Of rain, keywords and strawberry americano
Title: Of rain, keywords and strawberry americano
Pairing: Hohyuk (Son Hoyoung/Eunhyuk)
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, Fluff, Romance
Length: One-shot, 1,289 words
Summary: “I love that café. It plays classics. I like.”
Dedicated to: eunhaelover
I’d always loved the rain.
Summer’10
It was the first summer rain; the dark clouds enveloped the vast sky and painted the whole picture grey. If you’d looked at it primarily, it felt as though you were watching a certain soap opera in the 70’s through a television - black and white, nothing more, but your naked eyes couldn’t deceive you away from reality. The door swung open gently and the mini-bell that was hung on the handle had just merely given off a faint tinkle together with the plopping of the rain outside. And when the door was closed, everything went back to normal, and Chopin was playing at the background.
The man who had just came in wore a red coat over a thin black top and jeans. Seconds ago he was wearing a shades, but seconds after he took it off and took two steps closer to the counter.
“Hot chocolate. Medium-sized.” He had just barely said those few keywords.
The cashier took down his order and suggested him to take a seat while waiting.
That was the first drink that I’d made for him.
Spring’11
I’d learnt his name from my co-worker who was working as the cashier last summer. Since then, he had visited for about five times a month. And almost every visit, he ordered different beverage. I recalled there was once he ordered something that was not on the menu.
That was the first time we’d talked.
“Recommendations?” He pursed his lips and looked up to the menu.
“Do you prefer coffee or something sweet?”
“Hmm…” He looked into the cashier’s eyes and diverted his vision away, to the unpretentious mug that was glued to the opposite counter. “What’s that? It’s pink.” He widened his lips a little.
“Uh, that’s… something our barista made, but he’s just doing some experiment.”
“It’s Strawberry-flavoured Americano.” I intruded in not-so-awkwardly.
“Straw - ?”
“Anyway that’s not for sale.” The cashier smiled. “What about trying -”
“I’ll get that.”
“Sorry?”
“That pink stuff.” He showed his gums to the cashier, his smile way brighter than hers.
I made it for him, and only for him ever since.
Summer’11
It had been exactly a year since I’d met him. We’d hardly talked but he would smile to me at times when he was ordering something. And when I’d realised, he was always visiting whenever it was raining.
Grey coat, a graphical t-shirt and a pair of black baggy pants - they totally fitted the 70’s-soap-opera sense. He was sitting by at the window seat, dazing at the rainy situation outside. It was then being heard that Liszt was playing at the backgound.
That was the first time that he dined in.
A New York Cheesecake was delivered to him together with a mug of Cappuccino. The café didn’t seem to comprise as many as ten people, music was fairly audible and the rain was audibly louder than usual.
Most of the crews had gone out for lunch and the shop had a couple of people to tend to, including me. I took off my apron and grabbed the nearest seat to the counter. I rested my head on my arm that was rested on the table and I stared at the man who was staring at the scenery outside. I hoped that moment would last forever. I hoped the television had somewhat malfunctioned and the picture just had to freeze. I hoped this situation was inevitable and everything that became stationary was incurable.
Autumn’11
That night was sudden. That man ran in suddenly, drenched, and looked up to me who was the only one left in the café.
“Sorry, we’re closed.” That was the only thing I could come out with, really.
“I know, but… do you happen to have an umbrella?”
“Uh yeah. Just one.” I was still staring at him, with a cloth on my right hand and a glass on my left hand.
That night, we walked home together.
-
Few weeks later he came by after closing time again. Coincidentally, both times were the times I was on duty - or maybe not. However, that night didn’t rain. Or probably that only applied to the first-half of the story.
“I have piano lessons around this district. Once a week. I live at another town further down.” He spoke in keywords again.
“Ah…” I nodded my head, as if trying to show that I’d understood.
“I love that café. It plays classics. I like.”
“You mean the music?”
