(*02)

            “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being unmarked, I’m just saying I want to be branded like everyone else – and, no, not that I need to, but I just want to.” The words come out sounding nonchalant, almost casual even on the lips of Do Kyungsoo one would think.
            Just casual enough for anyone surrounding him to believe his wants were just that – wants and nothing more, but it was the sprinkle of confliction trailing in his tone that revealed him to be unconfident in his wants and needs.
            Kim Minseok, face clearly airing his bored for the topic of conversation, simply sighs at his registry of the sentence. He had become all but use to his games of coating over the truth with learned verbal toning measures. He watches the younger man with a judgmental gaze, crafting his reply as subtly as he can manage. “Kyungsoo… Being branded, it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be. There’s nothing really that special about it even – it’s literally just some name taking up skin – and, for all you know, your name could be branded on someone right now and it still wouldn’t mean anything.”
            The younger removes his gaze, submitting a physical resolve as he nibbles at the inside of his cheek. This isn’t a conversation they haven’t had before, nor a conversation he hasn’t voluntarily backed out of before be it with this elder or another. Still, it’s not as if this was some meaningless conversation.
            “Hyung, I don’t care if it doesn’t changes anything… I don’t care if it means nothing in the end, or anything like that… I just want apart of me to be branded. Any part even, honestly. To be branded with an actual person’s name and know what having loved them is like.” He admits the words with a shy demeanor, shrinking into himself momentarily. His fingers go to tug and pick at the ends of his itchy red sweater nervously, acting as a reflex. 
            The other man gives a much more sympathetic sigh this time. However obligated it may be, it is just as sincere as the rest. He continues to shake his head, resisting the urge to tsk at the shorter, somewhat matured male by lazily sipping at his mugged coffee. He goes about humming him a short tune to calm him before setting the mug back to the table. “Well, at least you know what you want. I won’t fault you for that; most people your age usually have no idea about stuff like this. So, congratulations about mapping out what you want in the romantic department in your life. What about the rest?”
            “The rest?” Kyungsoo repeats, head shooting up in confusion. He eyes his friend with deep set anxiety, prevailing in the enlargement of his already large pupils.
            The midnight haired male waves away his concern with the cool swat of his pasty pale hand, before quickly offering him a reassuring grin that gives him something to latch onto. “I just meant the business side of things. How are your job applications going?”
            “Oh, that…” Kyungsoo has to pause to give it thought, deciding to sip at his own (now cold) coffee to buy time. “Well, I don’t want to overwork myself while I’m still in school, so I wasn’t really looking for anything serious, or too hard. It’ll be too challenging once all the tests and finals come around. I applied at a few places, but haven’t heard back since last week.”
            A dark, finely shaped brow is cocked at such a response in a worrisome motherly manner. “That doesn’t sound reassuring. Should I give you a job at the café? I wouldn’t mind having more helping hands around here. Especially if it's you.”
            Kyungsoo gives an awkward smile at his friend’s kindness, eyes darting about the comfy, small café. He eyes the chatty costumers all barely aged by life as college students often appear, drinking at their respected tables – somehow adorning the place with a sort of youthful, mature glow. He watches the lot of them for a moment, almost memorized as they sit atop sturdy four legged wooden chairs, chatting away happily without much frustration and dinking at contained caffeine. He turns back to his friend, gazing at his authoritative figure looking so very professional behind the kitchen area as he contemplates bills over the pauses in their chats. He thinks to himself of how his own image could differ in such a setting, gift him with the look of someone with a real future and real responsibilities. He even pictures himself upholding said responsibilities as an employee, watering plant life displayed healthily about the café and sweeping the stainless mocha floors, yet something in him baits him with reasons to refuse.
            Despite him even being able to picture himself cleaning off the large chalk wall that gave humor to the costumers and substance to the workers, or even seeing himself restock the small fridge nesting just below two large ordering screens in the official coffee making station of the kitchen area, he was tempted to answer in rejection. He could even visualize helping to grow the café’s appeal and attract different crowds of customers by bringing in artwork chosen by his parents (known for their eye in good art, who would no doubt be able to bring in very fitting and simple art that would fit the interior as much as Minseok himself), but it doesn’t stop him from feeling he himself wouldn’t fit into such a serene domain. If you asked him, well, he barely fit in as a costumer to begin with – being an employee would be pushing his luck. Not to mention other reasons, as provided by his mind, of his lack in social skills beyond classrooms and friends, the general complications of customer service, and the overall endeavors in actually learning to both make and serve coffee.
