Yongguk breathed deeply the scent of caramel that wafted from the machines to the back of the store where he sat in the gloom of the windowless space. His eyes opened and fell to his hands that encircled the mug on the small table in front of him. They were warmed by the cup and it made him smile. He breathed in again through his nose and the smell stirred in his heart the things he had long since stopped caring for but still the familiarity of the feelings had his heart waltz to a different song.

He took a sip of his coffee, just a small one, and felt that the temperature of it had dropped to a smooth warm that slid down his throat. Yongguk his lips and looked up. The staff of the café were hurrying around with trays of drinks and handing them out to the other customers. He saw how the people clustered at the front of the store, how they brought along their friends, their lovers, their family. They all had someone.

Yongguk didn’t envy them though; he had become accustomed to being alone although he was not lonely. He glanced at the empty chair opposite him. His heart shuddered and he placed his palm over it. He had felt the memories call to him in the back of his mind, like silent whispers tempting him to remember. He would have, but he didn’t want to. Yongguk hadn’t forgotten but he had gotten used to living the way he did. To remember fondly was something he’d achieved but he knew it could all go wrong in a second, if he let the thoughts come.

He took another sip of coffee. It wasn’t his favourite, it was his favourite. Yongguk had always wondered if it was any good and he was pleasantly surprised to find that it was – the caramel undertones and creamy milk just hinted at beneath the deep flavour of the coffee beans. The question came to him before he could stop it. I wonder if he still likes it? He sighed disappointedly. How should he know? He hadn’t spoken to him in a long while, and that was for the better.

Instead he hailed the nearby waitress and ordered a different drink, something sweeter that he preferred. It didn’t take long for the waitress to bring it and by then he had finished his first drink. She took his empty cup with a suggestive smile but only took his new cup with a smile for himself.

“Are you waiting for anything else?” She asked sweetly but Yongguk shook his head. It took a moment of thought for him to admit he was waiting for someone rather than something. He wished he wasn’t but it had become an overwhelming habit.

He remembered then how he had come the day before and she was there, the day before and she was there again. He’d been coming to the café every day for months and she was there most of the time. He realised that she’d been trying her best to be the one to serve him but he had never noticed her nor did he really care to. She wasn’t the one he thought of when he left.

He sipped the drink and the minty liquid was silky on his tongue. It tasted like heaven.  The feeling of sound through his throat was interesting sensation as he began to hum along to a song that echoed its tunes through the café. It was one he listened to often and the tune was catchy, enjoyable, something he liked.

The song ended but he continued to hum as he took a deeper drink of his mint coffee. He suddenly had an image before him, of his ex-lover laughing and chatting as he took gulps from his own mug. He shook away the strands of messy dark hair from in front of his eyes while he spoke about something Yongguk couldn’t remember. His laugh echoed through Yongguk’s ears and his heart jumped. It was a handsome sound, as nice to Yongguk as the song he still sung. It pained him to think of but still he was easily able to put it aside. He had come to the point where whatever he thought was simple that; a thought – not a hope or a desire or a dream for the past, for what he’d lost. He had no expectations for a reality he couldn’t achieve. He was reasonable even when it came to something he knew he desired whole-heartedly.

Yongguk sighed again and pulled his mug up only to be greeted by the bottom, the last of his drink gone in the sips before.

Suddenly, the scent of caramel was stronger before, finally overpowering the harsh coffee that had filled Yongguk’s nose for the long hour he’d been there. He glanced up, expecting to see the barista standing over the machine but it was the door he was drawn to. A tall man with short-cut dark hair and a knee-length black jacket draped over one arm walked through the door. He pulled down his dark sunglasses and glanced around the store. He stopped, just as Yongguk had, when his eyes landed at the opposite end of the shop. Yongguk had waited, but not in vain, not that time.