Contrary to popular belief, Howon wasn’t always a deadbeat barista (Sunggyu snorts).

He was once a member of a dance group, working as a back-up dancer for pop singers. Yes, he wasn’t always this hopeless loser living off his roommate-slash-boss’ couch and working at his café just to get by. He used to dance for idols like HyunA (damn, did that girl put on a show) or for groups like BIGBANG (mainly because Taeyang was kind of cute) and he went on tours and concerts and he lived the high life, meeting celebrities and performing in front of the crowd.

Well, that was before he tore a leg muscle during a back-to-back concert, persisted anyway and ended up damaging his leg so much that he now walks with a limp for the rest of his life.

Unfortunately, that meant the end of his career and an end to what he loved doing so much, and well, Howon was in a deep funk for a year — wasting what’s left of his money on drugs and alcohol to numb the pain (and he honestly thought he was past this phase back in highschool) — and it was Sunggyu, who was a friend back from before, that kicked him off his and get a move on with his life.

Fast-forward two years, he’s here at Sunggyu’s café, working as a barista and even though he gives Sunggyu crap and calls his shop stupid, Howon’s pretty happy to be here.

Until he came in.

∞

INFINITEA is a little café on the edge of the academic boulevard, sitting next to two universities and countless coffee-shops for the normal collegiate surviving on caffeine and desperation. Like every little shop not owned by Starbucks, INFINITEA’s audience consists mainly of hipster art majors deigning to break away from the social anonymity and settling themselves as the true connoisseurs of the liberal beauties. Howon rolls his eyes at this and decides to add whole milk to their elitist “non-fat, low sugar, caramel mocha cappuccino motherer” orders and he snickers himself at the back when he overhears some of them exclaiming at why their drinks taste so good today. As usual, Sunggyu disapproves of Howon’s abject distaste for pretense and hipsterdom by throwing wet towels at him.

It comes as no surprise then, when he comes in, with hair that looks like it’s natural color, wearing a black coat and a polite smile (unlike the feigned nonchalance of the Nietzsche-carrying idiots) that Howon takes notice of him, standing out amidst the pretension (Sunggyu sighs, doesn’t care. It’s good for business, anyway).

When Howon first sees the tall stranger dressed in black enter the café, his stomach does a twirl and he kind of spills the caramel macchiato he was making down his apron. He (masculine-ly) shouts in surprise, stepping back as the puddle spreads past his sneakers.

Sunggyu looks over from the cash register, tells him he’s an idiot and orders him to clean it up.

Howon glares back at him but walks to the storage area to grab the mop anyway because as much as he wants to throw his apron in Sunggyu’s face, he is kind of broke and kind of in need of a job. So, he bites his tongue and imagines kicking Sunggyu in his mind before returning to clean up the mess.

The puddle didn’t spread too far, and it wasn’t really bad and a few swipes with the mop, and the tiled floor was good as new. Or as new as INFINITEA’s floors can be.

“Hi, welcome to INFINITEA. What can I get you?” Sunggyu’s voice travels to the storage room, and hearing the owner-slash-roomate-slash-boss mention the name of his café was enough for Howon to roll his eyes and bite in a snicker.

Which was funny considering that he was working for Sunggyu, and he had no right to laugh at the place keeping the food on his (their) table and the (Sunggyu’s) roof over his head. Still, as far as bad names go, INFINITEA was somewhere on that list.

Walking back to the counter, Howon eyes the stranger and, yeah.

Gorgeous? Check.

Tall? Double check.

?

Howon tiptoes, ignores the funny feeling in his right leg, leans over the counter and takes in Mr. Gorgeous’ covered in really snug black jeans. He watches as Mr. Gorgeous shift his weight from one foot to the other, straining the cloth by his hips. Howon dies at the sight.

Triple check.

Sunggyu glares at him in disgust.

∞

Finally finished preparing the iced Americano, Howon leans over the counter and calls for one “Myungsoo” and he sorts of gulps, sorts of whimpers (no, he did not) when it’s Mr. Gorgeous who stands.

Howon watches Myungsoo walk, and he takes in the mop of dark hair down to the dark, dark eyes (whoa), to the sharp nose and thin lips to a delectable looking throat disappearing into the black coat he was wearing. He was tall, and lean but not the lanky kind that Sungyeol, his co-worker, was but a little fuller, a little more stable.

Howon decides that it was Myungsoo’s eyes that, although dark and hypnotizing in itself, were scrunched in a smile as he reaches the counter to get his drink.

