When I Fall - Chapter 2/6
When I Fall (2/6) - Tablo/Eunhyuk (Daniel/Hyukjae)
Romance/Comedy (coffeehouse!au), PG13
Archive
Summary: After three years of college, Hyukjae decided to take a year off to "find himself." It wasn't long before he started questioning what it was he really wanted to find.
Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6
“No, I did not. What are you talking about?” Jungsoo’s voice carried from down the hall.
Hyukjae pried open one eye to look at his alarm and pulled the covers over his head. It was way too early to deal with roommate squabbles.
“You stole them.”
“Heechul. I have no reason to take your pants.”
“Yes, just like you had no reason to eat my food.”
Oh, no. Hyukjae threw his covers off to the side and rushed blearily to the bedroom doorway. He corrected himself. It was way too early to deal with the arguing, unless the arguing was because Heechul found his stuff missing. An angry Heechul was to be avoided at all costs.
“What’s going on?” he mumbled, shivering with his arms crossed as the morning cold washed over him.
Jungsoo and Heechul were standing in the hallway; Heechul in a nice white button up shirt complete with comic-strip pattern pajama pants, and Jungsoo looking completely awake and not happy about it.
“Hyukjae, did you steal my pants?” Heechul snapped.
“… Pants? N-No.”
Heechul scoffed, “If one of you didn’t take them, then who did? Sungmin? Please! Those thighs wouldn’t fit.”
“I’m awake you know,” groaned Sungmin from his bed behind Hyukjae.
“I can tell no lies!” barked Heechul.
“Heechul, stop yelling please,” Jungsoo said, still calm. “Maybe they're in the laundry.”
“I don’t give a fuck anymore, take whatever you want! God!” Heechul stalked back to his own room; the door slammed closed.
Jungsoo looked at Hyukjae with a hand on his hip.
“What?” Hyukjae asked, his cheek twitching in uncertainty.
“You owe me a free cup of coffee,” he stated, and trudged to the kitchen, leaving Hyukjae at his door with shoulders hunched.
Sheepish laughter escaped Hyukjae and he made a mental note to look through his closet for the checkered skinnies he’d borrowed last week.
-
Later that morning, Jungsoo - predictably - went with Hyukjae to the café to claim his reparation in the form of coffee. Hyukjae was sort of a man of his word, mainly after Jungsoo found him sneaking Heechul's pants back into the laundry basket he found them in.
“Here it is.” Hyukjae set down the latte, taking the seat next to him.
“Are you allowed to sit around during business hours like this?” asked Jungsoo, sipping his drink with a grin.
“Whatever. The boss is never here and Junsu is stupid.”
“I’m what?” said Junsu, startling Hyukjae from behind.
Jungsoo laughed, his cup rattling as he put it down. “He said you’re stupid.”
“Thank you. And you call yourself a good hyung,” Hyukjae complained.
“I’m a great hyung, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Hyukjae noted Jungsoo’s telltale dimple and said, “Right. When was the last time you treated me to a meal? Or just shared snacks, even? See? Never, that’s when!”
Junsu gave Hyukjae a good shove before taking a seat across from them, then commented, “Who wants to share food with you? You stuff your face like a pig and never pay us back.” He turned to Jungsoo, grinning, “Hyung, I haven’t seen you around in a while. Been getting your coffee elsewhere?”
“I get coffee at the station. Not as good as Coffeehouse's, but it does the job,” Jungsoo replied, taking a gulp of his latte, “I wouldn't have come today either, but got woken up early because our Hyukkie doesn't know how to ask before borrowing.”
Hyukjae pouted, "It was this one time."
Junsu laughed, “How is your radio program doing, by the way, Mr. Bigshot PD?”
“You mean you don’t listen to it?” Jungsoo retorted, faking affront.
“Not unless you have female guests,” Junsu joked. “I did catch it the other day when they were talking about love songs though. Experiences behind them. I’m sure Hyukkie could’ve gotten a couple pointers then.”
“Oh, you like someone, Hyukjae?” Jungsoo was all surprise and attention now, eyes boring holes into his reddening face.
Hyukjae laughed, bewildered and careful not to let his eyes roam. Even if that customer hadn't come in yet, he couldn't risk it. “What are you talking about? There’s no one to like!”
“So there is!” cried Jungsoo.
“No! No, there isn’t!”
The two conspirators looked unconvinced and prodded him until Jungsoo had to leave.
"Well, lucky for you," Jungsoo quipped, checking his cell phone clock, "I need to head off to get some work done. We'll talk at home," he grinned, his dimple like a black hole that delighted in Hyukjae's suffering.
Sadly even with Jungsoo gone, Junsu didn’t let up for the rest of his shift and Hyukjae took note to steal his cell phone later and mass text “I am a stupid loser. -Junsu” to his entire contacts list.
