1

Espresso:
           -Espresso, 1 oz.

 Contrary to popular opinion, Jae wasn't always a self-centered . Beneath the drive to push through his college years with at least a 3.8 average – knocked down from a 4.0 because allergies – and a resting face that kept all the first and second years in the political sciences seminar he was TA-ing from asking any questions – though this may have been because of the handout he graciously printed everyone, detailing the professor's own office hours –, was an off-campus barista, who did in fact earn tips, with friends consisting of three weirdos and a tumblr grunge aesthetic blog crammed into the body of a blond  man-child; who he did in fact care for, not that anybody had to know. It was for this reason that when the aforementioned man-child, self named YoungK  even though his college transcript still had 'Brian Kang' printed at its top, was inches from planting his face into the cracked linoleum desktop of their shared humanities lecture that Jae dropped a white paper travel cup, with the horrible geometric logo of Day6 Coffee, in front of the hand not currently holding YoungK's face upright.

With the thud of stiff paper on his desk, YoungK managed to lift his head and pull the stray pieces of  hair that had fallen out of the crudely twisted knot perched on the back of his skull from the line of drool beginning to form at the corner of his mouth.. He pops the lid off, sniffing the shallow contents with a grimace, croaking out,

“What is this?”
     

 “Espresso. And what are you wearing?” Jae replies, loosening the scarf from around his neck and dropping his coat and barely used notebook onto the desk before sliding into a chair beside him.
     

YoungK sniffs at the drink once more, “It's called a wrap, and – I know what you're thinking –no, I did not browse the women's section. I swear, that was one time.” Swirling the cup once he tosses back the shot of espresso, managing one of the smiles that, no, did not cause Jae's heart to stutter momentarily and a feeble smile to appear on his own in response.

“Thank you,” he speaks quietly, presumably so no one can hear the YoungK  be an actual pleasant human being. Finally pulling out his own beaten notebook and pencil he mutters a quick,

“I'll pay you back.”
 

“Don't worry about it,” Jae replies, flipping open to a blank page and thus ending their conversation and cementing the fact that, yes, Jae does care, even if it's only for a fashionably-challenged beanstalk that drools when he sleeps.
   

 Plus he totally gets an employee discount.

2

           Cappuccino:
           -Espresso, 2 oz.
           -Steamed Milk, 2 oz.
           -Foamed Milk, 2 oz.

 Their shared classes are very limited, what with YoungK being a floating business major who happens to flit from course to course depending on his mood at that time and Jae an international political sciences major who had known what he had wanted to study since he was sixteen. The humanities lecture was an effort to put YoungK into some semblance of a degree program, and a degree requirement for Jae. However, while Jae saw it as something he had to pass in order to walk out of this college with a diploma in his hand, thus putting up with the utterly annoying mind-numbness that was the class, YoungK saw it as only an irritant, and, managing to pay his tuition completely with academic and soccer scholarships, could not find it in himself to care about the lecture, leaving him to sleep through the abundant powerpoints and half-baked discussions. This of course led to Jae walking into their class next Thursday, right off a shift, smelling of ground coffee along with the sweet undertones of pastries and cream, and holding another cup in front of YoungK bearing a familiar logo.
     

His hair was down today and bruhed along the edges of his shoulders, hidden beneath an oversized charcoal sweater, as he rolled his neck. Taking the cup into his own hands, tendons jumping at the warmth. Looking up to grace Jae with a slight upturn of his lips, words, “Coffee,” dropped, part hopeful, part questioning – and part coy if Jae knew anything from those disastrous years of high school dating. Dropping into the usual seat next to YoungK,

“Cappuccino,” Jae pulled out the usual notebook and pen.

The obligatory sniff, followed by the challenging, “So coffee?” before Jae looked over to see YoungK take a pull from the cup.

Running a tongue over to chase the remaining balance of coffee and milk, YoungK nods. Jae takes this as the sign of approval, or at least the way sweater-drowned liberal arts majors do, as he flips to a previously blank page, writing down a precise cappuccino next to an espresso.

3
 

           Mocha Breve:
           -Espresso, 2 oz.
           -Chocolate, 2 oz.
           -Half & Half, 2 oz.

It's rare that YoungK goes out of his way to interact with people, even those he deems his friends, let alone go into public without the intention of heading to either his next class or his small off-campus apartment. This scenario was made even more unlikely as YoungK deemed anything before noon as “early” since he frequently did not fall asleep until the early hours of the morning. Something about nighttime being more conducive to his artistic brain and the tasks he needed to fulfill with said brain. So when the bell above Day6 Coffee's door clinked with the arrival of a haggard YoungK , it wouldn't be too far off to say that Jae spilled part of the over-caffeinated soccer mom's latte over the edge of its mug.
 

