They met over a cup of coffee.

The younger smelled like strawberries and the Chapstick that lived in his pocket during the winter smelled off it too. His blonde hair was covered in a grey beanie, with red blobs that reminded him of his crush’s favourite scent.

He didn’t know it yet, but the older would smell of sandalwood and minty toothpaste.

The bell over the cafe door twinkled a light sound as he pulled it against a sudden gust of cold winter wind.

Unwrapping his scarf, he couldn’t wait to take refuge in his usual Saturday ritual, the only thing in his busy schedule that he couldn’t bear to change.

The cafe he frequented was generally quiet. Most of the time it was occupied by elderly couples and cramming university students. That was why the young, pre-med student liked coming there on Saturday mornings.

However, after sitting in the same spot, with the same type of people, for more than 35 Saturdays in a row, that day something was different.

He just didn’t notice it right away.

If he had, it would be certain that he would have left the small building in a hurry.

The small room was filled with people quietly chatting away, enjoying the scene of the falling snow from the warmth of a small coffee shop that specialized in exotic drinks and tasty treats.

By chance, or the well positioned dirty dish, his table was open.

Pushing the bowl aside and letting his bag drop heavily to the floor, the young man reached for his favourite, well read book and a package of cigarettes.

As he waited for someone to come take his order, he shrugged off his coat and cracked open the book. He nudged the bowl further away, knowing that, like every Saturday before this, when the waitress arrived she would take it away, apologizing and telling him that the last customer had just left and she hadn’t been able to clear the table yet.

“Hey, I’m sorry to bug you but there are no other tables open.”

Closing his eyes and sighing at the intrusion, he looked up.

The tall, dark haired man standing beside him gave his best, most charming smile.

The younger sighed again.

Smile slipping from his face, the tall man tried another tactic. It wasn’t often that his smile didn’t end with the desired effect. He had been told after-all, that his smile alone was said to have made women fall to their knees. “I’m Minho.”

“Fantastic. I’m reading.” The younger said, now picking at a piece of lint from his fuzzy sweater but still not looking up from his page. If he was to be impressed by the charming man, he didn’t show it. Nothing was going to distract him from his book.

“So does that mean I can sit here?” Minho tilted his head, trying to gain a look at the other man’s face. He looked almost too young, but Minho knew better.

Sighing, the disturbed reader waved his hand in an attempt to quickly end the unwanted conversation. “Just don’t bug me.”

Grinning as the chair he pulled out scrapped the floor tile, he watched the boy across from him before asking, “What are you reading?”

A frosty glare was sent his way as a slim waitress deposited a pot and two cups of tea on the table between them. Wrinkling his nose behind his book, the blonde haired boy remarked “I don’t like tea.”

Minho sighed and signaled the waitress to take the drinks back.

Irritation flashed in her eyes, but with her desire to seduce Minho rampant, and highly evident, she squelched it. “What would you like instead? Coffee, milk, juice, or me?” A wink punctuated the flirtatious statement.

The boy across from Minho snorted in disbelief. He couldn’t believe the audacity of the woman, but he wasn’t really surprised.

“I’ll have coffee. Taemin, strawberry or banana milk?”

Taemin’s head shot up and he stared at Minho. “Banana.” He said, the word barely understandable and coated with confusion. For a moment his walls were breached and Minho was given a look behind the cold, hard exterior.

The waitress nodded, jotting down the orders before sending another flirty smile Minho’s way and crossing her arms to show off the maximum of her not-so ample cleavage. His eyes were drawn to her chest, overflowing the neck line of her shirt. “How about the last choice? Interested?”

A soft huff came from Taemin and was the only sign that he wasn’t amused by the waitress’ actions. He had already returned to his book.

But the words were just blurry, unfocused black print on white.

His quiet morning was ruined, and he didn’t think he’d ever feel the same about his coffee house.

The waitress’s lip curled and she turned her back on the blonde boy. He wasn’t her target. “I get off at 6, and I’d be more than happy to get off with you.”

The double meaning wasn’t missed. “Sorry, you’re not my type.” The answer was simple enough, said as Minho turned away hoping to dismiss any further come-ons. But just as he was looking back at Taemin to examine him further, she spoke again with a whining lilt to her voice.

“What is your type?” She asked, foot tapping, clearly wondering what it would take to interest him. Minho would have to admit she was determined.

There were so many ways he could tell her. Shock value would be most amusing, but he didn’t want to cause a scene and spook Taemin away. Not when he was so close.

In more ways than one.

“Him.”

Taemin felt his head jerk up, beanie shifting on his blonde head, as he stared at Minho to see one long finger pointing directly at him.

