#fudge wen junhui

[shinescape]

pov: you asked junhui if he's still at work since he hasn't texted you after his usual "good morning, sunshine" message and you got kind of worried. and few minutes later, he sent these two photos with the text that says "I'll be home soon. Here's a little treat. ☺️" and then you let out the ugliest screech ever and spend the next few hours staring at his photos...

[tellmenauineo]

colored by you

pairing: mingyu x reader, vernon x reader

genre: soulmate!au, angst, fluff, smut, comedy (at some points)

warnings: mentions of alcholol and weed, language, unprotected sex   

summary: eventually, we fall in love with people who the universe destined us to. but there are complications sometimes. 

word count: 11k (i refuse to comment) 

a/n: tell me what you think even if you found it bad 🤧🤧 i’m in NEED of feedback,, stay safe during the pandemic and feel free to talk to me!! i’m sorta back 🤠🤠

“I'd prefer if you showed more enthusiasm about it. Success is never an accident,” your mother reads you a lesson, a reproach can be heard in her voice. Your sigh, wishing this conversation to be over so you’ll finally be able to hang up your phone. 

“Some people aren't built happy, or cheerful, or forever excited, you know,” you mumble. “I'm satisfied with my academical success – but maybe it isn't a thing I want to achieve now. I don't know.”

“Of course, people aren't built happy – that’s why the Universe made a soulmate for each of us. To make us happy. That's how it works.”

“Uh-huh.”

“One day you’ll understand,” your mother continues. “And you will be happier, happier than ever. Your time will come.”

You won't understand.

The Universe made a soulmate for each of us. The Universe made sure we’ll be aware who is the one, the one, as your mother says, who’ll make you happier and complete, too. It's pretty simple. First words addressing you that you would hear from your soulmate get imprinted on the skin of your ribcage. Close to your heart.

The mechanism of The Universe is perfect. But, sometimes, even perfect-made things get broken.

You won't understand because you already have words tattooed on your skin.

“I guess, we can say love is an accident, isn't it?” you say. “Anyway, I gotta go, mom. I'll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Take care of yourself. And don't stay up late.”

“We both know I'm gonna stay up late,” you smile. “Bye!”

It happened in cold January, four months ago.

“Shrimp Pad Thai?” Chan asks you.

“Mm, yes,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes innocently. Chan gasps and raises his eyebrows in a fake disbelief, but you don't let him open his mouth to say something very sarcastic about you and your habits in eating. “I'm your customer, where are your manners? What if I leave?”

“Then you'll leave and won't have our Shrimp Pad Thai which you order five days a week,” he shrugs.

“I'm older than you – pay me respect!”

“I do? Always? Our very important customer who always eats the same,” he playfully sing-songs and you roll your eyes, trying your best not to give him a smile.

“Go and get us food already,” Momo says. “Both of you better not play on my nerves when I'm hungry.”

When the orders are made and Chan leaves to the kitchen, you get up from your seat.

“I'm going to wash my hands,” you announce, and your friend nods at it.

On your way to the restrooms you recognize a bunch of boys sitting at the window booth. Kim Mingyu, Wen Junhui and Jeon Wonwoo – all of them are in Soonyoung’s group of friends. Wonwoo smiles and waves his hand and you return the gesture. You nod at Junhui and Mingyu – who looks incredibly soft and cute in his light-gray hoodie with his rose cheeks – seems that the ramen he is eating is too spicy for him. He gives you a little “hey”, smiling at you, and you immediately feel how your own cheeks turn blushy. To prevent your embarrassment in front of them, you try to speed up, but, suddenly, collide with someone.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You look up at the source of the voice, Chwe Hansol, the new Soonyoung’s roommate you heard a lot about (and you’re aware that Soonyoung not just can’t stop telling embarrassing stories about you to his roommate, but also shows him your pictures, because yes, in Soonyoung’s words, it’s a crime if you don’t put on display your best friend and your wonderful, a movie-worthy, friendship) and, apparently, there is no bottle of chilli sauce in his hands. A smug smile is playing on his lips and his chocolate eyes are glistening with a mischief.

“Nice try,” you don't hide a hint of a wipe in your voice as you start moving towards the restrooms – you swear a trip to them never took that long.

You catch Hansol's gaze on you on the way back to your and Momo’s booth and you have nothing to do but narrow your eyes at him, making him smile even wider.

“He's cute, though. The Hansol guy I mean,” Momo concludes after you finished your dinner. “But no shit they're loud.”

You cast an eye at their boost. Mingyu is the loudest and the most talkative among them – but, somehow, looking at him telling something, wildly gesticulating, makes your heart melt a little.

Stupid, you think, it's almost close to feeling happy. 

You spot the tattoo when you go to take a shower that night.

Your heart sinks at the sight of the words.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You don't tell anyone.

“I can take it as an offend, you know,” Soonyoung whines. “You've been turning down my home party offers for more than a month!”

“Um, you haven’t had any,” you say.

It’s true – you try your best to avoid Hansol, and it works even despite the fact he lives with your best friend (sometimes you’re wondering how Soonyoung and Hansol, the pair of complete opposites, rub along okay together, but maybe opposites indeed attract?). You’re not fond of the idea you reduced all your social interactions, but at least you do your huge amount of homework in time – that’s why Soonyoung once called you a homework-doing machine.

Yes, that’s lame.

“It’s because you didn’t come!”

You’re clearly under pressure. You can crack under it a little bit.

Just a little bit.

“Because I-” you forget what you want to say to explain yourself. Or, rather, to fudge up an excuse to trick Soonyoung and keep staying from Hansol as long as possible. “It’s complicated. Besides, your roommate sticks at home for days on end, and if I want to spend time with you I want us to be alone,” you point at him with your pen.

His eyes are getting wider and wider with each millisecond and finally he gasps,

“Are you in love with me?!”

Well.

“What if I am?” you challenge. At the end of the day, that’s the words of the woman who has nothing to lose.

“I-” it’s Soonyoung, who is under pressure right now. “I love you, you know it-”

“But, there’s always a but,” you sigh in a fake manner. “I understand. Maybe I haven’t yearned it yet,” you place your hand over his, and his eyes are glued to your hands. “But, Soonyoung, I want to hear ‘horanghae’ from you someday. Will my dream come true?”

He lifts up his eyes to you. Soonyoung’s known you for over a decade and he clearly can say you’re on the verge of bursting into a hearty laugh despite your dying attempts to keep your face straight. He snaps his hand away and stands up.

“Yah! You betrayed me!” he points a finger at you. “Yah!” he continues in a voice that is a few octaves higher than his usual. “You are gonna pay for your betrayal!”

“Sure thing,” you manage to say through your laugh. You’re well aware that almost all eyes in the campus cafeteria are on you, but it was quite common when the two of you were together. “I’ll see you in court, horangi.” 

You wish you were in court.

Instead, you’re in Soonyoung and Hansol’s kitchen, mixing the sickest possible cocktail ever – and you’re not proud of yourself.

“Why it looks like wiper fluid but tastes like lab alcohol?” Seungkwan asks, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Your mirror his expression.

“Um, the creator would like to take to his own grave the secret receipt of this… shit,” you say.

By the creator you mean Soonyoung. You’re on duty tonight – it’s Hansol and Seokmin’s double birthday party and you’re in charge of everything – your best friend had no mercy for the cafeteria joke.

“Don’t tell me the upcoming birthday cakes have the same creator,” the boy says, patting his blond locks back into place. You assume he was dancing, or, more likely, slamming in the living room, while you hide in the kitchen, still avoiding Seokmin co-star of this night, Hansol.

“Nah, I ordered them in the bakery. Customized ones!”

“You should’ve asked me to bake the cakes,” the third person enters the room, and your heart skips a bit. Mingyu walks towards you and Seungkwan and leans on the counter, still having his eyes on you. “I need to improve my baking skills.”

You feel how your cheeks flushing up. Shit, you curse in your head, he just made an appearance and you’re already turning into mush.

“Next time maybe?” you ask, your voice is much more gentle than usual. “Whose birthday is next?”

“Mine,” smiles Mingyu. “But I don’t want to hold a party this year – wanna share a dinner tete-a-tete with someone.”

“Such a great plan! Except for one thing – you don’t have ‘someone’,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes.

“I’ll find one,” Mingyu’s words are steady but his movements are not. His right elbow slips off the counter, and the boy hisses. “I’m already working on this.”

“Sure thing, tiger,” you smile despite feeling that something is scratching your guts in your belly – disappointment? jealousy? sadness? Maybe all of them and maybe none.

You have a soulmate for fuck’s sake and it’s not Mingyu.

“Whatever,” Seungkwan mutters. “I’m going back to the party and I strongly recommend you to stop hiding here,” he says, looking you right in the eyes. “He won’t bite you, you know?”

“What are you talking about?!” you exclaim, but Seungkwan only shrugs.

“Have no idea.”

You want to follow him, take him by the shoulders and ask about everything he knows about – did Hansol tell him about you? Seems so. Has he, Seungkwan, launched the making of the two of you a couple campaign? If yes, you’re doomed.

Mingyu stops you from storming out of the kitchen – you’re back to the reality with his warm hand wrapped around your wrist and you turn to him in surprise, your cheeks already flushed.

“Yes?” you manage to mumble.

“Who are you hiding from?” he asks, and you almost hear concern in his voice. Or maybe you imagine it all.

“Um- no one? He’s being delusional like always, you know?”

“You sure?’ his hand is getting lower, and unexpectedly you find your fingers intertwining with his. Mingyu’s hand is much larger and warmer than yours, his hold isn’t tight, but it magically makes you forget about the whole the soulmate and his wingman thing.

It makes you forget about everything except for this particular moment – Mingyu’s dark eyes on you, your hand in his and the echo of the music playing in the living room. His bronze skin’s glowing in the dim kitchen light (one of the bulbs is dead and neither Soonyoung or Hansol wants to do something about it), his face is innocent and the only thing you can think about – your uncontrollable desire to kiss off two worry lines between his perfect eyebrows.

You don’t even notice that you’re holding your breath, too afraid to interrupt the moment.

