Winter 2015

A number of things lead to that particularly unimportant moment, and later Yoongi would sometimes wonder if the universe, or some god, or whoever created this ing system, had done it on purpose. Had purposely lead him to that moment when he locked eyes with that entirely unimportant stranger, nestled in a seat by the window. Locked eyes with an entirely unimportant stranger despite that he almost never went out, and yet somehow… somehow he had ended up here. Somewhere he had never been. Experiencing this moment that couldn't possibly matter.

***

It had started with his coffee machine that morning, spitting out a few last vestiges of life before refusing to make a single ounce more. And he had taken a deep breath, willed himself to be patient- he didn't need coffee, just really ing wanted it. He would order a new machine later.

But then more inexplicable things began piling up, and he didn't quite notice until his patience was worn utterly thin. He had a multitude of paper cuts, a small knick on his jaw that still stung from where he had cut himself shaving that morning, a few thin burns marring stripes into otherwise perfectly smooth, pale fingers, shards of a broken plate swept impatiently into the trash, a phone dropped on the counter after a frustrating call from his soon-to-be-boss asking him to come in for a meeting later that day, and finally a dark computer screen reflecting disheveled hair and a look of quiet fury in a now dark apartment. And he snapped. The power was out. Of course the power was out. Maybe it was a blessing that he had been struggling in front of that damn screen, unable to write a damn word for the past hour anyway. Maybe. But he didn't think so.

Shoving his chair back, barely noticing when it tipped backward and crashed against the dark hardwood floor, Yoongi stomped out of his workroom, snatching his bag with his laptop as he went, and a grey suit from his bedroom before storming out of the building, needing to escape the damn place.

***

A few hours later, after a terse conversation explaining to his best friend why exactly he had shown up at his apartment unannounced and looking like a trainwreck (suddenly unsure himself, he muttered something about a power outage), after a shower, and a final meeting about salary and work and other annoying things, after he was just so doneand desperate for something to calm him and go right for once that day- was that too ing much to ask for?- after everything, he headed toward the one place he knew he could at least get a decent cup of coffee.

But it was cold- the year was coming to an end, after all- and all he had on was that goddamn suit, and so when he entered the cafe, puffing a sigh of relief, he knew his cheeks were still flushed from the frigid air that had pierced right through him on his way. Hearing the door chime as it swung closed behind him, he took stock of the cozy atmosphere inside, the aroma of coffee and pastries, the gentle murmur of voices, and he instinctively glanced down at his watch, wondering how late it was and if he had time to sit down and maybe try working here for a while.

Suddenly feeling an odd chill up his spine and a strange warmth on his cheek, Yoongi glared up sharply, making unwanted eye contact with a man nestled in a seat by the window. After a moment, what had been a smile adorning the handsome face looking up at him slowly turned to a look of uncertainty, and Yoongi wasn't sure why he was even still looking. Sure, the guy looked pretty good in those glasses, and yeah, his casually ruffled brown hair and loosened tie and well fitted dress shirt would have been just a tad bit attractive, were he interested- but he wasn't. He was having a day, and so he broke the eye contact like it had never existed, strolled up to the counter like nothing had happened, ordered a drink as if he couldn't still feel a pair of eyes on his back.

Really, what is this guy's problem? Yoongi had finally felt like his day might be taking a turn for the better, but now… It was rude to stare, and it's not like the guy was trying particularly hard to be subtle about it.

He was waiting for his drink, holes still being burned into the back of his head, when he finally lost his patience for the second time that day. Turning, Yoongi glared vehemently at the stranger, and the man finally had enough sense to blush and drop his eyes to the volume in his hands. It was fortunate that he had, too, because Yoongi had been about to give him a piece of his goddamn mind if he hadn't, and that probably wouldn't have been very good for business.

“Yoongi, you came!” Momentarily distracted, Yoongi turned to look at the man behind the counter, who was dressed in his ridiculous pink apron, as per usual. “Oh, , you look pissed. What happened?” The man grinned, and Yoongi had a sneaking suspicion that he got some kind of sick pleasure from his pain.