-
Junsu received nearly 40 texts that night, most of them along the lines of "Why are you telling me what I already know?" but reading more like 'LMAO THIS.' (And Hyukjae got a few texts of his own, like 'wuz that you on Su's fone? haha noice' from Yoochun, Junsu's old dormmate.)
That's how Hyukjae found himself on clean-up duty all day. He liked to think he was athletic enough to endure the most strenuous of sports, but standing around cleaning, squatting down sometimes to pick up garbage--that was a whole other level of exhausting.
He leaned on the mop handle, only halfway finished and not in any mood to continue.
There was only one other person present, besides Junsu who was adding more cookies to the pastry display case. The sight was not at all unfamiliar, the man sitting in his dimly lit corner, papers strewn about being read by strained and dark eyes...
A small cough snapped him back to reality.
“You stare at me a lot,” the customer deadpanned, still reading the essay in his hand while sipping his coffee.
Hyukjae’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest. The mop nearly slipped through his fingers.
Eyes darted furiously in every direction but forward.
There was very little he could say to answer that, considering it was nothing but truth.
The man continued, “It’s okay.” He took another sip of coffee, marking the stack of papers meticulously. “Could I get a refill though?” He waggled his cup, its emptiness more a gaping pit of mocking leftover coffee bits.
Hyukjae went to get it on instinct. “Right away, sir.”
He was trembling. He couldn’t tell if it was fear he was feeling, or a really twisted form of infatuation. Neither seemed right enough to admit.
“What’s the matter with you?” asked Junsu, after preventing Hyukjae from attempting to make a double shot of espresso on the dirty tray he was holding.
Hyukjae stared at Junsu for a moment before whirling his head every which way in frantic movements. “Where’s the cup!?”
Junsu quickly pointed out the empty cup stacked on top of the dirty tray pile by the mop he'd so delicately lodged between the wall and the trash container.
“Ugh, what’s wrong with me…” he muttered, a slight crack in his voice, as he reached for another cup.
“You're on drugs, aren't you,” his friend said, jovial with a hint of seriousness. "Didn't we promise each other never to--"
"You're on drugs, you idiot," Hyukjae took a moment to shove him before setting the half-finished order down and crouching down to hug his legs. “He knows. He knows that I look at him,” he said - more like cried, despairing his life.
Junsu stood there, his attempt at trying not to laugh seeming less than inconspicuous. “Wow, your world must be crumbling around you. You look at people. Oh my god!”
“You’re not funny. Go away,” he retorted, his eyes squinting an attempt at a glare before plunging back into despondency.
“Oh geez. So what? It’s not illegal to look at people. Why are you being such a pansy?” Junsu said, crouching down next to him.
Junsu was his best friend, and the greatest best friend a guy could ever have, he would only ever admit to himself; however, astute, he was not. Hyukjae did not dignify him with an answer, and stood back up, busying himself with making the coffee while Junsu continued giving him pointed looks and probably also making asshat assumptions.
“Here’s your refill, sir.”
The man took the cup gratefully. “You shouldn’t call me ‘sir.’ I’m not that old.”
“Uh, yes. H-Hyungnim.”
“Daniel,” he sipped his coffee, “My name is Daniel.”
“Yes, D-Daniel-hyungnim,” Hyukjae stammered out, feeling the name roll around in his mouth. It rumbled deep in his throat, creeping out in low bellows even with a light tone.
He liked it.
-
There were few things that Lee Hyukjae had ever really wanted in life.
When he was a big boy at seven-years-old, when all the other boys bought ice cream cones and chocolate bars from the store across from school, he was content with his apple from home.
When he was grown up at the age of twelve, he was satisfied seeing all the other boys grow like trees, while he also grew, but slower and ganglier.
When he was an adult turning sixteen, he had no qualms about being the only one in his group of friends with no set plans of his own. He was happy just to have friends at all - and his friends were happy for the optimistic hopes he had for them.
And so, it came as a shock when Hyukjae, at the ripe age of twenty, found that this odd desire to get to know this... stranger... had overtaken him.
He could barely recognize it this first time. A gradual, one-step-at-a-time growing emotion. So steadily, so sluggishly, that by the time he discovered it, he found he didn’t feel any different than before. As if he had wanted to be friends with this man his entire life and only now had thought to act on it.
“H-Hyungnim. Hyungnim,” Hyukjae’s tentative hand shook the sleeping man lightly.
It was a peculiar sight even for a coffee shop. His arms were splayed out over his papers, his cheek smushed against a partially marked essay that some poor, unwitting student would receive back honored with their TA’s dried spit.
Hyukjae stifled his laughing with a wide grin.
“Hyungnim.”
“Erg-wha?” Daniel slowly sat up, stretching stiff muscles.