“I’m sure,” you whisper and he nods. Mingyu probably can hear the beating of your racing heart, and you don’t mind at all – you would eagerly tell him how he makes you feel if he wants to know.

He leans closer to you, his breath is tickling the soft skin of your cheek and you hear him ask,

“May I?”

But before you can nod, Seokmin’s piercing voice, like a bolt out of the blue, is calling your name,

“Soonyoung’s trying to kiss me!”

He is louder than any bomb, you think, and that’s enough to take you out of the trance. You slowly turn to him, letting go of Mingyu’s hold on your wrist.

“It’s his way to wish you a happy birthday,” you negotiate, but Seokmin’s gaze is wandering between your and Mingyu’s bodies. His hand follows his eyes, gesturing at the two of you.

“Are you-”

“No, no, no,” you cut him off.

“Man, you need me to get the thing squared away?” Mingyu sounds irritated. You turn your head to steal a look of him. You never saw him like that – at least, not with his friends. Even when his team was defeated at the bowling a month or so ago he seemed worn out, but no hint of irritation on his face – just an exhausted smile combined with a self-mockery behavior. That night you almost regretted saying your wrist was injured so you spent the whole game sipping bubble teas instead of helping your team from sinking to the bottom.

(Jeonghan didn’t buy that spectacular performance, by the way)

“I came to complain?” he looks at you, the eyes so innocent, calling for help, so you smile in response – it’s always like this with Seokmin – the boy can melt even stone hearts.

“Let me check on him,” you say to Seokmin, and he eagerly nods. You pat on Mingyu’s right forearm, your fingers stay on his hard bicep for a little too long, and it makes you lick your lips. “And if he needs to get into bed, I expect some help from you, Mingyu.”

His face softens, and he chuckles, closing his eyes for a second.

“Let’s get it then.”

“I ain’t leaving till I help you with this,” Mingyu says, referring to the apartment that looks like a battlefield (of beer pong). “You already look tired.”

“I’m tired,” you admit. “But you have classes like in…” you check your watch. “…four hours.”

“I’ll sit in the back of the classroom,” seeing the question in your eyes, he adds. “I’ll catch some sleep, don’t worry.”

“Sounds stupid, but I guess nothing would change your mind,” you give up, and a proud smile appears on his face. “The living room is yours then,” you give him an evil smile, your hand lands on his firm chest, patting it twice. “Have fun!”

When you step into the kitchen, a sigh of disappointment leaves your lips, despite your vain attempt to suppress it.

Hansol sits in the white plastic chair, mindlessly scrolling through whichever app is it’s feed. He looks up at you, but he next second his eyes are back on the screen.

Your body feels stiff, like you’re made of wood, but you force yourself to approach the counter. The desire to disappear is so strong that you find yourself not breathing at all – like if you make less noises, the more Hansol is unaware you’re in the same room with him.

You grab a handful of orange peels to throw in the trash can under the sink when you hear Hansol voice, “Why didn’t you throw out all of them?” You turn to the boy, cheeks already red, and anger is bubbling in your stomach. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he lets a hoarse laugh.

“I’m joking, jeez. No need to sulk.”

You don’t return his smile, instead turning away from him to take the leftovers, and say,

“It couldn’t fit in my hand.”

He coos at your words, and you feel stupid.

“Soonyoung was right. You’re an absolute doll.”

“Not impressed,” you roll your eyes, but you feel no confidence in your voice. You face Hansol again, a mischievous glint in his big eyes can be spotted even from across the kitchen. “Your eyes are red,” you notice. “Are you stoned?”

“Maybe so,” he yawns, stretching out in the chair that is about to crack under his weight at any minute. “I don’t mind you tucking me in, though. You seem to be a pro.”

“Well, don’t overdo it,” you say. “The scientists say weed makes people stupid.”

“And affects their memory,” he adds. “But it makes me copy.”

“With what?”

Hansol shrugs and his gaze falls to his knees. He radiates hesitation, and you gulp the pulse in your throat, afraid to hear the truth.

“With me being avoided by my own soulmate like I’m sorta of a plague? Sorta.”

A wave of pure heat that feels like a fever, a bad fever, runs through your body. The whole soulmate thing was supposed to be a blessing, but it feels like a curse. Without thinking, you pathetically mumble,

“I thought you don’t care.”

You really did. For the last few weeks you’ve been living in the bubble made of your own sorrows, disappointments, and self-pity, and the thought of what Hansol feels and thinks about it never crossed your mind.

“Whatever,” he says. “I got your point.”

Hansol doesn’t wait for the unspoken words that are stuck in the back of your throat, ringing in your ears over and over as you watch him leaving the kitchen. He stops at the doorframe with his hand in his dark locks – it’s so odd to see him not wearing a beanie – and slowly turns to you.

“Leave this shit to Soonyoung,” he says.

“Okay,” you mutter.

He calls your name, shooting the arrow of guilt right into your heart.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

When Mingyu returns to ask where he can find another bag for trash, you cling to the boy’s chest, and skipping all the questions on the tip of his tongue, Mingyu clasps his arms around you. His chin is snuggling upon your head and you feel pressure inside of the bubble reducing a little.

But a tremendous guilt envelops you with each minute.

Momo stares at your figure as you sit across her – your hair cascading down onto your hunched shoulders, your face is covered with your hands, and the girl only huffs.

“Should I expect some fake sobs?”

You spare a fiery glance at her, but she just waves you off in dismisal. Momo doesn’t even trying to hide her irritation with you – the first thing she asked you after you finally had decided to spill the whole situation to her was ‘Could you have taken any longer to tell me?” and you can’t blame her.

“Yah, leave these tricks for your future sweetheart Sollie. I’m not buying it.”

“He is not my future sweetheart,” you argue. “It doesn’t work!”

“Because you never gave it a chance,” she isn’t convinced, and her stern tone makes you consider the words more carefully.

“He hates me now!”

“First, you deserved it. No offense. Second, he seems like a crackhead, such people don’t hate other people, they just don’t care about them.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” you exclaim, and her face breaks into a triumphant smile. “What?”

“Look at you, already defending your soulmate,” she says in a saccharine voice. “Ask him out and fall in love. Choose life. Choose a loveseat coach.”

“Isn’t it from Trainspotting movie?” you question, narrowing your eyes.

“And what about it?” she huffs once again. “It doesn’t make me wrong. It always starts with a crush. Just let it happen.”

A crush, huh? A crush that makes your heart beats harder; that sends you floating in your daydreams; that makes you the happiest person in the whole universe, but at the same time has the power to make you sadder than the most distant and loneliest star from the Sun?

Just like the one you have on Mingyu?

Momo still doesn’t know how you feel about the tall, black-haired boy, and you aren’t ready to tell her the truth. Partly because you want to protect this thing from the outer world, make it special, make it a secret that can be kept by the two only, and, partly because you’ll face the wall of misunderstanding. You could fool around with the boys before, but now you’re certain with the one who is destined for you. And you can’t – you shouldn’t – seek for another lover. It’s wrong.

The ability to make all your problems yourself will never fail to amaze you.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “If you’re so smart.”

“I could’ve been your mother, though. You should follow my every word.”

“Momo, we literally were born in the same decade,” you sigh, but the girl has no intention to follow any of your words.

[mingyyuu 17:13] it’s so cold today!! stay inside  🖤

[you 17:14] too late :// plans!!

[mingyyuu 17:16] any plans for tomorrow?

[you 17:16] not yet

[mingyyuu 17:17] now you have some!

 The boy continues to type, but you have to put the phone in the back pocket of your jeans – you’re awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to the other at the doorstep, not able to say anything – even a small ‘hello’.

“Soonyoung’s at the dance practice,” Hansol breaks the silence.

“I know his schedule better than he does,” you can’t help but roll your eyes. “I came for your soul.”

Hansol raises his brows, his eyes never leave yours as he steps aside to let you in. The boy helps you with your jacket, and you mutter a small ‘thank you’, hoping he’ll take the initiative, even despite the fact it’s you who came to talk.

“How are you doin’?” maybe it’s a soulmate thing to read each other’s mind? You look at Hansol and you have a feeling that you’ll never be able to go through the guard around him and straight to his head. His expression is neutral, and you admit that he doesn’t even need to try look beautiful.

“Nothing much,” you response. “What ‘bout you?”

“Okay. Wanna drink something?”

“A pepsi please?”

“We only have a few cans of coke, do you wanna?”

You already feel strange of that crazy amount of questions for the beginning – the situation becomes more and more awkward that you’re able to feel the pressure of the air in the room. Your temples pulse a little, threating a headache.

“Nah, I’m fine then,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I came here to say I’m sorry and-”

“And?”

“Do you think we should be together?”

“It how it works,” he lets out a dry laugh. Hansol looks down to your face, his hand reaches out to stroke your shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

The grip on your temples is too tight to bear, and you let out a heavy pant.

“My head hurts,” you explain, squeezing your eyes shut – the light is too bright.

“You need to lie down,” Hansol says. “It’s probably because the temperature difference between inside and outside. I’ll bring painkillers to Soonyoung’s bedroom.”

You nod, heading off to the bedroom. What a great wat to talk - show up at someone’s doorstep just to say you have a headache. Great. Not bothering yourself with discarding your clothes, you collapse stomach-down onto the bed without removing the cover, your face is buried in the soft material.

“Shit, you’ll suffocate if you stay like this,” Hansol’s deep voice wafts on your ears. You slowly lean on your elbows to steal a glance at him. After placing the glass of water and the blister of painkillers at the night stand, he gets down on his haunches, his eyes at the same level as yours. You stay like this for some time, not saying a word, mesmerized by his face.

“What did you do before I came?” you ask out of sudden. Hansol seems to be taken aback with your question.

“Tried to make some music,” he gawks, blinking at you.

“Really?” you ask in a low voice.

“Mostly checked the mic with some ‘yeah’s’ and ‘yo’s’”, he admits, an amusing laugh escapes his mouth. “I’ll try to do something while you’re resting, good?”

You nod you head and smile at him. He gently squeezes your shoulder and stands up. Before he disappears out of the bedroom, you say,

“Do you have any siblings?”

He turns to you, leaning back against the wall.

“Yeah. I have a little sister. You?”