Howon wants to say something cool and swoon-worthy and totally suave.

He ends up blurting, “Are you an angel?”

Myungsoo blinks. Howon blinks.

Sunggyu cackles from behind the pastry display.

“Uh…” Myungsoo says hesitatingly, the smile on his lips turning a little nervous.

Howon feels like hitting his head against the counter. It wasn’t like he meant to say it, okay? He sort of has a thing for Star Wars (“Thing? Howon, you’re obsessed with it!” “No, I’m not, shut up.”) and it was that particular line that somehow seemed like it was the right thing to say (I mean, come on, a ten-year old kid managed to snag a space queen with that line!) and okay, okay he was mortified beyond belief and he would really like to hit his head against the counter now, so please, Myungsoo go awa—

“Last time I checked, I didn’t live on Iego’s moons,” Myungsoo continues, a grin on his face and Howon dies again, “but thank you, anyway.”

Myungsoo turns away, still grinning and returns to his seat across the café. Howon stares at his retreating figure and Myungsoo’s words echo in his head.

Howon feels himself grinning.

Sunggyu throws a wet towel at his face.

∞

“He knows Star Wars. He knows Star Wars!” Howon whispers to Sunggyu, who was both putting more blueberry cheesecake on to the display and side-eying Howon in irritation.

“So? I know Star Wars, too.”

Howon rolls his eyes. “Pfft, you’re an amateur. You once called the Millennium Falcon the USS Enterprise. I have never been so ashamed of our friendship.”

Sunggyu batts his hands away and walks past him, Howon follows. “But regardless of your failure to differentiate the beauty that is Star Wars and the crap that is Star Trek, I will still lower myself to converse with you.”

“Gee, I’m so honoured.”

“You should be.”

Sunggyu glares at him, unamused. He turns to look at Howon, who resumed in subtly gazing appreciatively over Myungsoo’s form, the paleness of his features a stark contrast to the inky black of his clothes, the way he sat with one leg over the other, the material stretching over his thighs (meow) as he continues to type on his laptop.

“If you don’t stop creeping on him, I’m gonna call the police.” Sunggyu says, shutting the sliding door of the pastry display. Howon turns to him, askance.

“I wasn’t creeping on him!” Sunggyu raises a brow.

“I wasn’t, okay?”

“Then, what the hell were you doing just now?”

Howon crosses his arms across his chest. “An…ocular inspection.”

Yes, that was it. It was just a mere observation of a subject, and if it turns out that he’s somewhat appreciative of the subject’s physical features, then that wasn’t Howon’s fault. It was Myungsoo’s fault for being drop-dead gorgeous, with an ready to be manhandled four weeks to December and—ahem.

Sunggyu doesn’t look convinced. He looks rather disgusted. He even says so himself.

He’s about to counter with his tried-and-tested Lee Howon sass when the sound of someone clearing their throat grabs Howon’s attention, and it’s Myungsoo with a small smile and a cheery glint in his eyes.

Howon dies again.

“Hey, can I help you with anything?” Like taking off your clothes or putting that mouth to good use or— Howon bites his lips, feeling the tips of his ears burn at the direction his thoughts were going. Sunggyu makes a long-suffering sigh at his perch by the cash register.

Myungsoo grins, ducking his head and a dimple appears and Howon dies a third death that day. “Can I have a cup of milk?”

You can have my mil—Concentrate, Howon.

He blinks, nodding. “Sure, just gimme a sec. Was the drink too strong?”

Myungsoo shakes his head, which is really adorable, considering the way his eyes are wide and he looks like some kid who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Howon refuses to die a fourth time, bending down a bit to grab one of the paper cups in the cupboard. “No, it was good. I usually have a cup of milk after, so…yeah.”

Howon hums, nodding. “Fat or non-fat? Please tell me you’re a fat and not like those hipsters there.”

Mr. Gorgeous lets out a little chuckle at that, side-eyeing the group of students with mutli-colored hair and he chuckles again. “Fat is good. And, no, I’m not a student. I’m an instructor, actually.”

Finished pouring the milk into the cup, Howon internally dances at the new information and files it in his head for further studying tonight (aka daydreaming) and he hands the cup over the counter to Myungsoo. “That’s cool. What do you teach?”

Myungsoo grabs the cup and sips at it a bit and okay, okay, there is a line of froth over his lips and Howon will not act like he’s in a cheesy, pop music video and wipe the froth with his thumb or kiss it away while some stupid idol song is in the background, singing about finally having a boy and bringing it back to one-forty or something.

