#still cracking up over the fact that i accidentally chose a flower used to treat respiratory issues and mental illness

[tranakin-skywalker]

Nauterposa from @husborth fic Scorch the Earth

The flowers are inspired by Echium trygorrhizum which grow in the Sahara. They're also medicinal: "Echium species exert sedative, anti-inflammatory, antioxidant, and anxiolytic pharmacological properties. As a result, these species are largely used to treat respiratory problems, ulcers, mental health ailments, and aid in wound healing" (nih.gov)

I find this fact utterly hilarious, given the premise of the fic. Oddly fitting though.

[mildly-incoherent-ramblings]

Honey Sticks (Straws? Tubes? What Do You Call Them?)

A distant friend's friend was making care packages for trans people and asked folks on Instagram if they wanted them, so I asked for one. This has been a hard season on me and I thought hey, what the hell, worst case scenario I don't get one and its whatever. Right?

This was months ago, and I forgot almost immediately after doing so. It came today. 

There were lots of things included that made me happy, little gestures of sweetness. Two tea bags, one for sleep and one for relaxation, which I had not had much of either and needed. A sticker of a cute little spider, of whom I have complicated feelings for and have grown to love, though from a distance. Some candies, a lemon-honey cough drop, a very nice card, a note and a patch with an anarchy symbol framed in a heart that I bet will probably fade in 3 or so washes but I will wear anyways. It is after all, the thought that counts. But the gesture that warmed my soul and brought me great joy, was the honey stick. 

I didn’t process the significance at first. There were so many of these little items at once and I was just overwhelmed overall by this small expression of kindness. I thanked the person, followed them, thanked the person who had told them I wanted one and made sure I was following them, and set these things aside for a little while to tend to other things. 

I had a stressful situation involving a kitchen mess that triggered me a little and had just sat down after addressing said stressful situation when my eyes fixed on the little honey stick along with the candy I had been given. I ate the mango hi-chew first and briefly was paranoid it would fill the cavities in my teeth and have me regretting it. 

Then I went for the honey stick. I held it in my hands, rolled it gently between my fingers. I watched the honey move through the tube as I squeezed it in different places and the nostalgia started to set in. I remember long drives to the bay as a child with my grandparents and stopping at this little roadside farm that had produce and preserves and flowers and always, little straws filled with honey and sealed off, what I called as a child and refer to now as honey sticks. 

The texture was familiar, cool plastic between my fingers. I popped the seal gently with my teeth and pushed about half the tube onto my tongue. As soon as it hit my taste buds, I was transported to this place. To where my grandfather was still alive, in my mind, during a time where he and my grandmother were still at least as far as I knew, quite happy. The sweetness and the floral and the acidic and the smooth texture floated in my salivating mouth, as tears welled up in my eyes. I felt it coat the back of my teeth, savored it, before swallowing and squeezing from the tube the rest of its contents. I did not waste a single drop of this wonderful gift. I sat with the sadness and the nostalgia and the longing for some time. And then my eyes fixated on the pamphlet from his memorial service hanging in the corner. I miss the man, for all the problems he came with and all the unanswered questions and unresolved hurt I had felt. Missed that time where I had the privilege of being a child, before I was old enough to understand that though my loved ones loved me indeed, their love would only extend as far as their own perspective’s limitations reached.

The last two times I saw my grandpa sit in my stomach like bricks in a burlap sack. The second to last time, he was moving out of state with his good friend, and the last words he chose to say to me were “I love you, Granddaughter.” I had been out as transmasculine to my family for several years, and he was one of the only members of my family who flat out refused to support my decisions. I told my grandma about how I felt about this several months later, at the time worried this may be the last time I ever saw him. I felt like he did not want to see my transition, and did not want to see the man I would become. As much as I love my grandma, she doesn’t keep a secret worth a shit, so of course she went behind my back and told him everything. She always does. 

The very last time we saw each other, he tried to discuss this event and how it impacted him. By this time I was fully growing into my masculine body, had little pubescent hairs shading my upper lip and a deepened voice. He still adamantly misgendered me, refused to even look at me, the entire time. He simply could not see me. He asked me why I would do this to my family. He asked me why I would make them all suffer seeing me like this, as if my choice to live authentically was harmful to everyone around me. He was also under the distinct impression that our loved ones regarded my choices with the same level of disgust he had. He expressed revulsion and shame for my choices, and wanted to agree to disagree, under the impression still that he could just see me as a woman and ignore all the changes I had made and the life I was living, and how much even the other skeptical members of my family had adjusted since. He did not want another grandson, especially one who was a fag. That car ride brought a lot of tension, and the entire time we spent after with my grandma when we met her for lunch, was plated on a bed of unspoken mutual contempt for one another. He salted an already deep and still fresh wound, and it festered over. It still has not quite healed. 

