Jinyoung narrows his eyes, an unpleasant look is clearly plastered on his face upon the words he just heard from Mark, his best friend – or a soon-to-be ex-best friend, it seems so. But Mark remains unfazed, the same grin still lingers on his face and the eyes are still b with glee.

“Excuse you?” Jinyoung’s frown is deepened by his voice, low and deep, the long article he was reading is already forgotten once he tears his stare away from his phone. “Did you just tell me that I somehow arranged a blind date with some stranger I’ve never even met next weekend?”

Mark’s smile grows even wider as he nods. “That’s right.”

The younger growls, “What kind of idiot who goes to a cakery for a blind date?”

“Apparently you are.”

If only Jinyoung was gifted with a superpower, the black-haired man hopes that his power would be emitting laser beam from his eyes like Cyclops just so Mark could disappear right away. “You are the idiot, Mark.”

Carefreely, as if he didn’t notice Jinyoung’s murder intent, Mark sweeps his blonde fringe away from his face and pulls his phone. His thumb is drawing a pattern on the screen as he sneers, “Do you want me to pick a different place?”

Jinyoung scoffs, quite in satisfaction, when he hears the other man’s squawk as his elbow lands snugly on Mark’s stomach. “No blind date, idiot,” he hisses, raising himself out of the chair and heading towards his room. “How many times have I told you that I’m not interested in dating anyone? At least, not now.”

“And how many times have I told you, Editor Park,” the playful tone remains in Mark’s voice, the one that’s too familiar to Jinyoung’s ears for both have been, surprisingly, friends for years, “that you’re not interested only because you’re not trying. At all.”

Jinyoung muses for a while. “Well, I tried.” He turns around, crossing his arms on his chest now. “But things don’t always work the way we want.”

But Mark only shrugs his shoulders, in the same familiar casual manner Jinyoung knows better doesn’t truly show how it is – Mark may often act playful, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that the older one never takes anything seriously. The blond walks towards where the front door is, not bothering to throw another glance at the other. “Well, then I suppose you didn’t try hard enough, Nyoung. Good night.”

The blond’s figure disappears once the door closes, the silence that’s left feels strangely deafening to Jinyoung. For a split second, he almost considers agreeing to Mark’s scheme of matchmaking him with some stranger (Jinyoung only hopes that whoever they are, they’re not a creep), if only it weren’t because of the buzz coming from the phone in his hand.

A new message from Mark reads: You sure you don’t want me to choose a different place?

Jinyoung should’ve known better to not help a foreigner on his first day of university so eagerly only because he wanted to improve his English.

 

*

 

To those who meet Mark for the first time, the man – an American of Taiwanese descent – may come across as calm, collected, and polite. But just like that one old meme Jinyoung once saw on the internet: it’s a trap! Getting to know him better and better, Mark is playful at best and horribly mischievous at worst, and his stubbornness is on a whole different level – even without letting go of his politeness.

And all of this ‘Mark trying to make Jinyoung go on a blind date’ attempt is just another case of Mark getting on Jinyoung’s nerves. Especially because he does it relentlessly for the next few days, and without crossing the line, even – it really annoys Jinyoung in a way that he can’t really get mad at his best friend because Mark only mentions the topic casually in their conversation (unfortunately, they talk and meet quite often since both live in the same apartment building) and never actually forces him. Not explicitly, at least.

It’s Wednesday night past 11 p.m when both of them are unpacking the take-outs – Chinese foods from the restaurant around the corner – and Mark, unsurprisingly, brings up the topic. “Do you want me to drive you there this Saturday?”

Having been exposed to such a topic for a week, Jinyoung no longer needs to ask the other to elaborate just because. “I’ve told you that I’ll be on leave starting from Friday, so chances are I’ll still be in my bed Saturday afternoon.” Without sparing a glance at the blond, he carries his own food and sits cross-legged on the only couch in the living room, perhaps purposely taking the center seat just so he won’t have to share it with the other guy. “Oh, I’ll be most likely sleeping the whole weekend anyway.”

Mark, fully understanding why the black-haired man takes the whole couch for himself, only snickers and forcefully squeezes himself in any opening – thank Lord for his slim build. Upon the sight of Jinyoung’s nasty stare, he merely wiggles his brow. “That’s very un-Editor Park-like.”

The younger one, albeit grumbling, scoots over. “It’s called Holiday Nyoung, where he won’t even care if the world would come to an end because he’s been anticipating the long-awaited break he deserves.”