You shake your head no and he nods.

“But it was easy to guess you’re not the only child, though,” it’s difficult to see his face in the darkness, but your eyes never leave him.

“How so?”

“You offer a compromise when it's unnecessarily,” you sniggle. “A man of settled habits.”

You see his wide smile in the dark.

 You force your eyes open and sit up in the bed, your hair disheveled and slightly damp at the back of your neck. Headache has gone, at least for now, but your throat feels dry. When you come to the kitchen, you see the note in Hansol’s infamous unsteady handwriting left on the counter:

you can find pepsi in the fridge!

You smile at the gesture and inside you sense warmth.

 You knock at Hansol’s bedroom door twice and after the boy calls out for your entry, you slip through the door.

Hansol sits at the table, bobbing his head in time with the song that hums from the speakers. His eyes are glued to his laptop, the headphones rest above his ears.

“Does the work go smoothly?” you ask, sitting at the corner of his bed. He turns to face you; a soft smile is playing on his lips.

“Yeah, it’s okay. There are many things that I think I’m lacking in, but I work on them,” he says in a serious tone. “But I’ve finally finished the song that had been haunting me for weeks.”

“Oh, that’s great!” you beam at him.

“Your snoring from the next room inspired me,” he places his hand over his heart. “I’ll be forever grateful for that.”

You lightly kick his calf, and the boy laughs. Rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes, he draws his attention back to you.

“Feel better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer. Nodding, Hansol notices your gaze focusing on the screen of his laptop. There’re the unknown for you tools placed on his table, except for the microphone, of course, and you’re wondering what kind of music he’s into.

“Wanna hear it?” he asks, once again showing his amazing ability to read your mind.

“Yes!” you hearty nod. “Want my headache to be back.”

Hansol rolls his eyes, muttering a small ‘sure’ under his breath, and places the mouse cursor over the play button. The speakers are small, but even despite it you sense the music vibrate through your body. The beat is harsh, his voice is piercing, and it feels like the most Hansol’s thing he could’ve ever done, but at the same time you’ve got an inkling that the tune and the lyrics were created by his mysterious twin.

“You really made this?” your eyes are wide and your hand clutches hold of his wrist.

“Yeah,” he hums nervously, bringing his free hand to rub at the back of his head.

“It’s good! I can’t believe you haven’t signed a ten-million dollars contract yet!”

“You heard just one song,” he smiles in a protest. “Thanks anyway.”

“I’m right, though,” you say, your hand leaving his as you smile at him. “You should be a star! I can’t say what I liked about it ‘cause I don’t know anything about music, but the whole thing is perfect!”

He looks up to you, your cheeks flushed with passion and your eyes glisten as candles burn bright, and it brings a proud smile on his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts.

“You’re beautiful too,” your words are sincere, filled with pure appreciation you have for this melted chocolate eyed boy. The idea of you frightened of meeting him a few hours ago seems like a pure absurd right now – when the two of you sit that close to each other, you having a string of questions to ask him about his life, interests, hopes and dreams, and on your tongue the whole story of your life is tingling to be uttered at the same time.

“It was unexpected,” he chuckles. “Thanks again.”

“Thanks for the pepsi,” you return. “I thought you had only coke?”

“Um, I went to the convenience store across the street while you were asleep,” he says, his eyes are wandering on the wall. You can hardly take a breath.

“You shouldn’t have,” you say.

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugs. Nodding, you slip off his bed and go toward the window. Leaning your forehead against the cool glass, you take a deep breath.

“Is Soonyoung still at the practice?” you ask, your voice is low.

“I guess,” Hansol perches at the windowsill. “I kinda lost track of time.”

You feel the heat his body radiates. Theoretically, you think, you find him somewhat sexy, really manly. His long scraggy neck, broad shoulders, a spectacular torso you can notice even under his oversized t-shirts, and athletic thighs. A month ago, your informant told you that Hansol barely shows up in the gym, and you wonder if the boy was gifted with capability of being perfect without even trying.

And still, he isn’t Mingyu, who makes you feel being in love.

You want to tell Mingyu the truth about your wrong destiny, your aching heart that can be healed with his smile only, and the feeling of your stomach filled with butterflies. You want him to hold your hand, pushing all the doubts and fears away, and make you his. His, despite the cruel joke The Universe played on you.

You think, you have a feeling, he would understand it, because he believes in strength of choice. Mingyu is in a constant state of moving forward, overcoming all obstacles he might face.

Would it be the first time when he stops?

 You and Hansol both stay silent till the whole apartment echoes with Soonyoung’s ringing voice.

“Woah, I like the pictures!” Mingyu approves with a hum, adjusting something on his camera. “They’re perfect.”

“Because they’re pictures of me or because it’s you who took them?” you smile, a playful glint in your eyes as you nudge him.

“Let me think,” the boy stops in his tracks, his brows furrow in a fake manner, indicating he is absorbed in his thoughts. “Both.”

“Wow,” you play along, shaking your head and pressing your lips together. “Groundbreaking.”

He giggles and slides his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Wish I could tickle you right now, bit your jacket doesn’t give a chance.”

You shove off his hand and see a small pout forming on his plush lips.

“It’s my protection from pervs like you, Mingyu,” you smile innocently, casting sheeps eyes on him.

“Pervs don’t ask for a permission,” he opposes matter-of-factly. You raise your brows at him in question, and it doesn’t take long for him to explain. “Let me kiss you.”

You raise your head at Mingyu to see him smiling down at you with shining eyes, his cheeks are glowing from the frosty air.

“Go ahead,” you smile, and he leans down and kiss you. His lips are warm and sweet, and you never expect to feel care through a kiss as his mouth is covering yours. His hand cups your cheek while the other is placed tightly at the base of your neck. You trace your tongue against his lower lip, his tongue is eager to meet yours. You tease the inside of his mouth, and Mingyu lets out a small groan, which is enough to bring you to senses, and you break the kiss.

“We’re outside, Guy,” you softly remind him, your grip at his forearms is loosen.

“And so?” he whines, tugging at your sleeves to keep you body close to him.

“And we’re late,” you try to reason, but frankly speaking, you better would have stayed in the previous position you shared with Mingyu than going anywhere. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner we leave.”

The idea of karaoke night seemed promising, to say at least, but with Seungkwan occupying the microphone and Seokmin taking the guise of being his bodyguard, preventing any attempt of borrowing the tool out of his hands, ebullience faded into despair.

Jun is scrolling through his phone, and you find it okay; Soonyoung is busying himself with fourth bowl of ramen in a row, and it begins to worry you; Jihoon is yawning in thirsty eight second intervals, and the fact of you really counting begins to worry you; Mingyu’s playing with your hands, his head rests against your shoulder, you find it normal too.

You toy with his dark hair and lower yourself to whisper in his ear.

“Take me out.”

“Your wish is my command,” Mingyu smiles with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He straightens up off the sofa and extends his hand to you. You stretch out your own hand and place it in Mingyu’s warm palm.  

After wrapping everyone, except for Seungkwan who is too absorbed in the singing and waves the two of you off in dismissal, for a goodbye hug, you go downstairs to put the clothes on.

“Stop staring,” you say to Mingyu, catching his gaze in the mirror, a smile parts your lips. You pull up the hood of your jacket and turn to the boy.

“Can’t help it,” he admits, reaching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb is stroking your cheek gently, and he leans to steal a kiss from your lips.

“Oh, shit,” Seungkwan says, puckering his face into a frown. “Came to say my goodbye, but this,” he gestures at the two of you.

“Grow up,” Mingyu shrugs his shoulders. Seungkwan’s glare bores a hole right through your head, and you can only silently pray for him to not allow his anger  upstage his reason.

“Seungkwan, please,” you say. “Let’s talk about it later.”

“Sure,” the younger boy rolls his eyes. “It’s not me who you should talk to, though.”

“What’s the problem?” Mingyu groans in frustration.

“I don’t know. What’s your problem?” Seungkwan scoffs, shifting his gaze from Mingyu to you and back to Mingyu again.

“It’s none of your business,” you snap. “I’m not in the mood for one of your soap operas.”

You storm out of the building, your blood is boiling with the mixture of anger, fear, and realization of all things you used to have fell to pieces in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, wait,” Mingyu grabs your hand, and you stop, too afraid to look at him. “What’s the matter?”

You’re struck by an incredible sense of fear, of confusion, of vulnerability, but you finally have to face the reality.

“The problem is,” you sigh. “Hansol is my soulmate.”

“Don’t cry,” Soonyoung tries to conciliate you, his hand is rubbing against your back, and he tightens the embrace. “I’m here for you.”

At this point, you even hate yourself for the damp spot on his sweatshirt made with your tears. You want to concentrate on Soonyoung’s words uttered in a small voice, almost whispering, but as you think about Mingyu, about how on his face thoughts and feelings seemed connate – his pained stare said everything, – standing in front of you, you feel a sharp pain in your heart.  

“Do you despise me?” your voice sounds desperate.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t ask such a shitty question to my best friend,” he says. “You’re the best.”

You laugh bitterly. Soonyoung treats you too nicely – without asking why you’d been keeping so many secrets from him till this night, rebuking Seungkwan for standing guard over Hansol’s feelings, promising Mingyu will pay dearly in the nearest future for his superior sense of morality or whatever.

“What about Hansol?” you ask him, your eyes still are full of tears and pain, but you force a small smile.

“Will kick him out,” his voice is firm, and you sink your face into the soft material of his cloth, suppressing a bigger smile that threats to appear on your lips.

“Soonyoung, I’ve made four enemies this year, and it’s only the end of February,” your voice is muffled as you keep pressing your face onto the boy’s chest. “Momo, Mingyu, Hansol, Seungkwan – all of them hate me for being stupid, for not telling the truth, for being a bitch, for-”

“Shh. It’s their problem, not yours. It’s them who won’t survive ‘cause they made enemies of us. Listen to me,” he calls your name, making a passionate appeal. “We’re undefeatable, you and me.”

You lift your head at him, finding him keeping his eyes on the ceiling in a dramatic way, and you snicker. His lips twist into a broad smile, and he looks at you.

