Winter’s depths cloak the city in dark mornings and even darker evenings, tendrils of frost clawing at window frames. Frozen drops of dew cling to the morning grass, in spaces devoid of any visible wildlife, all hiding from the cold. Just like Kyungsoo.

Weeks have passed, just over a month, and he has developed something of a routine. Early to rise, late to bed, spending the day lolling around in his house and occasionally forcing himself to get up. Ideas for novels have run dry, like a once wonderful river seeping into the dirt, shrivelling into the ground. Like the collapse of the Eiffel tower. But then, Kyungsoo’s writing was never spectacularly perfect, so maybe it’s more comparable to the destruction of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Sometimes, he sits down with his laptop and attempts to write something. Sometimes, he manages to spit out some ideas for potential plot lines, but the actual story never comes to his mind. Sometimes, he has just enough energy to carry himself out of his house. Post-it note number four is still on the wall in his study – which is gathering the dust of neglect – waiting for him to complete the task of finding a new place to write. He hopes that finding somewhere serene and tranquil will allow his creative energy to flow. So far he is drawing blanks. Sometimes, Baekhyun and Minseok come over and they indulge in bowls of ramen and complain about their lives. He enjoys the company.

Today, the weather outside is cold as always and Baekhyun has his hands clamped over Kyungsoo’s eyes. He can see nothing; the world is black behind Baekhyun’s palms. The last thing Kyungsoo saw was when he got out of Baekhyun’s car, and immediately he was blinded. Despite his inelegant stumbling in whatever direction Baek leads him, a smile is painted on his face, lifting the top of his heart-shaped lips and just showing his white teeth. ‘Where are we going?’ He says through a laugh, happiness swelling inside him.

‘You’ll see!’ Baekhyun crows excitedly into his ear, ‘We’re nearly there. A few more steps.’

And in three more steps, they stop. Kyungsoo is aware of a door being opened, and then suddenly he can see again. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but this was not it. The smile remains pinned to his face, delight in his eyes, as Minseok greets him with wide arms and an ear-to-ear grin, ‘Welcome to our new home!’

Baekhyun shoves him through the glass entrance and further into the coffee shops. Wooden planks slot neatly together to form the floor, with seemingly authentic wooden chairs to match. The tables are arranged randomly, circular in shape but with different patterns on each surface. Kyungsoo debates silently whether this is due to a lack of funding, but then again he didn’t think the two of them even had enough money to buy the space. Either way, he likes the haphazard arrangements and chairs of different styles yet with the same wood. At the back is a wooden bar, only small but adequate enough. Blenders and various machines that Kyungsoo can’t name are behind that, lining the back wall. A small door is also there, which presumably leads to a kitchen area.

‘It’s all thanks to the money you loaned us.’ Baekhyun says, and though he is being Kyungsoo, he can hear the smile in his voice.

‘But… I thought you still didn’t have enough.’

‘That’s because this was a surprise.’ Minseok explains. ‘We open on Monday. But we’d be happy to have you as our first customer.’

Kyungsoo beams, paying a detailed glance to the chalk menu board before placing his order. ‘It’s perfect, Kyungsoo.’ Baekhyun is happy, that much is obvious. ‘It’s near the middle of town, so we’ll attract enough customers but it’s still out of the way. And it’s just big enough. It’s near our apartment, too. I love it.’

‘I love it, too.’ Kyungsoo agrees quietly, eyes glimmering with a sort of pride for his friends. Pride that he contributed to this. A happiness swelling because things were getting better.

Baekhyun and Minseok share a glance, smiles mirrored on one another’s faces. ‘Hey,’ Baekhyun says, almost a whisper as it cuts through the air. Kyungsoo peers at him expectantly. ‘See that little booth over there? It literally has your name on it.’

