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Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop (and Other Cliches)
Xiumin/Sehun; G; ~1000 w.; Fluff; Romance
They met in a cafe of all places._______
They met in a café of all places; a rundown establishment nearing the bad side of town equipped with worn hardwood flooring and mismatched armchairs that had seen better days. A mere five-minute walk from Sehun’s apartment, the coffee house with the French name he’d never been able to pronounce was a second home. Every morning, before he scurried off to catch the train for his first class, he sat down with a mug of black heaven, forcing himself to wake up and sit through another day. On good days - read: days he wasn’t dragged to his part-time job - he would return just before closing and enjoy a fresh-brewed cup of chamomile, relaxing in his favorite chair in the far corner with one of the aging books from the shelves lining the back wall.
There were a total of three baristas - not counting the owner, an older woman who lived in the flat just above the business - that circulated throughout the week; two of whom Sehun had become very acquainted with. Luhan was a frail-looking man who the regular still refused to believe was four years his elder. The first worker there in the morning, he’d always been the one to prepare Sehun for the day, pep-talking him into actually going to class rather than going back to his apartment and sleeping all day. The younger had once thought he harbored romantic feelings for the Chinese man, but brushed them aside when he learned of his relationship with the prodigy from his dance class. The only other server he’d ever had contact with was Chanyeol, a giant who never ceased to attempt conversation when he was there in the evening.
Having visited the shop at least once a day for the past year, Sehun hadn’t the faintest clue how he’d managed to never meet the third barista Luhan always raved about. (“He has the cutest cheeks; he’s just like baozi!”, “Jongie told me Minseok’s really good at dancing, you’d love him, Sehun!” “He bakes your favorite muffins every morning!” It wasn’t as if he was trying to ignore him; quite the opposite, he was intrigued by the idea of this man. No, he was more than willing to meet the elusive “Minseok”, his schedule just didn’t seem to permit it. Taking another bite of the confectionery and falling just a little bit in love, Sehun knew he was going to have to shake things up.
Two weeks later found the young dance major with a later practice schedule and a large chunk of time reserved to discover the object of his affection - or so Luhan had referred to him that morning.
Walking through the familiar threshold had never been so nerve-wracking. His palms were dripping, his heart was attempting to break free of his ribcage, and his thoughts were borderline self-deprecating as he envisioned every possible way their first encounter could go wrong. Sehun wiped his hands on his jeans, quickly checking his hair in the barely reflective surface of the door before pushing it open, calmed only slightly by the jingle of the bell haphazardly installed to alert the staff of a stray customer.
The sight that awaited him at the counter caught the breath in his throat, feet catching in the carpet bump he’d thought he’d mastered stepping over. As he plummeted to the floor, the irony of his situation sunk in. The man he’s seen behind the counter - Minseok, presumably - had rushed to his side, expression frantic as he made sure there was no bloodshed had occurred on his recently swept floor. Finding neither injury nor mess, he could breathe easy once more, helping the younger off the ground with ease.
Sehun felt his confidence soar with one glance at Minseok’s flushed face, noting the hands that fingered the sides of his rather frilly apron, no doubt a former member of the owner’s personal collection. Sliding his gaze from head to toe and back again, the younger let loose a weak smile.
“Sehun.” he mumbled, avoiding the gaze of the elder as he bowed.
“Minseok.” The accompanying chuckle melted his heart. (If this didn’t stop he was sure there’d soon be a puddle of Sehun tarnishing the already stained hardwood.)
The pair scuttled back to the counter, Sehun with his order at-the-ready and Minseok eager to rid himself of the pink dusting his face. Their small-talk left no room for uncomfortable pauses, laughter filling any and all crevices as they became more acquainted. Fingers brushed with the passing of the beverage, but neither dared to gauge the other’s reaction. Tea in hand, Sehun forwent his usual seat, choosing instead to lounge by the kitchen, enjoying the elder’s attention.
And so their easy friendship - or unrequited love, on the younger’s part - continued, months filled with dances, bad jokes, and baked goods. It wasn’t until a year after they’d officially met that Sehun popped the question.
“Minseok-hyung.” He’d lisped, impediment returning due to his nerves. When said man smiled in his direction, it took everything he had to stay composed. “Would you like to, ah, go get a drink with me later?”
Minseok released a laugh, ruffling Sehun’s hair and revealing the rather gummy smile the younger had fallen for. “Of course, but,” he paused, head tilted slightly to the right. “Don’t we do that every week?”
Taking in a breath, Sehun finally met his gaze.
“I want this to be a date.”
The look that flashed across Minseok’s face made his newfound confidence falter.
“I. Just forge-“ Cut off by a soft pressure on his cheek, he glanced upwards once more, surprised to see the shock replaced by almost shy adoratio (or so he hoped).
With this small gesture, their even easier relationship began, filled with just as much laughter and just a dash more pain, but the amount of baked goods seemed to make up for it.
