On the day of the meeting, Hongbin feels like dying. No, actually, he feels like a corpse.

He hasn’t got much sleep since the curious phone call in the middle of the night, and he does not want to think it’s because of the excitement that makes his stomach knot and his face flush every time he thinks about lemon teas and English words (and he thinks about the latter a lot, because he’s a diligent person).

He refuses to call it a date, to be quite honest. It’s not because he’s stupid, he certainly isn’t, and he could pick up the small things during his two conversations with Sanghyuk that suggested their entire trip to the coffee shop would be some kind of a tryst or end up as one, at least. It’s a fact that he’s aware of the nature of the rendezvous, but it’s also a fact that if he even just thought of the word ‘date’, he would probably have a heart attack.

The late May sun shines on him from above like it would in a cheesy rom-com, now that he is not thinking about the whole thing as a date. The nape of his neck is clammy; a drop of sweat rolls down his spine, under the collar of his light blue button-up, under the white T-shirt beneath, and he mentally curses at himself–his body is betraying him. It’s not that hot outside, but he feels like burning up, especially when he spots Sanghyuk standing in front of the coffee shop window, looking around with his hands in the pockets of his white shorts, a snapback sitting on top of his head, the brim turned backwards, and for a moment Hongbin stops his steps, wants to run away as fast as he can.

But Sanghyuk turns his head towards him, a hand sliding out of his pocket and winding into the air to wave at him, causing an awkward, dimpled smile to appear on Hongbin’s face in return.

“Hey,” Sanghyuk greets him happily.

“Hey,” Hongbin mumbles back. “Have you been waiting for long?”

“I guess the standard answer to this question is ‘no, I just arrived’,” Sanghyuk replies, grinning. “But, to tell the truth, I’ve been here for half an hour.”

“Why?” Hongbin asks, furrowing his brow while Sanghyuk puts a hand on his back, ushering him inside, making Hongbin’s knees buckle a little as he steps over the threshold.

“Nervousness,” Sanghyuk says, sitting down in a booth, and Hongbin takes the seat opposite him. There’s a tiny pink blush on Sanghyuk’s cheeks, barely noticeable but still present as he looks down at his own fingers intertwining on the tabletop, his mouth stretched wide, flashing snow white teeth. “Took a bus too early. Didn’t want to be late, so… I’m pretty lame, I know.”

“No, that’s…,” ‘cute’, Hongbin wants to say but does not dare; that would be too awkward, not that he doesn’t feel awkward enough already. It’s not Sanghyuk’s fault, though; it’s his own fault, because he’s way too tense to be able enjoy the situation perfectly. “That’s okay. I got ready way too early, too.”

Hongbin lets out a chuckle that sounds very much like ‘heheheh’, and hates himself for it for a few seconds, until a waitress shows up to take their order.

“A lemon tea,” Sanghyuk says, glancing at Hongbin, earning a nod from the other, “and a caramel macchiato, please.”

“Did you deliberately choose the most expensive one?” Hongbin asks when the waitress leaves their table, a small smirk appearing on his face.

“More or less,” Sanghyuk replies. “It’s not the most expensive one, but I deliberately chose one from the medium price range.”

“Shameless.”

“Cheapskate.”

They both start laughing at the same time, and Hongbin’s heart makes a weird move–it feels like it crawls a little higher in his chest, throbs a little more dynamically.

They receive their coffee and tea and engage in a very first date-like conversation about their families, studies and hobbies, and soon Hongbin finds out that Sanghyuk is a lot more than just a cheerful kid: he likes all that anime and manga stuff, video games and horror films, but he also sings in his free time, and Hongbin almost falls off his chair when he hears that.

“I sing too,” he says, eyes widening as Sanghyuk raises his eyebrows. He scratches the back of his head uncomfortably. “I mean… I try to sing. I’m not very good…” heheheh, “…but I like doing it. Wonshik, my friend, he writes songs and has a keyboard, and sometimes we practise together. I can ask him to practise with you too.”

“Oh, I would love to let him experience true pain,” Sanghyuk says, giggling nervously, “but I’m not sure if he’d like that. My voice is off-pitch most of the time; I’m the biggest amateur in the world.”

“That makes the two of us, then,” Hongbin replies, staring into his cup. “Although, I don’t really believe what you’re saying. I’d like to hear you sing.”