A snigger escaped Hyukjae’s nasal cavities, his eyes crinkling, and suddenly, he let loose short gasping laughter, hiccing as he breathed in.
A pen was stuck to Daniel’s face as he only stared, sleepily, not sure what was so funny.
Hyukjae covered his mouth, amusement still clearly audible, and pulled the pen off to show Daniel, whose eyes opened incredulously wide. His mouth hung agape for a moment, before it twitched into a smile.
Hyukjae’s breath hitched just barely as this usually fatigued, glum-faced man broke into a fit of his own, sounding something like a mix of harsh winds and a duck.
Daniel took a slow inhale and let it out, lips calming into an upward curve. It took a second, maybe a minute, for Hyukjae to realize that the customer’s uncharacteristic facial contortion - an actual smile - was directed at him.
And, with reluctance tugging in his head, he saw that this customer wasn’t quite just a customer to him anymore.
-
Birds of a feather did flock together, Hyukjae mused behind the register.
“Hyukjae-yah, can I get a refill?” Daniel called from his usual spot.
“Yes, hyungnim! Right away!” Hyukjae called back.
Daniel, he confirmed, was a TA for an introductory Literature class. Even if he was filling his days with the aroma of coffee and ammonia, he couldn't forget what it was like to be a proper student. While awkward with professors and TA's alike in their seniority, he was only mildly outgoing with his peers. To his relief, they had settled into a comfortable space with little effort. He couldn't bring himself to call Daniel anything other than a respectful "hyungnim," but the whole ‘staring’ issue had lost its abashment now that they weren’t complete strangers, Hyukjae felt.
Junsu had to squeeze in that he didn’t understand how it was a problem in the first place, but that was Junsu and he was sort of stupid, so all was good.
He exchanged Daniel's empty cup for a full one, setting it down gingerly on the table. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Are you busy right now?” Daniel asked, eyes never leaving the pages before him.
Hyukjae looked around. No Junsu. “Not exactly?”
“Want to help me read something?”
“Like… a paper?” The thought of reading a student’s paper made his mind whirl. Academic essays were not exactly the kind of reading he usually did. Come to think of it, when was the last time he even picked up a book?
“Like a poem.”
“Oh.” Hyukjae visibly relaxed. Poems were nice. Familiar. And, if it was by a student, definitely short. “Sure.”
“Sit down,” Daniel murmured, rummaging through a file before sliding a sheet towards him.
He skimmed it, tilting his head in thought. The words were too complex. The sentences were choppy and sounded half plagiarized. Hyukjae had a liking for wordplay and hidden meanings, but whatever message this rhyme was trying to convey was lost on him.
“What do you think?”
Hyukjae gaped at the page, nervously looking up. “It’s… messy.”
“How so?” Daniel propped an interested chin on intertwined fingers, eyes making direct contact.
He was not sure what Daniel wanted to hear, so the truth bubbled out. “It’s all words and no meaning. Like reading nothing,” Hyukjae said, his voice steadily growing more even.
“How about this one?” he asked, pulling out another sheet.
There were so many big words. Hyukjae almost showed his distaste, but refrained. It had some redeeming qualities. “Sounds pretty in some sections, but this person seems to be trying very hard to sound intelligent. There's no sense of feeling. How is love 'comestible'?”
“Maybe in zombie love where zombies eat people's hearts," Daniel said, his eyes a touch glassy. It took a second for him to realize what he'd said, seeing Hyukjae look a little lost, and he went on, "... Is my guess. They probably described it the best they knew how. Moving on, how about this, 'Weeping Flower'?”
Hyukjae flinched almost immediately upon reading the first line. “... It makes me want to weep, and not in a good way.”
Daniel nodded, as if agreeing, but threw Hyukjae for a loop by asking, “Would you still say that if I told you that I wrote all of these?”
“Did you?” Hyukjae’s eyes scrunched in disbelief and relaxed when Daniel smirked.
“No. They're really student assignments.”
“It’s all awful,” Hyukjae stated bluntly.
Daniel stroked his chin and watched him with a considering - and, for one terrifying moment, Hyukjae thought condescending - eye before nodding again and waggling a shaming index. “You,” he accused.
Hyukjae leaned away in shock and his mind reeled at light speed. Was he offended?
For the barest minute moment, Hyukjae thought he saw a hint of a smile, but Daniel continued with an absolutely serious face, “You’re good. I think I’ll keep you.”
Tension visibly left his shoulders, but before he could savor the glowing proud feeling that danced around in his head, Junsu’s raspy voice abruptly barked out, “Why aren’t you manning the register?”
With a quick bow of apology, Hyukjae left and scooted off to where Junsu was making an incomprehensible face.