“Huh,” the blond’s mouth is full with noodles, although Jinyoung can still make up the words, “being a news editor isn’t that hard, especially when you’re in the Business Desk.”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes, “thanks for your useless input, Mr. Pro Gamer.”

“But y’know,” Mark swallows his food and turns to the other, his half-empty plastic bowl is in his lap, “I highly advise you to give it a try.”

“Mark, I—”

“Meet him, and if it fails, I will never, ever, ever try to play matchmaker again.”

Jinyoung frowns, turning his head slightly to meet the other man’s oddly firm stare, “That’s hardly a deal.”

The blond groans, rolling his eyes as he leans back to the couch. “Alright. That, and I’ll get your coffee for a week. There, I sacrifice my precious bedtime for you. Aren’t I such a perfect friend?”

The creases form on the corner of Jinyoung’s eyes when he grins and chuckles – being a night owl since forever, Mark never sleeps before the clock hits 8 in the morning. And the sight of the older one being all agitated for neglecting his precious bedtime to get Jinyoung his even more precious caffeine intake for a week is absolutely the one worth anticipating. “No, you’re not,” he fixes his stare back at the TV, the grin on his face grows wider, “You’re the best. Now finish your meal so I can kick you out and resume my work.”

 

*

 

Friday went smoothly for Jinyoung, much to his surprise. Because even though he’s no longer working in the City Desk where he used to work and live restlessly, chasing down every bit of news across the city whether it was a local sensation or political scandal, sometimes there are bits of work he still has to finish on weekends or even when he’s on leave, mainly because the head editor relies and trusts him – perhaps a little too much, given Jinyoung’s stellar academic background as a business major.

However, no matter how much he’s willing to sleep in, old habits die hard, indeed. And so he finds it unsurprising that he’s already wide awake at 6 a.m on Saturday, even when he went to bed at 2 after a movie marathon with no one else but Mark.

Jinyoung grunts as he feels something churning inside his stomach, perhaps from the soft cookies and fudgy brownies he ate the night before – a “gift” from his friend. It’s not like Jinyoung’s never snacked at night, but it’s always been everyone’s favorite Korean late night snack: tteokbokki, chimaek, any kind of jeon (especially gajijeon), you name it.

Only after he’s done showering does Jinyoung finally check his phone, the device is in his left hand while the other one is pouring milk into a glass bowl – there are some soft cookies left from last night and he plans to dip one in milk for breakfast. Unsurprisingly, Mark left him a message, most likely sent after the older returned to his own place.

Mark: 3 p.m. Don’t forget. I swear you won’t be disappointed. (

A scoff leaves Jinyoung’s lips as he closes the messaging app and checks his email – fortunately, there are only two reminders for Monday when he’ll be back to work: one is for an evaluation meeting and another is for an internship interview. He’s still surprised that he’ll finally go to meet any stranger with whom Mark has set him up today, out of any other day. His weekend plan seems to go accordingly, and for a second, the man is tempted to cancel the plan at the last minute just so he can finish another new book he bought last month, perhaps while snacking on the cookies – “I must ask Mark where he bought it,” he reminds himself.

But of course, the deal is more tempting. Although he’s fully aware that the deal isn’t anything big – after all, it’s only a week’s worth of Americano – all Jinyoung needs is to get his best friend to finally stop trying to make him meet anyone new.

“Man, you know that it’s not like you’re going to spend the rest of your life with them, right?” Mark once pointed out last year, when Jinyoung once again turned down the idea of introducing him with someone. “I only thought that, ‘Whoa, this person looks good with Jinyoung.’ Both of you may even become friends so you won’t have to stick with me for the rest of your life.”

And Jinyoung only replied with a snort, always, “I know, but I’m not interested, is all. You’ve seen how I’m not tailored for any romantic relationship for so many years. I don’t think I’m still interested in building any new relationship from scratches, being friends included. Not at this age. So pride yourself on being the sole best friend of Park Jinyoung.”

“Huh,” the other guy rolled his eyes, “you’re only 27, yet you make it sound as if you’re already 67.”

But today, everything is about to change, since Jinyoung is determined to prove that Mark’s choice and he doesn’t need romance in his life – he’s got the job he’s been dreaming of, and the pay is more than enough to spoil him with new books, premium digital newspaper subscriptions, nice foods, cozy place to live, and daily caffeine intake. His social life doesn’t look as bad as Mark seemingly tries to paint as he manages to maintain a healthy relationship with his colleagues at work. Heck, lady next door even often offered him her homemade meal.

