The cold wind blew harshly along the streets of Seoul, signaling the imminent arrival of autumn. Choi Seungcheol drew breaths in as he jogged his way across the street, dodging the passing cars with ease. Moments later, the chilly air no longer nipped at his skin and he was inside the warm, orange-nuanced structure that was his favorite coffee shop.

He instantly fell into the queue, dominated with tired-looking men dressed in suits and fashionably clad women with popping hair colors. Seungcheol tried to stifle a yawn, remembering that he barely slept last night due to his session of correcting his students’ papers. All the messy handwriting of thirteen-year-olds and the lengthy answers that had absolutely no relation with the questions whatsoever had made his eyes and head ache; a cup of coffee would certainly do well to relieve his senses.

After fifteen painful minutes, it was finally Seungcheol’s turn. He didn’t need another glance at the menu—it was always café breve for takeaway. When the cashier handed him the bill, he shuffled towards the bar where he could observe the baristas concoct the varying beverages. He normally conversed with Sooyoung, the cheerful and talkative short-haired barista, while she made him his drink. But it seemed like today’s events were going to be a little different.

Instead of Sooyoung, he was greeted by the sight of a male in a white polo shirt and dark green apron. He had long, flowing blonde hair down to his shoulders, which Seungcheol thought would look horrible on others, but very gorgeous on him. He had a silver nametag pinned above his pocket, YOON JEONG HAN emblazoned on it.

“Jeonghan-ssi?” he doubtfully called the barista, who looked up seconds later, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“Yes?”

Somehow, the eye contact between them made Seungcheol a little fidgety inside.

“Where is Sooyoung?”

“Sooyoung?” Jeonghan repeated, his expression showing that he wasn’t familiar with the name. But he beamed afterwards and quickly replied, “Ah, she’d gotten promotion. She’s now the manager.”

Seungcheol raised a brow upwards. “Manager? Whoa, I didn’t know she had it in her.”

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly to the side, and he didn’t say anything for a while as he fished a takeaway cup from the stack. “Can’t really say. I don’t want to be fired on my first day here.”

“Ah, you’re new here?” Seungcheol undeniably concluded. “Well, good luck. They always say the first day is the hardest. And please get my drink right.”

Jeonghan emitted an amused chuckle, brushing strands of hair out of his face. “Relax, I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s a relief,” he said, chuckling along. “I’m Seungcheol, by the way.”

Tapping the nametag attached on his shirt, the barista airily responded, “Jeonghan, as you already know.”

“Do you consider me some sort of weirdo for talking with you?” Seungcheol popped up, much to Jeonghan’s surprise.

“Well, people nowadays are really ignorant, but I don’t think you’re a weirdo.” He paused momentarily. “I think you’re nice.”

The blonde shoved the café breve along the bar, the cup already scribbled with a delicate Seungcheol, and Seungcheol took it in his hands, carefully placing his fingers against the coffee sleeve so that his skin won’t burn from the heat. “And it’s nice talking to you, Jeonghan-ssi.” He took a glance at his wristwatch, clucking his tongue subtly once he realized what time it was. “Unfortunately, I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry. And also—I’m a regular.” He flashed a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

The bell rang loudly, inviting the students’ annoyed and disappointed groans. Seungcheol managed a chuckle, dropping his arm that was poised against the whiteboard, writing. Their complaints were signs of good teaching, and that was what Seungcheol aimed for. He sipped the last of his café breve, waving his arms in effort to usher the tweens to get out of the class soon if they didn’t want to miss recess.

“Thanks for today, teacher!”

“You were awesome!”

“I totally get science now!”

“Don’t forget to store that cup, Teacher Choi!”

Seungcheol nodded his head at every exclamation produced before closing the door behind the last kid that made it out. He walked towards the purple cabinet at the back of the classroom and deposited the empty cup on the bottom rack. The cabinet contained tens of empty coffee cups, all from the same coffee shop he visited every morning. They all still wore their coffee sleeves because Seungcheol was just too lazy to take them off. Besides, the reason why he kept all the cups was for an environment-related project that the students would do at the end of the second semester, and it was still a long time from now, even though he had notified the students about this beforehand. He will have plenty of time for taking off all the sleeves.

Seungcheol was about to close the cabinet when second thoughts struck him. Biting the insides of his cheeks, he then extended a hand to grab today’s cup and place it on the empty top rack.

Different barista, different rack.

The days moved at a slow pace, but Seungcheol was happy about it. The new barista turned out to be a very interesting person. He was (thankfully) less talkative than Sooyoung, who babbled all the time and sometimes not leaving space for Seungcheol to respond. But now was a different case. In fact, Seungcheol did most of the talking. But he didn’t mind. Jeonghan was a good listener, and his remarks, whether funny or not, always made him smile.