“They don’t hate you,” he says. “Life is complicating, so are we. They know about it.”

You meet Mingyu at the library. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and he’s surprisingly quiet.

“Seungkwan said Hansol fell for you only after Soonyoung’s countless ramblings about you. He indeed stared at your pics, I suppose.”

He’s in pain.

You feel empty inside; a terrible anguish seizes your heart.

“Do you feel the same about him?” an involuntary question slips off his tongue.

You want to say it’s him, it’s only him who made you fall, who made you feel at ease, who made you want to give and not just to take, but you can’t.

He waits for a response you’ll never be able to come up with.

This night you cry yourself to sleep.

Weeks go by.

The three of you – you, Hansol, and Soonyoung – glue your eyes to the television set placed at the wall of the boys’ living-room. Watching different tv series with them somehow has turned into therapy sessions – despite experiencing triggers at almost everything that is shown, you feel you’re not alone. The two of them act like nothing happened, and all of you are ready to meet your soulmates someday.

But, if nothing happened, why Mingyu’s name is forbidden from saying out loud because it would fill you with pain?

“You have popcorn crumbs on your shirt,” you notice, pointing at Soonyoung with the remote in your hand.

“I preferred watching tv to reading books when i was younger,” the boy says, dusting the crumbs off his torso and lap.

“And it shows,” you tease. Soonyoung gives you a light pinch on the side and straightens up with a huff.

“I’m going to bed,” he announces. “The bathroom is occupied for the next thirty minutes.”

Hansol nods and bids Soonyoung goodnight as you blow him a kiss – his laughter never fails to boost your mood.

“Resuming?” you ask Hansol. “I’m not sleepy.”

“Neither am I.”

It’s completely dark apart from the television’s dim yellow glow. Somehow, you find yourself being distracted by almost everything – the pattern of the wooden floor, the material of the couch, the streetlamp right outside the window, the plant that is going to die soon due to Soonyoung and Hansol’s lack of care.

Hansol.

His eyes flicker in your direction, catching you staring at him. You don’t look away.

“Am I more interesting than the show?” he asks, not expecting you reply with a quiet ‘yes’. A blush coloring his cheeks can be spotted even in the poorly illuminated room.

“You’re so shy sometimes,” you remark in a low voice. “You didn’t seem so when I first met you.”

“I felt some courage out of nothing,” he shakes his head, his long and slender fingers tapping his knees. “When I saw you.”

You sigh. How the Universe can be broken? Maybe you’re broken?

“I read that if you’re dealing with schizophrenia your emotions are mixed up – you feel something you shouldn’t have felt and express something you don’t feel.”

“Scientific facts again, huh? You’re referring to me?” he grins.

“To myself, I guess,” there is no smile at your features as you sigh. “Or maybe it’s – I don’t know, to be honest.”

“Hey, I know its not gonna work but I’ll say it anyway,” he reaches out his hand to yours and gently squeezes it. “Don’t think shit about yourself. Don’t say shit,” he pauses. “When the words appeared I was surprised, no shit. But as I find out more and more things about you, all of it start to make sense. I don’t want anyone’s words but yours on me. That’s it. That’s the thing I feel.”

He’s beautiful, you think, very beautiful.

Your eyes wander over his face and finally stop at his lips. The contour of his mouth is perfect – Hansol’s lips aren’t plump, but neither are thin – just perfect – and the little bruise on his lower lip makes you unable to brush your overwhelming desire to have a lick over this exact spot. You hesitate – and even now the image of Mingyu settles on you.

But when you feel Hansol’s lips on yours, you let him in. He claims your mouth passionately, and you slide your hands into his hair, pulling on his locks, and he groans in your mouth. When you pull back for a moment, your eyes flooded with haze, Hansol traces his thumb over your slick with his spit lips, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans onto you again, his lips ghosting over yours, the redolent scent of his musky cologne makes your head even more dizzy.

“I want you,” he whispers into your lips, his voice is cracking.

“You can have me,” you breathe out, closing your eyes as his lips decorate your neck in sloppy kisses.

You can have me, but can you have my heart?

The question finds lodgment in your mind.

You might lose the thing you love the most, but life goes on… and here we stand.

You’ve discovered you’re an excellent pretender.

Pretend you think nothing of going without sleep for several nights and then attend your classes. Pretend you’re not tired. Pretend you like the tasteless dish in the restaurant Momo brought you to. Pretend it’s not painful to be in the same room with Mingyu. Pretend you love Hansol back.

“My legs are killing me,” Seungkwan whines. “I just don’t know how much more of it I can take.”

Same, you think, fucking same.

“Wait a little more and I’ll buy you a hotdog,” Mingyu promises, looking over his shoulder to see you wearily stagger behind them. The combination of the three of you is weird, you find, but life goes on, isn’t it?

It’s May, and the three is you are stuck in Ikea’s mazes – Mingyu needs to buy some new furniture – this is what brings him to the mall, but also Mingyu needs someone to keep him company – and this is what brings you and Seungkwan to the same place. Mingyu calls your name, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows in a question.

“You good? How ‘bout a few hotdogs after?”

“And milkshakes,” Seungkwan adds.

“Just an ice cream please,” you mumble, and he nods. Sometimes it’s so awkward – to be around him. Sometimes it’s natural. But mostly it’s painful.

 Standing in the parking lot, waiting for Mingyu and Seungkwan while they’re stuffing the things Mingyu bought into the trunk of his car, you dumbly watch the ice cream steadily dripping down your hand.

Damn.

No ice cream can help you feel good even a bit. 

You enter Hansol’s bedroom and find him at the wooden floor, lying on his back, eyes closed. With his arms and legs splayed out, he reminds you a giant starfish.

“Are you even breathing?” you chuckle, bending over him.

“I am,” Hansol smiles, his eyes stay closed, and he taps slightly on his chest. “C’mere.”

You oblige, your head nestle against his chest, and you hear his steady heartbeat. He wraps his left arm around you and inhales deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes out of sudden, and you turn your head to look at him. “The first words were stupid, and you’ll have them for forever.”

“Suit us very well,” you poke, and he sniffs, reaching out to slightly pinch your cheek. “Hey! Stop!”

Hansol laughs, squeezing you tighter, and the sound of his slow and steady breathing lulls you to sleep. Your gaze is directed at the ceiling as you try to fight against sleep. “You’re so composed, but also so goofy, but also so delicate,” you sigh, thinking out loud as your fingertips trace up and down the soft skin of his wrist. Hansol’s warm. “But the first words were wacky,” you chuckle. “What’ve done to deserve them?”

“It was Russian roulette, baby,” he hums, and you can hear him smiling.

You fall asleep like that. You dream about buying the beige sofa you saw in Ikea and Mingyu’s endless attempts to change your mind – the green one is a way better, he insists. The green one would suit the interior perfectly, you agree with him, but the beige one is so classy, and maybe even a little obligatory? Every apartment should have one, but Mingyu only shakes his head in frustration.

“I'm not sure you’re one hundred percent positive about what you’re convincing me of,” he purses his lips.

Dreams that are hardly can be distinguish from reality are exhausting. You wish there was a way to put this worry to bed once and for all.

“Okay, so the concept of your birthday party is dubstep,” you verify. “And the main dish excepted for a barbeque duck is an ice cream cake?”

“I scream, you scream, gimme that ice cream,” Soonyoung’s enjoyment is evidenced by his wide smile. You playfully roll your eyes, not really hiding the excitement you share with him.

“Why do I feel that we’re constantly hanging out at birthday parties?” Hansol asks, peering at his phone screen, not bothering to straighten his head from its bending position.

“Because our friend group is too huge for people our age,” you make a point.

“It’s so expensive to have a lot of friends,” Soonyoung complains, but when he meets your questionable gaze, he adds. “But for you, my bestie, money’s no object.”

“Good to know,” you laugh, your fingers leisurely run above the rim of the empty cup of matcha latte. “I’m more upset about my dear boyfriend didn’t show any interest in volunteering at preps for the party.”

Hansol smiles, tapping on his phone, his eyes are anchored on the screen, and you narrow your expression at him, shaking your head in a scolding manner.

“And now he pretends he doesn’t hear me,” you say. “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Hansol’s face brightens and broadens out into a beaming smile, and the sound of Soonyoung’s giggles fills the air.

“I’ll ask Seokmin to help you,” the older boy suggests, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

“I know you’re saying it for the best of reasons, but Seokmin rather is a distraction than a help,” you debate, and Soonyoung raises his small hands in surrender, his eyes becoming crescent-shaped due to his laugh.

“Okay, I’ll send backup,” he promises. “At the end of the day, Mingyu’s good at cooking and cleaning.”

It would’ve been hard for him not to realize he put his foot in his mouth mentioning Mingyu as the mood tensely shifts. You freeze, alike Hansol, his thumb is hovering over the phone screen for seconds. Soonyoung offers you an apologetic smile, and you smile at the boy back, reassuring him it’s okay – he really did nothing wrong. Hansol’s avoiding your questioning gaze, hiding his eyes behind his curly bangs, and you gently brush a section of his hair from his face, wanting to see him clearly.

“Are you jealous, Sollie?” you try to joke, a soft smile playing on your lips, your hand placed on his cheek. As he raises his eyes at you, nerves are evident in them, your heart sinks, and you feel breathless. He won’t ask you if he should be, he won’t make any scenes – but he may shut himself off, locking his feelings deep inside, and you fear it the most. You don’t mean to hurt him, but you’re still providing him a good amount of pain – he isn’t an idiot who can’t figure out that Mingyu’s never really left your heart.

“No,” he simply says. “I’ll help you with everything.”

“You’re a bigger distraction than Seokmin for me, but how can I say no to my sweet boyfriend?” you take his offer, your thumb is stroking his cheek, and the action soothes away the tension he has. Hansol smiles gently at you, and for a second, you’re wondering if he is as good at pretending as you are.

“How did you manage to rent this beach house?” Soonyoung asks in a pure awe. “Such places are always booked!”

“Nothing’s impossible when you love your friend,” you muse. “Besides, thank Hansol – he used his “music industry contacts” to make you happy.”