Ironically, it would be revealed not too long after, that my brother had discovered that grandpa himself was in fact very much a gay man. While he was assisting him with formatting his cell phone, my brother would accidentally stumble on a still open incognito tab with some... very gay content still open. Along with that, a string of messages with his “good friend,” who had apparently been his lover the entire time. My brother responded with compulsory homophobic remarks that I will not repeat, but mostly just frustration that he had been dishonest with my grandma all these years. The discomfort that situation has inspired in me still hasn’t properly been unpacked. Everyone was wrong in that situation. Everyone.

Go figure. He and his good friend, “they were roommates.” 

When he passed, my father came and told me in person. I finally spoke of what had happened between us, and even he was angered by the hypocrisy, saying he had known for years that my grandfather was not straight. I know now that how he treated me was what he did for himself to avoid suspicion. Because if I had the audacity to be out, that meant there was little left for an excuse for him to hide. I threatened his cover. I threatened his disguise. I cracked his mask. I left his closet open ajar and he peered outside, horrified at the possibilities he saw.

Acknowledging all this, even still, I could not help but enjoy this moment of being brought back to this familiar childhood memory, before all of that would happen. This person who sent me this great gift could not have known the significance, but rest assured, I am quite grateful. I enjoyed this moment and then it was gone, and then it was back to reality in front of my computer, staring at the wall. The knowledge that that same man who loved me dearly was also undeniably cruel to me burned my skin and flooded my eyes. Hidden beneath that hurt and sadness, I felt remorse for him, because he never did feel safe speaking his truth to us, not even to the others in our family who related to him. I often think of his lover, and how painful it must have been for this man to mourn him publicly as a good friend, and privately as an intimate partner of whom adored him and cared for him in ways they could not ever feel safe speaking of.

Sitting with this conflict of nostalgia and longing for the safety of my adolescent ignorance, with the truth and the reality as I have come to know it, I let my own mask fall, and cried for the first time in months since he had died. It is possible to both love a person who was once good to you and also acknowledge when their actions created harm, and to hold them accountable. I do not believe it to be disrespect to the dead to also speak of their faults as well as their glory. Joy and sadness and frustration and unanswered questions looked down on me, crowded around me, mocked me.

My hands shake as I type and I am overwhelmed with the juxtaposition of these strong emotions.

Written some time in mid July.

RIP August 19th, 2020

[kafeuka]

[1/1] similar names and coffee breath

Taehyung really, really, really hate coffee. Obviously it was the barista that made him keep coming back for more.