The jaw of the waitress dropped and she moved away as fast as she could without running.

Minho shrugged as he guessed that they probably weren’t going to get drinks anymore.

“What are you playing at?” Taemin hissed as he shook his package of cigarettes only to find it empty. He cursed and began digging a second small pack out of his backpack. His cheeks were pink and his hands shook slightly. He was getting angry, and while it felt irrational, the response was uncontrollable.

“Don’t do that.” Minho said, reaching out and snatching the pack. He hated when the younger man smoked. “Its a nasty habit and it makes you stink.”

Offended, Taemin snarled. “What’s it to you? I thought I told you to leave me alone.” He tried to snatch the pack back, knocking his book to the floor making him curse. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you sitting with me.”

Jaw set in determination, Minho’s deep voice growled, “Sorry to annoy you, but if you gave me the time of day once in a while I wouldn’t have to do this!” Minho looked around then tossed the pack to the floor, crushing them with his foot.

Celebrating to himself, Minho was thrilled that he finally did something he had been dying to do for over half a year now. Crushing those cancer sticks was quite probably the best thing he’d done yet that day.

He always had hated it when the other boy was engulfed in the rancid smelling smoke. The nasty fumes covered his naturally delicious scent with the overtones of his body wash.

“!” Taemin cursed standing up with his book in hand, “Do you know how expensive those are?”

Getting to his own feet, Minho shoved Taemin back into his seat, “You’re making a scene.”

“Who cares! You’re the one flirting with the waitress and smashing my smokes!” The strength he felt in those hands had his knees growing weak, so he allowed himself to be manhandled back into his seat. Just the touch alone would have normally rendered him senseless, but his increasing angry helped fight that at least.

Minho ignored the flirting comment. “You’re a dancer right? For the university dance team, trying to get a spot in a soon to debut band right? Smoking wrecks your lungs, you won’t get signed if you can’t breath. Not to mention you’re studying to be a doctor, don’t you know these things will kill you.”

“Why do you know so much about me?” The younger felt he anger leaving and morphing again into confusion. “What do you care?”

“I thought it was obvious.” Minho reached his arm out and gently cupped Taemin’s face.

Taemin pulled away. The abrupt change in tone frightened him, it was in his experience that people don’t change moods that simply.

Unless they were his best friend Kim Kibum, but he was a totally different story.

This was his chance, the entire reason Minho had gotten up at the ridiculous time of anything before noon on a Saturday. “I like you.” Minho said, reaching for him again. “I’ve liked you for a while now.” It was the reason he risked Taemin’s anger and why he had bribed friends and family to help fill the normally empty cafe.

A different waitress arrived with their new drinks as Taemin stood up again and slammed his book on the table. It was becoming a habit that was going to ruin his favourite book. Minho’s coffee sloshed and the book was covered. “Damn!”

As the younger man moved, his chair fell back, hitting the ground and causing the cafe to go quiet and stare in their direction.

“Who told you?” Delicate hands slammed the table as fiery eyes bore into Minho. His face heated as he felt himself start blushing with embarrassment.

Obviously this had to be a prank.

Something construed by the soccer team to embarrass and humiliate the poor pre-med student.

There was no way that Choi Minho, super start soccer captain and aspiring author, was really interested in the nerdy, head always in a book, never going out partying Taemin.  

“Told me what?” Minho was confused, covered in coffee with regret starting to sink in. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. In the far corner he caught sight of his own best friend Jonghyun hitting his head on his own table, while Taemin’s best friend Key, “don’t call me Kibum” sent him deadly looks.

“That I like you!” The scream cracked the words as tears of embarrassment gathered in brown eyes. “That I’ve always liked you! Goddamn it I hate strawberries but ever since I heard you like them I’ve been obsessed!” The scent of strawberries grew as Taemin leaned closer to Minho.

“My bodywash is pink for crying out-loud! My brother thinks I’m nuts because I won’t use anything else.” In the corner Jonghyun was no longer banging his head, his attention was focused on holding back a very red faced, overprotective friend.

Seeing the fight in the corner and the tears in the eyes of the boy he liked but never had the courage to talk too, Minho cracked. He doubled over holding his stomach as laughter exploded from him, shaking the table he leaned against, spilling more coffee on the already ruined book.

Misunderstanding why Minho was losing it, Taemin sniffled and nodded to himself. “Right, I’ll just be going then.”

He took two steps before fingers closed around his wrist.

“I like strawberries because you smell like them. Because you wear that cute beanie with the blobs that look like strawberries.” Minho said moving around the younger and cupping the small face in large hands. His hands were freezing, but the biting pain was worth it to feel his skin upon Taemin’s skin.