“Does our Hyukjae have a little crush?” he said in a low whisper, failing to hide his amusement.
Hyukjae's shoulders tightened for the briefest second before muttering, “Shut up. I don't,” as he fended off a playful hand trying to box his ears.
Junsu was not moved. “Uh huh, right,” he simpered and walked off twirling a damp rag, leaving Hyukjae to flush ten shades of pink at the register.
-
The smell of spicy ramen spread through the living room. It looked nearly ready and perfect and Hyukjae busted a move right there in the cramped kitchen space. He was not going to let one little thing Junsu said ruin his mood.
“Have you gone crazy?”
Hyukjae froze in the middle of his moonwalk, chopsticks and a potholder hanging from his hands in the air. Heechul was glaring at him, but when was Heechul ever not glaring at something; Hyukjae went back to stirring the noodles in the pot.
“I’m cooking food for you, shouldn’t you be more grateful?” Hyukjae said, resisting an urge to stick his tongue out at him.
“When I asked, I didn’t think you’d actually do it. You never do it. And to top it off, you think you’re Michael Jackson in our kitchen.”
The grating of a key against the lock caught their attention and they turned to see Jungsoo stepping through the front door and out of his shoes.
“You’re back late,” Hyukjae said.
Jungsoo gave a vague hum of acknowledgment. Suddenly, his head snapped around, nose sniffing the air. “Ramen?” he asked, immediately perking up.
“Hyukjae agreed to cook it for me,” Heechul stated. He and Jungsoo shared a look of cynical disbelief.
“Is something wrong?” Jungsoo asked, dropping his work bag on the couch.
“What? Why should something be wrong if I’m making food for someone?” said Hyukjae, exasperated.
“When was the last time you willingly did that?” Jungsoo smirked. Another tally on the board for Hyukjae’s stinginess.
“I’m in a good mood, okay?”
“Oh? Did you get to talk to the girl you like?”
Hyukjae’s mind stopped functioning for a moment.
“You did, didn’t you? Yah~ You should introduce me. See if she has any cute friends,” Jungsoo said, ribbing him with his elbow.
No area was interesting enough for Hyukjae’s eyes to land as he struggled to come up with an answer that didn’t sound incriminating, or uncomfortable. He couldn't place exactly why he couldn't speak up, explain that he wasn't interested in a girl. It wouldn't have been like admitting that he liked--
“You’d scare them off with your cute act,” Heechul piped in.
Jungsoo threw a dull glance at him. “Says the man that looks like a woman.”
“Can I help that I was born good looking? And you’re one to talk, with that firecracker ponytail. Are you a five year old girl?”
The noodles were getting overcooked. Hyukjae busied himself scooping them out into bowls and dropped them in front of his bickering housemates.
“There, now you can’t say I don’t cook for you,” Hyukjae huffed, setting chopsticks out for them before walking back to his room.
If the two noticed Hyukjae’s sudden discomfiture, they didn’t make any motion to pull him back. For that, he was glad because he wasn’t sure how to explain that he may have just realized… possibly… just maybe… perhaps…
No. He was not experiencing some sudden wave of comprehension giving him the meaning of life, and certainly, he was not having any eye-opening revelation telling him that he liked men.
-
Now, Daniel was not a physically attractive man. That notion and the sudden epiphany that Daniel reminded him of a distant cousin that his parents told him could have been his twin did much to relieve him. He couldn't possibly be attracted to a man who looked like himself. That was just egotistical and wrong. But then it could also be said that they could not look alike, since Hyukjae liked to think of himself as having a good face. Or maybe Daniel was a bit attractive after all.
Friendship was a different matter, Hyukjae relented. There was certainly reason for admiration, taking into account that while they looked alike, they did not think alike.
Daniel's mind was bright and bold, and Hyukjae believed that this was the kind of mind that could bring about revolutions. His own mind was just bright, as in optimistic happy sunshine puppies, which resulted in an amusing mix of discussions.
Interestingly enough, most of their conversations nearly always ended up to be about poetry.
And they were writing poetry together.
A twist of vocabulary here, a string of metaphors there. They referenced all the classics that they loved, the works that aroused the core of their minds to a euphoria of locution.
It sounded like some dirty double entendre, but that’s what they were doing. Almost literally.
They didn’t quite write anything down. Coining bawdy limericks from random phrases didn't exactly fit the bill of Greatest Literature Ever. Still, each conversation that took place solidified the seamless way with words that Daniel had, and Hyukjae spent every moment trying to soak up that natural talent for himself.
“Garbage what… What rhymes with garbage?” Daniel thought aloud, sounding like he had drunk more than just his usual Americano.
“Carnage!” Hyukjae interjected, and then his face fell, hoping for the world to end when Daniel hummed to himself.
