it? So don’t go around spreading bad rumors about me.”
Yunho raised an eyebrow at the statement.
“What kind of rumors would I be spreading?”
“Like...that I have bad handwriting, or—ohhhh, okay , I see what you’re doing here.” The shorter’s eyes narrowed at Yunho, his head softly shaking side to side in a joking type of disappointment.
“I haven’t even tried anything,” Yunho chuckled to himself, an endeared smirk curling up on his face. He wasn’t sure just what was running through this man’s head, or perhaps this was just another attempt to reel Yunho in even further.
“You won’t be able to dig up any dirt on an angel like myself.”
“Angel or not, your handwriting is pretty bad,” Yunho laughed, looking down at the inside of his arm.
A mess of letters was scribbled out, from Yunho’s wrist up to the crook of his arm. Below them was a name written out, just as messy and difficult to decipher:
Song Mingi.
A soft smile coated his lips as he traced the characters with his gaze.
Mingi, huh?
Maybe he could give this crush-thing a chance after all.