“Well, well, well!” Luhan practically hops over the counter in his rush to charge their table. “ What do we have here?”

Jongin disregards Luhan entirely, too enamored with the beautiful shock and light flush on Kyungsoo’s face staring up at him, barely raised from its previous resting position on the table. There’s a small piece of medical tape over the little cut in his eyebrow, and his hair is fluffy from his earlier shower. Kyungsoo does look younger than his 26 years when out of his agent getup, but the handsome definition of his jaw and alertness in his eyes convey his underlying maturity. This is no highschooler.

This is his Dyo. His nightingale. His Kyu--

“Yah, it’s rude to ignore your hyung,” Luhan whines, playfully roughing up the back of Jongin’s hair. “You know Kyungsoo?”

Jongin pouts, turning to the cafe owner. Luhan got to know Kyungsoo before he did, and speaks his real name with such nonchalance, when it’s something that’s absolutely precious to Jongin. Doesn’t seem fair.

When Jongin fails to answer, Kyungsoo supplies a simple, “Yeah, we’ve met.”

“This--” Luhan drops his voice to a whisper as he nudges their hands that are currently held together, “looks like more than just two people who have ‘met.’” He raises a blond eyebrow and looks back and forth between the two men.

Kyungsoo gives Jongin a worried look and goes to lightly pull his hand back, but Jongin squeezes it and holds it even tighter. “Maybe it is. But can you save the inquisition for another day and get my latte, please?” Jongin stares hard at his friend, flashing his best Don’t ruin this for me face at him.

Luhan purses his lips to (poorly) conceal a smile. “Okay, okay, coming right up.” He makes a show of walking away and busying himself with fixing the drink.

“You know he’s gonna be watching us the whole time anyway, right?” Kyungsoo sports a bemused smile.

“Undoubtedly. But I don’t care,” Jongin replies with confidence. He looks over at the ahjumma on the couch, who is openly staring as well. She quickly turns back to her newspaper, rapidly flipping to a new page, when she realizes she’s caught.

Kyungsoo bites the corner of his lip and seems to relax a little, finally sitting up fully, body opening up from its slouched sleeping position on the table. “I told you to take some time… to think about things first,” he mumbles with no trace of real admonishment in his deep voice.

“I did. I’m done thinking. And I’m here, at this table, because it’s where I want to be.”

“Yes, but what about your precious Rules? Are you abandoning all of your principles so quickly?” he teases. Kyungsoo is leaning forward now with a challenging gaze that flickers down to his lips and then back up, as though reminding Jongin of his uncharacteristic crossing of all kinds of lines earlier today.

Cutie Kyungsoo is most definitely still dangerous Dyo. Jongin feels his face heating up and a stirring in his pants when--

Oomph. “Meow,” Mimi calls to him, having leapt up into his lap (thankfully, landing neatly on his right thigh). She paws at his chest, as if to say, ‘Have you forgotten about me?’

“Hi, Mimi girl. How’s my princess today?” he can’t help but coo, obliging her with scratches under her chin.

Kyungsoo tuts. “Spoiled puss. I wonder if she knows she’s the luckiest cat in the world.”

Luhan drops off a latte and pointedly stays tight-lipped, sauntering away after a lingering glance.

Jongin takes a long pull from his coffee while down the cat’s back. With a sheepish smile, he says, “I didn’t realize she was yours.”

“She’s obviously not,” Kyungsoo replies, reaching across to give Mimi a gentle pet between her eyes. She purrs and his finger several times affectionately, but remains seated on Jongin’s lap.

“I feel bad.”

“Don’t. She just has great taste and picked the best companion.” Kyungsoo winks at him.

It’s a sweet compliment, but the slight edge of self-deprecation reminds Jongin of the previous dig Dyo made at himself back in the building. Jongin frowns. “There’s no way I could’ve stayed away if I’d known you were back here the whole time. You should’ve come talked to me. Like… even before work happened.”

Kyungsoo gives a half-shrug. “And say what, exactly? ‘Hi, I’m Kyungsoo. I’m homeless, have no money, and absolutely nothing to offer right now except some serious trust issues. But your voice is incredible and you sure are gorgeous. Wanna ?’”

Might’ve worked , Jongin thinks, considering about how desperate he was feeling for months on end.

As soft as they’ve been keeping their voices, Kyungsoo’s final words did not go unnoticed. The high school girl at the nearby table has been texting on her phone since Jongin sat down but is twisted in an outrageous grin and she’s typing faster than ever, thumbs flying across her screen as she undoubtedly gossips to her friends about the unlikely scene before her. The sofa ahjumma is peeking over the top edge of her newspaper with eyes blown wide in amusement, and Luhan just dropped a coffee pot he’s been polishing repeatedly for several minutes.

“Maybe we should talk somewhere else,” Kyungsoo murmurs.

Jongin is inclined to agree. “I know a place,” he says, standing up and slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. Mimi protests, weaving through his legs.

Kyungsoo stands as well and packs his belongings into a worn, brown backpack. Jongin heads for the exit, not feeling brave enough at the moment to meet anyone’s eyes. He pushes through the clear door, hearing the chime ring out, but turns around when he notices Kyungsoo isn’t right behind him. Instead, he sees him over at the counter slipping Luhan a small, folded sheet of paper. He trots to the door right after, ignoring whatever question Luhan is calling out to him.

“Where to?” he asks, turning his big, beautiful eyes up to Jongin. The way the morning light reflects off Kyungsoo’s pupils makes the brown in them glimmer in a lovely amber color. Jongin marvels at them for a long moment, feeling his heart thrum wildly in his chest, before pointing decisively to the left.

“This way.”

They walk side-by-side, leisurely strolling among the morning rush of workers that are slithering onto the sidewalks around them.

“What was on the note you handed Luhan?” Jongin pries.

“‘For a good time, call:’ and my phone number.”

“Shut up,” Jongin bumps him with his shoulder, and Kyungsoo let’s him, wobbling a bit exaggeratedly to the left with the impact. He comes back with a goofy smile on his face, falling in step with Jongin again. Their arms brush lightly against each other as they walk.

“Sorry, it’s really fun to see you jealous. I’d only gotten to hear you whine before. The pout you wear is even cuter.” Kyungsoo says this while staring ahead, a pleased smile on his lips.

How does he know precisely what to say to scramble Jongin’s mind, every time? Staring at Kyungsoo’s side profile, the attractive slope of his nose and long, dark lashes, Jongin almost runs into a light pole. Luckily, Kyungsoo tugs him by the crook of the arm to prevent the collision. The firm grip relaxes a little once they’ve cleared the pole, but Kyungsoo keeps his hand on Jongin’s arm. The warmth of his touch sends butterflies aflutter in Jongin’s chest.

“I suggested he close up the cafe early and relocate the goods in his storage closet to somewhere safer,” Kyungsoo explains. “Better safe than sorry.”

Good point. Even if the gas release is thwarted, police are likely to be crawling the area today as a safety precaution and might go poking around in shops. “Wait. What’s in his storage closet? Do I want to know?”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “It’s truly p