There was little he could do to contain the smile stretching from ear to ear, baring gums and all, when Daniel smirked and wrote it down.
Romance/Comedy (coffeehouse!au), PG13
Archive
Summary: After three years of college, Hyukjae decided to take a year off to "find himself." It wasn't long before he started questioning what it was he really wanted to find.
Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6
“No, I did not. What are you talking about?” Jungsoo’s voice carried from down the hall.
Hyukjae pried open one eye to look at his alarm and pulled the covers over his head. It was way too early to deal with roommate squabbles.
“You stole them.”
“Heechul. I have no reason to take your pants.”
“Yes, just like you had no reason to eat my food.”
Oh, no. Hyukjae threw his covers off to the side and rushed blearily to the bedroom doorway. He corrected himself. It was way too early to deal with the arguing, unless the arguing was because Heechul found his stuff missing. An angry Heechul was to be avoided at all costs.
“What’s going on?” he mumbled, shivering with his arms crossed as the morning cold washed over him.
Jungsoo and Heechul were standing in the hallway; Heechul in a nice white button up shirt complete with comic-strip pattern pajama pants, and Jungsoo looking completely awake and not happy about it.
“Hyukjae, did you steal my pants?” Heechul snapped.
“… Pants? N-No.”
Heechul scoffed, “If one of you didn’t take them, then who did? Sungmin? Please! Those thighs wouldn’t fit.”
“I’m awake you know,” groaned Sungmin from his bed behind Hyukjae.
“I can tell no lies!” barked Heechul.
“Heechul, stop yelling please,” Jungsoo said, still calm. “Maybe they're in the laundry.”
“I don’t give a fuck anymore, take whatever you want! God!” Heechul stalked back to his own room; the door slammed closed.
Jungsoo looked at Hyukjae with a hand on his hip.
“What?” Hyukjae asked, his cheek twitching in uncertainty.
“You owe me a free cup of coffee,” he stated, and trudged to the kitchen, leaving Hyukjae at his door with shoulders hunched.
Sheepish laughter escaped Hyukjae and he made a mental note to look through his closet for the checkered skinnies he’d borrowed last week.
-
Later that morning, Jungsoo - predictably - went with Hyukjae to the café to claim his reparation in the form of coffee. Hyukjae was sort of a man of his word, mainly after Jungsoo found him sneaking Heechul's pants back into the laundry basket he found them in.
“Here it is.” Hyukjae set down the latte, taking the seat next to him.
“Are you allowed to sit around during business hours like this?” asked Jungsoo, sipping his drink with a grin.
“Whatever. The boss is never here and Junsu is stupid.”
“I’m what?” said Junsu, startling Hyukjae from behind.
Jungsoo laughed, his cup rattling as he put it down. “He said you’re stupid.”
“Thank you. And you call yourself a good hyung,” Hyukjae complained.
“I’m a great hyung, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Hyukjae noted Jungsoo’s telltale dimple and said, “Right. When was the last time you treated me to a meal? Or just shared snacks, even? See? Never, that’s when!”
Junsu gave Hyukjae a good shove before taking a seat across from them, then commented, “Who wants to share food with you? You stuff your face like a pig and never pay us back.” He turned to Jungsoo, grinning, “Hyung, I haven’t seen you around in a while. Been getting your coffee elsewhere?”
“I get coffee at the station. Not as good as Coffeehouse's, but it does the job,” Jungsoo replied, taking a gulp of his latte, “I wouldn't have come today either, but got woken up early because our Hyukkie doesn't know how to ask before borrowing.”
Hyukjae pouted, "It was this one time."
Junsu laughed, “How is your radio program doing, by the way, Mr. Bigshot PD?”
“You mean you don’t listen to it?” Jungsoo retorted, faking affront.
“Not unless you have female guests,” Junsu joked. “I did catch it the other day when they were talking about love songs though. Experiences behind them. I’m sure Hyukkie could’ve gotten a couple pointers then.”
“Oh, you like someone, Hyukjae?” Jungsoo was all surprise and attention now, eyes boring holes into his reddening face.
Hyukjae laughed, bewildered and careful not to let his eyes roam. Even if that customer hadn't come in yet, he couldn't risk it. “What are you talking about? There’s no one to like!”
“So there is!” cried Jungsoo.
“No! No, there isn’t!”
The two conspirators looked unconvinced and prodded him until Jungsoo had to leave.
"Well, lucky for you," Jungsoo quipped, checking his cell phone clock, "I need to head off to get some work done. We'll talk at home," he grinned, his dimple like a black hole that delighted in Hyukjae's suffering.
Sadly even with Jungsoo gone, Junsu didn’t let up for the rest of his shift and Hyukjae took note to steal his cell phone later and mass text “I am a stupid loser. -Junsu” to his entire contacts list.