             He shakes off the suggestion, ultimately tabling it as gazes lower like lowered expectations. “No thanks, hyung. But maybe I’ll come back to sing up on the stage sometimes? If anything, I know I can belong up there and still earn at least a little something for when I need the pocket change to buy a decent meal or pay for some textbook.” 
            The senior’s eyes peer up to the black stage opposite to his open beverage area, decorated with a lone microphone, expressive standing spotlight, and stool to meet his standards of professionalism for a performance cafe. He gives a bored expression at its emptiness momentarily before returning to the conversation at hand and sorting bills by due date. “Yeah, and maybe then we’ll get some real music in here. I’ve been getting a bit tired of all the KPOP tracks; they’ve become too predictable and bland for my taste.”
            Kyungsoo haves a laugh at such a reply, feels it spill from his lips quite organically and lively. It makes him remember why he prefers the company of his few older friends, especially ones that understand his frustrations in music. Still, the words utter from his lips very teasingly. “I think you’re just being picky, hyung.”
            “Or someone just made me that way…” the sharp eyed male spits out with a distant tone, hushed and gentle – lightyears away from them and their simple little conversation. Letters are sat to the counter, left discarded and uncared for as the aproned male goes about preparing to wash dishes at his sink far on the other direction from the younger, making an escape.
            The wide eyed male watches him curiously as he takes in the way he is careful to roll up his sleeves while the dish water builds, question upon question building in his mind at this mysterious being who fed him music and gave him something else to cherish in the world. The (still famed for weeks too long lasting) hero, however, does not dare ask. He knows not to, for Xiumin (a mysterious name attached to this friend by an even more mysterious stranger who comes in at night to help him clean up every single night before closing, Kyungsoo has long noticed) has a few more names printed about his skin than most usually would and it isn’t quite his place as a simple costumer, no matter how devoted to that shop or loyal to their friendship he is. He tells himself that, if he had to guess, it’d have to be whoever this Wu Yi Fan person was with their name spread curvaceously in such bold and outsized execution along his forearm that stands out among smaller, other sophistically produced names. 
            “I bet they were a lucky person. They’d have to be.” Kyungsoo is whispering to himself now, body spinning around ever lazily in his chair. He gets a wondrous grin about his face as he guesses at scraps of memories to construct what kind of person they would have been, post relationship and after it. His eyes end up dropping to his darkening coffee with a hint of jealousy to match its bitter taste. “I wonder if they saw you build this place after you bought it. Or maybe they even built it with you? Lucky bastard, whoever it was.”
            “If you’re talking about me, then, sadly, I’m afraid you’re incorrect.” A feminine voice sounds from his side in the perfect amount of perkiness to counter the bright sun lit high up in the sky. Automatically, as if a responsive reflex, his body turns him to his left and he take in the visual of Kang Seul-gi with a smile of bliss on her small, glossed lips.
            He lifts his cup to greet her, as he often does to relive their first interaction of friendship built back when clinking cups meant something to someone who cared, and makes attempts in offering something close to a friendly grin (although it is very much unlike him to do so). “I, uh, meant someone else. Sorry…? But, hey?”
            She shakes his awkwardness off with ease, making her appear cool as she drops herself into seat nearing him. There’s a longing kind of jealousy lurking about her energetic eyes, but she hides in the casualties of speech between acquaintances. “I know, don’t worry about it. You were mumbling about a guy named Wu Yi Fan – or Mysterious Stranger as I prefer to call them.”
            “You know about that person?” the words are spat out in accidental haste. By the time Kyungsoo remembers her relationship to Minseok, she’s already falling into the cycle of downing her sweetened coffee (always bought elsewhere for reasons he’s never been invited to know) with her nose tipped to the ceiling, a gesture made when discomfort hits and she decides on ignoring conversation topics when she consider how easy their relationship can break he’s noticed.
            Her expression settles between amusement and weariness as her eyes peer over to the older man, still unaware of her presence. A soft sigh sound from her, giving rare visual awareness of her exhaustion. “Of course, I do. Whoever that guy is, he was loved enough by my boyfriend to nab the most visual spot on him that’s not his face. Such a lucky bastard, don’t you think?”