And with the last spoon of cookie cereal – “I definitely have to ask where Mark bought it,” Jinyoung takes another mental note – his determination is only growing firmer. He picks his phone and punches the screen, typing in a new message for his best friend, who’s most likely still deep in his slumber.

Jinyoung: Mark Tuan, I’ll be sure to make you stop this time. And where did you get the soft cookies from? They taste heavenly.

 

*

 

Of course, Jinyoung doesn’t let Mark drive him to the cake shop, as if he were a toddler on his first day of school and Mark were his parent. In fact, Jinyoung left his place early before 1 p.m just so he could drop by the stationery store near his office for new packs of Post-It notes before heading to a gimbap place he often frequents for lunch. The new book he initially planned to read for his day off is in his hands – Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning by Cathy Park Hong – and he puts a slice of gimbap into his mouth. Being a regular for years, the lady who owns the place allows him to eat in her living room so Jinyoung can enjoy both the book and meal peacefully, a sight she no longer finds odd.

He stays there for an hour or so, having a small, friendly chat with the owner as he waits for the cab he’s called. According to the location Mark shared a few days ago, the cake shop is about 10-minute drive from his office. When the cab arrives, he pockets the book in his coat and bows at the lady, waving her a good-bye.

Indeed, the drive is relatively a short one, and Jinyoung finds himself standing in front of a cake shop designed with glass façade and an industrial-looking arched door, exposing the interior for the passerby; the place looks modern and minimalist, the painting is all white and so the colorful cakes in the display quickly grabs his attention. The sign is made of weathered wood plank, the name reads Ugly Cake Shop – it seems like a mock since nothing about the place screams ugly, and Jinyoung can’t help but wonder why the owner even picked such a name.

The man puts his right hand inside the pockets of his coat, still undecided if he should come inside. He knows he’s early (his phone tells him it’s only 2.35 p.m), but the place doesn’t seem to have a seating area inside, at least not from where he’s standing.  Besides, it looks like the place is empty – there’s no one behind the counter, let alone the stranger Mark describes as nothing but ‘you’ll know later once you’ve met him’.

After a quick thought, he finally decides to enter the shop but only when his hand holds the door does Jinyoung finally catch the presence of someone inside the cake shop. The stranger is dressed in white top and black slacks, and Jinyoung immediately guesses that the person works there solely based on the double-ed jacket and apron cladding the figure – he might be the pastry chef.

It doesn’t take long for the chef to notice Jinyoung’s presence; he turns his head and that’s when Jinyoung is doomed. Because the chef’s black, shoulder-length hair and nose stud instantly screams the Bad Boy aesthetics, yet it doesn’t quite conform to the whole setting and outfit and warm, buttery smell in the air. Or perhaps, the chef is simply attractive and suddenly, Jinyoung wonders if that’s the stranger Mark told him about.

Much to Jinyoung’s disappointment, the other man instead greets, “Hi, is there anything I could help?”

Though, in all honesty, the disappointment is washed away immediately once Jinyoung notices how the eyes form a pair of crescents, the voice is tinged with a distinct warmth as comforting as the smell of freshly baked cake the chef is holding in his hands – the sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, and Jinyoung steals a glance at the forearm.

Damn, they’re hot. “Uh, I—” the man coughs, taking a careful step towards the counter, “I’m meeting someone here at 3.”

The chef gives Jinyoung a brief surprised look before shifting his stare to the display counter, where he put the blue cake he’s holding carefully – it’s a Cookie Monster cake. “That’s… surprising.”

Jinyoung clears his throat again, “Why?” And suddenly feels the heat creeps up to his neck once he notices how deep his voice sounds; the idea of the living hotness standing behind the counter mistakes him for flirting is the last thing Jinyoung expects.

Fortunately, the man doesn’t seem to notice anything, beaming the same genial smile as he straightens his back and places both his exposed forearms on top of the glass surface. “Our customers often drop by for a takeaway. Besides, you see, my place isn’t the one for people to hang out.”

“Oh, you’re the owner?” Jinyoung gulps, unable to avert his gaze mainly because he was taught by his mother to maintain an eye contact when he’s conversing with people (or so he thinks).

The smile grows wider as the eyes ingenuously disappear into yet another pair of crescents. The chef laughs heartily, his head nods slightly. “Surprisingly yes.”

