Kyungsoo looked at the coffee boy again, seeing him in a new light and this time trying to take in his features from Junmyeon’s perspective.

            The Kim boy, on that note, was still cowering under the table which was still—by the way—made of glass. At this point, Kyungsoo assumed it was not only embarrassment that put his friend underneath their study table in the first place, but embarrassment that also kept him there. Because really, that glass was doing nothing to hide the blush on Junmyeon’s face, or the fact that he was again wearing a self-inflicted hand mask.

            Coffee boy took it all in with a smirk, highlighting the dimples Kyungsoo had noticed earlier and producing yet another squeak from Junmyeon—because dimples.

            Minseok, ever the caring hyung, took it upon himself to transfer attention away from the hiding boy and said, “You work at that café across the street. Zhang something, right?”

            Chinese? Kyungsoo thought with heightened interest. Since he was the apparent object of Junmyeon’s affections, that the barista was Chinese explained a lot actually.

            The new arrival continued to smile—nothing seemed to faze this guy—and nodded in response to Minseok’s question. Meanwhile, Junmyeon slowly made his way back into the seat he’d abandoned and muttered “Yixing” under his breath.

            “Huh?” Jongdae asked, turning to Junmyeon. “Did you say something?”

            Junmyeon merely coughed in response, and continued to look absolutely mortified.

            “Yixing?” Kyungsoo questioned in a—Junmyeon considered it sadistic—attempt to be simultaneously helpful for Junmyeon’s crush and further embarrassing for the crusher himself.

            Again, the coffee boy—Yixing—nodded in agreement, and Kyungsoo had the thought that this boy was definitely one of few words, so it must be the dimples that Junmyeon was so helplessly attracted to.

            “Did you need something?” Kyungsoo continued, this time in Mandarin.

As often happened when Kyungsoo displayed his prowess as a linguist and communicated with someone in their native language, Yixing’s eyes brightened considerably, and he replied with an answer much longer than the single-word ones he’d used up to that point. In fact, Yixing seemed suddenly so eager to talk to Kyungsoo, that Junmyeon felt a spark of jealousy in his chest and decided he could muster the courage to talk to his crush as long as it meant Yixing was not talking to Kyungsoo.

            So, before the Chinese boy could respond to Kyungsoo’s question, Junmyeon asked—also in Mandarin—“You’re here to hand out coupons, aren’t you?”

            If Yixing had been surprised at Kyungsoo’s Mandarin, he was even more impressed with Junmyeon’s. The coffee boy hadn’t expected the cute, but quiet, boy who so often frequented the café to be able to effectively communicate in Korean, let alone Yixing’s language. It’s too bad that the Do boy couldn’t hear Yixing’s thoughts though, because Kyungsoo would have laughed himself silly. (1) Because in Kyungsoo’s opinion, Junmyeon really couldn’t speak Korean, and (2) because Junmyeon wasn’t cute, he was Junmyeon.

            “Um, yeah, coupons.” Yixing replied, still in Mandarin. “The café. Coupons.” He finished, lamely, mentally slapping himself at being so judgmental of the cute customer when he apparently couldn’t speak either.

            Kyungsoo laughed at the Chinese boy’s words. These two idiots deserve each other, he thought, though not unkindly. Truthfully, Kyungsoo loved Junmyeon like a brother, and he could clearly see that the coffee boy with dimples was just as smitten with Kyungsoo’s friend as Junmyeon was with him.

            The Do boy was about to do something to make up for inadvertently causing his best friend such strong humiliation, but Jongdae cut him off.

            “Speak in Korean, would you?” he complained with a whine. “Chinese came right after lunch in high school, and Min, you know I need my nap after I eat.”

            Indeed this was something Minseok knew about his best friend and occasional make-out partner. Actually, Kyungsoo knew this too because he made it a point to find out the language abilities of those around him—he called it a hobby, Jun-hyung called it classifying and rude.

            Kyungsoo and Junmyeon must have both made faces at Jongdae’s words and Minseok’s accompanying nod, because Yixing looked at them when he smiled and said “it’s fine” in Korean.

            Junmyeon was again blinded by the perfection of the coffee boy’s smile, so Kyungsoo thought it a perfect time to enact his earlier action of apology while his best friend was temporarily incapacitated.

            “Actually,” Kyungsoo started, “it’s great that you’re here, Yixing.”

            Junmyeon eyed his best friend warily, but made no move to escape when Kyungsoo came closer and threw an arm around his shoulders. Minseok and Jongdae looked on the pair with interest as Yixing’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly—Kyungsoo noticed, of course—and the Do boy continued.

            “Jun-ie and I,” Junmyeon glared at the nickname but Kyungsoo ignored him—and the fact that Yixing’s shoulders stiffened, noticeably this time. “We were looking for somewhere new to get together. You don’t happen to work Thursday afternoons, do you?”

            Yixing looked again at the owl-eyed boy and his arm around the cute customer; Yixing had thought he was single because he always came into Cacoepy alone, but apparently that was not the case.

            “I do, actually,” Yixing sighed out, disappointment underlying his tone. Too distracted by his own misery—and the unwanted image of owl boy and the cute customer acting all coupley in his café—the Chinese boy missed it when Junmyeon’s cheeks flushed red for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. Kyungsoo, however, saw everything, and nudged his friend playfully.

            Junmyeon apparently took the hint because he said tentatively, “I-is it busy t-then?” Mental slap.

            Jongdae barked out a laugh at the usually composed Junmyeon stuttering because of a boy, but his amusement was short lived because Minseok and Junmyeon both kicked his shin in retaliation. He was going to bruise, Jongdae just knew it.

            The dimples emerged at this, mostly because the four seemed to forget that the table was still glass and Yixing could actually see everything.

            “It’s not too bad,” the Chinese barista said kindly at the cute customer—Jun-ie, that’s what the owl boy had called him.

            He continued, “Anyway, I really need to give all of these away before my shift is over, so please, take a coupon.” Yixing handed one to each of them, bowing every time and blushing slightly when Kyungsoo jostled against Jun-ie right as he was reaching for a coupon and causing the two’s fingers to brush.

            Junmyeon squeaked again, and this time it was Kyungsoo who sported a newly smarting bruise on his shin, courtesy of Minseok.

            “Nice to meet you all,” Yixing said—more of politeness than anything really—and bowed one last time.

            “Bye Xing-ge!” This from Kyungsoo, speaking in Mandarin again. “We’ll definitely stop by this Thursday, won’t we, Jun-ie?”

            Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.

            Yes, thank you, Kyungsoo, Junmyeon had understood. The Kim boy nodded in agreement with his best friend’s words and was rewarded with another smile from the Chinese barista.

            “Please do! Cacoepy Café looks forward to your business.” Yixing said the Café’s set phrase in Mandarin. He bowed again—he thought his back would break if he had to bend over even one more time—and moved away to offer a coupon to the assistant librarian that had harassed Junmyeon and Kyungsoo earlier.

            It wasn’t until after Yixing had already left the science wing that he remembered something important. That Thursday he was supposed to fill in as a dance teacher for a friend who had a doctor’s appointment.

            In other words, he’d replied to Jun-ie’s question reflexively, but he actually wasn’t going to be working that day. Curses.

This feels like a filler. Sorry. Author-unnie