(alternatively: Taehyung can't function when Yoongi's around) read on AO3

i. americano It was not Taehyung’s intention to order the most disgusting thing in the menu. He could only blame it on the atrociously adorable barista behind the counter. How dare he look all cute and pretty so early in the goddamn morning. How dare he look so disgustingly adorable and stole all Taehyung’s focus away. Taehyung was already late to class and yet, his feet made their way to a cafè rather than college. It was astonishing how all the alarms he had set on his phone were not able to wake him from his slumber. He had been eyeing the new cafè for a while, excited that there was finally a cafè just right around the corner. It was wedged between the flower shop and bookstore, its brick wall design stood out amongst the plain-coloured walls of the other stores. He would have walked past it, but the strong aroma of chocolate lured him in and before he knew it, he found himself standing inside the cafè. On his left side, the walls were painted with chalkboard paint, and there was a small basket hung on the corner, filled with white chalks. The writings on the wall varied; mostly there were quotes, but Taehyung’s favourite had to be the drawing of doraemon. The opposite side, however, the brown-coloured wall was filled with vintage framed photos, which reminded Taehyung of his grandmother’s house — comfortable and cosy. He was three people away from his turn when his phone vibrated. Even before he checked, he already knew that it was Jeongguk. With a sigh, he answered. “Hello?” “Oh, good, you’re awake.” “Dude, you’re supposed to wake me up half an hour ago. I didn’t even get to put on sunscreen, for fuck’s sake.” “Sorry.” At least he had the decency to pretend to sound bashful. “Are you still on your way here? And why did I hear Troye Sivan? Where are you?” “I’m at the new cafè I told you about—” “Cafè? You’re already forty minutes late—” “I can’t help it, okay.” Taehyung moved forward. Only two more people to go. “You know how weak I am for chocolate... and I feel like treating myself today!” “Get me one too! I’d like it cold, please. Thank you, hyung.” “You brat— what makes you think I’d get it for you?” “I said hyung, that should be enough. I have to go now, I’ll be at the student lounge, waiting for my chocolate drink! Bye, Tae!” “Son of a—” Taehyung pulled the phone away from his ear before staring incredulously at his phone screen after Jeongguk hung up abruptly. “What a brat,” Taehyung muttered, shoving his phone into the pocket of his coat. When it was his turn, he did not expect his eyes to be blessed by such a heavenly being dressed in a white button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, topped with a black apron. Taehyung was aware how dumb he must have probably looked right now: mouth slightly open, eyes wide and back slouched. “Welcome to A Cup of Joy. What can I get you today?” His voice was a bit raspy, sounding as if he had just woken from a nap and Taehyung had never listened to anything sexier. 50 Shades of Grey, who? Taehyung was not one to stutter, but man did this guy’s beauty stunned him. How was it possible to wear such dull apron and still look so good? “Sir...?” He jolted at the voice that shook him out of his daydream. Sexy had an eyebrow raised, one hand holding onto a sharpie marker while the other was ready to grab a cup. Up until now, Taehyung did not know the reason for his sudden outburst. “Americano! Two americano!” After a while, he swallowed and added with a whisper, “... please.” “O...kay. Which size would you like?” “Medium?” He winced at how his answer sounded more like a question. Can he embarrass himself even more after this? Of course, he can. While he was narrowing his eyes, trying to read the name on the small nametag on Sexy’s chest, Sexy was scrawling Taehyung’s order on the cups. God, Taehyung exasperatedly thought, he would love to have a lengthy chat with the idiot who created such small nametags. “Your name, Sir?” What the heck was that? Yeonhee? Yoonri? Yonki? “Sir?” For the second time in a span of less than five minutes, Taehyung felt as if he was slapped to be brought back to Earth. Sexy had his eyebrow raised again, his almond eyes staring at Taehyung with curiosity. “Ah, Yoongi,” Taehyung blurted out, almost smiling when he could finally get the name right. It was not his intention to suddenly call out his name like that, but man it was such a relief that Taehyung was able to read the letters on that cursed nametag. Though, it took him a few seconds later to realise what his big mouth had done when his brain chose to replay the word he had accidentally uttered aloud. He saw Yoongi’s eyes widened, before they formed half-moons and his cherry lips stretched into a grin, showcasing his adorable, small teeth. Yoongi chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he scribbled Taehyung’s name on the cups. “We share the same name,” Yoongi grinned. “What are the odds?” Taehyung let out a weak, nervous laughter. “Haha... yeah.” It was only their first meeting and Taehyung was already lying to the man. It was not like him to embarrass himself in front of stranger, much less become a mess. There was only one explanation for this unnatural event: witchcraft. This Yoongi guy definitely knew magic. (Or, Yoongi was extremely attractive and most definitely was Taehyung’s type) (They barely interacted, but Yoongi’s voice was absolutely Taehyung’s type) (And also his face. God, his cute, cute face) (Or maybe, Taehyung was just unable to control himself in front of attractive strangers) Taehyung swallowed before opening his mouth to speak, to explain to the barista that it was a misunderstanding but only to abruptly clamp his lips shut when Yoongi gave him a small-but-capable-of-stopping-hearts smile. “I’ll call our name out when your orders done.” God, Taehyung prayed, have mercy on my weak, weak heart. (When