The morning Minseok woke up to an empty fridge and a depressingly deserted pantry, he sighed heavily, got dressed, and headed out. 

He really didn’t want to go to town.

The market was as busy as ever when Minseok got there. Considering it was a Sunday morning, he guessed that made sense. People liked to stop by for groceries and whatnot after church or during their day off. The street was somewhat devoid of the stalls that usually sat along it, but there were still a few here and there. One, in particular, caught Minseok’s eye.

All it was selling was strawberries.

But what got Minseok most was the man standing behind the stall, smiling widely. He had a sort of spaced-out look on his face, as if he wasn’t actually in the moment and instead had flown off inside his mind. Minseok found himself strangely intrigued. This guy didn’t look in the least bit familiar. Also, he was kind of cute.

Feeling a little unsure, Minseok approached the strawberry stall and smiled politely. “Hello.”

The man running the stand jolted a little, blinking at Minseok in surprise. “Oh, hi! Sorry, I didn’t see you there. May I help you?”

“Um, yes. I’d … I’d like to buy some strawberries.”

“Wonderful! How many?”

“… Um, half a pound.”

“Alright. Let me just get that weighed for you.” The man grabbed one of the boxes full of strawberries and placed it on the scale. It weighed a little over half a pound, so he took out a few of the fruits and put them in a different box. Now it was the perfect weight. Minseok found himself strangely impressed.

“Do you only sell strawberries?” he wondered, watching as the stall owner boxed the fruit up for him.

“Yes and no.” The man grinned. “I had these strawberries before I came to live here. I transported them in pots, so most of them were already almost finished growing when I re-planted them in my new garden, but my other fruits and vegetables have only just started to sprout. So, strawberries are all I’ll be selling for a while.”

“Ah. That makes sense.”

The man’s smile widened and he handed Minseok the box of strawberries. “Tell me if they’re good, yeah? I’d love some feedback.”

“I will. Thank you.”

He quickly paid and left, a bit confused by his own actions. He’d told himself that he would avoid social contact when he could; the plan was to leave as soon as possible, and he wouldn’t accomplish that by hanging around town and making friends.

Frustrated, Minseok got the rest of his shopping done in a sulky silence that turned away anyone who tried to speak to him. Even the cashier at the supermarket who rang up his groceries was quiet, but Minseok could tell she really, really wanted to say something. In the end, she caved and told him to have a nice day. Minseok responded with a quick thank you and left.

As he walked back to his house, he kind of regretted not taking his car. The walk to the market wasn’t far by any means, but if he’d used a car, he could’ve avoided people easier. He ended up seeing a few familiar faces on the way back, but none of them called out or even gave any indication of recognizing him.

None, that is, until he turned down the street to his house and nearly ran right into Kim Jongdae.

Minseok’s mouth went dry.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Jongdae gasped, stumbling back. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and I— wait … Minseok? Is that you?”

Minseok shrank away, guilt rising up in him like a tidal wave. “Hey, Jongdae.”

“… Hi. Hi, wow. How’re you? I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Minseok shrugged. “I’m only back in town for a few weeks.”

“Oh, well, it’s nice to see you anyway.” Jongdae frowned, his eyebrows drawing together. “I, uh … I heard about your parents, by the way. I’m really sorry. That must’ve been a shock. How’re you holding up?”

Minseok tightened his grip on the grocery bags. “I’m okay.”

“That’s good.” Jongdae managed a bit of a smile. “Hey, a few of us are heading down to the old basketball court to hang out and mess around. We’ll be there until later in the afternoon. You want to join us?”

“No thanks. I have business to take care of.”

“Oh … okay.”

“Bye, Jongdae.”

Minseok walked away before the younger man could reply, tears burning behind his eyes.

Of all people, it had to be Kim Jongdae.

Yixing’s day had been very uneventful. 

He’d had a few customers here and there—some familiar faces, some not—but overall, the day had been very slow. A few months ago, Yixing might have equated slow days to boredom, but now it just felt relaxing; the ability to sit back and just enjoy the little moments was a delicacy to him. When he’d still been living and working in the city, he’d always been far too busy to do such a thing.

I made a good decision, he thought.

As the day continued on, Yixing busied himself with organizing his stall and people-watching during the slow periods. He’d always loved to watch people, to notice the way they interacted with others and deduce meaning from the little actions. Something about it was just extremely gratifying.

Yixing saw the three young boys he’d met a few days before at one point—Kyungsoo, Jongin, and Sehun. Kyungsoo and Jongin seemed attached at the hip in a way that left Sehun out of the loop, but the ease with which Sehun joined in on their conversation suggested he was used to being a third wheel. 

Yixing wondered if Kyungsoo and Jongin were together or just really good friends. Sometimes it was hard to tell.

A little while later, he saw Wufan and that redheaded mailman, Chanyeol. The two were walking down the street together; Chanyeol was talking excitedly about something, waving his hands around as he did, and Wufan was just listening, a small smile on his lips.

He looked happy.