            Kyungsoo nearly chokes at that, spilling a pretty good amount of his coffee all across the white of the counter. As he coughs, she is quick to pet at his back with very careful and light motions. They watch the blackness spread about in absolute silence for a moment when the coughing ceases and he can’t look at her. It takes a while, but finally he can construct noises into speech once more and he finds the will to get the words past his lips. “I, um… Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”
            “What, didn’t know he was into the boys just as much as he is into the girls and that I knew?” she teases, leaning in closer to get the words out quicker as the raven haired owner stalks closer.
            Kyungsoo quickly shakes his head and clears his throat best he can, rubbing fingers along the flesh of it as if that could calm the embarrassment. It only ends up soothing vocal cords. “No, it was a foreign name, so I didn’t… I mean, I never could’ve guessed…”
            She bursts into giggles at his conflicted exoression, torn between trying to withhold any personal offense and explaining his overly exaggerated reaction. “You’re so funny sometimes, Soo.”
            “Funny, I agree, but also a little mess maker.” Minseok is saying above them, handing him a towel of dark brown casually despite the displeased tone hiding within his voice. The younger takes it, cleaning first the coffee on his face and then the counter top in nervous, quickened circular motions.
            “Sorry, about this, hyung… I just got a little too involved in the conversation, I guess.” He mumbles words with an apologetic grin, handing over the towel once its use is fulfilled. 
            “Don’t worry about it, Kyungsoo. He’s gonna clean it like crazy again later on anyway.” Seul-gi chirps supportively at his side, giving his shoulder a small squeeze.
            He nods at her, grateful for her efforts in ridding him of his latest crime, but keeps his eyes on Minseok as he awaits captive response that makes muscles tense. The older simply folds his arms strictly, gives his head another shake of (mostly) mock disappointment. “Always playing the sweet girl… but she is right. I’ll be cleaning it again later into the night anyway, so you can rest easy.”
            “Isn’t being sweet why you fell for me?” Seul-gi says, voice dripping with playfulness and eyes glittering warmly to the man she’s chosen as her suitor (and successfully captured, mind you).
            “Probably…” The smile facing her is affectionate, so much so that it makes heart strings play a tune of love that only they can hear Kyungsoo is convinced. The older gifts her with a peck to the forehead, short lived and yet just as affectionate. Kyungsoo takes the chance to pry eyes about his arm, searching among the characters he can make out, but doesn’t find her name among the others.
            Just as the cheerful female catches his pitying glance, soon hidden by his coffee mug, they pretend the moment didn’t happen and she is released from the man’s clutches. “Hey, I think I’m gonna go. I need to go call up some people before I head out.”
            “Classes?” the speculation continues.  
            She gives wink, fresh and pretty. “You know it. Meet up after you close shop?”
            Kyungsoo watches, a member in the audience as put off as the main female lead as Minseok toys with his pebble of an earpiece nervously. “Sure. I’ll close up here and meet you, if you don’t mind?”
            There’s a quick pause, awkward and tense, where the cheerful and hardworking silver nailed Seulgi stands by with a sulking charm in her hazel eyes and a tight lipped smile, but it passes by her own grace as she lifts from her seat. “Yeah, that’s fine by me if it’s fine by you. Just give me a ring when you’re done here.”
            The main male lead tries from a faltering grin to forced animated eye twinkle. “Gotcha. See you later then… jagi.”
            “Later, lover.” She says effortlessly, fearlessly as she strolls off and then comes the moment where one has to admire her labors made for love. When eyes come to meet in uncomfortable understanding, gazes are dismissed and they return to their separate stations once again for quicker escapes.  
            There’s another lonely sigh casually brought about and Kyungsoo finds himself eyeing the large café windows from afar. He wonders if he could ever work that hard in a relationship for someone, with someone.
            The answer comes in the form of the front door opening, rowdy voices filling spaces, and suddenly cold coffee doesn’t taste so bad. He watches a group of two dragging in another pair. He watches the pause by the door of consideration for menu items and gestures of rolled eyes made out of annoyance.
            “Welcome, how can I help you?” his hyung is smiling to the group when they finally approach, hands moving unexpectedly fluidly to give life to conversation and he gulps then, because eyes stop trailing about lazily – almost absentmindedly, really – and he thinks of how he really, truly wants to fall in love again.
            A hand waves with a graceful air, edges of lips upturn into grins of faint pleasure to see someone worth acknowledgement. The words are mouthed at him one at a time, clearly and playfully: “Hey there, hero.”  
            But before there's a reply, there's a tug and the fate toys with him once again when bodies are dragged past doors and it dawns on him once again that he's not the kind of person to chase after oppertunities out of impulse.