Taehyung took a sip of the americano, he had pulled away so fast that his head spun. Without even thinking twice, he threw it into the nearest bin, wondering why on earth would anybody willingly consume such monstrosity. If sin had a taste, that would be it. Though, he did enjoy the painful expression on Jeongguk’s face when the boy drank the coffee.) ii. cold foam iced espresso Taehyung’s second visit to the cafè was on a Sunday afternoon. He had an essay due tomorrow and as per usual, despite the two weeks duration he was given to complete it, he decided to fuck around, wait until the last minute and stress over it at midnight. Thankfully, he had done his research and reading beforehand, so all he needed was a quiet area to work at and the right headspace to open his microsoft word to write. He was sat on the floor of the living room, finally ready to write the Best Last Minute Essay to Ever Be Written after preparing for half an hour. (By preparing, he meant having the sudden urge to whip out the vacuum and clean the entire floor before mopping the tiles. When that was done, he proceeded to spray the living room with his current favourite scent— Ocean Escape) His laptop made a sound indicating it was starting up. Cracking his neck, he was determined to finish the essay when— “Babe, that tickles!” Taehyung frowned. “Taehyung’s outside, he’ll hear us!” “I have that ball gag, remember? Just in case you change your mind—” “Okay, that’s it,” Taehyung groaned, eyebrows furrowing as he scooped his items and brought them close to his chest. “I am LEAVING,” he purposely said it aloud with his lower lip jutting, stomping his feet petulantly with every step he took. He ran back to his apartment a few seconds after, cursing himself for forgetting to lock the door in his room before scrambling back to leave. And that was how he found himself staring at a pair of beautiful, feline eyes. He berated himself for entering the cafè after making a promise with himself to never step foot inside of it ever again. He did not want to be a regular with the fake name. His only chance to not humiliate himself was to enter the cafè on Yoongi’s day off. He should have known that luck was never really on his side when he saw Yoongi the moment he opened the door. Taehyung had spotted rows of pastries on display, the smell of freshly baked croissants tempting him to stay. There was not a line at the counter, and there were at least three people behind it whom Taehyung surmised was making the customers’ orders, which made Taehyung hope that at least one of them would serve him instead of Yoongi. Taehyung fought the urge to let out an inhuman scream when it was Yoongi who turned around and gave him a smile. “Hey, Yoongi.” “Aha, yeah.” Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck, almost forgetting that his name was also Yoongi in this cafè. “What can I get you today?” “Well, um...” he moved closer to inspect the menu. A croissant was most definitely in the list, maybe he’d take a slice of hazelnut chocolate cake too. But as for a drink... “May I recommend something for you today?” “Huh? Oh yeah, yeah, sure.” With his sharpie, Yoongi pointed on a name of a beverage on the laminated menu. “I’d suggest a cold foam espresso for this warm day. It’s my favourite. I see that you have your laptop and a file with you. I reckon you’ll be staying, yeah?” “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Taehyung loved hearing him talk. He could not put his finger on it, but there was just something in the way he drawled, how the words just roll so effortlessly on his tongue, yet he spoke rather eloquently. He still had that morning sexy voice going on though, so that was a bonus. “So, what do you say to that?” And how can Taehyung said no to Yoongi? Once his drink arrived, it did not look so bad. In fact, it looked mouth-watering. Especially the frothy, creamy foam. Yoongi had specially delivered Taehyung’s orders to his table, placing each item carefully with just one hand. “Enjoy. And good luck with your assignment,” Yoongi smiled. Taehyung’s heart skipped a beat, a flush making its way to his cheeks. Little did Yoongi know, he was not only serving Taehyung pastries, but also his smile. (And fuck, only God knows how much Taehyung wanted to chuck the stupid drink out of the window. How can something that look so good taste so crappy? He stirred everything together, the blended beverage turned from black and white to form a beautiful beige colour and though it tasted a little less bitter than before, he still hated it and would much rather wash his tongue with a rock than took another sip. But Yoongi was right there, and whenever he stole glances at Yoongi, the guy seemed to caught him doing so and always responded in the same way; a nod and a small smile. Every single time he saw that smile, he plucked up his courage to take another sip and every single time he did, he died a little more on the inside. This led him to getting a few more pastries and an overpriced bottle of water to get rid of the horrible taste. The good thing was that he managed to finish his essay in two hours time, motivated to leave the cafè so he had a reason why his drink was left half empty. Of course, he ended up finishing the whole cursed thing. He had to refrain himself from gagging when he was done. He was more relief to see the glass empty than seeing his essay completed. But boy oh boy was he glad he did it. Yoongi was the one who approached him when he was packing up, still wearing that shy small smile on his face when he picked up the glass and plates. “I’m glad you loved it,” he said. “It’s great, Yoongi,” Taehyung lied, hoping his smile would be able to conceal the pain he was feeling inside. “Have you finished your essay?” “Yes, I have. It’s all thanks to you and the... uh, whatever that drink was.” At least this one was not a lie. Yoongi’s gaze shifted on the tray he was holding as Taehyung saw red spots were flaring on his cheeks. Taehyung was certain the sight in front of him was making him blush too. ‘Fuck!’ Taehyung screamed inside his head. ‘Why am I so weak?’ “I’m gonna...” Yoongi motioned to his tray. “Oh, yeah, yeah!” “See you soon... I hope?” Taehyung could not contain the excitement that was crawling under his skin, giddy to hear those words coming out of Yoongi’s mouth. He hoped he did not look overexcited when he frivolously nodded. Yoongi mirrored his action, although his was just a curt nod, before returning to his work station. When he left, however, he only had one thought in his head: “ah, fuck.”) iii. macchiato caramel At this point, Taehyung should have known that he was not fond of coffee. He hated the bitter taste, how it felt as if his tongue was burnt and how it effortlessly made him pull a hideous face. Plus, consuming a cup of coffee can fuck up his sleeping schedule and he hated missing a good sleep. Yet, when he arrived at A Cup of Joy, promising himself to get only a pastry or two, his knees wobbled slightly at the sight of Yoongi. At a certain angle when the sunlight hit, Taehyung noticed the barista’s hair was now a darker shade of brown rather than jet black. It was not a busy day, there was not a queue though there were some customers already seated at the tables. Shoving his fists inside the pocket of his jacket, Taehyung made his way to the counter, repeatedly rehearsing his order in his head. Yoongi greeted him with a smile, one that made the angels sing a new symphony and devils blinded by his beauty. “Hiya. Fancy seeing you here again,” Yoongi grinned, already taking the medium-sized cup— a sign that he remembered Taehyung’s usual order. Taehyung was a Large guy, he always went for large, but he was not going to gulp down large-sized coffee. “Fancy seeing you too,” Taehyung beamed. “I suppose you’d like to try anything new today? We’ve got something new brewing in the kitchen, my special recipe, but they’re not on the board yet,” Yoongi explained, not meeting Taehyung’s eyes when the pink hue were visible on his cheeks. A part of Taehyung was ready to break up the promise he made with himself, but Taehyung had a superb control over himself. He opened his lips to speak, but when Yoongi spoke again, he found himself swallowing. “I can make it for you if you’d like. Promise it’s sweet,” Yoongi added, his eyes were softening. “YOU’RE the SWEET one here!” Taehyung wanted to yell, but he settled with a nod instead, already welcoming the possibility of not sleeping until the sun rise. However, he did not regret his decision at all because it made Yoongi’s eyes sparkled and his lips curved into a smile that showcased his gums and small teeth and god, Taehyung had to bite his lower lip to prevent himself from screeching. He wanted to bang his head against the marble countertop and sobbed about how adorable Yoongi was being. Somehow, amidst his brain went into chaos mode, he managed to order a bagel and a chocolate muffin while keeping his voice stable. He purposely chose a seat that was facing the glass window so Yoongi would not be able to see the face he made when he drank Satan’s Piss. It was not his intention to stay, but he might as well as he had just purchased a book from the bookstores a few streets away. He was on the eleventh page when Yoongi arrived, carrying a tray of his pastries and drink to his table. Taehyung placed an index finger in between the pages before he closed them to look up at Yoongi to thank him. Yoongi’s movement were swift yet careful as he placed them one by one. “Oh! Are you reading Good Omens?” “Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah. Have you read it before?” Yoongi nodded, bringing the brown tray close to him. “One of my favourites, actually. You’ll love it.” Taehyung grinned. “I already do.” “Happy reading, then. And, um, enjoy your food, Yoongi.” Ah, shit. Taehyung had nearly forgotten that they ‘shared’ the same name here. “Thanks, Yoongi,” Taehyung replied, silently praying that his smile did not come off as pained. As for the drink, it was served in a tall glass, milk on the bottom topped with coffee of a beautiful brown colour that matched Taehyung’s coat. There were drizzles of caramel on top that had dripped down the glass. Taehyung wiped it with his index finger in an upward motion before bringing it to his lips. The caramel was not as sweet as Taehyung anticipated, but it tasted just right. He stirred the beverage, muttering a prayer underneath his breath for strength. “Oh,” he muttered after he took a sip. It was not bad at all. He assumed it was the milk; seeing that there was more milk than the brown thingy he surmised was coffee. He did taste a bit of coffee, but the taste of milk and caramel must have overpowered it for the drink to be this bearable. Taehyung did not hate it at all, in fact he actually enjoyed it. Without realizing, he was already finished reading one quarter of the book when the glass was empty. Just as he turned to the next page, Yoongi approached him again, surprising him with his sudden presence. “How was it?” Yoongi asked, his hands grabbing the empty plates to place them on the tray before he took out the towel from his back pocket. “Not bad at all,” Taehyung answered, making a mental note of the number of page he had stopped reading. He turned his body towards Yoongi, an arm resting on the table while the other on top of the chair. “It is sweet.” ‘Just like you,’ Taehyung added in his head. “Too sweet?” “Just-right-sweet.” “Do you like it?” Yoongi stopped what he was doing to look at Taehyung, anticipating the curly-haired man’s answer. Taehyung’s lips tugged into a small smile, his heart swelling when he spotted the pink on Yoongi’s cheeks. “I do,” he genuinely said, probably the only thing he had said to Yoongi that was not a lie. He saw the way Yoongi’s lips curved into a smile so big his gums were visible, and the