“Nothing, Jin-hyung. And I told you I would come eventually.”

“Uh-huh, sure. I opened months ago, Yoongi,” Jin pointed out accusingly as he pouted and handed Yoongi his Americano, wisely prodding no further into the younger’s business. “Then again, it's a miracle that you came out in public at all, Mr. I'm-Too-Lazy-To-Do-Literally-Anything-But-Write-Music,” Jin mused. “I'm proud you've come this far,” he wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye, pretending to sniffle. “So, what brings you out of the house, Motionless Min? I know it's not my coffee.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the stupid nickname and ignored the question, instead growling, “Who's the guy by the window?” He jerked a thumb backwards, barely concealed frustration coloring his voice, “He's been staring at me like he's expecting something or something, and it's ing rude is what it is.”

Jin’s eyes shifted to where he had pointed. “Park Jimin? The kid in the glasses? I don't know,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “He's my younger brother's friend, though Jimin’s a couple years older, I think. They dance at the same studio, and he's a regular here at my cafe. Real friendly type. Maybe you've met before, but you've forgotten? One night stand on a night you couldn't remember, perhaps?”

Yoongi snorted at the jab, “Not likely. Thanks for the drink, hyung.” Turning on his heel, he quickly scouted out the furthest seat from Jimin and made his way toward that . If there were holes in his suit from all the piercing glances he received on the way, though, he swore he would make this Jimin guy pay. Yoongi had finally visited Jin’s place because he needed to relax and work in peace and thought maybe the change of scenery would spark some fresh creativity. He had even actually kinda liked the place, in the split second before he made eye contact with Park Jimin.

Ugh, whatever. He pulled the laptop from his black messenger bag and settled down, trying once again to work. He was supposed to be writing a song, one that included more than just his usual rap, but lyrics seemed to escape him, leaving him even more frustrated than before. Struggling in front of the laptop screen, coffee was his only solace through it all.

This is going ing nowhere. Yoongi glared at the screen in front of him. You need to get past this writer’s block, Min Yoongi, or what are you going to do when you begin work on Wednesday? Yoongi scolded himself. This is going to be your job now. He frowned at the thought, mixed emotions flowing forth as he considered once again what he had gotten himself into. He was an underground rapper and he liked being an underground rapper, but this job had been knocking on his door for a long time now, and he knew the offer wouldn't last forever. Besides, he thought maybe, just maybe , it would open that door he couldn't seem to push through, mayb e he could become known outside of just the underground scene. If groups like Epik High existed, he thought maybe he had a chance.

He was slumped forward, tapping his fingers listlessly, when his thoughts were interrupted by nearly silent footsteps and the telltale smell of caramel and coffee.

“A caramel macchiato is hardly coffee, you know. You should get something with less sugar. Watch your figure,” he suggested, only looking up at the unwelcome visitor when he heard a small gasp of surprise. No one snuck up on Min Yoongi.

“Uhm, oh. Hi. No. I'm not really worried about my figure, so sugar doesn't put me off,” Yoongi thought he caught a slight smirk twisting Jimin’s lips.

ing… oh. Well. Valid point. Looking more closely at the guy, Yoongi could see where the muscles in his arms and chest pulled just slightly at the cloth of his button up, where his slacks filled in a little too nicely, and there was just no way to argue with that, so instead he snapped, “Well, what do you want then?”

Flinching slightly at the hostility and biting his lip as he nervously pushed his glasses farther up his nose, Jimin suddenly seemed to have lost the confidence he wore just moments before when he blurted, “Right, look, I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you, but, I-I had to ask…” he paused, looking down as his ears turned bright pink, before jerking his head up again, “did you not experience that earlier, too?”

“Experience what? ” Yoongi crossed his arms in resigned frustration, leaning back in his chair. “All I've experienced is you staring holes into my damn back this whole time.” Jimin’s entire face flushed a very appropriate red, and he once again dropped his eyes to the coffee cup he was fiddling with.

