“Hello Sungjong.” Sungjong did not look at him. “Sungjong,” Sungjong picked up the pen from the counter, and continued writing as if Myungsoo was any other customer.

Sungjong put the cup to the side as he called out, “Next customer in line,” Sungjong greeted a middle-aged woman who pushed past Myungsoo. Myungsoo stumbled, and turned his back to the register as he waited for his order. He felt a tap on his shoulder a few minutes later.

“Your drink.” Sungjong nudged him, avoiding his gaze when Myungsoo faced him.

Myungsoo blinked before lifting the drink from Sungjong’s hand. Sungjong moved to leave, but the elder grabbed his arm, “Talk to me.” Myungsoo said. Sungjong laughed.

“You want to talk? You had that chance.”

Myungsoo frowned. “You’re being unfair.” Sungjong couldn’t believe what he had heard.

“Me? Being unfair? You were ing unfair, Myungsoo. You liked me, and I-” Sungjong ran his fingers through his hair. “You left without giving me a ing chance. Don’t talk about me being unfair.”

Myungsoo released the younger’s arm. “Sungjong,” He faded.

“I have work to do. Go home.” Sungjong hissed, but Myungsoo had waited four years, and he wasn’t about to let him off easily, even if it meant dealing with an angry Sungjong.

∞

“Sungjong,” Sungjong jumped at the sound of his name. Sungjong turned to meet Myungsoo’s eyes awaiting him as he pulled the key out of the front door of the café. Sungjong groaned as he lifted the mat under the entrance, and hid the key for Woohyun the next morning.

Sungjong didn’t bother greeting the elder, and brushed past him, beginning to walk down the block to his home. He’s not worth greeting, Sungjong thought.

“You liked me?” Myungsoo asked, and when he received no answer, the elder repeated it for a second time. “You liked me?”

Sungjong swallowed. “I did, okay? I did. Go home, Myungsoo. It’s cold.” Sungjong shoved his hands into his pockets. Myungsoo refused to hide the smile on his face as he watched the younger disappear around the corner in light provided by the street lamp.

“Goodnight, Sungjong,” Myungsoo whispered before heading in the opposite direction to retire to his own abode.

∞

“You can’t avoid me.” Myungsoo watched Sungjong who unfortunately had been tasked with cleaning the windows which Myungsoo happened to be sitting nearby by Woohyun.

“I can ignore.” Sungjong scrubbed at the glass furiously making Myungsoo chuckle.

“Lee Sungjong,” Sungjong heard Woohyun call. My Savior, Sungjong grinned, prepared to do anything Woohyun desired. “Quit flirting, and come here.” Woohyun commanded.

Sungjong’s hand curled into a fist. ‘Go yourself, Woohyun,’ was what Sungjong wanted to say, but Sungjong restrained himself knowing he’d be fired regardless of his friendship almost as long as his college life with him.

Instead, Sungjong huffed, and returned, “Going on break,” He saluted. “Tell Dongwoo to do it!” He slipped out the door, Myungsoo trailing behind, coffee cup in hand.

“Yah, Lee Sungjong,” Woohyun scolded. “Yah, Lee Sungjong!” Woohyun sighed as Dongwoo came back from the restroom, clueless of the earlier interaction.

“Can I talk?” Myungsoo began as Sungjong sat down on an empty bus bench near the café.

“No.” He replied.

“You told me to come back when I wanted to talk, and here I am, wanting to talk. Sungjong, give me a chance.” Myungsoo pleaded.

“No.” Sungjong repeated.

“No?” Myungsoo observed Sungjong rise from the bench.

“No.” Sungjong paused. “You coming?” He asked.

“Huh?” Myungsoo said.

“I have to go back.” Sungjong cocked his head at the café. “You coming, or not?”

“You’re inviting me?” Myungsoo followed Sungjong like he was hypnotized.

Sungjong opened the door, a chime going off as he entered. The elder followed, and noticed Sungjong earning a glare from Woohyun, and a compassionate look from Dongwoo tucking in a chair into a booth. Sungjong walked behind the counter where he met Woohyun. Sungjong prepared for everything except what Woohyun said.

“Sungjong,” He paused. “Go home.” He instructed. “I think it’d be better.” He patted him on the back before greeting a man investigating a gift card for his daughter.

“Oh,” Sungjong remarked when he was alone. “I understand.” He muttered, pulling the apron over his head, and disappearing into the back to change.

Sungjong came out with a backpack slung over his shoulder, earbuds in his ears, and an MP3 player in his hand. Myungsoo stood up.

“Sungjong,” He reached out to him, but Sungjong ignored, and exited out into Seoul glowing orange from the sun dipping into the horizon.

Myungsoo approached Woohyun who was flying solo at the front.

Woohyun smiled. “Hello, how can I-”

“Did he get fired?” Myungsoo asked quickly.

Woohyun was taken back by the question. “Sungjong? No, I told him to go home. I didn’t fire him. Sungjong’s wonderful.”

Myungsoo bowed in gratitude, leaving Woohyun speechless, before sprinting out the door to catch Sungjong's wrist. “Sungjong,” Myungsoo panted.

Sungjong felt a tightening in his chest. He wouldn't admit it, but he knew it wasn't the weather. He knew it was Myungsoo. It had always been Myungsoo.

“Leave me alone.” He muttered.

“I will, but-”

“But?”

“Five minutes,” Myungsoo begged. “Give me five minutes, Sungjong.”

“No.” Sungjong glanced down to his wrist, trying to pry off Myungsoo’s fingers.