sight nearly made Taehyung’s heart jump out of his chest at how effortlessly pretty Yoongi was being. “I’ll make you something else someday. I know you’d love it too.” “Promise?” “Promise.” iv. iced white chocolate mocha On Taehyung’s next visit, it was a bit crowded. Waiting for his turn while queuing, he counted the available seats in his head and bit his lower lip when he saw that there were only four seats available. He contemplated in staying seeing that he had left his work at home and his phone was on low battery— all signs pointing to No, He Should Not Stay. Besides, there was only one reason why he should stay and the Reason was behind the counter, taking orders from a hipster with a thick beige scarf wrapped around his neck. Sighing, he texted Jeongguk to come over to the cafè to bring him notes he’d left on his table. Five minutes later, there was only one person left before it was Taehyung’s turn when all of a sudden he heard his name being called loudly from behind. “Taehyung? Taehyung hyung!” Taehyung blinked, his eyes looking up to see Yoongi had a confusion look on his face as his gaze was at, Taehyung assumed, the source of the voice. It finally dawned to Taehyung that Yoongi did not know his real name and that he was lying the entire name, and at the thought of Yoongi never speaking to him ever again made him swallow. Slowly, he turned towards the familiar voice to find Jeongguk already making his way towards him, his hand carrying his blue file. Shit, Taehyung thought. “Next, please.” Taehyung moved forward, lower lip bitten by his front teeth. Yoongi’s lips were pressed in a straight line, eyebrows arching. Jeongguk put a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder before thrusting the file to him. “Here ya go, hyung. You better treat me to something tasty for making me run here!” “Er...” “Taehyung, is it?” Yoongi asked, not an ounce of anger in his voice. “Yeah.” Taehyung weakly huffed, his fingers were clumsy under Yoongi’s questioning stare that he nearly dropped his file. “Whatever he’s having, make it two,” Jeongguk grinned, cheekily holding up his index and middle fingers to show the number two. “I, well, uh—” “Hyung, I’ll go sit first, yeah?” When Jeongguk left, Taehyung could only tap his finger against the counter, his eyes glued to the menu on top of it although he practically had memorised everything at this point. There was an awkward silence between them that was suffocating Taehyung. If a piano were to fall from the sky and crush Taehyung, it would still hurt less than having to be in this situation. Damn him and his big mouth. Thankfully, it was Yoongi who broke the silence. “Uh... so... why don’t you take a seat and I’ll get you the thing I promised?” “Yeah.” Taehyung swallowed, his hand making its way to rub on his nape. He almost forgot that Yoongi made him a promise. How could Yoongi still remember something like that? Wasn’t he supposed to be angry that Taehyung lied? “So... should I address this to Taehyung or Yoongi?” There was a lilt in his voice, no malicious intent present, only a small smile playing on his lips. Relief washed over Taehyung and he found himself leaning forward, one hand on the counter for support as he let out a chuckle. “Taehyung. To Taehyung, please.” “Okay, Taehyung. I’ll get you your drinks in a bit yeah. Two, right?” “Yep.” “God... what the fuck is wrong with you?” Jeongguk glared at Taehyung, reeling his head back with a look of disgust present on his face. Taehyung was a tad bit offended, but really, it was his fault so he understood what it must have looked like to Jeongguk. He himself did not understand why he did not correct Yoongi the first time. “Have you seen how cute he was?” Taehyung whispered, leaning forward towards Jeongguk. “It’s like my brain suddenly becomes a mush around him, I hate it.” “You have a crush on him, huh.” Jeongguk had his shit-eating grin on his face as he leaned back against his chair and crossed his arms. Taehyung rolled his eyes, as if that was not obvious enough. Initially, he did not want to tell Jeongguk at first, but he could no longer keep this secret by himself that his heart threatened to burst if he did not let it out. “I can’t believe you let him believe you guys shared the same name. You’re a monster.” “Oi.” “Hey,” Yoongi murmured, appearing by their side with their drinks. Taehyung abruptly straightened up in his seat, trying to contain the grin that was attempting to take over his face. “Two iced white chocolate mocha,” Yoongi stated as he placed the beverages in front of Taehyung and Jeongguk. “Mocha?” Jeongguk questioned. “Is that some type of coffee? But hyung, you don’t—“ “AND thank you, Yoongi,” Taehyung interjected, his foot kicking Jeongguk’s shin underneath the table. “Ow!” Jeongguk yelped, his sudden movement made the table rattle. Good thing Taehyung’s fast reflex stopped the glasses from toppling. “Oh?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow at Taehyung. “We’ll drink it deliciously. Thank you,” Taehyung smiled. “Well then. Enjoy your drinks.” (Taehyung did not dare to look at anywhere else but Jeongguk’s face the whole time he was there. The drink was marvellous, and Taehyung especially loved the whipped cream. He would usually try to grab Yoongi’s attention and made eye contact before he leave, but he was too embarrassed to do so. Jeongguk, on the other hand, tried to humiliate Taehyung even further by waving vigorously at Yoongi, at which, Yoongi waved back uncertainly with a baffled look on his face. Taehyung had to practically drag Jeongguk out of the cafè, his face was redder than the ‘open’ sign at the door as he tried his hardest to not glance at Yoongi’s direction.) v. strawberry milkshake Taehyung avoided going to the cafè for weeks. He had a few tests to sit for, and he still had not overcome the humiliation of getting caught lying to Yoongi. He should have apologised properly, but he could