Jeonghan shared tidbits about himself too. He was a vocalist and guitarist in a band that assembled in his late college years, and they performed in what used to be a popular talk show, but as the ratings decreased, their salaries did too. But Seungcheol knew that Jeonghan would never leave the band no matter what happened—his eyes spoke more clearly in his lack of words. And they always dazzlingly brighten up whenever Jeonghan talked about the band, and music, and how he maintained his smooth, silky hair.

The days grew into weeks, and Seungcheol found himself sneaking up a gaze at Jeonghan whenever he had the chance, even before he was at the bar, even before it was his turn to order. As the queue straggled forward, he kept his eyes glued on the blonde, who was always busy with orders, filling the cups and scribbling the names on them, never noticing the stares he threw. He increasingly paid more attention on his face: how his brows curled in determination, how he bit his lips in anticipation, how his eyes shone as he wished the customers a great day ahead while he passed them their drinks. Sometimes Seungcheol got upset due to the clueless ignorance, but he always tried his best not to show it. The last thing he wanted was for Jeonghan to know how disturbed he was at something so trivial.

“Are you okay?”

Jeonghan jumped at his sudden question. “Yes, why?”

“You seem distressed,” Seungcheol answered, his brows knitted with worry. “Are you really okay?”

The blonde fervently nodded his head, trying not to spill coffee all over his hands. “Yes, Seungcheol. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Of course I have,” he blurted out, much to both of their surprises.

Jeonghan stared at him oddly, as if he was quietly judging the other, before he shrugged and shook it off. “No, you don’t. I’m doing fine.”

Seungcheol heaved a sigh and lifted his hands as a sign of giving up. “Alright, alright, I won’t push it.”

Jeonghan slammed the café breve harder on the wooden bar that day.

Rolling his eyes, Seungcheol took it in his hands and murmured, “Geez, get a grip.”

He walked out of the shop without looking back like he usually did.

The next day, it wasn’t Jeonghan behind the barista bar.

“Seungcheol!” Sooyoung exclaimed, jumping giddily at the sight of him. “How long has it been, eh? Two months?”

Seungcheol felt disappointment washing over him, but he managed to elicit a smile. “I guess so, Soo. Where’s Jeonghan?”

“Whoa, no ‘I miss you’ or ‘Where have you been’?” Sooyoung rolled her eyes but smiled gleefully afterwards. “Ah, he quit. His band has an audition all the way across the city, so they have to leave early to make it in time.”

“His band?” he mumbled, crestfallen. What was this? Why was this so sudden? Why didn’t Jeonghan say anything? Did this have anything to do about why he was so spaced out yesterday? “He didn’t tell me about it.”

Sooyoung was rambling—something along the lines of struggling to find a new barista in such a short time—and she looked irritated to be cut off. “Of course he didn’t. He has the right to be pissed off at you, for sure. I mean, you should’ve known, he’s the subtle type, and—”

Seungcheol’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t help to suppress the confusion mixed with anger in his voice. “Pissed off? Should’ve known? What are you talking about?”

“Keep your voice down!” Sooyoung hissed, and he looked around. Sure enough, the people that stood around him were throwing him annoyed glances. He bowed apologetically to them before turning his attention back to Sooyoung.

“What do you mean? What do you mean he’s the ‘subtle type’?”

Sooyoung’s jaw dropped, standing agape before she snapped back to her senses. “You, Choi Seungcheol,” she whispered as she gave him his café breve, “are a dumbhead.”

Seungcheol grumbled, trying to keep his impatience at bay. Couldn’t she just spill it already? “Screw that, Soo, just tell me.”

The girl rolled her eyes again at him, wiping her fingers on her apron. “Remember that project for your students?”

He was late.

He was never late.

Seungcheol dashed along the hallway, trying to locate his own classroom, which should’ve been easy since he had been teaching here for years. But now, his mind was frazzled. He couldn’t think properly, he couldn’t, he just needed to check—

It took him a full minute to register the Science Class sign on top of a wooden door he knew so well. He barged in and stopped in his tracks a second after. His students were already sitting on their seats.

“Am I that late?” he asked them, rather absentmindedly.

“Ten minutes, Teacher,” a student piped up.

Nodding, Seungcheol ran to the back of the class, ignoring the curious and suspicious eyes of his students. He yanked the cabinet open and gulped. With shaking hands, he cautiously retrieved the first cup on the top rack—Jeonghan’s rack. It was all the way in the back, but he managed to do it without disarranging the others.

“Teacher, what are you doing?”