The shop had opened not even twenty minutes ago at an utterly too cheerful six 'o' clock, and the line of waiting customers had already stretched to the front entrance where YoungK shouldered his way through, picking out a corner table in the back, free of sun glare, and dropping his coursework to the table with an unceremonious thump. He feet dragged underneath him as he too dropped into a chair, tucking his head of unkempt hair into the crook of his elbows and proceeding to fall asleep on the table.

 It wasn't until a solid forty-five minutes had passed when the majority of the early morning breakfast rush finally dispersed, leaving the few who decided to pass their mornings in one of the shop's overstuffed chairs or at a table with their laptop, taking advantage of the advertised free wifi. When Jae finihed placing a filled cup on its designated saucer, he tossed a quick word toMark, one of the co-workers who also his friend, signaling his single fifteen minute break and heading over to YoungK's table in the back. He set the saucer down on the table, hopefully far enough away to avoid collision with an elbow, as he dragged the chair from the other side of the table over near YoungK, taking a seat.
 

Picking up his head just enough to look over the barrier of his arms he sleepily glared at the cup in front of him, “I smell chocolate.”
     

Jae smirked, lifting his hand and, after a moment of hesitation, allowing himself to carefully brush his hand through the knotted mess of YoungK's hair, trying to form it into some semblance of order. “That,” he paused, “is a delightful blend of both espresso and chocolate.” With a grumble, YoungK sat up – barely – to grab the cup placed in front of him and take a sip from it.
     

As YoungK drank, Jae ran his fingers through YoungK's hair, pulling off one of the elastics from around his wrist, there only by YoungK's request, tucking it into a crude but manageable bun. “I couldn't sleep so figured I'd get up,” YoungK mumbles around a mouthful of chocolate, “I thought you'd be working.”

 Jae hummed as YoungK drank the rest of his cup, placing it back on the saucer and proceeding to rest his head on Jae's shoulder. If the insomniac night owl happens to fall asleep there, prompting Jae to call in Jackson to cover his shift with the bribe of his boyfriend working the front counter after his fifteen minutes are up, then nobody else has to know. And Jae makes a note to write mocha breve next in his notebook.

4

           Caffé Affogato
           -Espresso, 2 oz.
           -Vanilla Ice Cream, 3 oz.

 In true higher institution form, the air conditioners break mid-way through the spring semester, and many students seek reprieve from the heat in the various quads loitering the campus. Jae along with the other students, all victims to the campus's on-site dorms and, by extension, death by hot air, lounge around, or in as the case may be, one of the decorative fountains loitering the various pathways around the academic buildings.
     

 Jae sits on the stone ledge with the cuffs of his pants rolled up around his shins, just letting the water skim past his ankles, a cup, this time plastic with a spoon crookedly sticking out, while the Markson couple and Wonpil have taken to kicking water at each other and shouting profanities – though admittedly that part is mostly Wonpil – at the other as waves of cold water soak into their clothes.
     

A mess of black settles next to Jae, facing opposite the water-flinging trio as he unties a clunky pair of Vans and shoving the painted-on denim legs of his jeans past his ankles. YoungK's feet settle into the water beside Jae and he stares in a combination of disdain and humor at the three, who have now distanced themselves from each other in an “every man for himself” maneuver.
     

Picking at the sweaty strands of his hair that cling to his forehead, YoungK huffs, “Why are we friends with them?”
 

Jae coughs out a chuckle, “I don't even know,” and holds the cup in his hand out in front of YoungK. With a grimace YoungK reaches out and hesitantly wraps his fingers around the offered beverage, sneering, “If this is coffee I'm going to drown you in this fountain.” Despite the scowl threatening to make itself permanent on his face, YoungK takes a slow sip of the beverage, only to pull back in shock. “Is it supposed to be cold?” he blurts out in misplaced concern.
     

Jae smiles, “ Caffé affogato,” picking up the spoon and scooping out ice cream from beneath the espresso and holding it out to YoungK, “ Ice cream.”
 

      YoungK smiles briefly, reaching out and taking the spoon from Jae, relishing in the ice cream's sweetness, and mumbling, “I like it.” The two share eye contact for a second before a heet of water hits them, dowsing them in cold water and leaving them with clothing suctioned to their skin. In Jae's notebook, the words blur together where caffé affogato will be written once their college's text alerts announces that climate control in all buildings has been fixed.

5

           Con Panna
           -Espresso, 2 oz.
           -Whipped Cream, 3 oz.