not bring himself to step a foot inside the cafè. When he finally did, it was nearly closing time on a Thursday. They met at the entrance, Yoongi on the other side of the glass door, fingers holding the opening sign, ready to switch it over while Taehyung was still on the outside, wide eyes staring back at Yoongi. Yoongi’s hair was a lighter shade of brown now and he was still wearing the apron. Taehyung did not realise that there was another person besides Yoongi in the cafè until Yoongi called out her name, giving her permission to go back to the kitchen but his eyes were never leaving Taehyung’s face. The staring contest went on for another ten seconds, with Taehyung the first one to blink, before Yoongi flipped over the sign so it now read ‘closed’. He opened the door, not bothering to hide the surprise on his face. Taehyung let out a breathless, “Hi,” sounding as if he had just ran a marathon. “Hi,” Yoongi replied back. “What are you—” “I’m sorry I lied,” Taehyung murmured. “It wasn’t my intention to, but you made me so nervous. I knew I should have corrected myself the first time. It was wrong of me to let it go on.” “Oh.” “And I hate coffee. I really do. Americano? Worst thing my tongue had ever tasted. Never again. I’d rather cut off my tongue than to ever taste one drop of hell. The espresso? Hate that too. The macchiato caramel was good though, tolerable and sweet. I could barely taste the coffee and the white chocolate mocha? That one was good too.” Taehyung was rambling with his hands doing random motions, something he did when he got nervous. Yoongi only watched him as he spoke, one hand still holding the door handle. When Taehyung was done, he had to take a deep breath before adding, “And I understand if you never want to see me again. I’m a terrible person.” Yoongi blinked twice before letting out a guffaw, his heart soaring. “Taehyung, I know you hate coffee. It shows when you had that espresso. It was why I gave you something sweeter the next time you visited,” Yoongi explained, his eyes forming crescents and Taehyung thought the moon must be envious that it would never be as beautiful as Yoongi. Taehyung’s face felt warmer when Yoongi revealed that he knew all along. “Oh, okay.” “But why do I make you so nervous? Was it my face? I was often told that I look intimidating. This is the first time someone tells me straight to my face, though.” “No, you are very cute, that’s why—” “Oh.” “I mean- I mean—” “Wow, okay, thank you, I don’t think—” “Are you kidding? You are so pretty— wait, what am I—” “P-pretty?” Both of them had to turn away from each other, flustered by what the other was saying as the pink hues appearing on their cheeks only become more darker as time passed by. “Would you—“ Yoongi cleared his throat, opening the door a little wider before repeating, voice much clearer this time, “Would you like to come in?” “But it’s closing time.” “I won’t tell the boss if you won’t.” Taehyung was sweating. Very, very terribly. Maybe it was because the air conditioner was turned off due to cleaning and Yoongi just switched it on when Taehyung stepped inside. Or maybe it was because of the fact that in this empty cafe, there was only him and the guy whose lately had been residing in his mind. He fiddled with his fingers, often turning around to watch people passing outside, the red ‘open’ sign on the window was facing him and no matter how much he wanted to stop feeling nervous, he could not help tapping his foot on the floor. He glanced at Yoongi’s backside, even without seeing his (cute, adorable, pretty) face, Taehyung could tell how concentrated he was when making the beverages. His movements were swift, hands reaching out to the items without having his head to look up, probably had a map in his head that showed where all the stuff were. Taehyung turned away as fast as lightning when Yoongi faced him, pretending as if he had not been staring at Yoongi like the creep he was. When Yoongi came over, placing two tall glasses filled with pink drinks topped with whipped cream, Taehyung gulped. ‘Now this was more like my drink!’ Taehyung thought happily, fingers itching to pull the glass closer. “Don’t worry,” Yoongi said, pulling up a chair and sat across of Taehyung. “There’s no coffee, I promise.” “Thank you.” Taehyung sheepishly grinned, nearing the glass to him before taking a sip through the straw. Yoongi only watched in amusement, an elbow on the table and his head leaning against his palm. When Taehyung pulled away, with his eyes twinkling and mouth beaming, Yoongi could not help but to smile. “I swear, this is the best strawberry milkshake I’ve ever had!” “Glad you love it.” “God...” Taehyung mumbled, taking a huge sip like a starved man. The milkshake was sweet and the taste of the strawberry was strong, but surprisingly not as sour as Taehyung used to. Within minutes, his glass was nearly empty yet Yoongi’s barely lessen at all. Yoongi only watched as Taehyung contently drank his milkshake, his feet making small noises as they tap and at times, he would hum before swallowing. It was an endearing sight, how Taehyung seemed so elated and relaxed after consuming his strawberry milkshake. “I don’t think I’d be able to go back to any other milkshake,” Taehyung sighed, his lips quirking upwards. “I’d be happy to make you more.” Yoongi smiled, forcing himself to stare at Taehyung’s face despite his ears were burning hot. “Really?” “Really.” “Is that a promise?” Taehyung grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. Yoongi playfully rolled his eyes before letting out a sigh, wanting to pretend to be disinterested but it was hard to tamper the smile that was threatening to take over his face when Taehyung was looking at him so expectantly with such bright eyes. In the end, Yoongi only nodded, mirroring Taehyung’s huge grin. “Promise.” extra order After many milkshakes later, it dawned to Taehyung that he never got to pay