Taemin turned his face away, his mouth landing on Minho’s palm, nose inhaling the sandalwood scent that permeated Minho’s clothing.

“I’ve liked you since the day you walked into this place and made this table your own.” Minho’s words became softer, quieter for Taemin’s ears only. “That’s why every Saturday I make sure to come in early and eat breakfast, leaving my dirty bowl on your table so no one else will take it.”

Eyes shooting to Minho’s face, suddenly things became clear.

The reason that the cafe was nearly to capacity when on Saturday mornings it typically wasn’t, and why his table was always empty except for that one dish he really didn’t care about.

 “You like tea. You said you didn’t but I know you do. You always order the same thing, a pot of chai with one tea cup, then you sit and light your cigarettes and let them burn out, never actually inhaling.” Their faces moved closer together as Minho’s voice went softer still. “You’ve read that book 11 times since you started coming here. I think you only read it here, Saturday mornings.”

“12 times.” Taemin said, turning to look at his ruined book. “I just started reading it for the 12th time.” Maybe Minho wasn’t just a part of some elaborate scheme. The only person who seemed to know that much about him was Key and there was no way he’d be in on a plan to hurt him.

Minho laughed and using his words as a sign of encouragement, he pulled Taemin in close and hugged him.

It felt wonderful to finally hold him in his arms. To breath in the scent of strawberries that surrounded the younger man.

Through the din of the coffee shop, a sob broke out.

Back in the corner, Jonghyun sobbed on Key’s shoulder. The real mastermind smiled, because who else would have told the youngest boy that Minho’s favourite scent was strawberries? And who was the one that mentioned to the tall boy that Taemin preferred that table out of all the others and would sit there as long as no one else was already in place.

Of course, he knew that when both men found out they’d been played there would be trouble. But he was the Almighty Key, “Don’t call me Kibum.” And anyways, he thought to himself before shoving Jonghyun off him and berating him for crying all over his new shirt, in the end they would have to thank him.

For who else would have known that a coffee shop and strawberries would have brought true love together.







One Year Later


The door to the cafe was tugged open and two people ran out holding their coats over their heads to keep the rain off.

Winter had given way to spring and cold flurries had melted turning into chilly rain drops.

While he still went to the cafe every Saturday, Taemin’s ritual had been changed forever.

The beanie had been exchanged for a baseball cap, some American team that his boyfriend cheered on.

Now, every Saturday he would walk to the coffee shop and sit down in his usual spot, but now, instead of it being saved by a dirty bowl, he was met by the smiling face of his boyfriend and a hot pot of chai tea.

With two cups.

Then Minho would eat his breakfast while Taemin read one chapter. Just one. Then one of Minho’s hands would stretch across the small table and hold a smaller one, his fingers held tight between Taemin’s instead of a cigarette.

They would talk about Taemin’s internship and how Minho’s book had just become a best seller.

A story of ritual, coffee and love. Based off a true story the dust-cover told, complete with a picture of a smiling dark haired man with his arms around a blonde boy in scrubs.

“Happy 6 month anniversary.” Minho whispered, leaning forward, lips meeting for a gentle kiss. “Present.” A small, object wrapped in strawberry printed paper was passed across the table.

Rolling his eyes at the fruit he had gone back to disliking, Taemin picked up the package.

“Look inside.” Minho said, looking at the confused look on his lover’s face.

Giving Minho a strange look, Taemin did as he requested, opening the cover of his favourite book. The one that had been ruined by Minho’s coffee all those days ago.

Of course the older man had replaced the book the day after their meeting, which was what made Taemin so confused about receiving a second copy. Until he saw the messy scrawl of his favourite author’s handwriting.

“Its signed?” He asked in amazement.

“Yep, took all the favors I had to get that.” The charming grin, that never failed to make Taemin’s knees go weak, was shot his way. “I thought since this was kind of the book that brought us together it would be a good symbol of our time together this year.”

Taemin grinned as Minho’s breakfast arrived and they both turned their separate ways.

One chapter in, breakfast ate and tea pot empty, the two lovers made their way out of the little cafe.

“So, admit it. I was more interesting than your book.” Minho teased his lover as he held the door open.

Giggling, Taemin grinned “Well, it is a very interesting book.”

The look in Minho’s eyes made him shriek and take off running in a zig zag formation, splashing through the puddles as he went. “Can’t catch me!”

Minho’s jaw dropped and he stood shocked for a moment before setting his jaw and bolting after the younger.

As they ran through the storm and the rain soaked them to the core, both men thought back to their very first meeting, with the taste of strawberry and mint in their mouths and the scents of coffee and love in the air.