     It was one of the days where Jae and YoungK didn't share any classes, but after passing what appeared to be a husk of the former YoungK in the hall between Jae's English seminar and Business management course, he made a trip to the cafe on the one hour break between his morning and afternoon classes; dropping off the con panna to YoungK in his lecture hall where he was met with wide eyes that evened out into a smile, that did not cause Jae to screech on the inside, with a soft, “Thank you,” that wasn't in the least bit condescending.
     

With only twenty minutes left after walking downtown to his place of work, fighting the lunch crowd, and exchanging few and uncomfortable small talk with their shift leader Jaebum, Jae opted to grab one of the offered meals in the campus cafeteria. The only positive side, if you could even call it that, was that Wonpil, Mark and Jackson had claimed one of the tables in the quieter part of the room as their own since their second semester as freshmen. Of course this also meant that the three of them occupied this table; but beggars can't always be choosers.
     

Jae sat down beside Wonpil and began to pick at the saran wrap covering the, supposedly, only vegetarian wrap offered. While Jackson and Mark continued their conversation as if Jae's presence had no influence on them – something about a dog, probably the stumpy little corgi of Jackson's that had sent Jae into a sneezing fit the first time he met him –, Wonpil leaned over to Jae and – in a manner suggesting that he never knows about about personal space, sniffed him.
     

 “You smell like coffee,” he breathed out, looking gleefully excited as he crowed out,

 “Did you bring me something?” For the only other person who could truly appreciate Jae's standing job as a barista more than even Jae himself, was Wonpil.
    

 He huffed at him, pushing him back from his shoulder to resume his re-organizing of the vegetables in his wrap in an even manner, muttering a terse, “No,” only to follow it with,

 “I just wanted to drop something off for YoungK,” and, even quieter, more like a spoken thought than a deliberate sentence, “He seemed out of it this morning.”
 

Wonpil sneered, a look that could only be described as 'disgust' on his face,

“Why would you waste coffee on YoungK? He doesn't even like coffee.”
     

Jae picked his head up so fast one may have thought to check for whiplash as he said,

“What are you talking about? YoungK doesn't hate coffee.”
     

Only now did Jackson and Mark decide to end their discussion, with Mark chirping in,

“No man, YoungK hates the stuff. Said something about how it tasted like actual death concentrated into liquid form,” he turns to Jackson once more, “I don't think that's fair I mean have you ever tried – ,” their conversation once more disintegrating into mutual heart eyes and probably further discussions about the pros and cons of puppies, rainbows and clouds made of cotton candy or something.
     

Jae turns to Wonpil again, his disbelief having seemed to evaporate, “But I've been buying him drinks for the past few weeks,” trailing off in mild confusion. Wonpil barks out a laugh, her voice cracking into a higher tone,

“You?” squawk, “Have been buying coffee for YoungK ? The YoungK  who put sugar into that powdered lemonade crap because it was 'too bitter'?”

Exhaling out in one extended breath, Wonpil shakes her head gravely from side to side,

“You two... are so whipped.”
     

Jae forgets to write con panna in the back of his notebook.

+1

           Fuzzy Peach Tea
           -Passion Iced Tea made with Half Water and Half Orange-Mango Purée with Light Ice
           -Peach Syrup substitute, instead of classic syrup

Jae walks into his humanities lecture five minutes early and heads to the back row, occupied solely by a gray scale lump of a human being. YoungK once more has his hair falling in his face, having slipped out of the half-hearted attempt at a ponytail that's supposed to be preventing this very situation. His writing hand is beginning to tilt, pencil still in his grasp, as sleep begins to curl around him, not even waiting for the class to actually start this time.
     

With a fond smile, Jae once more places a cup in front of YoungK, twisting the base till the green and white logo faces towards him. YoungK picks up his head, watching as Jae takes a seat to his left, confusion furrowing his brow as he turns to look at the cup in front of him.

“What is this?” he mutters.
     

 “Fuzzy peach tea,” Jae answers, smirking impishly as he leans further to YoungK's ear, bracing his arm on the back of his chair, and, no, his hand does not just so happen to brush the small of YoungK's back, and whisper conspiratorially,

“Don't tell Jaebum.”
     

YoungK takes a sip from the clear travel cup, his mouth lifting at the corners and crinkling his eyes along the edges. He leans over, hair falling over his shoulder to brush against Jae's own, to say, smirking up at the man beside him, “You know you can call me Brian.”

And if Jae's heart does just so happen to pause for a moment, then nobody else has to know. Because Brian cares too.

#youngkwho?