Lips lifting into delight, Kyungsoo steps lightly toward the booth, running his hand over the auburn-stained leather. The initials D.K.S were pressed into the material in a fancy scrawl. His owl eyes turn back to the others. Minseok is watching with dazed happiness, leant on one elbow on the bar. Baekhyun is just standing behind Kyungsoo, grinning still. ‘You like it?’ He inquires, ‘You can write here whenever you want. Free of charge. And if any customers come in and are like “hey, who’s D.K.S,” it might just get you some publicity around here.’

‘I – I can’t – thank you…’ Kyungsoo trails off. No amount of words can explain anything rushing through his head. He wants to cry. Things are getting better.

Baekhyun just hugs him. ‘I know you’re not good at talking. So don’t. You don’t need to thank me – I mean us.’

Something happens then. Sparks jolt up his spine and Kyungsoo feels the most amazing electrocution ever seen. An electrocution of chemical sorts, firing up his nerve endings and spreading a searing warmth right down to the tips of his fingers and toes. Warm, not cold. His eyes close in content as he embraces the hug – close physical contact with another a human being. With another human being whom Kyungsoo cares about.

As Minseok watches, he begins to smirk. He considers interrupting them, but decides against it. This is the first time he has seen Baekhyun so happy in a long time. Perhaps things are falling into place, he thinks.

And so does Baekhyun. His arms fit snugly around Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo’s fit him right back. He sighs into the embrace, tempted to leave a kiss as his final mark. But as they pull away in a mutual decision, Baekhyun never does kiss Kyungsoo.

Minseok slides a steaming ceramic mug onto the counter, and Kyungsoo takes that as a distraction from whatever it was that he just felt. He sips the coffee tentatively, aware that it could burn his tongue, the same way memories of Jongin burn his mind. It tastes warm and comfortable, dancing across his taste buds  in a way he imagines to be elegant, perhaps with lazy movements that somehow seem fluid. As he swallows, a hum of satisfaction passes closed lips as he nods at Minseok in confirmation.

‘Good?’ The latter asks, both palms pressed to the counter with elbows straightened. Like a true barista.

‘Definitely. Better than the first.’ Kyungsoo replies.

His voice is always timid, Baekhyun thinks. Perhaps it is a side effect of losing everything you have ever known. Perhaps Kyungsoo has always been a little broken. But with his round eyes that peer at everything with a silent curiosity, and his lips that only form full smiles at the rarest of moments, Baekhyun figures that maybe Kyungsoo is just shy. He has never known quite how to handle people or social environments, and prefers to observe and write about it later. He wonders whether his knew author friend feels trapped within his own thoughts, what it feels like to have words whizzing around the brain at a hundred miles per hour, how it is possible to cope with an overload of emotion that belongs to the characters you have created, and not yourself. He wonders if now, after everything that has happened, Kyungsoo feels claustrophobic, like he can’t breathe. Suffocating and clutching at the fraying ends of ropes to cling him to reality, to living. He wonders if Kyungsoo needs to be freed.

With barely a thought, Baekhyun withdraws his Smartphone from his pocket and snaps a picture of Kyungsoo, laughing at whatever joke Minseok just made. Most likely a pun. He does this because he wants to freeze the smile on Kyungsoo’s face, to see it all the time. He likes that Kyungsoo, the first customer in the café, is happy. He likes that his brown eyes almost blur into the wooden backdrop, that his glossy hair fits the décor, and that his milky complexion seems like it could melt into the coffee at his hands. It all becomes picturesque, and Baekhyun can’t resist.

Unfortunately for him, Minseok notices. The kink in his eyebrows attracts Kyungsoo’s attention, and the writer turns to see Baekhyun posing with the camera. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbles, fumbling for words. Any words at all. ‘I like to take pictures. Photography is one of my hobbies.’ Not a lie.

Even Minseok nods in agreement, ‘That’s true. But Baek, you should still ask before you take pictures of someone.’

Kyungsoo waves his hand in the air, ‘Oh, it’s okay. I just don’t see why I’m worth the picture.’