He will not.

He ends up staring, anyway, and his heart flutters at the way those lips smile a crooked smile and Myungsoo replies, “Film. I teach a few majors.”

Which is really hot, now that Howon thinks about it because not only is Mr. Gorgeous privy to the intimate details of Star Wars, he’s also into filmography and wow, wow, that is just so—ahem.

“Cool, cool.” Somewhere in the back, Sunggyu laughs and it’s like devil music is playing in the background. It also sounds a bit like Nell.

“Yeah.”

It grows silent, and Howon alternates between wiping the counter and looking anywhere but at the froth on Myungsoo’s lips and he really wants to dispel the tension and film instructor is just standing there, sipping his milk and he’s staring at Howon and everything is starting to feel like some soft ography premise and Howon isn’t usually against that and he’d gladly like to screw Myungsoo (or be screwed, because he thirsty) but he also kinds of want to take him on a date and debate on the integrity of Star Wars VII and all in all, it’s just very mind-boggling for a deadbeat barista.

Myungsoo finishes his milk and sets it on the counter. “Thanks. I guess I’ll head out, yeah?”

Howon takes it and he nods at Myungsoo, managing to hold back a lovestruck grin. ”Yeah, yeah. Sure. Thanks, too.”

Myungsoo smiles and the goddamn froth is still there on his lips and he turns to leave and Howon finally manages to breathe. Thank ing God. If Myungsoo had stayed any longer, he would have done something embarrassing like ask for his number.

“God, you are such a creep. It’s like watching a pedo hit on a fourteen-year old.” Sunggyu says, finally returning to the reception area and Howon realizes he still as Myungsoo’s cup in his hand.

He throws it at Sunggyu.

∞

Later that night, Howon’s bent over his laptop and he’s searching Facebook for one “Myungsoo” and although there’s like a hundred people named “Myungsoo”, he perseveres.

His phone beeps and he opens the e-mail.

It’s from Sunggyu, and it’s a paid subscription to a TV show called Stalker.

Howon retaliates by blasting Zion.T and Epik High at full volume, all night long.

∞

The café is packed the next few days, with midterms coming up soon and INFINITEA is slowly being overridden with their usual hipster crowd, plus the surprising amount of normal people in desperate need of caffeine and maybe a one-hour session with a counselor. In fact, the café is so busy that Sunggyu doesn’t even bother sassing back at him when Howon gets grumpy, focusing more on the taking orders and manning the cash register. Some of the customers are ier than what Howon’s accustomed to, and he’s taken to ousting his anger by dumping more sugar than healthy. Sunggyu doesn’t even bother anymore with his antics.

“Just…deal with it, okay? We still have the rush hour at lunch.” Sunggyu says, pulling a kerchief from his jeans and wiping the sweat off his forehead with it. Howon hides a groan behind the box of coffee beans in his hand.

If the morning rush was hell itself, Satan was having his grand entrance during lunch. Not only were people cranky, rushing and desperate for their coffee fix, there was also a rush of students from the university next door plus, for some odd reason, their pastries were a crowd favorite. After thirty minutes of haggling drinks with outrageous demands (who the hell wants chai tea latte with coffee jelly?), heating pastries and cleaning up after the idiot who couldn’t watch where he was going, Howon was ready to call it a day.

“I think I died. Yeah, I just died. On that puddle of caramel macchiato.” Howon groans, and his back is hurting something awful, his leg was acting up and he’s pretty sure he burnt his fingers when he was hurrying the coffee machine.

Sunggyu had taken to wiping the counter, for once feeling sorry for his friend, and harrumphed.

“You can’t die right now, we still have rest of the week. Die when you’ve moved out of my apartment and paid your rent.”

Howon flops and gives Sunggyu the finger.

The sound of the doors opening has Howon groaning again, letting his head rest against the cabinet door under the counter. Sunggyu kicks him in the ribs.

“What the ?” Howon gasps, holding his side.

Sunggyu eyes him, whispers harshly. “Get up, your favorite customer just came in.”

“What!”

Maybe, in retrospect, he shouldn’t have stood too fast and end up hitting his head against the counter (he kinda forgot it juts out a bit). He sees stars, hand on his head as he grits his teeth at the shock of pain. When his vision clears out, and the sharp pain dulls, Myungsoo’s concerned face greets him.

He’s also pretty sure some of the stars are still shining in the background.

What the , Howon.

Still rubbing the crown of his head, Howon grins, although it would probably look like a grimace. It was the thought that count. “Hi.”