“Hey, you insult me using air quotes around ‘music industry contacts’,” Hansol slides his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him, and places a quick peck on the tip of your nose. You stab him in the chest with your index finger, and he fakes a gasp.

“Eavesdropping?” you ask.

“Learning a lot about me,” he grins and draws his attention to the birthday boy. “Like the party?”

“No shit,” Soonyoung laughs. “I’ll like it better if you dance with me,” he says your name, his eyes sparkle brighter than colorful lights blasting through the house.

“Anything for a five stars rate.”

You’re out of breath, the clothes stick to your covered in sweat body, and you wince.

“I’m done,” you announce to Soonyoung, his batteries fully charged as he continues his active dance.

“Get some fresh air and come back!” he yells over the music, and you nod. Crossing the room to the back porch, you spot Hansol in the corner, talking to Joshua and showing the older boy something on his phone screen. Unnoticed, you go directly to the shore until the music of the party drowns in the sound waves, and inhale warm salty air. The water seems so tempting, calling you to step into the waves, their rhythm is hypnotizing you, and you kick your shoes off, perfectly understand the night water is too cold for swimming.

A familiar voice stops you, calling your name. You turn around, greeted with Mingyu’s tall figure, shining like a bronze statue, his tanned skin sheens magical when graced by the evening sun.

“Why do you always tend to sneak out?” he asks, once he made it up to you, a warm smile already crept onto his mouth as he saw you.

“I don’t know, maybe I just like being in crowds,” you shrug your shoulders – it’s true. You really don’t know the answer. He moves closer to you, and you finally spot a small bouquet in his hand. His eyes follow yours, and he chuckles.

“It’s for you,” he shyly passes you the flowers, his teeth press into his bottom lips. “I passed by those wildflowers on my way here and picked them for you.”

“It’s not my birthday,” you laugh. “But thank you, I love it,” you say, nuzzling your nose against the tender petals. You look up at the boy and lock your eyes with his, a tickling feeling spreading in your chest. The waves are lapping on the peaceful and quiet shore, but you feel electricity surging through your body. You stand on your tiptoes and place a delicate kiss on his soft cheek, the action is innocent, but for Mingyu it’s like hearing a starting whistle.

“You’re still in my thoughts,” he breathes. “Still here,” he reaches over to grab your hand and place it over his chest, and through your fingertips you’re able to feel his rapid heart. Tears are starting to form at the rim of your eyes, and your vision becomes blurred. Your fingers crawl into the flowers he gave you, pressing against the vulnerable stems. “It’s egoistic, I know, you’re dating my friend, your soulmate, but why does it feel like you’re mine?”

“I don’t know,” you sob. The next second you find yourself against his firm chest and you inhale his scent that feels like home. Not a place where you live, but home. He plants a kiss to the crown of your head and puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Look at me,” the golden boy suddenly says. “Please.”

You look up at him and see his eyes briefly dropping to your lips, and despite yourself you feel that familiar tingling in your gut, wanting him to kiss you. He reads you like an open book and he is kissing you, his lips softly press against yours, a tender flavor on your tongue.

“Mingyu,” you whisper in a small voice, pulling out from him. “I can’t. I can’t do this to Hansol.”

The boy looks at you with a pained expression, and in his eyes you can see that he wishes he didn’t have a heart at all.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he mutters, and you nod your head, your heart is swelling at the nickname.

“I know. I’m sorry too.”

You lock yourself up in the bathroom, hoping no one saw your state while you were hurrying upstairs. Suddenly, someone tries the handle, but it jingles with no success.

“It’s occupied!” you try your best to sound calm, but your voice is trembling.

“It’s me,” Hansol’s muffled voice leaks through the door. “Let me in.”

You turn the lock and face Hansol, your eyes are all red and watery from crying. The boy locks the door behind him and turns to face you, his piercing eyes burn right into your soul.

“You love him,” he says, too delicate to torture you with questions, and you feel even worse – if it’s possible – paralyzed with fear and regrets, guilt eating you inside out, and you swallow the lump in your throat. You let out a wet sob, not being able to look into his sad eyes.

You broke his heart.  

“I’m sorry, Sol,” you say, feeling powerless, loss for words to say to him, to explain yourself, to apologize. “I don’t know what should I do. I don’t know what should we do.”

“If he makes you happier than I could,” he looks above your head. “I’ll accept it someday.”

“You don’t deserve this,” you say, feeling so stupid, only wishing that the floor would open up and swallow you.

“Maybe soulmates aren’t bond only by romantic shit,” his deep voice comes to you through the mist. You don’t ask him to give you a chance, don’t change his mind – maybe this painful reveal of the truth will make your heart feel a little bit lighter one day, even if right now you’re sure this is never going to happen.

You don’t complain and do not want pity from anyone – you’re sick and tired of Soonyoung tiptoeing around you, trying to keep you from collapsing; of the silent treatment Seungkwan gives you, scornful looks he spares you every single time you see him get you to another level of anger; of a constant scratching sense of guilt you’ve been racked with since your break-up with Hansol, but somehow he never blames you even if he should; of Momo dragging you to the shop malls and making you keep shopping until you cheer up.

Of you can’t getting up the nerve to answer any of Mingyu’s calls, too afraid of something you can’t even describe.

Momo’s straight face catches you off guard, and you only gasp,

“He what?! No, no, no,” you shake your head in disbelief. “You’re making this up.”

“What for?” the girl rolls her eyes back deep into their sockets. “Mingyu invited you to his picnic party or whatever through me cause you’re too deaf to pick up your phone, nothing special.”

“Will you come with me?” your eyes meet hers in the bathroom mirror, your expression makes Momo give you her infamous crinkly-eyed smile.

“He didn’t ask me to come – only you,” she purrs, taking her lip gloss out of the small bag. “He’s so fucking in love with you, you little witch.”

“I-” you stutter, the crimson red blush spreads across your cheeks, and Momo laughs and gives you a playful shove.

“Don’t you dare to say no,” she warns. “You’ll deal with me.”

“What would I do without you, Momo?” you smile at her. Even if you asked playfully, you really mean it – and the warmth in your chest proves it.

Mingyu seems nervous as he clumsy steps into your apartment, his chest is tensed with the breath he holds. The boy is dressed in a loose white t-shirt and high-wasted velvety pants, and you sigh in relief – the picnic party - as Momo called it - obviously wasn’t planned as something fancy.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you smile.

“Thanks for coming. Means a world,” he says, poking his cheek with his tongue, a shy smile follows his words. You missed him. Missed everything about him – the small giggles he lets while talking with that slight lisp to you, the shake of his head when he can’t understand something, the pout appearing on his plump lips when he realizes the item he wanted to buy is out of stock, the bright smile beaming on his face while he spills out his ideas for photography, the warmth of his palm holding yours in the pocket of his woolen coat.

“Who else is gonna be there?” you ask during your drive to the beach – Mingyu found the place perfect for a picnic, especially in the hot summer.

“Um,” he hesitates for a moment, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at you. “It’s just the two of us.”

“Oh,” you breath. “I see. Momo didn’t tell me.”

“Blame yourself for leaving me on read,” he grins obnoxiously and you roll your eyes defensively. “Now you’re stuck with me. I forgot to mention one thing, though.”

“Which one?” you rake your eyes over him, admiring how the sun’s rays paint his skin in a golden glitter. “It’s a date.”

You dig your toes into the cool sand, glancing into the evening sky. Mingyu follows your eyeline.

“You can’t see the stars for reflected light from the city,” you notice. “But here we have a chance.”

“No way,” Mingyu protests. “And you know why?”

“Why so?” you turn your face to him, a big smile spread on his lips.

“All Seoul’s stars are in your eyes,” he is smiling so wide that his cheeks must have hurt and he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you, tugging you into his lap.

“Shut up,” you laugh, smacking him on the chest, your fingers touching the soft fabric of his shirt. Mingyu’s lips are ghosting over your cheek for a moment before he speaks again,

“But I have lots of things to say,” Mingyu murmurs, biting softly at your earlobe, and a very familiar feeling creeps up into the pit of your stomach.

“Like what?”

“Like, let’s swim,” he takes you aback with the suggestion and you blink at him dumbly. “I didn’t bring my swimsuit with me,” you say.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “We’re alone here. No one’ll see.”

You push up from his body and meet his eyes glossy with playfulness and challenge, and you nod at his words. Mingyu grinning at you mischievously, while he removes his clothes – his shirt and pants find their place at the sand – as you see each piece of his skin revealing itself. You inhale deeply, and he leans his head closer to yours, the warm palms rubbing up and down your arms.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, and you’re surprised he can tell this just from your body language, and it makes your heart flutter, pounding even faster against your ribcage. His words encourage you, and he silently watches you removing your dress, the only pieces of clothing on your skin are your bra and panties. Mingyu gently squeezes your hand, his thumb softly strokes back and forth over your knuckles. “Catch me.”  

And within a couple of seconds, he is already pushing into the water, everything below his waist out of sight.  You slowly step onto the sparkling waves, a lazy smile playing on your lips, as you see Mingyu splashing over to you with a childish pout on his face.

“You’re supposed to catch me, but you don’t even try,” he whines and steps closer to you, pressing his hands to either sides of your neck, his thumb rubbing the hollow of your throat. He looks dreamlike with his skin stick from the water, making him glisten in the soft evening light.

“It’s not the only thing I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. I was born to live without you, remember?” you whisper against his wet lips as he leans over you.

“It doesn’t matter,” he hums, letting his fingers brush against the words inked on your side. “I don’t need to be told who I love.”

You’d been feeling like you were drowning for too long, drowning in the cool water of sorrows, doubts, and self-destruction for too long, but only now you can breathe -

“You love me?” you say in a quiet voice, almost as if it was a secret, and the soft look on his face makes your heart skip a beat, overflowing with love and affection.

“I do. So I ask you to stay with me,” he pleads. Not just for tonight, not for tomorrow morning, but-

“Take me home.”

Rattling keys, the sound of giggles stopped with the kisses, Mingyu’s hot mouth on your pulse point, your hands tugging at his black silk locks, and the heavy weight of the wall meets your back.

