He stands there, just stands there, for an indeterminable span of time. He sees in his periphery the sky slowly bleeding and the pedestrians walking frenetically behind him, as his eyes are set on the sign in front; feet rooted on the asphalt; lingering, hesitating between walking forward and turning back. He's laughing – soundless, bitter, wondering why he's even debating when he knows he's too much of a coward to do anything but retreat, only to come back again the next day and hope that then he’ll have the guts.

Mingyu is at the café again.

---

The first time was curiosity. He says he was just bored, that he didn’t want to go home yet, but Mingyu knew deep down in that subconscious part of him he so stubbornly refuses – that he came for Wonwoo. He came to see the boy who’s enchanted, intrigued him from the very start; from that moment when they locked gazes – them, two strangers, two people who before that point in time were parallel lines progressing through their lives without their points ever meeting; that moment in the cramped living room of a privileged teenage boy’s house, amidst the smell of alcohol and strobe lights; that moment, that gaze, that frame in the rough cut of a movie whose ending hasn’t been written yet.

Of course he didn’t come for the coffee; he came for the boy.

But he won’t let himself think that.

It’s harder to deny though, the second, the third, the next time he comes back.

Sometimes he wonders if Wonwoo ever saw him; wonders what if Wonwoo saw him, and what he'd do if he did. Sometimes, on droning afternoons spent in class trying to keep his eyes open, he imagines them catching the other’s gazes, like that first time, like a flashback. He imagines him finally walking forward and not back, imagines pushing out the door like a convict out of prison – a convict who’s finally free from the shackles of cowardice. And then he imagines him going up to the counter and saying hi and placing his order, as Wonwoo smiles just a little more brightly, just a little more than polite. Then Wonwoo calls him when his drink is ready, and he replays the sound of his name in that baritone voice, pretends he didn’t hear it the first time so he can hear it again. And he’ll stride up to Wonwoo with a sly smile on his face, and Wonwoo will know what he's thinking – that he heard him the first time, as the iced Americano switches from one to the other’s hands. I don’t mind, Wonwoo will say in the brush of their fingers. I’ll wait is Mingyu’s reply, said in his lingering stare.

That’s usually when he snaps out of it, not knowing the boy nearly enough to imagine what he'd say in conversation. And Mingyu thinks it ironic how he plays it out such that he's the one waiting. Because maybe all this time Wonwoo had seen him, and he's the one waiting for him to make a move.

It’s as simple as opening a door, really. But if only it didn’t feel like he were opening a part of his soul.

---

He's taken aback when it happens, though it isn't really shocking that he finds himself on the other end of the same hallway as Wonwoo. And he freezes, though it isn't really shocking that their eyes meet. He wonders what Wonwoo sees in his eyes – trepidation, surprise, an emotion or idea that he's unearthed from the trenches of Mingyu’s subconscious? Because when he looks into the other’s pitch black irises, he deciphers nothing. Like a pair of black holes that in all matter from those who dare to come close, Mingyu’s mind is enraptured, wholly and inconsolably; consumed; the force only broken by a blink of their eyes. But even then, he is left reeling, the power still felt; as if he's adjusting to gravity, and earth is just a little less breathtaking than space.

He smiles though, Wonwoo, as he turns the other way. Although they're barely more than strangers; names known of from coffee cups and work tags. He smiles, still, despite that, and Mingyu thinks it’s beautiful.

And Mingyu knows – this afternoon, he’ll finally take that step forward.

---

He was so sure this morning, and yet he finds he's still hesitating as he looks up at the sign flashing overhead. It’s ironic, he thinks, that this marquee is supposed to draw customers in, when he's always been one step away from running every time.

What does he need – Wonwoo to glance his way? A sign? What sign? Maybe he needs to snap out of it and just walk through the damn door.

Or maybe he needs to snap out of this whole fixation and stop lurking from between the café and the store next door every day, convincing himself that he can do it, and having to convince himself every day because it’s never worked before. He's never even asked himself or really thought about, why he is so piqued by this boy, a boy, in the first place. Because he's scared to know; because it’s irrelevant – the question itself is irrelevant, he concludes. Screw subconscious reasons. Because the thing about Mingyu is –

His mind is the basement he dare not explore.

And for the first time in what feels like an eternity in limbo, he opens the door. And when he hears the chimes chanting and the boy at the counter saying hi in cheerful greeting, he doesn’t berate himself for not pushing forward before.

He's just glad.

---

He orders black coffee just like his first time here, and Wonwoo delivers it to him instead of calling him to the counter – an effort he can afford with how there isn't much of a crowd at the café right now. Mingyu says thanks, politely, with a small smile that’s itching to widen playing on his lips. He almost tells Wonwoo to stay, his hand almost brushing the other’s thin wrist. Almost said; almost held. But in the end he settles for observing the boy as he works – expertly preparing drinks to a customer’s preference, recommending items from the menu in a way that speaks both of marketing and authenticity, to wiping at the granite counters out of boredom when no new customers arrive.

And it is also during these moments that Wonwoo will sometimes glance in Mingyu’s direction, and he will always be looking back, and they’ll smile and hold each other’s gazes until one or the other becomes too shy. Yes, he thinks, he most definitely wants to know this boy.

He sees Wonwoo start to look at the clock more frequently, and he knows his shift is about to end then. It briefly passes his mind that it’s late, the sun having long retired and the moon shining bright in its nocturnal glory. He’ll just tell his parents they had practice – his mom would believe it and his father would be proud that he's slaving himself in the name of the sport. Wonwoo passes the keys to the next guy, and changes briefly before he leaves.

They fall in step on the sidewalk naturally, almost expectedly. Wonwoo doesn’t even blink when Mingyu decides to walk beside him; doesn’t bat an eyelash when they're only an inch’s breadth apart. And he doesn’t force conversation, doesn’t ask what he's doing. They just walk.

And that’s good enough for now.

---

A/N: Hello! Gosh, I can't believe it's been a month. I am so sorry for that. And again, this is a pretty short chapter, but waaah meanie are finally interacting! So you guys probably already know what to expect in the next chapters. But of course I'll still try to keep it exciting. That's it for now. Hope you enjoyed reading!