“Not until you sing to me.”

Hongbin looks up from his tea, sees Sanghyuk’s eyes boring into his; those dark, prettily shining eyes that seem to be slightly crossed sometimes and very, very happy and mischievous, making their owner look like he’s always up to something bad. A tiny smile accompanies that look, and Hongbin feels himself falling just the way you fall in your dreams, your entire body jerking and causing you to wake up, leaving you dizzy for a few more moments–only this dizziness doesn’t seem to go away very soon for him.

“We can return to this topic on a different occasion,” he manages to mutter in the end.

He doesn’t miss the way the right corner of Sanghyuk’s mouth moves upwards as he takes a sip of his drink, and Hongbin wonders if that really sounded as an invitation for a next date meeting, or Sanghyuk is smirking because of something entirely irrelevant to the conversation.

It’s when he starts talking about his ambitions to learn how to play the guitar perfectly that a body flops down next to him, almost knocking his tea over. Hongbin jumps in surprise, turns around and sees…

“Wonshik?” Hongbin blinks a few as if he wasn’t able to comprehend the presence of his best friend, silently asking for confirmation from Sanghyuk who looks utterly baffled. “What are you doing here?”

“Saw you coming in,” Wonshik replies, adjusting the beanie on his head, turning to Sanghyuk and extending an arm, “Kim Wonshik.”

“Han Sanghyuk,” Sanghyuk mutters, shaking Wonshik’s hand.

“What have you been doing in this part of the town?” Hongbin asks, knowing that Wonshik has been avoiding the area ever since his failed attempt at applying to the language course.

“Don’t worry about it,” Wonshik replies, waving his hand dismissively. “Anyway, I just wanted to ask you if you’d like to come over to have a few drinks on Friday. Um, you can come too,” he adds, turning to Sanghyuk.

“What about Taekwoon?” Hongbin narrows his eyes.

He knows it’s not much fun to have his collar grabbed by the robust third year student that shares the dorm room with Wonshik only to be literally thrown out of the building when he makes too much noise. To tell the truth, just being around Taekwoon doesn’t seem much fun, but Wonshik doesn’t complain. It appears that he hasn’t given up on befriending Taekwoon despite having spent more than a year with him, still only getting glares and slight nudges on his shin as response whenever he asks or says something Taekwoon does not approve of. For some miraculous reason Taekwoon has never wanted to move out of the room either, what’s more, according to Wonshik, sometimes he makes coffee and breakfast for the younger, staying silent when asked about the meaning of his random act of kindness.

“He’s been gone for days,” Wonshik shrugs. “I doubt he’ll be back soon.”

“What do you mean gone?” Hongbin arches an eyebrow at his friend.

“He kind of… disappeared? He’s not missing, though. I mean, not officially. One day he just didn’t come back to the dorm, but it’s not the first time. He barely ever tells me where he goes, says it’s none of my business, so… yeah. Come over. I don’t want to be bored.”

Because of the above reasons, Hongbin doubts that Taekwoon would be of much entertainment even if he was there, but he doesn’t voice his thoughts.

“I don’t know…” Hongbin replies, chewing on the inside of his mouth momentarily before glancing at Sanghyuk. “What do you say?”

“Sure,” Sanghyuk nods. “I mean, if you want to go. And if it really isn’t a problem if I go too.”

“The more the merrier,” Wonshik smiles. “You can bring some other people too, if you want. The room’s not very big, but it should be enough for a few people.”

“Two of my friends might want to come,” Sanghyuk says, looking at Hongbin with a smile, and Hongbin grins back, knowing who he’s talking about. “I’ll ask them.”

“Nice!” Wonshik claps his hands. “I’ve got to go now but you two… have fun?”

Wonshik stands up, and for the first time since he arrived so elegantly, he seems to be trying to find out what exactly Hongbin and Sanghyuk are doing together in a coffee shop, or, to be more precise, what the context of their drinking their tea/coffee might be. Hongbin sends him a glare, but Wonshik doesn’t catch it, his eyebrows knitting a little before he bids them goodbye.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one with weird friends,” Sanghyuk says when Hongbin turns back to him.

“He’s not weird,” Hongbin says a little defensively, but then he thinks the past events through, tilting his head to the side. “Well, not that weird.”