Xiumin/Sehun; G; ~1000 w.; Fluff; Romance
They met in a cafe of all places._______
They met in a café of all places; a rundown establishment nearing the bad side of town equipped with worn hardwood flooring and mismatched armchairs that had seen better days. A mere five-minute walk from Sehun’s apartment, the coffee house with the French name he’d never been able to pronounce was a second home. Every morning, before he scurried off to catch the train for his first class, he sat down with a mug of black heaven, forcing himself to wake up and sit through another day. On good days - read: days he wasn’t dragged to his part-time job - he would return just before closing and enjoy a fresh-brewed cup of chamomile, relaxing in his favorite chair in the far corner with one of the aging books from the shelves lining the back wall.
There were a total of three baristas - not counting the owner, an older woman who lived in the flat just above the business - that circulated throughout the week; two of whom Sehun had become very acquainted with. Luhan was a frail-looking man who the regular still refused to believe was four years his elder. The first worker there in the morning, he’d always been the one to prepare Sehun for the day, pep-talking him into actually going to class rather than going back to his apartment and sleeping all day. The younger had once thought he harbored romantic feelings for the Chinese man, but brushed them aside when he learned of his relationship with the prodigy from his dance class. The only other server he’d ever had contact with was Chanyeol, a giant who never ceased to attempt conversation when he was there in the evening.
Having visited the shop at least once a day for the past year, Sehun hadn’t the faintest clue how he’d managed to never meet the third barista Luhan always raved about. (“He has the cutest cheeks; he’s just like baozi!”, “Jongie told me Minseok’s really good at dancing, you’d love him, Sehun!” “He bakes your favorite muffins every morning!” It wasn’t as if he was trying to ignore him; quite the opposite, he was intrigued by the idea of this man. No, he was more than willing to meet the elusive “Minseok”, his schedule just didn’t seem to permit it. Taking another bite of the confectionery and falling just a little bit in love, Sehun knew he was going to have to shake things up.
Two weeks later found the young dance major with a later practice schedule and a large chunk of time reserved to discover the object of his affection - or so Luhan had referred to him that morning.
Walking through the familiar threshold had never been so nerve-wracking. His palms were dripping, his heart was attempting to break free of his ribcage, and his thoughts were borderline self-deprecating as he envisioned every possible way their first encounter could go wrong. Sehun wiped his hands on his jeans, quickly checking his hair in the barely reflective surface of the door before pushing it open, calmed only slightly by the jingle of the bell haphazardly installed to alert the staff of a stray customer.
The sight that awaited him at the counter caught the breath in his throat, feet catching in the carpet bump he’d thought he’d mastered stepping over. As he plummeted to the floor, the irony of his situation sunk in. The man he’s seen behind the counter - Minseok, presumably - had rushed to his side, expression frantic as he made sure there was no bloodshed had occurred on his recently swept floor. Finding neither injury nor mess, he could breathe easy once more, helping the younger off the ground with ease.
Sehun felt his confidence soar with one glance at Minseok’s flushed face, noting the hands that fingered the sides of his rather frilly apron, no doubt a former member of the owner’s personal collection. Sliding his gaze from head to toe and back again, the younger let loose a weak smile.
“Sehun.” he mumbled, avoiding the gaze of the elder as he bowed.
“Minseok.” The accompanying chuckle melted his heart. (If this didn’t stop he was sure there’d soon be a puddle of Sehun tarnishing the already stained hardwood.)
The pair scuttled back to the counter, Sehun with his order at-the-ready and Minseok eager to rid himself of the pink dusting his face. Their small-talk left no room for uncomfortable pauses, laughter filling any and all crevices as they became more acquainted. Fingers brushed with the passing of the beverage, but neither dared to gauge the other’s reaction. Tea in hand, Sehun forwent his usual seat, choosing instead to lounge by the kitchen, enjoying the elder’s attention.
And so their easy friendship - or unrequited love, on the younger’s part - continued, months filled with dances, bad jokes, and baked goods. It wasn’t until a year after they’d officially met that Sehun popped the question.
“Minseok-hyung.” He’d lisped, impediment returning due to his nerves. When said man smiled in his direction, it took everything he had to stay composed. “Would you like to, ah, go get a drink with me later?”
Minseok released a laugh, ruffling Sehun’s hair and revealing the rather gummy smile the younger had fallen for. “Of course, but,” he paused, head tilted slightly to the right. “Don’t we do that every week?”
Taking in a breath, Sehun finally met his gaze.
“I want this to be a date.”
The look that flashed across Minseok’s face made his newfound confidence falter.
“I. Just forge-“ Cut off by a soft pressure on his cheek, he glanced upwards once more, surprised to see the shock replaced by almost shy adoratio (or so he hoped).
With this small gesture, their even easier relationship began, filled with just as much laughter and just a dash more pain, but the amount of baked goods seemed to make up for it.