22:45

Taemin was in his small room, nothing but a blanket separating him from the cold floor of the old house. Out here, beds weren’t common, something Taemin’s back had learned the hard way.

One day, he called his friend, interrupting their drinking night on the last friday of the month. He suddendly had the need to talk to them, maybe even bring up Minho and how interesting it has been to interact with him. The other guys though, barely listened what he was talking about and somehow always managed to bring the topic back to one of the hot girls in their class. Taemin ended the call when they started mocking him and call Minho "that disabled freak".

Taemin wasn’t sure why, but even though he didn’t really know the taller, he felt hurt to have other people talking about Minho that way. He had a name.

Thinking back, he acted the exact same way when he first met him but somewhere along the way he had changed his perspective of the taller one rather drastically.

After this awful call, he decided talked to his grandmother about Minho, whose face instantly lit up when Taemin told her that he was making progress with talking to the autistic man. Actually, she had never known his name as they hadn’t introduced themselves to each other, their relationship had established over a long time and at some point, they were used to not knowing names.

“Minho is a good kid.” Halmoni said while preparing dinner for her and her grandson “I always joined him at the table on Fridays and he would just listen to me talking for 15 minutes. “

“Why 15 minutes?” Taemin asked with teary eyes while cutting onions for their breakfast.

“I would always notice him drifting away if I stayed longer than 15 minutes, so we kept it at that.” Halmoni just shrugged.

“Did he ever talk to you?” Taemin said and his grandmother stopped what she was doing, looking at the blonde by her side.

“You are very interested in Minho. Why is that?” she said.

“Just answer the question”

“He never talks much, but from time to time he would say things, sometimes even joking. He always managed to make me feel better when I was having a bad day.” She put down the knife she used to cut the carrots with and turned around completely, facing her grandson. “You know, even if he is not completely able to understand or even grasp emotions, I feel like he is a better person than most of the people here. Too bad the neighbourhood kids are always picking on him.”

“They are picking on him?” Taemin said, also putting down his knife.

“He is different, and different never goes well in small places like this. I did what I could and decided to not open the café for other customers while he is there… not that many would come anyway.”

17:30

The café latte was perfect. There was no reason to complain. But once more, underneath the cup was a piece of paper filled with the same ugly characters as the day before.

Hello Minho-ssi, Enjoy your coffee. I wanted to ask how old you are. I am 19 yrs old.

Why did Taemin want to know his age? And why didn't he write out years. It wasn't as if it was a hard word to write...

Minho’s mind drifted away, leaving the piece of paper by his side, not putting it back under the cup like he had done the day before. He was back in his world, but it wasn’t as calm as he is used to having it. Instead of having a discussion with Karl Marx which would have been appropriate regarding his reading assignment, Taemin popped up every few minutes, asking him for his age. He couldn’t find peace until he took a pen in his hand and wrote the answer on the little note.

But even after he had answered the other boy’s question, he wasn’t able to concentrate properly. Something about Halmoni’s replacement made him feel unsettled. So, rather than reading, he spent his time watching the table, counting the wooden lines while arguing in his head. Remembering what he learned in social classes he knew he should be answering the other male in person if he wanted to appear normal. But deep down, he knew that he would come off even stranger if he tried to speak to Taemin.

He left the café, slightly later than he usually did, because he had been lost in his unusual thoughts. It was a new feeling. He never felt so out of control. Even when the neighbourhood kids were picking on him, he was able to get into his safe space where none of the words they said reached his conscience.

Minho walked the now dark familiar streets back to his house, his mind all over the place, wondering why the boy from Seoul disturbed him so much. He had never taken any interest in a person. People weren’t interesting to him. All they were was confusing. He likes predictability. And from all people he met, Taemin definitely was the least predictable one and therefore he should be despising the blonde male. But he wasn't.

His house was loud. He hated it. As fast as he could, he passed his family who was currently dining around a small table, all of them sitting on the heated floor. His room was right behind the area they ate, only separating him from his family with a thin door made from fabric and wood.

Trying to ignore the chatting of his family, he put his bag with books where they belonged and sat down on the small cushion stretching his legs under the table. He ate the same meal every evening. His mother usually prepared rice porridge, some kind of meat or fish, Ddok-Guk and left a few side dishes like Kimchi and dried anchovies on the small table for Minho to eat.

18:55

Minho left later than usual, confusing Taemin, who had to spend way more time cleaning the counter than he actually needed. He wondered if he went to far, leaving another note only the day after the taller had answered his first question. On the other hand, he needed to know if he is older or younger to properly talk to him without making a mistake in regard of formality.

From what he knew, Minho could be both, younger and older than him. The books he read hinted towards older, but thinking back to what he read about it, Taemin remembered that autistic people are usually outstanding in one or another way, way beyond their age-level, which resulted in him knowing nothing.

Today, he didn’t watch what the taller was doing much. Somehow, Minho seemed to be unable to concentrate on his books, only looking at the table. Taemin had no idea what was happening to Minho, hoping it wasn’t something bad. He probably would never know.

As soon as Minho left the café with his usual bow and mumbled words, Taemin closed the door and instantly walked over to the table to see if there was an answer written on the note, he had left underneath the cup.

His whole body relaxed when he saw the same beautiful handwriting on the piece of paper that had written out Minho's name yesterday. Up until now he didn’t realise how nervous he had been before, afraid that he had pushed the taller male too far.

My age is 21 years and I thank you plenty for the delightful cup of coffee.

                                                                         -   Choi Minho

How could Minho’s words be so smooth? He wrote those very basic lines as if they were part of an important book written in the 1800s. Taemin held the paper in his hands while he walked back to the counter, reading the pretty characters over and over again.

After carefully placing the note on top of the one from yesterday, he closed the drawer and soon after, closed the shop, walking the empty streets he had grown to like, back to his grandmother’s place.

Like the day before, he wanted to share what happened today with someone. And once more he didn’t know whom to tell it too. His grandmother was already asleep when he came home, just left a note that she didn’t feel to well and went to sleep early. His friends were not an option as it had turned out badly the day before and he had sworn to not talk to his parents while he was here. He would have to wait for his Halmoni to wake up the next day as she would be the only one to understand his exitement.

While Taemin warmed up the food from the refrigerator his grandmother had prepared, he thought about what to ask on the note tomorrow. A small smile not leaving his face until he went to bed, looking forward to 17:25 tomorrow.

A/N
Here we go with another short chapter of this strangely cute story...
I know there isn't much plot but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Leave a comment if you did heheheh

Much love

XX

R