The students were starting to pile out of their positions, stepping towards him to watch. Seungcheol tried to shoo them away by telling them to read their books, and some did comply, but some were stubborn. Taking a deep breath, he anxiously stripped the sleeve off the cup and flipped it, instantly noticing the marker writing on the inside.

First impression: nice.

Seungcheol’s breath hitched.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he quickly instructed the students perching around him to place all the cups from the top rack on the floor in order, specifically in order. They did so without asking; the ones who were on their seats cheered them on, occasionally standing up and correcting if someone had placed it in the wrong sequence.

In just over five minutes, all the cups were lined along the tiled floor. Two months’ worth of coffee cups.

Seungcheol wished his heart wouldn’t hammer so ferociously.

“Okay, thank you kids,” he said authoritatively. “Now seriously, go back to your seats and read your textbook. I’ll be with you in a sec.”

The students dejectedly went back to their seats, and Seungcheol made sure every one of them stayed there. Then, he focused himself on the next coffee cup. His head was getting dizzier as more adrenaline rushed through him, and he tried to compose himself, albeit to no avail.

Second coffee sleeve: You’re quite handsome.

Third coffee sleeve: You’re really nice.

Fourth coffee sleeve: I like the way you style your hair. Though mine is more beautiful, of course.

Fifth coffee sleeve: Do you always talk to every barista like this?

Seungcheol chuckled. “Nope, just you.”

And it continued. More compliments, more thoughts from Jeonghan. Thoughts of him—of Seungcheol. And observations—how he brushed his fringe when he was getting impatient, how he tapped his fingers against the bar while he spoke, how his nose crinkled when he laughed. Sometimes, Jeonghan’s thoughts appeared—how he was getting restless because Seungcheol never said anything about the coffee sleeves, how it seemed that he never realized it, how Jeonghan felt like such an idiot for doing it constantly.

Then it was about his band, how they finally landed auditions, how he wasn’t sure if he should continue his job since the band was moving their basecamp to the heart of the city. How he tried to hold out as long as he could since he didn’t want to not see Seungcheol anymore, how he desperately wished Seungcheol would just try to peek at the coffee sleeve for once, and then how he cursed himself for not having the guts to say all of these face to face.

The last coffee sleeve didn’t contain any compliment, or thought, or observation.

Gongsang Building.

Seungcheol immediately inserted all the coffee sleeves into his bag and slung the strap on his shoulder, hustling towards the door. “Ten extra points for anyone who can tell me where Gongsang Building is located!”

Jeonghan gingerly put his electric guitar inside its case before swinging the strap on his shoulder. Today’s audition was a success, and his band had landed an exclusive contract they’d all been waiting for. Everything was perfectly in place; the heavens were certainly smiling at their team effort, though maybe not individual effort, and especially effort in other things—

“Jeonghan! You ready?”

He quickly separated himself from his train of thoughts and nodded reassuringly at his band mates. “Yep. Let’s go.”

He tailed behind, letting an empty space stand between him and his friends as they made their way out of the building and into the parking lot. This year’s winter was definitely more abusive than the previous ones—the snowflakes were falling immensely and the grounds were slippery with snow. And it was only the start of the season. Jeonghan cursed under his breath once he realized he had forgotten to bring his gloves. He could feel them numbing gradually even though he had rubbed them against each other, trying to spark heat.

“Here you go.”

Jeonghan abruptly stopped in his tracks.

Seungcheol was blocking his way, standing right in front of him as he took off his own leather gloves and handing them towards him, a soft yet evidently guilty smile on his lips. Jeonghan blinked, trying to register the presence of his ex-customer right here, on the other half of Seoul, away from his school and his teaching—

Warmth flooded his fingers. Seungcheol had put on the gloves for him.

“Seungcheol.” At last he found his voice. “How did you—”

“I’m such an idiot,” Seungcheol cut him off, and Jeonghan blinked. “I’m such an idiot for not noticing. God, I’m the world’s biggest fool. How could I miss you writing under the sleeve all the time we were talking? How? Maybe my attention was too focused on you and your goddamn beautiful face?”

Jeonghan raised a judging brow. “Is that supposed to be a cheesy line?”

He only chuckled. “Perhaps.”

The blonde gave off a small smile at the word. “I know it’s stupid. I didn’t have the guts to say it right at you—”

“Look, if anyone were to blame, it should be me—”

“I mean, we only talk for like five minutes per day and yet I think about you all the time—”

“Do you know how I can’t keep my eyes off of you since I entered the coffee shop?”

Jeonghan swore he felt his cheeks reddening despite the cold temperature.

It seemed like Seungcheol noticed it too, since he emitted a chuckle and confidently drew Jeonghan’s hands in his, giving them a tight squeeze, smiling that silly smile of his.

“Yoon Jeonghan, go out with me, will you?”