“Right in the corridor?” you hum, panting into his ear. “Where is your decency, Kim Mingyu? Not bringing your lady to the bedroom is-” Mingyu doesn’t let you finish, forcing his leg between yours. He is grinning at you with his bottom lip between his teeth as he guides your hips into motion against his thigh, satisfied with the garbled moan ripped from your throat. Bringing his lips to the side of your neck again, Mingyu plants wet kisses on the soft skin. He licks your ear, gently tugging the lobe between his teeth. When the boy releases the tender flesh, he hisses,

“This… you made me forget about my good manners,” Mingyu drawls and attaches his lips to your throat. His voice is sweet, but the material of his pants is rough and the combination drives you crazy, whimpering into the air between you, your clit aching.

“Please,” you whine, grinding yourself harder against him.

Suddenly, Mingyu smiles, brightly and happy, before his lips press into yours, his tongue mapping your mouth. The boy lifts you up and it gives you an opportunity to kiss his neck in return, biting red marks into his tanned skin. Then, ever so carefully, Mingyu places you on the soft surface of the bed, kissing you passionately, but slower, trying to find out what you like the most.

“Can I take your clothes off, please?” he whispers in your mouth and you moan, your hands gripping into his biceps.

“Good manners are back,” you coo. “Go ahead.”

Mingyu helps you to sit up, undoing the upper buttons of your summer dress, kissing the skin it exposes, and finally pulling it over your head.

“Don’t forget to take the rest off too,” you breathe, and his lips stretch into a smile. His arms twist behind your back and then he is sliding the fabric down your arms and tossing it away.  

“Do you want me to touch you, princess?” Mingyu murmurs, the tip of his nose traces the side of your neck as his fingers are ghosting over the wetness of your panties.

“Like you don’t know the answer already,” you hiss and he chuckles, his hands move to palm your breasts. You bite your lower lip when he rolls your nipple between his fingers before slowly circling it, a blush slowly creeps down your neck. His mouth finally covers your nipple as his warm palms are parting your thighs, his fingers firmly pressed against the skin. Without being told, you rise your hips to help him remove your soaked panties.

Mingyu sits back on his haunches and marvel at your spread thighs and the pretty wet curves, and your legs separate to make room for him beyond your control.

“You’re so pretty,” he admires, his eyes – glassy with desire and adoration – don’t leave your face. His palm slides up from your hip over your stomach and further still, gently cupping your breast.

“Gyu,” you plea, but before you can even think about the words, Mingyu tosses his shirt somewhere behind his back, already yanked his slightly ruined with your wetness pants and the underwear to the floor.

Then, he is putting his fore and middle fingers into his mouth, coating them in saliva before slowly bringing them to your pussy, the pads of his fingers ghosting over your slit. You moan and he takes it as an invitation, drawing a circle around the hood of your clit. Craving for more, you shamelessly grind your hips into his palm, your fingers grasping at the sheets.

“Baby, I want to taste you so bad,” Mingyu purrs, thrusting his fingers into your pussy down to the knuckles. You moan at the sensation of his fingertips dragging against your pulsing walls, and he increases the pace of his digits inside of you. “You smell so good.”

His words only sending you near delirious. But his tongue feels even better.

Mingyu runs the flat of his tongue up to your clit, humming happily at the moan escaped through your red and swollen lips, your fingers tangled in his hair. His grip on your thighs is firm, screaming lust in big neon letters. He sucks on your clit, focusing his hot mouth on the swollen bundle of nerves, as he is pulling and pushing his fingers through your entrance. 

The boy groans deeply, nuzzling his pretty face deeper into your core. The delightful pleasure clings to your stomach, swells at you abdomen. Your eyes screw shut and your chest heaves, the back arching off the bed with a high-pitched cry. Mingyu is leaning over your, adjusting his body on his elbows supporting him either side of your body. His breath is tickling the skin of your neck and you giggle, your hand lazily draws some patterns onto his back. The boy silently observes your features while you reach down to his cock, lubricating it with his pre-cum. Mingyu groans, but you swallow the sound with your mouth, your tongue catching on flesh of his mouth that tastes like you. He is desperately grinding against your stomach, the tip of his dick leaving a wet trail over your skin.

“I love you,” he says against your lips and, slowly and carefully, positions the reddened head to your entrance. You wrap your legs around him, heels pressing into the ample swells of his ass as Mingyu buries himself deep inside you. He presses his teeth on your collarbone as he hitting your sweet spot with every single one of his delicious thrusts.

Mingyu is here – his arms caging your face, his mouth never leaves yours, and his chest is pressed tight against yours – Mingyu is here and you love each other.

He rolls his hips against you, sinking his cock into your heat, his fingers toying with your sensitive clit. Suddenly, he speeds up, pulling an extremely loud moan from you. Feeling you clench around him, Mingyu groans and lowers himself to suck on your nipple, muffling the sounds he makes against your skin.

“Let it go,” he pants out and you oblige, a gasp tumbles from your lips as your fingers curling in his hair. Your walls spasm around his cock, enveloping it with your release. He thrusts in you, his cock twitching inside of you before he lets out a drawn moan. He stills in you as his cock milking your pussy, panting loudly. He opens his dark eyes and his face softens for you as he places a gentle kiss on the side of your jaw.

“We weren’t meant for each other,” you whisper, your hand playing with his damp locks. “But I love you more than anything.”

“We are meant for each other,” Mingyu is persistent. “Since our first meeting.”

“Okay,” you give in.

“I win,” his smile is radiant in the night, and his eyes hold the whole universe in them.

You never thought of you as a rule breaker. No one did.

With each day Mingyu helps you realize you shape the universe you live in.

And you ask him to make your nose look smaller at the portrait of you he have been painting for two weeks already. 

[wen-junehui]

sugar ‘n spice

part 1/? of Café Carat series

genre: fluff/romance, coffee shop!AU, barista!Jun[SVT]

word count: 5415

characters: Wen Junhui/Original Female Character, Joshua Hong, Kim Mingyu, Yoon Jeonghan

(a/n): i finally finished this after how many months??? ;w; school got in the way when i was halfway done but now we here y’all. in celebration of their comeback and rebirth, i hope you sweet nibs of chocolate enjoy! ♡

He carefully hovered the cayenne pepper shaker over a pool of chocolate. He only needed a small amount so that the flavors can harmonize with each other. Anything more than that would result in burning hot failure. The tip of his tongue poked out of the corner of his lips while his eyebrows scrunched together in complete concentration. He gently tapped the glass bottle and red specks of fire drifted into the mug like snow on a winter’s day.

He pat the container a few more times, keenly watching the red dust-like particles until he was satisfied with the amount. His eyes focused on the cayenne as it slowly dissolved to become one with the chocolate. An air of relief washed over him like he just jumped through a ring of fire with his clothes still intact. The hardest part of making this drink was finally done. He grabbed a silver teaspoon and let the cayenne pepper mingle with the sweet, sugary flavors. Fluffy clouds of whipped cream spurted from a metal canister and rested peacefully atop the chocolate. To add to the aesthetic, he artfully drizzled chocolate syrup across the mountain of cream letting the streaks of fudge flow like waterfalls. Finally, he stepped back and admired his completed spicy hot chocolate.

“Hey Josh. Try out this new hot chocolate I just made.” he nudged his coworker, who was leaning forward near the register scrolling through pictures of cats on his phone.

Joshua averted his attention to the rusty brown ceramic mug trying to decipher any obvious differences with this so-called new drink. His stared at it for a good minute before looking at his friend with complete disapproval. “What’s so new about it? It looks like our normal hot chocolate that we’ve made a million times already.”

“That’s what you think, but I actually put a bit of cayenne pepper in it!” he grabbed the shaker from the counter and shoved it in Joshua’s face with pride.

As if Joshua didn’t already deal with his antics on the daily, he slowly pushed the shaker away and looked even less pleased. “Cayenne? In hot chocolate? Jun, I know you love spicy food but come on, man. That sounds ridiculous.”

Junhui grabbed his chest like all of Joshua’s words were arrows going straight into his heart, and not in the hey-Cupid-he-shot-my-heart type of way. “But this is the hottest thing in all the cafes nowadays.” he paused for a moment, waiting to see if his pun would give Joshua a second thought. But the only thing he received was a blank stare. Clearly it wasn’t working.

“Have you been on shift with Vernon or Wonwoo lately?” Joshua asked, knowing that they were the only two people that could come up with a pun that terrible.

Just as the taller one opened his mouth to respond, the bell above the entrance jingled cheerfully indicating someone was entering the cafe. The sound of car horns beeping outside and bicycles zooming past the shop momentarily disrupted the relaxing ambiance. Junhui turned his attention away from Joshua to see a girl descending down the small staircase like an angel coming down from heaven. She was wearing a black and white ombre tennis skirt with a navy high neck top and an oversized denim jacket. She hopped down the stairs with a spring in each of her steps. She approached the register and blankly stared at the menu above, not minding the two baristas who were blatantly staring at her.

“Hey.” Junhui whispered quietly. “Who’s that girl and why haven’t I ever seen her before?” he turned his head back to Joshua so he wouldn’t get caught staring at her from the top of her honey blonde hair to the bottom of her black and white striped sneakers.

“Ah, it’s her. She was in my creative writing class last semester. She doesn’t come here very often, only during exam season to study. She came here once during the summer with her friends to do a photoshoot. She only orders the same three things: matcha latte, ginger peach iced tea, or hot chocolate.” Joshua said matter-of-factly as if he knew all of their customers’ usual orders, which wouldn’t be surprising considering he’s one of the managers of this fine establishment.

Junhui’s ears perked up hearing the last drink option. “If she orders a hot chocolate, ask if she wants to try mine.” he said hopefully. Even though he saw her for the first time today, he wanted her to be the first one to try his drink. As crazy as it sounds he doesn’t want anyone else, not even the rest of his coworkers, to try it before her. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling like this. But the way he felt sparks gently sprouting within his chest told him that he had to get to know this girl and his hot chocolate was the key.

“What? Jun, no! We can’t give that to a customer. It’s not even an official menu item.” In order for a barista’s creation to pass as an official drink, it has to get each one of the manager's approval. Joshua already wasn’t too convinced and he was sure that the other two, Jeonghan and Wonwoo, were going to give the same opinion.