Myungsoo smiles like he’s holding his laughter. “Hi.” Then he goes quiet.

And Howon is quiet.

It’s awkward.

So aw—kward.

“While I do love to watch the develop between the two of you, can I take your order?” Sunggyu cuts in, Myungsoo flushes a delectable red and Howon’s soul leaves the building.

 “Oh!” Howon shouts, and half the patrons inside the café turn to look at him. “Ha-ha! Sunggyu’s funny! He’s really funny, that funny you know? Yeah, he’s such a clown!”

Then continues to smile at Myungsoo’s flushed face as he side-kicks Sunggyu with his other leg. The owner promptly squawks and falls into a pile on the floor.

“Oh…um, okay.” Myungsoo continues, smiling a little although the tips of his ears are still red.

Soooooo red. Like Howon’s been biting on them—

Nope, back to business.

“So, uh, what will it be?” Howon asks, still mortified (and still committed to dyeing all of Sunggyu’s underwear pink, roof over his head be damned).

“One tall iced Americano, and one slice of cheesecake.” Howon nods, smiling and quickly turns to Sunggyu, who was slowly climbing back up to his feet and hisses, “get on it, you er.”

Sunggyu gives him a dirty look. “I am locking you out of the apartment tonight.”

“Please, you would die on that staircase without me helping you.”

A cough and it’s Howon’s turn to flush, remembering Myungsoo was still there. “Oh, sorry, Myungsoo. My boss was being a jerk.”

A nervous laugh. Myungsoo looks a little uncomfortable. “It’s no problem. Your boss…who lives with you?”

Oh.

Oh.

Howon stammers. “No! I mean, uh, it’s nothing, like — pfft, him?! I would never —“

Sunggyu pushes into his side, grinning widely at Howon and the barista doesn’t like the evil glint in the rodent-masquerading-as-a-person’s eyes. “No, we’re roommates. Both single. Quelle surprise! Oh, and that’ll be four-thousand, five-hundred won. You got it, Howon?”

Howon has, more or less, frozen over as Myungsoo hands the cash to Sunggyu. He gets his change and sends a small smile Howon’s way and the barista manages, somehow, to smile back — then turns to get the espresso. “I hate you.”

Sunggyu snorts. “Please, you would never be able to make a move on him if it weren’t for me.”

“How dare you! I’d like to tell you that I am a very appealing, smooth, charismatic—“

“He’s back.”

Howon jumps and turns around, seeing only an empty counter and Myungsoo sitting on a table by the window, typing on his phone. Sunggyu snorts again. “Nailed it.”

Howon glares at him. “I hate you and I hope you die a horrible death and I hope I’ll live long enough to watch it. Twice.”

“Sure, keep saying that, but don’t deny it — if it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t even know your name by now.”

Howon rolls his eyes as he pours the espresso into the plastic cup. “And whose bright idea was it not to have us wear nametags?”

“What is this — a Starbucks? Like the one in the corner…and in the other corner…and in that other corner?”

Howon smirks. “Or the one being built in Myungsoo’s ?”

Sunggyu’s mouth drops open, and gives him a look like Howon was crazy.

“What? It’s prime real estate.”

“Just finish that, please, so I can have this conversation over.”

Taking small victories, Howon shuts up and finishes the order. He calls Myungsoo’s name and ogles as said man stops writing on his notebook, stands from his seat, his black coat billowing behind like some goddamn Chanel commercial and yeah, wow, he really has the nicest face ever.

Those eyes.

That nose.

Them lips.

He's pretty sure he's heard that in a song before.

“Hey.” Myungsoo says, grinning. His lips are red, like he’s been biting them. This , Howon thinks.

Well, speaking of , it’s not like you don’t want to his­­—

“Hi. Got your fix right here.”

Myungsoo’s lips bloom into a crooked smile. “Oh, you got my fix?”

Howon blushes — why the hell did that sound like an innuendo. “Um…yeah?”

“Hope it’s the fix I’m looking for.” A teasing grin. Howon’s brain hits a ping at the line.

Grinning, Howon replies. “Oh, the Force is strong in this one.”

“Oh my God.” Sunggyu mutters from the side.

Myungsoo laughs, and steps closer. His cologne hits Howon, and it’s delicious. The right amount of subtle and manly, the mixture bludgeoning his senses so tantalizingly good. It’s honestly distracting, paired with Myungsoo’s deadly smile and the way his dark eyes grew hooded and his hair, impeccably brushed back today, and how his voice had gotten so deep — it’s still a little surprising how his pants aren’t off yet.