“No?” Myungsoo tightened his grasp.

Sungjong met eyes with Myungsoo. “No, Myungsoo, I don't want to hear it.” He stated.

“Sungjong,”

“HAVEN’T YOU HURT ME ENOUGH, MYUNGSOO? HAVEN'T YOU?”

“Sungjong,”

“Leave me alone.” Sungjong broke free from his grasp. “I don't want to talk.”

“WILL YOU ING LISTEN TO ME?” Myungsoo yelled. “I LOVE YOU, LEE SUNGJONG. I LOVE YOU.” Sungjong froze. “I ed up,” Myungsoo paused. “but I came back.” Myungsoo said, voice quivering. “I came back.” He repeated. Myungsoo took a moment to collect himself. “I see I shouldn’t have.” He muttered as a tear rolled down Sungjong’s cheek. “Take care.”

∞

Sungjong came in to work the next afternoon expecting to be greeted with anger because he was late (and he was never late, at least, not to the café), but instead found Dongwoo with a grin plastered on his face as he delivered a cup of what Sungjong knew to be black coffee from the whiff of it to a female customer that Sungjong recognized from one of his classes. (He wasn’t sure which. He had never been a faces person.) Sungjong felt sick.

“Oh, hi Jongie~” Dongwoo laughed.

“Hi,” Sungjong replied. “I’ll... be out in a minute or two...” He scurried off to get changed.

Dongwoo gave him a nod as a jingle went off, and a man in purple walked in, making the elder shine brighter than the sun.

∞

“You haven’t noticed?” Sungjong heard Dongwoo’s voice perk up from behind the counter. It was half past four. Business had slowed down, leaving the café in a lull. Sungjong was at a table, flipping through his textbook and stopping to scribble words in his notebook.

“Noticed what?” Sungjong inquired.

“Your admirer?” Dongwoo explained.

“Oh,” Sungjong acknowledged, pen coming to a halt. “No.” Sungjong answered, struggling to regain focus after his co-worker’s question.

“You don’t like him?” Dongwoo asked.

Sungjong clenched his pen. “Dongwoo,” He warned.

Silence ensued between the two before Dongwoo broke it. “He’s leaving.” He said, grabbing Sungjong’s attention. “He’s going to Paris.” He finished.

Sungjong blinked. Paris? He thought; “I don’t care” is what came out.

Dongwoo sighed as he tuned into Ra.D’s “Something Flutters” on the speakers.

Damn, Sungjong slumped back into his chair, letting out a breath of frustration (which he refused to blame on Dongwoo and “leaving” and “Paris” opting instead for college).

Dongwoo didn’t talk to him until the new worker, Jung Wook, arrived around 6 PM to bid him good night. Sungjong thought it was fitting he burned himself with Dongwoo’s favorite pastries. He deserved it.

∞

“Sungjong, don’t get me wrong, but,” a man in purple glasses struggled with a response. Sungjong groaned. “Look, Sungjong,”

“You’re taken.” Sungjong paused. “Right?” Sungjong wanted to die when the man, name being Howon, Lee Howon, an attractive, elder regular of the café, nodded.

“You lacked confidence.” Howon picked up the mug Sungjong had delivered. It had been Sungjong’s excuse to talk (or in his case, confess) to him. He blowed on it.

“Huh?”

“You don’t like me.” Howon took a sip of his coffee as Sungjong sat, mouth agape.

“No, what? Howon, I... I do, well, I did...” Sungjong trailed off, cheeks tinted pink.

“Go talk to him.”

Sungjong didn’t understand. “Huh?”

“Dongwoo told me.” Howon smiled.

“You know Dongwoo?” Lightbulb. “You’re dating Dongwoo?”

Howon laughed. “Did he not mention it?”

“No,” Sungjong replied, making a mental note to visit an optometrist within the next month. “, Howon,” Sungjong slammed his head on the table, making the two girls seated in the booth near them jump. Howon apologized for Sungjong who looked 100% fed up with the world. “Does God hate me?” He whined.

“Talk to him.” Howon repeated, and ruffled Sungjong’s hair.

Sungjong sighed.

∞

“You bastard. You ing bastard.” Sungjong sobbed into Myungsoo’s chest as they stood halfway inside Myungsoo’s apartment and halfway outside in the hallway.

Myungsoo wanted to ask ‘why,’ but all that came out was ‘Sungjong’.

“I ing hate-” Sungjong began before he was interrupted by Myungsoo.

“Me. You hate me.” Myungsoo said matter-of-factly.

“No,” Sungjong backed out of the embrace. “I hate me.” He corrected.

“You? For what?”

“For falling in love again,” Sungjong paused. “Or rather, for never leaving,”

“Sungjong,” Myungsoo was speechless. Sungjong admitted he loves him. Myungsoo wanted to cry. “You wanna come in?”

Sungjong huffed. “No, I don’t wanna come in; I’ll wait out in the freezing hall, and die."

Myungsoo laughed, and pulled Sungjong in for a hug. Sungjong tensed, but relaxed as soon as the elder started his hair.

It was silent between the two until Sungjong whispered, “You’re going to Paris?”

“How…?” Myungsoo began, hand hovering over the back of Sungjong’s head. Dongwoo, he realized. “No,” Myungsoo answered.

“No?”

Myungsoo cupped Sungjong’s cheeks. “I decided Paris can wait.”

Before Sungjong could retort, the elder had connected the gap between them, and Sungjong wondered whether he hated or loved the fact that he melted into the kiss that should have happened back in high school.

He loved it.