“Come on, please! Just this once. Just so … you can see if it has any appeal.” he suddenly grasped Joshua’s arms and gave them a gentle shake, gradually becoming desperate as the seconds passed by.

Joshua sighed and nodded, agreeing to his request. He broke away from Junhui’s grasp and walked over to the register with a strawberry sweet smile plastered onto his face, ready to put on his best customer service act. “Hi and welcome to Café Carat. What can I get for you today?” he was making a bet with himself to see which of her three usuals she would choose today.

She turned her attention from the large hand drawn menu to Joshua. Her chocolate pupils met his crescent-shaped eyes through her round silver glasses. “Mmm … I’ll just have a hot chocolate.” her sweet voice wafted through the air like a soft piano melody. Junhui heard her say the magical two words and restrained himself from making any obvious reaction, nonchalantly wiping a mug as if he wasn’t eavesdropping.

“We actually have a new type of hot chocolate that one of our baristas created. It has a hint of cayenne pepper in it to give it a little kick, helping to keep you awake as you study. Would you like to give it a try?” Even though Joshua thought it was the weirdest drink he’s ever heard of, he still had to advertise it in the best way possible. He wasn’t going to be the one drinking it, so what did he have to lose?

She tilted her head slightly and pursed her plump, pink lips as she considered his recommendation. “Uhh … no it’s fine. I’ll just have the regular.”

“No problem at all. That’ll be $4.50.” Joshua swiped her card through the register and handed her receipt with a smile that was a little too sweet for it to be genuine. She thanked him for his kind service and walked away to find a place to settle for the next few hours.

She claimed a spot at one of the long wooden tables facing the counter and draped her jacket over the black metal chair. She opened her laptop and started to type away while waiting for her drink. Her eyes were glued to her screen and didn’t bother to give any attention to the baristas in her line of vision, assuming they were the same people she sees every time she came there.

Junhui couldn’t hide the insulted look on his face as he made her basic, plain hot chocolate. Maybe she didn’t want a new flavor to distract her? The sweet and spicy notes in the drink could make her taste palette go haywire and therefore, she wouldn’t be able to focus? All of these thoughts were running through his mind as he swiveled the canister of whipped cream. He swirled an extra fluffy cloud and finished it off with an organized mess of chocolate syrup. He carefully carried the mug to the pick-up counter ready to meet its owner. “Hot chocolate!”

Her head popped up from her laptop like a rabbit coming up from the tall grasses. She got up from her seat and gracefully weaved her way through the tables and chairs. Once she reached the counter she and Junhui locked in eye contact, prompting her heart to stop beating for a split second. Was he new? Or maybe he’s worked here for a long time but she never caught him on his shift until today. This cafe was known for their insanely attractive baristas but none of them quite piqued her interests until now. She was so taken aback by his handsome good looks and tall stature that she forgot how to muster a simple greeting.

Junhui noticed her prolonged gaze and gave her a soft smile. “You ordered the plain hot chocolate?”

His voice sounded like molten honey, rich and smooth, which provoked butterflies to buzz frantically within her lower body. “Yeah, I did.” she gave a nervous giggle as she lowered her gaze to look at the drink. She noticed the monstrous amount of fluff and widened her eyes in surprise. “Wow. Being generous on the whipped cream today?”

“Only when I’m in the mood.” he gave her a smirk as he gently pushed the mug towards her. “I hope the whipped-cream-to-chocolate ratio doesn’t ruin the drink for you.”

She looked directly into his eyes. Changing her demeanor in the blink of an eye, she wasn’t going to let this guy in a burgundy apron win her over so easily. “I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it.” lowering her voice tone just a tad bit to match the sensuality his dark chocolate eyes seem to be emulating.

She reached for the mug and purposefully brushed her fingers against his. The slight physical contact was enough to make the butterflies go mad. “Thank you!” she swiftly lifted her drink off the counter and made her way back to her seat.

Junhui continued to stare from across the room, unable to break his gaze away from her. Majority of the customers that swooned over him either acted too flustered or made it obvious that they just wanted to rip the apron off of him. But he saw the quick change in her character as more of a challenge, that she didn’t want to let him win at his own game. That was enough to make him feel more attracted to this girl.

“Bruh, what was that all about?” Joshua’s amused voice broke him away from his gaze and he turned to face his boss, who was leaning against the register with a smirk glued onto his face.

“I honestly don’t know.” he was at a complete loss for words. A girl has never made him feel this way before and he genuinely didn’t know how to respond or react at all. All he knew was that he would do anything to get to know her. He was even contemplating working more hours during exam season just to catch her again.

Joshua chuckled at how love struck Junhui appeared to be and lazily walked over to nudge him on the shoulder. “Okay well, obviously she has a thing for you too. Why don’t you go over there and talk to her? You know, help her study?” he suggestively raised his eyebrows at him.

“What? No! I think I’ll just … be a distraction to her.” Junhui began to nervously fiddle with the buttons and knobs on the espresso machine.

Joshua slowly leaned closer and stared directly into Junhui’s eyes with a look of shock and confusion. They continued to stare at each other until the taller one blinked his eyes in innocence. Joshua suddenly burst out into laughter, probably a little too loud for the ambiance. “Wait, what did I just hear? Are you telling me that Wen Junhui, master of all things greasy, is afraid to talk to a girl? Bruh, what happened to you? Did you inhale too much cayenne?”

Junhui straightened his back and crossed his arms in defense, appalled that someone could mockingly laugh at him like this. “I’m not afraid! It’s just she … didn’t want to try my spicy hot chocolate so I’m a little insulted.”

“Oh come on. I really don’t think anyone, regardless of who it is, wants to try your drink. I’m pretty sure Jeonghan and Wonwoo won’t want to try it either.” Joshua breathed and placed his hand over his stomach as he recovered from his hysterical laughter.

Junhui’s attitude changed with the flick of a switch seeing one of his bosses discrediting something he made and was proud of. He wasn’t going to give up this fight. “Okay, how about this? If I get her to try my spicy hot chocolate and she likes it, it goes on the menu regardless of all of your approval. If she hates it, I’ll give up.”

Joshua pondered about this proposition. He gently gripped his chin and hummed as he carefully thought about all the ways Junhui could lose his own bet. First, she barely comes here so there’s a slim possibility they may never cross paths again. Second, she orders the same three things every single time, not giving a slight indication to deviate from her usuals. Finally, and the simplest way this could all fail, she could try it and she simply doesn’t like it. After analyzing all of the possible outcomes, Joshua turned to Junhui with the most confident smile on his face. “Deal.”

Junhui was surprised at how quickly he accepted the offer. “Wait, really? You’re agreeing this quickly?”

“Mhmm. It’s a bet. But you have to get her to try it the next time she comes during your shift. After that, it becomes invalid. Okay?” he extended his hand to seal the contract.

Junhui suddenly turned his attention back to her. She was taking a sip when she caught him staring. She smiled and set the mug down not knowing she had a white mustache on her upper lip. Licking her lips and feeling the layer of fluff, her eyes widened as she reached for a napkin and tried to hide her embarrassment.

His eyes curled into tiny crescents as he watched her cute gestures. In that moment, he sincerely hoped that the next time they cross paths she would try his drink. He wouldn’t force her into it just so he could finally have his own creation on the menu. He just wanted someone other than his friends to try something he made himself and he wanted her to be the lucky first.

He rotated his head back to Joshua and firmly grasped his hand, accepting the invitation and all of its terms. “It’s a deal.”

Customers trickled in and out of the coffee shop for the next few hours. Most of them ordered espresso drinks to help them get through the rest of their day. Others met up with friends and caught up while drinking matcha lattes and iced cappuccinos. Junhui made small talk with everyone as he usually did, making every person feel welcome regardless if it was their first or hundredth visit. As he worked, he couldn't help but wonder how many times he missed her when she stopped by and he wasn't on shift. He wondered when her next time would be. Tomorrow? Next week? Maybe months from now?

He glanced at her from time to time after handing drinks to customers. She would catch his stares whenever she took a quick break from studying, always smiling in reply. Neither of them spoke to one another ever since she picked up her drink. Even when she approached the counter to return the mug, she immediately went back to her seat to pack up her things.

He could only watch as she quietly pushed her chair under the table, carefully aligning it with the others to create a perfect row. Joshua, being the star manager that he is, greeted her his usual goodbye and waved. She politely waved back and just as she was about to exit, they locked eyes for the last time. She threw him a wink to indicate that this won’t be their last meeting, but he couldn’t help but wonder when she’ll be back.

“Hey. Did you hear about that barista at the Starbucks on the other side of campus? All the girls keep talking about how good looking he is.” a tall, tan boy with jet black hair asked Junhui. He lazily wiped down a mug and attempted to make conversation during a slow day at the cafe.

“If only they came here to see how much better we are.” Junhui sighed, thinking about all the poor customers missing out on his devilish good looks. “What do they say about him?”

“I heard he has really nice plush lips that have a way with words. This one girl said she fell for him after meeting his eyes for just one second. Ah, so ridiculous!”

An image of her popped up in Junhui’s mind as his coworker laughed at how people can fall for someone so quickly. It’s been two months since she last stepped foot into the cafe. It was now finals season, the time where students have to cram a semester’s worth of knowledge for a three-hour exam. He wondered whether they would cross paths again since Joshua said she only rolls around during this time of the year. Exhaling loudly to dismiss these thoughts, he tried to devote his full attention to the conversation. “Hmm. Wait Mingyu, do you think he’s the reason why business here has been slow lately?”

Mingyu placed the mug on the counter and raised his eyes towards the ceiling. He gripped his chin with his thumb and index finger as his lower lip jutted out like a cliff overlooking the ocean. “No, that's nonsense. Our coffee is much more delicious! What do you think, Jeonghan hyung?”

They shifted their attention to the manager on duty, who was lazily leaning against the sink. His blonde locks peeked out from the black baseball cap covering his eyes. He groggily raised his skull at the sound of his name. “Everything about us is so much better. People are just lazy to make the trek all the way over here to get the good quality stuff. But hey, their loss.” he shrugged off the imminent competition like it wasn’t worth wasting his energy on.