Because you look incredible. Because I think I like you. Because you are worth everything. ‘Because you’re the first customer.’ Accompanied by a shrug. To end the conversation before it goes any further, Baekhyun takes a position behind the bar, beside Minseok, ‘What are your plans for the rest of the day?’

Post coffee sip, Kyungsoo inclines his head. ‘I’m going to say that my plans involve writing. But… Honestly…’ He scoffs a little, a slight choke on the letters lodged in his throat. He wants to tell the two people standing before him that he is quite pathetic, that all he has been capable of producing for this past month is letters to a person who will never read them. Baekhyun has no idea what it is that Kyungsoo wants to say, but he wants to hold him in his arms nonetheless, kissing the crown of his head and nuzzling his nose into the soft wave of hair, whispering encouragements and sweet nothings until Kyungsoo smiles again. As the silence drags out into a minute, Baekhyun studies Kyungsoo’s sad features intently. When he is about to cry, his eyes get even wider, the whites shining like full moons. And speaking of moons, the bags under his eyes hang in heavy purple-grey crescents.

‘Here’s an idea.’ Minseok suddenly interrupts. Baekhyun jumps at the intrusion of his thoughts. ‘Go home and sleep.’ He says.

Kyungsoo seems surprised. ‘Hmph. Maybe. If I can sleep.’

‘Light some scented candles, drink some tea, and then lay down and clear your mind.’

‘Does that really work?’

‘Maybe not after the coffee,’ Minseok laughs slightly, ‘But trust me, the best thing you can do is get some well-deserved rest. It will help your imagination and your creativity – and your mood. Come back here on Monday, and start writing then.’

Kyungsoo nods in understanding, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips as he begins to stand up. ‘You’re right. Thank you for the coffee guys, and the chair, and everything.’ He chuckles shyly, grating sweaty palms against his jeans. Why do I feel nervous? His eyes first travel over Minseok’s face, and then the entirety of Baekhyun, body and face and everything in between, and he mutters a hushed, ‘Goodbye.’ Before heading out of the door.

Baekhyun’s mouth is hanging slightly ajar. ‘Why did you tell him to leave?’ He asks after a few moments.

‘Why do you have a problem with it?’ Minseok challenges.

‘Well… Because…’ He stutters, and he chokes, and even he doesn’t know why it pains him to watch Kyungsoo leave.

‘Because?’ A smirk, the telltale signs of clear mischief evident in Minseok’s cat-like eyes as he presses his lips together in an attempt to dull the obvious grin that is about to break through. He quirks a single eyebrow, staring relentlessly at Baekhyun. Squirming, a red flush arises in his cheeks, and Baekhyun simply turns to walk away.

‘Come on Minseok. We’ve got to do.’

*

The sun is setting when Kyungsoo finally wakes up. Colour blushes into the sky with night’s approach, and Kyungsoo groans in annoyance. ‘My sleeping schedule is screwed,’ he murmurs as he crawls out of the safety of his covers, clad in boxer shorts and nothing else.

“Step four: find a new place to write.” The crumpled square of paper had already been torn off the wall, as soon as Kyungsoo stepped through the door of his house. Blown off by the wind from the open window, and perhaps it is fate. With a smile and an odd, unfamiliar light-heartedness, he glides to the kitchen with all the grace of Fred Astaire and all the energy of a baby deer. A whistled tune rings out around his kitchen as he brews tea that he knows will never compare to Minseok’s coffee. And suddenly, it occurs to him that Baekhyun had never made him a cup.

A message flashes out from the screen when he plucks his phone from the charger on the counter.

From: Baekhyun

Call me, I need to ask you something

Although it still seems that minutes pass in time that isn’t real, the entire concept of time seems for a second. Maybe two. Three. He hesitates, index finger levitating over Baekhyun’s name, waiting patiently for his heart to stop hammering, for the throbbing in his head to stop, for his brain to focus and for the words to slot into coherent sentences in his brain.

‘Hello?’ Baekhyun’s voice ricochets down the line, all hopefulness and delight and sunshine. As per usual.