“Yup.”
I’d always wondered why, he was always speaking in keywords.
“And that strawberry. Great.”
“You mean that Strawberry Americano?” I glanced at him a little. “It was great?”
“Yup.”
I laughed.
“Why?”
“Talking to you feels like talking to a kid.”
“Kid?”
“Yup. Cute.” I tried to imitate him.
He spoke nothing. And I think he blushed.
The rain struck us when we were just steps away from the bus stop. We hopped in just barely in time and we got ourselves a little wet. We sat down on the bench, looked at each other and laughed - for some reason.
“Do you have others? Besides strawberry.”
“Yup.”
“Like?”
“Banana.”
“And?”
“Grape?”
“And?”
“Green apple.”
“Taste?”
“They suck.”
He stared at me for half a minute and widened his lips, gums exposed, wrinkles around the edge of his eyes visible.
“I wanted to invent something colourful.”
“Colourful?”
“Yup. Coffees like Americano, Espresso, and Cappuccino just look so plain. They are all brown or black. It’s like some soap-opera on the TV during the 70s.”
“Ah, like the piano.”
“So I wanted to add some colours into them. Then they will probably resemble some romantic dramas on a HD LCD screen.”
“Ah, like Chopin.”
“But it’s sad.”
“Like Beethoven?”
“Because all of them taste bad.”
“But strawberry’s good.”
“You like it?”
“Yup.”
His bus arrived seconds after.
Winter’11
Instead of raining, it snowed almost every day. For some reason, he stopped visiting.
Spring’12
Months later I braced myself to ask the person who was working at the information counter of the music school about him, only to know that he’d quitted his piano lessons.
I went to the town that he mentioned he was staying at and I saw somebody who resembled him, sitting on some rocks at the seaside.
Or actually that was him.
“Hi. Doing what? Here.” I stood beside him.
“Eh?” He looked up to me, fairly surprised. “You?”
“Nah.”
He spoke nothing in return and gave off a faint smile. We went through a period of quiescence.
“My grandmother died.” He paused. “I played a piece. Her funeral. I was devastated. I didn’t want.”
“But you did?”
“She encouraged. She paid for my lessons.”
“What did you play?”
“Beethoven.”
“Idiot.” I pulled his head closer to my shoulder. I didn’t care much if he’d cried. Everything after that seemed fine. “Here, I’ll take one order for you.” I pulled him together with me, squatting down on the sand-filled ground.
“Order?”
“Yup.” I picked up a tree branch randomly.
“Strawberry Americano.”
“Okay,” I wrote them down on the sand. “Regular, medium or large?”
“Medium.”
“Okay,” I did the same thing. “Would you like to have additional toppings?”
“No.”
“Your name please?”
“Lee Hyukjae.” He grinned and covered his mouth a little.
“Lee. Hyuk. Jae.” I concentrated on the ground until I finished writing the last stroke. “Okay, your turn.” I threw the tree branch to him.
“My turn?”
“Yup, take my order.”
“O-order? Please.” He stuttered a bit.
“Hot chocolate. Medium sized.”
“Additional toppings?”
“Yup.”
“What?”
“You.” I stared right into his eyes.
“Y-your name?” He blushed and looked down.
I grabbed his hand and traced the tree branch together with him through the sand.
“Son. Ho. Young.”
A/n: Sorry bb this was really late ;A; AND SORRY OMG THIS IS ONLY HOHYUK. I TRIED TO WRITE OT5 ONCE AND IT HAD SOME STUFF WRITTEN ON WORDS BUT IT WAS ALL GONE NOW D: ANW I THINK YOU WILL BE THE ONLY ONE TO READ THIS SH8. T_T FORGIVE ME. Wait and this standard line - comments are still very much appreciated ^o^ (AND WE WILL DEFINITELY HIT OFF WELL IF YOU SHIP HOHYUK TOO YKNOW YKNOW.)