He slowly lifted his lean muscular body off the sink and drawled every word he uttered. “Call me when it starts to get busy. I'm going to take inventory in the back.” he yawned and trudged his feet on the floor making his way past the two baristas and through the earthy-toned tapestry into the back room.

Mingyu chuckled as he watched their boss essentially check out for the rest of the day. “He’s going to take another nap on the boxes of coffee beans. I wonder how he became a manager sometimes.” he leaned his elbows on the wooden counter and took out his phone to mindlessly scroll through pictures and status updates in an attempt to pass the time until closing.

Junhui sighed as he was left alone with his thoughts. He scanned his eyes around the cafe, only housing three people hunched over their laptops and piles of papers. He couldn’t help but let his mind drift to the barista at Starbucks and wondered if she met him.

Is she usually on that side of the campus? Does she go there often? Have they talked to each other and started dating? Is that why she never comes by anymore? All of these thoughts aimlessly wandered around his mind, his curiosity eating him away the longer he thinks about possible answers.

He started to take more shifts recently hoping that fate would smile favorably upon his efforts and allow them to meet once more. But with only a few days left in the semester, his hope was gradually fading. He ruffled his hair in an attempt to dispel these negative thoughts.

Junhui padded over to the counter and began making his infamous hot chocolate. The rest of the baristas in the cafe had mixed reactions about it. Some supported his unique twist on a classic drink while others thought the combination just wasn’t suitable for the cafe menu. He solemnly grabbed the cayenne shaker and sprinkled in a dash of fiery flakes. He finished off with a simple drizzle of chocolate, not even bothering to make a mess, and gave his creation a reserved smile.

He will just have to keep trying to reach his goal of getting one of originals on the menu. It was undeniable how all of the customers loved the way he prepared their drinks, adding his own flair into the way he handles the ingredients. But despite all the attention, Junhui wanted nothing more than to have a part of himself up on the menu with the rest of the members’ creations.

Junhui laced his finger through the handle, ready to drink his bittersweet concoction, when the bell rang welcoming a new customer. His eyes darted from the mug to the door and to his surprise, there she was walking down the stairs. His eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise at the sight of her, momentarily thinking she was just a mirage. She adorned a pink and white striped oversized button down tastefully tied in knot around her waist to highlight her figure. Her backpack lazily slung over her shoulder and bumped against her light wash denim shorts with every step she took. She didn’t wear her glasses this time around and Junhui could perfectly see her milk chocolate orbs that twinkled like stars in the night sky.

As she approached the counter, she noticed Junhui staring at her in disbelief and gave him a joyful smile giving off the impression that she came at just the right time. Mingyu broke away from his phone ready to take her order and immediately sensed the unspoken chemistry. He glanced at Junhui, known for flirting with every customer, and how seemed to be at a loss for words just seeing this girl.

Could this be the girl Joshua hyung was talking about? he thought. His eyes continued to dart back and forth between the two as if he was watching a tennis match wondering who would make the next move. He smirked quietly to himself and decided what fun would it be to waste an opportunity to mess with his visual rival. He stuffed his phone in the pocket of his ripped jeans as she walked up to the counter and met her candy like smile.

“Hi and welcome to Café Carat!” Mingyu didn’t even bother to stand up straight and continued to rest his elbows on the counter to meet her at eye level. His puppy dog eyes curled into crescents as the corners of his mouth formed into a soft smile. “What can I get you on this hot day? Someone as pretty as you only deserves the most refreshing drink in all of campus.”

Junhui immediately pinned his eyes on Mingyu and glared at him with a seething jealousy. Having the thought of the Starbucks barista stealing her away was enough. But having his own coworker trying to reel her in with sweet talk was nothing but unacceptable to Junhui. He was sure Mingyu felt his burning eyes trying to pierce through every layer of his body but the taller one didn’t turn away from her.

She became slightly flustered from his pick-up line, a soft blush forming on her cheeks. “Ah, thank you. I guess I came to the right place at the right time then.” she giggled. Junhui continued to watch their interaction and wished that he was the one on register duty that day.

“You surely did! Business has been slow all day and it’s also too hot outside for my liking. But seeing you made my day a whole lot brighter.” Mingyu gave her the brightest smile that he could muster, making the cafe live up to its name with his shining array of pearly white teeth. “But seriously what can I get for you, miss? I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

“Hmmm.” she tapped her finger on her cheek and looked up at the menu. After about five seconds, she returned her attention to Mingyu. “You might think I’m crazy considering the heat outside but I’d like a hot chocolate, please.”

Junhui escaped from his episode of plotting ways to get revenge on Mingyu to process what he had just heard. Did he hear the magical two words once again? What could’ve made her want it on such a hot day like this, especially when their summer menu has been so popular lately? He was already planning on how to convince her to order a hot chocolate the next time she swung by. Now that she’s here and he didn’t even have to try, a different feeling replaced the jealousy in his chest. A feeling full of warmth just like his drink.

“No judging at all! A bunch of our customers still get hot coffee and lattes during the summer. I guess nothing beats the original.” Mingyu smiled as he finished ringing her up. Despite purposefully trying to make the older one jealous at first, he was secretly happy to know that Junhui had a chance to get this girl and his drink on the menu. And if she and Junhui started dating, that means a greater chance for the customers to fall for him instead.

“You can take a seat anywhere you’d like and our barista will personally bring the drink to you!” Mingyu looked at Junhui and nodded, indicating that he was on his side and wanted to help him achieve his goal.

“Okay! Thank you so much!” she politely smiled before strolling away and settling at a table next to the window. Like last time, she sat down facing the counter and took out all her study materials to tackle her last final of the year. She locked eyes with Junhui and gave him a subtle grin, letting him know that she was waiting for him.

Junhui looked down at his already prepared hot chocolate from before and with his pride restored in full force, he was determined to make it happen. He quickly gathered all the ingredients and a freshly washed mug to make the best spicy hot chocolate like his life depended on it. He steamed the milk, scooped the chocolate powder, sprinkled the cayenne, swirled the cloud of cream, and drizzled the chocolate to perfection because she only deserved the best.

He wove his finger through the handle and carefully lifted up his precious concoction with utmost control, not wanting to disturb the chemistry of the drink. He took purposeful strides towards her table. His heartbeat quickened as the distance between them shortened with every step. She broke away from her laptop and followed his hand as he gracefully set the mug on the table.

Junhui pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “Hot chocolate?” he confirmed, his canines peeking through his velvety lips.

She couldn't help but look at his mouth when he talked, noticing the small beauty marks on his upper lip. She felt the familiar blooming feeling within the pit of her stomach already warming her up. “Yeah, thank you so much! It's pretty hot today but I'm really happy to have this again.”

Junhui tilted his head ever so slightly at her comment. “Hm? Why is that?” he hoped that he didn’t sound too eager to find out her answer.

“Because your hot chocolate was so delicious that I couldn't wait to have it again. Something about it was so much better than the other times I've had it here. I stopped by a couple times in the past few weeks but you weren't on shift. I'm really happy I caught you today.” her eyes curled like bright rainbows on a clear summer’s day as she mused about him and his drink.

Junhui’s heart swelled witnessing how ecstatic she was to see him and to try his hot chocolate. A wash of relief showered over him knowing that what felt that day when they met for the first time wasn’t one-sided. “Do you come here often? I can't believe it took months for us to meet again.”

“I don't have many opportunities to come to this part of campus that much. I'm mostly on the other side because majority of my classes are in the business building. It's a shame though because I love coming here. The atmosphere is so much more calming and welcoming compared to the Starbucks over there.”

Junhui suddenly remembered the hot barista at Starbucks. He licked his plump, cherry like lips. “Yeah I've heard that certain Starbucks is getting more popular lately. People always talk about this hot new barista all the girls are crushing on. It's like we have new competition, you know?”

She noticed the way he suddenly avoided eye contact as he stared at the mug between them. She sensed that he was getting jealous at the possibility of him losing to this guy and found it to be rather cute. “Oh yeah, you're not wrong! But … I don't know. I've had drinks from him a few times and although he is very charming, his drinks don't really give the warm, fuzzy feeling I get from here. Especially the hot chocolate.” All the laughter she was holding in suddenly burst out into the air between them.

Junhui’s shoulders relaxed and he gave the cheesiest smile his cheeks have ever had to endure. “I knew I had nothing to worry about.” he then noticed the whipped cream starting to deflate and the chocolate syrup looking sadder by the minute. “You should probably start working on the hot chocolate. After all, I don't go through the trouble of adding a special ingredient just for anyone.”

Her eyes widened at the unknown additive. “Special ingredient? Will I die? Are you secretly trying to kill me?”

“Mmm… no. But if the heat starts getting to you, I wouldn't mind if you fainted so I can catch you.” he winked and gave her a cheeky smile letting his canines greet her in all of their glory.

The butterflies now uncontrollably buzzed in full force and there was no denying that the heat already crept up to her cheeks. “Okay. But if I end up getting sick and fail my last exam as a result, I'm blaming you.” she sarcastically giggled before carefully bringing the drink close to her face, the mountain of whipped cream just missing the tip of her nose.

She tilted the mug to let the liquid goodness enter her mouth. The chocolate coated every inch of her tongue while the whipped cream added an extra layer of creaminess to the overall experience. She focused on her taste buds trying to discern something different. Suddenly, a hint of spice started to heat up her tongue. It wasn't the searing pain she got from eating fire noodle ramen, but more of a subtle kick that wakes up your senses. “Whoa, it's spicy! Is it cayenne powder?”

Junhui nodded in return. “Do you like it?” he listened intently wanting to hang onto her every word.

“Yeah, it's so good! I wish I ordered this last time you were here.” she licked the whipped cream off her lips and longingly stared at the mug already wanting to take another sip. “I usually don't handle spice well, but wow I never knew cayenne and chocolate would make a perfect match. It’s better than the original actually.”

“You don't do well with spicy food?” Junhui leaned forward so their faces were just inches apart. He got a better look at her milk chocolate eyes, resembling the drink that would now be on the menu. “Don't worry, I can help with you that. You just have to learn how to handle the heat.”