‘You wanted to ask me something?’ Kyungsoo forgets the word “hello”, because the smile in Baekhyun’s voice was distracting him and maybe the greeting isn’t necessary anyway.

‘Umm yeah…’ And a slight punch of laughter breaks his sentence, ‘What’s your favourite cereal?’

Kyungsoo is genuinely dumbfounded, because time is still standing in ice and Baekhyun just asked the dumbest question of the century. ‘I–’

Baekhyun detects confusion and perhaps underlying disappointment, and he quickly butts in to clarify, ‘See, the thing is, we hang out at least three days a week. And I barely know you. I mean, I know a lot of deep things about you. I know your soul, but I don’t know you.’

‘You should be a writer,’ Kyungsoo ventures shyly, attempting a stab at humour that would never compare to Baekhyun’s.

But Baekhyun laughs, and it might just be the best thing Kyungsoo has heard in a long time, ‘I need to know the real Kyungsoo. And that means knowing what your favourite cereal is.’

‘Coco pops.’ He replies, smiling down at the kitchen counter while he traces circles on the marble.

‘Really?’ There is a strain to his voice. ‘I had you down as more of a Special K kind of guy.’

‘Chocolate is my weakness.’ Kyungsoo admits. ‘What about you?’

A contemplative hum down the wires, followed by, ‘Fruit loops.’

‘Ah yes, the colourful rings of unhealthy-ness.’

‘You have no idea what you’re talking about!’ Baek argues, ‘Fruit loops make me happy, and happiness makes you live longer. So technically, they are healthy. And besides, coco pops are just as bad.’

Laughter ensues, more like giggling, to punctuate the background silence. A minute passes, then two, and before they know it, it has already been ten minutes of almost needless conversation. What’s your favourite cereal? followed by which is better, hoodies or vest tops? Of course, Kyungsoo chooses hoodies, but apparently it depends on Baekhyun’s mood. And then, do you prefer summer or winter? Pursued by other questions that make everything better. With every answer, with every shriek of laughter from Baekhyun’s end, Kyungsoo feels like his wounds are healing. It stings a little, as though applying salt water to fresh cuts, but he likes the way it hurts.

‘Actually, I have something to ask you.’ Kyungsoo finally says, as he feels their conversation drawing to an unfortunate close.

‘Go on.’

‘Why haven’t you ever made me a coffee?’

‘Oh, I’m more of the businessman.’ Baekhyun says. ‘I’m just there to serve the customers and make sure Minseok doesn’t get too high on caffeine.’

‘But you can make coffee, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Then I want you to make one for me.’ Kyungsoo has stopped tracing circles, because the pounding of his beating heart was a distracting, and he is straining to hear Baekhyun’s voice. ‘Please.’ Does he sound lame?

A hesitation. A beat. ‘I would love to.’ Baekhyun’s voice is soaked with sincerity, marinated in tones as gentle as turquoise waves lapping at white sand and as warm as a summer sun when it sinks behind the horizon. Kyungsoo distorts the words into “I love you” and then he is anesthetised on the spot. Jelly limbs consume him and slowly, he sinks to the floor with a smile that stretches for miles. ‘Really?’

‘Of course.’

In the background, there’s another voice that sounds like Minseok’s, though the words are not at all clear. ‘I have to go,’ Baekhyun says, hushed and seemingly disappointed. ‘I’ll see you on Monday, Kyungsoo.’

‘Monday.’ He confirms, and as the line goes dead he just sits there, in the centre of his kitchen, waiting for letters to fall into words and words to fall into sentences again. His emotions have run dry again; he doesn’t have a clear feeling. But this time, the emptiness comes from a high, not a low. So as he sits, he waits for the warm fuzziness to fade from his brain. And he thinks of Baekhyun.

a/n I'm sorry that this update is short but I've been really busy lately and I'm on holiday right now in New Zealand! Anyway, I hope this just manages to fill your fanfic thirst for now, and I'll start working on the next chapter!