for any of them. Sure, he did pay for the croissants and doughnuts, but Yoongi would always come up with new drinks as a surprise. He also had come to a realisation that Yoongi always took a break whenever he came by, often sitting with him and talk with him that it almost felt like a date. And if he were to be honest, he blushed just thinking about it. He knew they were not ‘just friends’. ‘Just friends’ do not turn red and pull their fingers away when their fingertips touched. And ‘just friends’ absolutely do not make heart eyes at each other. It did not help that Yoongi started to give him cute pet names (sweet darling boy, baby bear, sweet cheeks, little guy) and call him ‘Taehyung-ie’ and Taehyung’s favourite — sweet darling Taehyung-ie. How was Taehyung supposed to keep himself from combusting every time Yoongi call him those adorable names? It gave Taehyung a good, warm feeling, like he was being embraced. He loved what they were now, and he was aware how selfish it was of him to want more. At the same time, though, he did not think he could hold himself back any longer. One night, Taehyung decided to stay a little longer. Yoongi did not question him why, but instead, he kept on bringing milkshakes to Taehyung’s table as a compensation for not being able to stay and accompany him. Taehyung did not feel lonely though because few days ago Yoongi had given him the staff’s wifi password. And it was so much faster than the guests’ wifi. ‘If that’s not love, I don’t know what is,’ Taehyung chuckled to himself. It was only when the cafè was empty that Yoongi finally pulled the chair in front of Taehyung, making Taehyung lock his phone to focus all his attention to Yoongi. He looked a bit tired, his eyes were drooping and his pouty lips were slightly parted. “You okay, hyung?” Taehyung asked, concerned. “I’m okay, little guy. Do you need anything else? I think we still have some chocolate milk in the fridge—” “Hyung, no, no. Just stay, please,” Taehyung murmured, quick to reach his hand out to touch Yoongi’s before Yoongi could leave. “Oh,” Yoongi muttered, gaze shifting to their hands. Taehyung pulled his hand back, giving Yoongi a sheepish grin. “Hyung, if you think I’m here just for the milkshakes...” Taehyung begun, his eyebrows furrowing as he folded his arms, “then you are only partly correct. Though I love your milkshakes, I lov— like!” Taehyung’s voice went three octaves higher, a bit glad that he managed to catch himself before saying something else. He cleared his throat to continue, voice much deeper this time to indicate that he was being serious, “I like your presence even more.” There were pink hues on Yoongi’s cheeks, and it seemed as if Taehyung had driven all the exhaustion away from him as he straightened in his seat. “I... I was wondering...” Taehyung gulped, suddenly feeling antsy as he grabbed the empty glass to twirl the straw around. “What are we, hyung?” “What do you mean, little guy?” “I know we’re not just friends. If we are, then... then I wanna let you know that I want us to be more than that.” Yoongi blinked repeatedly, which somehow made him a thousand times more cuter than he already was. It made Taehyung wonder if that was a mistake, and he was already regretting it. He was ready to fake a laughter and yelling out “SIKE!” before running away to hide the tears that are going to stream down his face. He was probably giving Yoongi his awkward, boxy smile, but Yoongi was not even responding except for the blinks. He could feel his palms sweating, his head was spinning and— “Taehyung-ah, you know hyung hates milkshakes right? And yet, hyung promised to always make you milkshakes, right?” It was Taehyung’s turn to blink now. “Uhuh...” “I thought... I thought you’d get the hint that I would do anything for you,” Yoongi murmured, his voice was getting smaller at the end of his sentence as he looked away. Taehyung blinked again. “Hyung, what do you...” “Kim Taehyung...” Yoongi sighed, closing his eyelids for a few moment. When he opened his eyes, he was staring straight into Taehyung’s eyes, and Taehyung saw determination in them that it made Taehyung swallow. “Will you let me make you milkshakes for as long as you want me to?” Taehyung wanted to combust right at the spot. How was it possible for Yoongi to make something like that so romantic? Taehyung understood then, that it was Yoongi’s way of proposing to become boyfriends and god, the thought of becoming Yoongi’s boyfriend was enough for him to orbit around the moon. His heart was soaring and his head felt somehow lighter. He let out a giggle before answering, “Yoongi hyung, I am happy to let you make me as many milkshakes as you want. I’d even be the taster for your new recipe even though they contain coffee.” Yoongi broke out into a grin before chuckling. The both of them burst out into a laughter, laughing at nothing in particular. When the laughter died down, Taehyung noticed how Yoongi kept on biting his lower lip, and there was an unfamiliar glint in his eyes. “Taehyung-ah, is it okay if hyung kiss you?” God, Taehyung wanted to run out of the cafè and scream. He could not contain his grin, and he was scared that he might have sounded too excited that he ended up just nodding. If Taehyung were to be honest, they were in quite an awkward position — being across each other and all that, with a small table in between — but Yoongi leaned in, one hand on the table for support and when their lips met, there were fireworks in Taehyung’s chest. It was... not really sweet. “Blegh.” Taehyung nearly gagged when he pulled away. “Really, hyung? How many coffee have you consumed?” “Ah, sorry, love,” Yoongi chuckled, not looking as if he was sorry at all. Taehyung, on the other hand, was beaming at the new pet name he was called. “C’mere hyung, give me a kiss and I’ll forgive you.” Translation: I would do anything for you, and I would still love you, even when you have coffee breath.