Taekwoon had no idea what on Earth had possessed him to suggest a coffee date with that bumbling idiot - and apparently, kleptomaniac neighbour - Wonshik, but he was damn sure that right now he regretted it with every bit of anxiety his body could hold. Wait, did he just admit to himself it was a date? Would Wonshik think that, even if it was just coffee at 10am on a Saturday? Are there not rules about this kind of thing? At any rate, what did he suppose he was going to wear to this date and or not-date?

F**k, thought Taekwoon, pressng the heels of his hands firmly into his eyesockets as he let out a frustrated groan. There was no doubt at all that Wonshik had assumed this was a date. He had chanced upon the younger blonde only a few times during the remainder of the week, but had been greeted with an adorable, hesitant, lip-bitten smile and tentative wave each time their eyes had met, all executed with something akind to the nauseating uncertainty displayed by one's teenage prom date. Even more sickening than this was his own reaction at each encounter: an instant hot feeling and confused embarrassment as he turned away, all coyness and cherry-blossom blush. If only the ground had opened up and swollowed him instead.

Sighing heavily, the ebony haired boy shook his head and glanced across at his alarm clock. 3:30am, its scarlett numbers read through the darkness. Early enough to be morning, but not quite late enough to move from being flopped across his mattress or shower away the queaziness or bother to begin getting ready. Only seven and a half hours until coffee with Wonshik. God, was he nervous about this dumb meeting with that stupid boy.

He was going to be sick.

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At 10:05am that Saturday, Wonshik slouched against the front porch of the coffeehouse, scrubbed clean in a smart-casual shirt, jeans and his favourite snapback. He rubbed his sweaty hands together, cursing the heat, as the sun's hot defiance of the mid-autumn morning doubled the nervous flush brushed across the young blond's cheeks. He was beginning to think that his date might not show up after all.

"Hey Wonshik!"

The youth jumped at the sudden call, turning to see the pretty waitress, Yura, stepping cautiously towards him from the café entrance. She peered at him over the circular tray she held - clutched between inappropriately well-manicured fingers - her flawless eyebrows pulled together in concern. "Gosh..." she breathed, "You look terrible. Hongbin texted me asking me to check on you, but I didn't think you'd be.... uhm... Why don't you come sit down?"

Smiling weakly at the sweet brunette's kindness, Wonshik shook his head. "I'll be fine," he told her firmly. "I'm just a little nervous for this date. He seems so mysterious and out of my league, you know?"

Yura reached out to place a hand on his arm. "With those good looks and goofy charms? You'll do great," she laughed, flashing a smile as heart-shattering as Hongbin's before turning back towards the café, "Just be yourself, and he's sure to fall for you straight away."

"Thanks, Yura," he called as he watched her go, before turning back to see the ebony-haired beauty himself standing just a few feet in front of him. "Oh."

"Uhm..." began Taekwoon. He paused to chew his lip, his eyes wide and uncertain; his tense poise strongly suggesting the urge to spring away like a frightened gazelle.

Or maybe skitter to hide in the alleyway like a cat, thought Wonshik. Yes, that would suit him better, with the way he was now. All slender, graceful limbs, sharp eyes, and tightly wound softness. The blond suddenly had the odd mental image of himself scratching a small cat-Taekwoon between the ears, running his fingers through the other's soft ebony hair as a slender tail brushed his side.

"S-sorry for being late," Taekwoon was stammering in that delicate, wistful voice of his, snapping Wonshik from his idiotic daydream. "I got caught up finishing this score and I just.... I lost track of time." He blushed a little, scuffing his feet and staring at the floor in his signature guesture of shyness. So ing cute, thought Wonshik, dazed once again.

"It's alright," the blond reassured him, smiling gently as he nodded towards the door.  Taekwoon hesistated just a moment more, chewing guiltily at his lower lip once again, before stepping past the younger into the cool, coffee-scented air of the kitchy café.

Inside, the staff of the coffeehouse greeted them warmly, as they stepped towards the counter. Yura grinned unabashedly as she took their orders - throwing in a free piece of cheesecake alongside their American and sweet caramel latte - causing Wonshik's palms to sweat even more and Taekwoon to blush even harder as he mumbled a shy "thank you" at the floor. After a few moments longer of fuss and the over-enthusiastic waitress trying to coax the elder boy into conversation, the pair were finally sitting comfortably in a booth to the rear of the small building.

"Uh... sorry about all that," began Wonshik softly, as the other visibly relaxed within the safety of the cozy booth, "Yura can be a bit... too... too much sometimes."

"Mhmm," hummed Taekwoon, eyeing the cheesecake between them. The younger chuckled, pushing the plate and forks closer to him.

"Go ahead," he smiled. "I don't really like sweet things anyway."

"Sure?" came the quiet reply, slender fingers already reaching for a fork. The blond nodded reassuringly, watching as other munched happily on his first bite of the creamy treat. A sweet tooth, thought Wonshik, noting also the dark-haired boy's sugary drink choice: he would have to remember that.

Taekwoon polished off the cheesecake quickly, cleaning off the fork delicately and his lips moreishly. Then he sat back, latte clutchedWonshik with his sharp, dark eyes. The blond shifted under the scrutinising gaze, the hundreds of questions he had been bursting to ask just seconds before suddenly slipping away at the other's abrupt focus. Wonshik cleared his throat. "So, uh, what's it like being in final year music?" he offered lamely.

Now it was Taekwoon's turn to fidget, as his gaze shied away. "Terrifying," he admitted softly, "but also boring... and tiring. I don't know if I can't wait for it to end, or I never want to leave."

"That makes sense. Do you know what you will do once you're done?"

The older boy narrowed his eyes, taking another sip of his latte. “Do you?” he shot back quietly over the rim of his cup.