Not knowing how he should respond, Jinyoung merely mimics the nod and finally, shifts his stare to look around the place. For a brief moment, the silence lingers, melding with the warm scent wafting throughout the space. Jinyoung can feel the long-haired man’s eyes on him, though, and the thought somehow makes the turtleneck too tight around Jinyoung’s neck.

“But, you see,” the other man breaks the silence and walks towards the door Jinyoung assumes leads to the kitchen, “we have a bistro table on the corner, near the front door. I’ll take the seats out of the storage so you can wait there.”

Before Jinyoung can say anything, the chef immediately disappears and so he’s left alone. Unsure of what to do, he turns around and quickly spots the said table so he silently approaches it. The table is tucked into the corner near the arched door, its black paint contrasts the white walls effortlessly.

With a quiet grunt, the chef reappears with two stools, one in each hand. Jinyoung rushes quickly, offering his hand to carry one – the corners of the other male’s lips arch upwards as he hands him the stool, to which Jinyoung replies with a smile he hopes looks at least less awkward as he thinks to be. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

The long-haired man sweeps the strands away from his face, tucking them behind his ears once he’s done setting the stools. “Let me know if you’d need anything,” the smile is yet to leave the face, and Jinyoung can see the creases on the corner of his eyes clearly. “We only serve cakes now, though I can brew tea while you wait for your…?”

“No, I don’t want to bother you more than this,” Jinyoung slightly shakes his head politely, and lowers his gaze to the empty stool. “I can wait here. Would it be okay if I order for a takeaway later?” When he lifts his stare, he’s met with the chef’s dark, glinting eyes.

“Sure, it’s okay,” the other male replies. His eyes seem to be filled with uncertainty for a few seconds, and the sight makes Jinyoung curious, though it doesn’t last long once the chef extends his right hand. “I’m Jaebeom, by the way. Im Jaebeom.”

“Oh, I—” Jinyoung clears his throat, again and again, and welcomes the gesture in a firm handshake, “I’m Park Jinyoung.”

Jaebeom nods, something quite like amusement fills his eyes, “Nice to meet you, Mr. P—”

“Jinyoung.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s just— you can call me Jinyoung. Seems like we’re the same age.”

Another warm smile blooms on Jaebeom's face, and Jinyoung also notices the presence of two moles above the other male’s left eye. “Pleased to meet you, Jinyoung.”

Humming his answer, Jinyoung’s mind can’t help but wonder what kind of idiot who named this place Ugly Cake Shop.

 

*

 

Although Jinyoung has no idea how the stranger Mark is trying to introduce him looks, he immediately knows what kind of person they are, mainly because Jinyoung’s been sitting alone on the corner of the cake shop for an hour.

Are you pranking me? He shoots Mark a message, fully aware that his friend usually wakes up at noon.

And of course he’s right, because the other replies him almost immediately. Why?

Jinyoung: They’re not here yet. It’s been an hour.

Mark: Forgot to tell you it’s a ‘he’.

Jinyoung: Is that even important now?

Mark: He’ll be there. Just wait.

Mark’s reply only triggers a scowl on Jinyoung’s face. Just when he’s about to type a reply, the other already sends another message.

Mark: Don’t forget to buy me New York cheesecake.

Another presence falls into Jinyoung’s field of view when his thumbs are angrily busy punching the poor, innocent phone screen. The man raises his head, the same scowl is still on his face as he expects that whoever idiot Mark’s sending him finally shows up. However, the look in his face abruptly changes to surprise once he notices that it’s Jaebeom who’s standing across the small table with a bottle of drink in his hand.

“Here,” he places the bottle on the table – it’s coffee, “forgot I had this in the fridge. It seems like you need it more than I do.”

Jinyoung’s lips are agape, forming a small o. In the next second, a weak smile replaces the surprised look as he shakes his head lightly. “No, Jaebeom, you don’t have to.”

Jaebeom casually shrugs. “It’s not because I have to; I want to, is all.”

“Oh,” Jinyoung steals a glance at the innocent beverage, “Well, thank you.” He may be pissed off, but he can’t stay pissed off properly when he’s thirsty.

“It’s not a friend, isn’t it?”

Jinyoung pauses his movement when the bottle lips almost touch his lips, “Who?”

A small smile forms on Jaebeom’s face as he his head. “The one you should’ve been seeing now.”