-
Junsu received nearly 40 texts that night, most of them along the lines of "Why are you telling me what I already know?" but reading more like 'LMAO THIS.' (And Hyukjae got a few texts of his own, like 'wuz that you on Su's fone? haha noice' from Yoochun, Junsu's old dormmate.)
That's how Hyukjae found himself on clean-up duty all day. He liked to think he was athletic enough to endure the most strenuous of sports, but standing around cleaning, squatting down sometimes to pick up garbage--that was a whole other level of exhausting.
He leaned on the mop handle, only halfway finished and not in any mood to continue.
There was only one other person present, besides Junsu who was adding more cookies to the pastry display case. The sight was not at all unfamiliar, the man sitting in his dimly lit corner, papers strewn about being read by strained and dark eyes...
A small cough snapped him back to reality.
“You stare at me a lot,” the customer deadpanned, still reading the essay in his hand while sipping his coffee.
Hyukjae’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest. The mop nearly slipped through his fingers.
Eyes darted furiously in every direction but forward.
There was very little he could say to answer that, considering it was nothing but truth.
The man continued, “It’s okay.” He took another sip of coffee, marking the stack of papers meticulously. “Could I get a refill though?” He waggled his cup, its emptiness more a gaping pit of mocking leftover coffee bits.
Hyukjae went to get it on instinct. “Right away, sir.”
He was trembling. He couldn’t tell if it was fear he was feeling, or a really twisted form of infatuation. Neither seemed right enough to admit.
“What’s the matter with you?” asked Junsu, after preventing Hyukjae from attempting to make a double shot of espresso on the dirty tray he was holding.
Hyukjae stared at Junsu for a moment before whirling his head every which way in frantic movements. “Where’s the cup!?”
Junsu quickly pointed out the empty cup stacked on top of the dirty tray pile by the mop he'd so delicately lodged between the wall and the trash container.
“Ugh, what’s wrong with me…” he muttered, a slight crack in his voice, as he reached for another cup.
“You're on drugs, aren't you,” his friend said, jovial with a hint of seriousness. "Didn't we promise each other never to--"
"You're on drugs, you idiot," Hyukjae took a moment to shove him before setting the half-finished order down and crouching down to hug his legs. “He knows. He knows that I look at him,” he said - more like cried, despairing his life.
Junsu stood there, his attempt at trying not to laugh seeming less than inconspicuous. “Wow, your world must be crumbling around you. You look at people. Oh my god!”
“You’re not funny. Go away,” he retorted, his eyes squinting an attempt at a glare before plunging back into despondency.
“Oh geez. So what? It’s not illegal to look at people. Why are you being such a pansy?” Junsu said, crouching down next to him.
Junsu was his best friend, and the greatest best friend a guy could ever have, he would only ever admit to himself; however, astute, he was not. Hyukjae did not dignify him with an answer, and stood back up, busying himself with making the coffee while Junsu continued giving him pointed looks and probably also making asshat assumptions.
“Here’s your refill, sir.”
The man took the cup gratefully. “You shouldn’t call me ‘sir.’ I’m not that old.”
“Uh, yes. H-Hyungnim.”
“Daniel,” he sipped his coffee, “My name is Daniel.”
“Yes, D-Daniel-hyungnim,” Hyukjae stammered out, feeling the name roll around in his mouth. It rumbled deep in his throat, creeping out in low bellows even with a light tone.
He liked it.
-
There were few things that Lee Hyukjae had ever really wanted in life.
When he was a big boy at seven-years-old, when all the other boys bought ice cream cones and chocolate bars from the store across from school, he was content with his apple from home.
When he was grown up at the age of twelve, he was satisfied seeing all the other boys grow like trees, while he also grew, but slower and ganglier.
When he was an adult turning sixteen, he had no qualms about being the only one in his group of friends with no set plans of his own. He was happy just to have friends at all - and his friends were happy for the optimistic hopes he had for them.
And so, it came as a shock when Hyukjae, at the ripe age of twenty, found that this odd desire to get to know this... stranger... had overtaken him.
He could barely recognize it this first time. A gradual, one-step-at-a-time growing emotion. So steadily, so sluggishly, that by the time he discovered it, he found he didn’t feel any different than before. As if he had wanted to be friends with this man his entire life and only now had thought to act on it.
“H-Hyungnim. Hyungnim,” Hyukjae’s tentative hand shook the sleeping man lightly.
It was a peculiar sight even for a coffee shop. His arms were splayed out over his papers, his cheek smushed against a partially marked essay that some poor, unwitting student would receive back honored with their TA’s dried spit.
Hyukjae stifled his laughing with a wide grin.
“Hyungnim.”
“Erg-wha?” Daniel slowly sat up, stretching stiff muscles.