"Of course not," chuckled the blond. "Does any artist?"

Taekwoon's eyes widened ever so lightly in surprise, a small smile flicking fleetingly across his face. The adorable expression was brief, but softened his face prettily, leaving Wonshik with the sudden feeling that he would do anything to see that smile as often as possible. He grinned back as he thought of all the time he could spend with this beautiful creature, starting right in this moment, with Taekwoon peaking up at him shyly through his ebony fringe.

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The time flew by as the two talked, nestled safely in the booth of that tiny café, but pretty soon Yura was hurriedly shooing them out before the lunchtime rush. They loitered on the sidewalk for a time, before the warm midday sun convinced them cold drinks at one of their apartments might be a better idea. 

But as the two entered the building (Taekwoon glaring venomously at Hongbin across the front desk, as the other beamed back at him stupidly) Wonshik suddenly remembered the state in which he had left his apartment. Like Taekwoon, he too had gotten caught up in his creative projects that morning, but had showered, dressed, and left in a hurried cyclone, still determined to make it to the coffeehouse at least a few minutes before his date was due to arrive. Despite his success, he doubted Taekwoon would find the bomb-site his apartment currently resembled - along with its empty paint tubes, drop-sheets, half-finished canvases, unwashed brushes and pungent odour of turpentine - an appealing location for the remainder of their day together. Ah sh*t, thought the blond, visualising the imminent, unimpressed glare with which his lame excuse was sure to be met. He sighed and cleared his throat.

“Uhm… sorry, but,” he began, adjusting his snapback guiltily, “do you mind if we hang out at yours? I uh… I think the fumes in my apartment might knock us out if we sit in there before it’s aired out a bit.”

To his surprise, Taekwoon smiled a little, his eyes crinkling fondly. “Okay,” he replied. “So long as you don’t mind the mess. I’m halfway through a piece so I haven’t had time to clean.” Wonshik just smiled back, stepping out of the elevator behind him, wondering what on earth kind of mess could hide in the apartment of a reclusive music composer. Well, he guessed he would find out soon enough, as the other reached out to unlock and push open the door of apartment 501.

At first glance, Taekwoon’s apartment was much as Wonshik had expected: a reflected image of his own, but with music sheets and instruments strewn around instead of painting supplies, and a single mattress on the floor instead of his sturdy, iron-framed double bed. In the corner of the room, by the cramped galley kitchen that matched his, was something he had not expected at all. This is what Wonshik gawped at as he stood in the middle of Taekwoon’s apartment, completely baffled by what he saw.

“Feel free to run away now, if you like,” came a shaky quip from behind him. 

Wonshik looked back to see Taekwoon standing with the door still wide open, biting at his bottom lip again and clutching the door-handle apprehensively. He could hear the anxiety in the older boy’s voice, poorly veiled by the joke. “N-No,” he shook his head vigorously, turning back to the outlandish structure. “It’s…”

“Yeah,” said Taekwoon, clicking the door shut and sauntering up behind him. “Well, I just kind of… I mean, I had so many, so. What else would I do with them?”

There, towering above the other objects in the room, was the most outstanding fort Wonshik had ever seen - made completely out of empty instant noodle cups. Its construction was exquisite: a simple but solid inner keep surrounded by the partially-made outer wall, which stood at nearly four feet tall and sported two out of a supposed four five-feet-tall towers. Facing them was a small, arched entrance which showed the crawl space inside - big enough for both of them to sit comfortably - and the two completed towers were topped with flags cut from shin ramyeon packets. 

“This is… f**king incredible,” gasped Wonshik, absolutely in awe of Taekwoon’s creative recycling. Could this guy get anymore interesting? He’s turned his grocery trash into a motherf**king castle, he thought. No wonder he was so shy and mysterious.

“Really?” breathed Taekwoon, clearly relieved. He pointed towards the archway. “You can… you can go inside, if you like? I’ll get us some drinks.”

“Okay,” came the reply, as Wonshik crouched down and into the fort. Inside, he found soft floor cushions, blankets, pencils, and even more scoring sheets. It seemed as though Taekwoon hid here often to finish his compositions. Cute, he found himself thinking for the thousandth time.

“Do you really like it?” asked Taekwoon, reaching in to hand over the glasses of orange juice he’s prepared, before crawling  through to join him.

“Yeah, I really do,” smiled Wonshik. “It’s like… an art installation meets repurposing, with my childhood awesome fort dreams, all rolled into one. It’s so cool.” Taekwoon blushed at the blond’s awed description, dipping his head a little as he took a sip of his orange juice.

It suddenly dawned on Wonshik that Taekwoon had never let anyone else see his instant noodle construction before; perhaps he was even the first other person to set foot inside his apartment. He mused over this for a moment, considering just how little his friends had known about this beautiful, shy person, despite living in the same building and going to the same school. It occurred to him just how special this moment was, and just how lucky he was to see a side to Taekwoon that very few people had the chance to witness.

“Taakwoon,” he began softly. The ebony-haired boy looked up at him, cheeks still pink, as he continued, “Thank you, for bringing me here. I know I don’t know you too well but… I hope I can spend more time with you. Is that okay?” Taekwoon did not answer, blushing harder and looking back down at the floor. The silence stretched between them for a few moments, and Wonshik could not help but feel a little dejected that the older boy did not agree straight away.

“Uhm. Do you think,” whispered Taekwoon, fidgeting with the edge of the cushion he sat upon as he continued to look anywhere but at Wonshik, “do you think I could, maybe… hold your hand, for a little while?”

The younger boy smiled, scooting a little closer and reaching out to take pale, slender fingers between his own tanned, paint-stained ones.

“Of course you can.”