Yixing watched them until they were out of sight and smiled to himself. He was glad Wufan had made some friends; the Chinese-Canadian man had seemed so down before, so lonely and upset, but now that sadness Yixing had noticed in him when they’d first met was almost completely gone.

Good for him.

A few more hours passed.

Yixing continued to people-watch, his gaze picking up nuances and habits that made him smile. He got so into his obersvation that he didn’t notice how dark it was getting. It wasn’t until the sun had almost set entirely that he came back to reality, surprised at how much time had passed.

Yixing quickly gathered up his things and closed his shop for the day. Even though he hadn’t attracted many customers, he felt satisfied that he’d done his job well and that this was exactly what he’d wanted.

He thought back to the stuffy cubicle job he’d had in Changsha. It had been a good enough job with nice coworkers and a considerate boss—which was more than a lot of people could ask for. But the monotonous drone of the everyday workload and the nine-to-five hours a day had started to take a toll on Yixing.

Sometimes, Yixing missed the noise and bustle of the city. Sometimes he missed his coworker friends and the little coffee shop right down the street he’d always used to frequent.

But he’d needed a break like this, and he knew it.

Yixing’s house was dark when he got back, as expected. He’d remembered to lock the front door this time, so he had to pull his keys out of his pocket in order to unlock it, which was kind of hard considering his arms were full of baskets of strawberries.

“Need some help?”

Yixing jumped and nearly dropped everything he was holding. There was someone standing on the sidewalk outside his fence, someone vaguely familiar. Yixing frowned at them as he tried to remember.

“Oh!” he gasped, recognition lighting up his face, “You bought my strawberries earlier today!”

“Yes, I did.” The man moved closer and offered Yixing a strained smile. “Sorry if I startled you, but you kind of seem like you could use a hand.”

Yixing glanced down at the multitude of strawberries in his arms and nodded. “Yes, please.”

The man smiled and ascended the steps of Yixing’s front porch, taking a few of the strawberry baskets and waiting patiently as Yixing unlocked the door.

“Thank you so much,” Yixing said, gratefully taking the baskets back and setting them in his kitchen. “Oh, um, I’m Zhang Yixing, by the way. Sorry. I forgot to introduce myself earlier.”

“It’s alright, I forgot too. I’m Kim Minseok.”

Yixing smiled. “Well, Kim Minseok, would you like to come in? I’d like to make you some tea as thanks for helping me out.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. But I could also make you coffee if you don’t like tea.”

Minseok frowned. “I, uh ... I probably shouldn’t.”

Yixing resisted the urge to pout. He hadn’t had any company over yet since he’d moved in, and he’d since realized that the house felt exceedingly empty as a result. “I also have lemon pound cake, if that helps.”

Minseok blinked at him. He still seemed to be considering his choices. Then he sighed as if giving in, offering Yixing a small smile and a shake of his head. “Well, if you have pound cake, that’s a whole different matter entirely.”

Yixing grinned. “Come on in.”

He gestured Minseok through the door, closing it behind him and chattering happily as he headed into the kitchen. It didn’t take long for him to boil the water—Minseok said he was just fine with tea, which was good since Yixing didn’t actually drink coffee and thus didn’t have any in his house. Soon enough, he and Minseok were sitting out on his front porch, balancing cups of steaming hot vanilla chai and plates of lemon pound cake.

Neither spoke for a while, but it felt less like awkward acquaintances hanging out for the first time and more like camaraderie. Besides, Yixing liked the silence; it gave him a chance to look at Minseok.

The shorter man seemed older than him; not by much, but still older. He had short, dark hair and wide eyes that were extremely cute. Also, the shape of his face was kind of perfect; Yixing traced the lines of it with his gaze and realized that he was enjoying himself.

What Yixing really took pleasure in however, was the look that passed over Minseok’s face every time he took a bite of his cake. The shorter male would let his eyes flutter shut and tilt his head back a little, smiling as he savored the taste, and sigh a little whenever he swallowed. It was such a deliberate act for such a simple thing.

“So,” Yixing said then, finally breaking the silence. He was done staring at Minseok; now he wanted to talk to him, to listen to the rise and fall of his voice and watch the way his expression changed as he spoke. He wanted to learn more about this person he already considered a friend. “Tell me about yourself, Minseok.”

But to Yixing’s surprise, Minseok’s expression faltered and went stony. “There’s not really anything to tell.”

“... Everyone has a story.”

“Yes, but you don’t want to hear mine.” Minseok stood abruptly, setting down his clean plate and empty mug. “Sorry, I should get home. Thanks for the tea and cake; it was really good.”

He was gone before Yixing could say anything more.

What ... what just happened?

Yixing glanced at the empty chair Minseok had just occupied moments before and frowned, thinking back on the tense set of the smaller male’s shoulders as he’d left, the determined stride of his step.

Did I say something wrong?

Sighing, Yixing gathered up the plates and headed inside.

He’d been hoping to make a new friend, but now it just felt like he’d lost one.