A snigger escaped Hyukjae’s nasal cavities, his eyes crinkling, and suddenly, he let loose short gasping laughter, hiccing as he breathed in.
A pen was stuck to Daniel’s face as he only stared, sleepily, not sure what was so funny.
Hyukjae covered his mouth, amusement still clearly audible, and pulled the pen off to show Daniel, whose eyes opened incredulously wide. His mouth hung agape for a moment, before it twitched into a smile.
Hyukjae’s breath hitched just barely as this usually fatigued, glum-faced man broke into a fit of his own, sounding something like a mix of harsh winds and a duck.
Daniel took a slow inhale and let it out, lips calming into an upward curve. It took a second, maybe a minute, for Hyukjae to realize that the customer’s uncharacteristic facial contortion - an actual smile - was directed at him.
And, with reluctance tugging in his head, he saw that this customer wasn’t quite just a customer to him anymore.
-
Birds of a feather did flock together, Hyukjae mused behind the register.
“Hyukjae-yah, can I get a refill?” Daniel called from his usual spot.
“Yes, hyungnim! Right away!” Hyukjae called back.
Daniel, he confirmed, was a TA for an introductory Literature class. Even if he was filling his days with the aroma of coffee and ammonia, he couldn't forget what it was like to be a proper student. While awkward with professors and TA's alike in their seniority, he was only mildly outgoing with his peers. To his relief, they had settled into a comfortable space with little effort. He couldn't bring himself to call Daniel anything other than a respectful "hyungnim," but the whole ‘staring’ issue had lost its abashment now that they weren’t complete strangers, Hyukjae felt.
Junsu had to squeeze in that he didn’t understand how it was a problem in the first place, but that was Junsu and he was sort of stupid, so all was good.
He exchanged Daniel's empty cup for a full one, setting it down gingerly on the table. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Are you busy right now?” Daniel asked, eyes never leaving the pages before him.
Hyukjae looked around. No Junsu. “Not exactly?”
“Want to help me read something?”
“Like… a paper?” The thought of reading a student’s paper made his mind whirl. Academic essays were not exactly the kind of reading he usually did. Come to think of it, when was the last time he even picked up a book?
“Like a poem.”
“Oh.” Hyukjae visibly relaxed. Poems were nice. Familiar. And, if it was by a student, definitely short. “Sure.”
“Sit down,” Daniel murmured, rummaging through a file before sliding a sheet towards him.
He skimmed it, tilting his head in thought. The words were too complex. The sentences were choppy and sounded half plagiarized. Hyukjae had a liking for wordplay and hidden meanings, but whatever message this rhyme was trying to convey was lost on him.
“What do you think?”
Hyukjae gaped at the page, nervously looking up. “It’s… messy.”
“How so?” Daniel propped an interested chin on intertwined fingers, eyes making direct contact.
He was not sure what Daniel wanted to hear, so the truth bubbled out. “It’s all words and no meaning. Like reading nothing,” Hyukjae said, his voice steadily growing more even.
“How about this one?” he asked, pulling out another sheet.
There were so many big words. Hyukjae almost showed his distaste, but refrained. It had some redeeming qualities. “Sounds pretty in some sections, but this person seems to be trying very hard to sound intelligent. There's no sense of feeling. How is love 'comestible'?”
“Maybe in zombie love where zombies eat people's hearts," Daniel said, his eyes a touch glassy. It took a second for him to realize what he'd said, seeing Hyukjae look a little lost, and he went on, "... Is my guess. They probably described it the best they knew how. Moving on, how about this, 'Weeping Flower'?”
Hyukjae flinched almost immediately upon reading the first line. “... It makes me want to weep, and not in a good way.”
Daniel nodded, as if agreeing, but threw Hyukjae for a loop by asking, “Would you still say that if I told you that I wrote all of these?”
“Did you?” Hyukjae’s eyes scrunched in disbelief and relaxed when Daniel smirked.
“No. They're really student assignments.”
“It’s all awful,” Hyukjae stated bluntly.
Daniel stroked his chin and watched him with a considering - and, for one terrifying moment, Hyukjae thought condescending - eye before nodding again and waggling a shaming index. “You,” he accused.
Hyukjae leaned away in shock and his mind reeled at light speed. Was he offended?
For the barest minute moment, Hyukjae thought he saw a hint of a smile, but Daniel continued with an absolutely serious face, “You’re good. I think I’ll keep you.”
Tension visibly left his shoulders, but before he could savor the glowing proud feeling that danced around in his head, Junsu’s raspy voice abruptly barked out, “Why aren’t you manning the register?”
With a quick bow of apology, Hyukjae left and scooted off to where Junsu was making an incomprehensible face.
“Does our Hyukjae have a little crush?” he said in a low whisper, failing to hide his amusement.