“You tell me, then, Jedi.” Myungsoo answers, a hand circling the cup of iced Americano.

The cup of iced Americano that Howon was still holding.

Myungsoo’s hand was ing around his hand.

Howon’s eyes are wide, and Myungsoo is close. He’s practically leaning into Howon’s space (he he no pun intended, his brain helpfully supplies) over the counter. Howon flails internally.

Myungsoo’s smile widens into a full-blown grin, and oh my god his teeth are so white and perfect and oh Jesus and Jesús his lower lip is jutting out and Howon just wants to sink his teeth into them so, so bad. He gulps.

“What’s the matter, Jedi? Unlike Han, I won’t shoot first, you know.”

Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. The image in his head is not helping at all. As well as the voice that is currently accompanying it, nastily cheeky and goddamn he does not need to think about what kind of blaster Myungsoo has in his pants.

On his pants.

“Uh…”

The doors open and a gaggle of students pile in, loud and boisterous and it breaks the bubble the two are in. Howon jumps and lets go of the cup and he’s laughing, a little uncomfortably, and rambles. “Well, uh, hope you enjoy — um, that! Ha-ha, have a nice night! Day, I mean — day!”

He shuts his mouth and raises a hand, slightly waves at Myungsoo. Who was grinning, although he did seem a little put out that they got disturbed (do not go there, Howon). Myungsoo waves back at him and turns to go back to his seat, Americano in his hand.

Howon takes a minute to breathe, fan his face and think of Sunggyu in skimpy underwear to kill the he was sporting. Because of one ing Myungsoo.

He looks over at Sunggyu. Sunggyu rolls his eyes. “Why did I even bother going to work with you?”

For once, Howon agrees with Sunggyu there, but doesn’t want to give the older man the satisfaction of his agreement so he half-heartedly gives him the finger. Grabbing the rag from inside his apron, Howon starts wiping the counter clean as Sunggyu starts grinning at the pretty girl by the pastry display.

There’s a piece of paper and Howon grabs it with his free hand, wiping the space under it clean. He spies writing on it and opens it completely.

Did it hurt…when you fell from Cloud City? – Myungsoo

∞

It’s dark, and cramped but Howon doesn’t mind. He can hear Myungsoo giggling and actually, Howon also finds it a little funny, now that he thought about it. However, laughing about their predicament isn’t exactly the reason he came in here.

“C’mere,” he says and, even in the dark, Howon’s hands find Myungsoo’s face and he pulls it in, takes in the film instructor’s lips and Myungsoo’s hands are gripping his waist tightly. It’s a little awkward, with how tall Myungsoo is but Howon doesn’t really mind, not when Myungsoo pushes himself closer to him and yes, there it is. Myungsoo’s thigh comes in contact with his groin and god, does that feel good. Howon pushes back and his hand travels from Myungsoo’s face, down to his shoulders, his arms — all the way down his back and when Howon starts feeling the rough denim of Myungsoo’s dark jeans, he grins into the kiss as he grabs Myungsoo’s and squeezes.

Myungsoo tenses and breaks away, groaning a quiet “oh, .”

Howon wants to hear Myungsoo sound that desperate again, so he latches his mouth against Howon’s neck and he slowly pushes Myungsoo back — well, as much as he can in the really tight, really cramped space — and when his own thigh starts rubbing against Myungsoo’s crotch, well, let’s just say that Myungsoo’s gasp can be heard all the way from Seoul to Coruscant.

“How—on, —“

“Is that a lightsaber in your pocket…or are you just happy to see me?” Howon says, when he breaks away from a bruise into Myungsoo’s neck. The instructor snorts and starts laughing.

“Seriously? Of all the lightsaber puns, you go for that? Nice way to kill the mood, Jedi.”

“Shut up, you love it. And it’s not like you’re any better. You’re the Obi-wan for me. Pffft.”

“That was a genuinely intelligent, incredibly witty—“

The pantry door suddenly opens and light floods in. Both Howon and Myungsoo squint, and when the flash of light dims, Sunggyu is standing in front of them, looking extremely unamused.

“The two of you realize that I will have to burn this place down now?”

Sunggyu looks down and sees the tent in Howon’s pants. “Please tell me that is not ing what I think it is.”

Howon smiles as innocently as he can. “It’s…a lightsaber?”

AN: I'm sorry. This is garbage. Please do Force choke me.

edit: INFINITEA is a real tea-shop here in the Philippines.