He better ing blush. Yoongi waited for his response, determined to get an answer, and watched his face in the silence that preceded whatever explanation he would give. Yoongi’s eyes flicked to Jimin’s loosened tie, once again noticing his chest , before hastily moving on to the coffee cup in his hands. He would be a ing sweet tooth. And damn his stupid figure.

“Time stopped.”

Yoongi froze. This was… well , this wasn't what he was expecting at all. In retrospect, he had no idea what he had been expecting, but definitely not… this. Because everyone knew what those words meant. And Jimin’s eyes suddenly seemed to he pleading with him, unsure and so incredibly desperate , and then his lips seemed to be pleading with him as well, and it took Yoongi a fraction of a second to focus on what he was hearing.

“…I don't understand. The moment I saw you, time stopped. W-wha… How could I be the only one?” -or at least, Yoongi was fairly certain those were the words, and the confusion and hurt in Jimin’s eyes seemed to fit. Slowly processing the situation, Yoongi began to soften- though not… completely. Because he didn't want to hear those words. He didn't want to hear a damn word about time or soulmates or any of that. There were some walls he had no interest in breaking, and for a moment he actually felt a twinge of pity for the guy.

“Look man, I'm sorry,” he said gently, carefully, “but I felt nothing. You must be mistaken.” And while he really hadn't felt anything, he felt a small prick of fear and guilt because he knew that statement wasn't completely true. It wasn't that Jimin must be mistaken, just probably was. But Yoongi squashed the thought before it could take root, uninterested in tangling with the possibility and instead studying Jimin’s face as the latter frowned at his feet. Jimin seemed to be… wrestling with something? Before Yoongi could make heads or tails of the emotions flitting across the other’s face, however, Jimin looked up, and they were all replaced by a quiet fire in his eyes that Yoongi hadn't been expecting.

“Can I at least invite you out sometime?”

“No.”

And then the fire was gone, and Jimin looked some mixture of lost, injured, and just completely taken aback by the immediate, curt response. Yoongi knew he was being a bitof an , so he continued, more gently this time, “Look. You seem nice. But I'm really not interested in starting anything right now, and I'm not really a social being to begin with. You probably wouldn't like me anyway. The time freeze thing was probably just a trick of the light or something. So, uh, I'm sorry, but I do hope you find your actual soulmate.” Yoongi couldn't quite look Jimin in the eyes as he said it, but glanced up as the latter straightened, a carefully blank look smoothing over his face as he nodded.

“Alright, well, sorry to have bothered you,” Jimin bowed and gave him an awkward smile, turning to walk away before twisting back a moment later. “Ah, I forgot to introduce myself earlier. Park Jimin,” he offered a hand, small but solid, which Yoongi hesitantly accepted, noticing how thin and pale his own fingers looked in comparison- and definitely  not how warm Jimin’s hand felt against his own.

“Min Yoongi.”

Then Jimin was bowing once more and striding away, and Yoongi was definitely not- not- feeling an ounce of curiosity or regret, because at least that much of what he had told Jimin was true. He had no interest in starting something with someone, and he wasn't social, and Jimin probably wouldn't have liked someone like him anyway. Besides, he really hated the goddamn system that supposedly lead Jimin to him to begin with.

Yoongi breathed an exhausted sigh, feeling drained as he watched Park Jimin gather his things from his table by the window and walk out the door, and most likely out of his life for good. Allowed a wave of relief to wash over him as the door shut, and he was left alone- or as alone as one can be in a cafe surrounded by people- and it was comfortable, and familiar, and easy . And as he turned back to his laptop, already decided on forgetting the unimportant stranger, he caught the lingering scent of the sweet coffee he had held in his hands throughout the entire exchange, and it sparked something unexpected in Yoongi. Turning back to his laptop, his fingers flew across the keyboard and a stream of lyrics filled what had been a blank screen just moments before. When the flow finally ebbed to a satisfying halt, he placed a simple title at the top.

Coffee.