Hyukjae's shoulders tightened for the briefest second before muttering, “Shut up. I don't,” as he fended off a playful hand trying to box his ears.
Junsu was not moved. “Uh huh, right,” he simpered and walked off twirling a damp rag, leaving Hyukjae to flush ten shades of pink at the register.
-
The smell of spicy ramen spread through the living room. It looked nearly ready and perfect and Hyukjae busted a move right there in the cramped kitchen space. He was not going to let one little thing Junsu said ruin his mood.
“Have you gone crazy?”
Hyukjae froze in the middle of his moonwalk, chopsticks and a potholder hanging from his hands in the air. Heechul was glaring at him, but when was Heechul ever not glaring at something; Hyukjae went back to stirring the noodles in the pot.
“I’m cooking food for you, shouldn’t you be more grateful?” Hyukjae said, resisting an urge to stick his tongue out at him.
“When I asked, I didn’t think you’d actually do it. You never do it. And to top it off, you think you’re Michael Jackson in our kitchen.”
The grating of a key against the lock caught their attention and they turned to see Jungsoo stepping through the front door and out of his shoes.
“You’re back late,” Hyukjae said.
Jungsoo gave a vague hum of acknowledgment. Suddenly, his head snapped around, nose sniffing the air. “Ramen?” he asked, immediately perking up.
“Hyukjae agreed to cook it for me,” Heechul stated. He and Jungsoo shared a look of cynical disbelief.
“Is something wrong?” Jungsoo asked, dropping his work bag on the couch.
“What? Why should something be wrong if I’m making food for someone?” said Hyukjae, exasperated.
“When was the last time you willingly did that?” Jungsoo smirked. Another tally on the board for Hyukjae’s stinginess.
“I’m in a good mood, okay?”
“Oh? Did you get to talk to the girl you like?”
Hyukjae’s mind stopped functioning for a moment.
“You did, didn’t you? Yah~ You should introduce me. See if she has any cute friends,” Jungsoo said, ribbing him with his elbow.
No area was interesting enough for Hyukjae’s eyes to land as he struggled to come up with an answer that didn’t sound incriminating, or uncomfortable. He couldn't place exactly why he couldn't speak up, explain that he wasn't interested in a girl. It wouldn't have been like admitting that he liked--
“You’d scare them off with your cute act,” Heechul piped in.
Jungsoo threw a dull glance at him. “Says the man that looks like a woman.”
“Can I help that I was born good looking? And you’re one to talk, with that firecracker ponytail. Are you a five year old girl?”
The noodles were getting overcooked. Hyukjae busied himself scooping them out into bowls and dropped them in front of his bickering housemates.
“There, now you can’t say I don’t cook for you,” Hyukjae huffed, setting chopsticks out for them before walking back to his room.
If the two noticed Hyukjae’s sudden discomfiture, they didn’t make any motion to pull him back. For that, he was glad because he wasn’t sure how to explain that he may have just realized… possibly… just maybe… perhaps…
No. He was not experiencing some sudden wave of comprehension giving him the meaning of life, and certainly, he was not having any eye-opening revelation telling him that he liked men.
-
Now, Daniel was not a physically attractive man. That notion and the sudden epiphany that Daniel reminded him of a distant cousin that his parents told him could have been his twin did much to relieve him. He couldn't possibly be attracted to a man who looked like himself. That was just egotistical and wrong. But then it could also be said that they could not look alike, since Hyukjae liked to think of himself as having a good face. Or maybe Daniel was a bit attractive after all.
Friendship was a different matter, Hyukjae relented. There was certainly reason for admiration, taking into account that while they looked alike, they did not think alike.
Daniel's mind was bright and bold, and Hyukjae believed that this was the kind of mind that could bring about revolutions. His own mind was just bright, as in optimistic happy sunshine puppies, which resulted in an amusing mix of discussions.
Interestingly enough, most of their conversations nearly always ended up to be about poetry.
And they were writing poetry together.
A twist of vocabulary here, a string of metaphors there. They referenced all the classics that they loved, the works that aroused the core of their minds to a euphoria of locution.
It sounded like some dirty double entendre, but that’s what they were doing. Almost literally.
They didn’t quite write anything down. Coining bawdy limericks from random phrases didn't exactly fit the bill of Greatest Literature Ever. Still, each conversation that took place solidified the seamless way with words that Daniel had, and Hyukjae spent every moment trying to soak up that natural talent for himself.
“Garbage what… What rhymes with garbage?” Daniel thought aloud, sounding like he had drunk more than just his usual Americano.
“Carnage!” Hyukjae interjected, and then his face fell, hoping for the world to end when Daniel hummed to himself.
There was little he could do to contain the smile stretching from ear to ear, baring gums and all, when Daniel smirked and wrote it down.