“Ah…” Jinyoung closes his eyes, relishing the taste of coffee quenching his thirst, and a chuckle escapes his lips. “It’s… a long story. He’s a friend’s friend, for sure.”

“A date?”

“Umm…” Jinyoung’s head sways to one side and another, uncertainty is clearly painted on his pouted lips, “kind of?”

Nothing leaves Jaebeom’s mouth, and Jinyoung merely stares up at him, raising his brows. The other, however, shifts his gaze, a playful smile spread across his lips – from where he’s sitting, Jinyoung can still see how the arch pushes the cheeks upwards, turning the other male’s small eyes smaller in such a warm, pleasant way. “And looks like your date,” he steals a glance at Jinyoung as he teasingly emphasizes the word, “is finally here.”

And Jinyoung doesn’t necessarily have to trail the chef’s gaze since the door swings open almost right away. He turns his stare to find a male, dressed in both black and gray, who shoots him a questioning look.

“Aaaand that’s my cue to leave,” the amusement look doesn’t quite leave Jaebeom’s face when Jinyoung turns his head to him. “Good luck, Jinyoung.”

But Jinyoung isn’t mean to utter any word to the chef as the stranger approaches him. “You’re Jinyoung, right? Park Jinyoung?”

“Yeah,” the said man raises himself off the seat, the corner of his mouth twitches once he remembers for how long the stranger has made him wait. “You’re late.”

It takes only a split second for a grin to spread widely on the stranger’s face, so wide Jinyoung somehow wishes that it can split the other’s face into two for real. “No, I’m Jackson.” He offers his hand for a handshake, to which Jinyoung responds with a firm grip – because no matter how annoyed he is, his mother didn’t raise him to be rude. The grin on Jackson’s face quickly turns into a smirk, perhaps from noticing how firm exactly Jinyoung’s grip is. “But you’re right,” he pulls his hand and smoothly seats himself across the small table, “I’m late. Sorry.”

It’s nothing but silence Jinyoung gives as a response, although the way he squints his eyes speaks louder than his words could ever do. After all, Jinyoung is the type of person who shows his anger, irritation, and annoyance from his glare only. And when he speaks up, he’s never a yeller.

Without breaking his stare – and with the same somehow familiar playful look in the eyes – Jackson continues explaining, the tip of his forefinger drawing random patterns on the black table surface. “I was having lunch with my friends at my place. I haven’t seen them in a while since I’ve been at home for weeks, so I lost track of time until Mark called me minutes ago. Oh, and I live nearby, by the way.”

You live nearby, the twitch on the corner of Jinyoung’s lips feels more intense, yet you still have the audacity to come up late, huh? “And how do you know Mark?” Jinyoung leans back with his arms crossed, and suddenly his attention catches Jaebeom who, albeit saying nothing, is obviously watching them from his spot behind the counter. The sight only makes him roll his eyes, especially when the chef places his chin in his hand – even from the distance, Jaebeom’s eye smile is too easy to notice.

“You know us foreigners,” Jackson leans in, his finger no longer creates patterns on the table surface as he puts his right arm over his left one, “we’re always somewhat acquaintance – I know someone who knows someone who knows him, or something like that.”

Jinyoung only nods upon the explanation; that’s already expected, since Jackson’s accent can hardly go without unnoticed. “And why did you agree to meet me?”

The other man snickers, the brown orbs of his eyes glinting with yet another similar, somehow familiar mischievous-kind-of-delight. “Because I’m a good friend and Mark asked me if I’d want to meet you. Also, he showed me your picture, and everyone with eyes can see that you’re such a handsome fella.”

Once again, Jinyoung nods – it’s not like the first time someone compliments him for his look, and Jackson is dead wrong if he thought he could butter him up that easily. “Yet you still came late, meaning that I’m not handsome enough to have your time.”

“Aww…” Jackson coos, hand reaching out to pinch Jinyoung’s cheek playfully, though he yelps the very next second once Jinyoung’s hand swats it. “Because told you,” he pouts, rubbing the spot where Jinyoung hits him, “I’m a good friend.”

“Huh,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes for the nth time. “I wonder what you and Mark actually define with being,” he puts his index and middle fingers up, making finger quotes, “‘a good friend’.”

The other man only responds him with a genuine laughter, and not so long after, both are naturally deep in a conversation. Jackson knows everything about Jinyoung – the basic stuffs, of course, because despite his antics Mark is still a decent being – and tells him everything about himself – only the basic ones too, of course, because it’s not like they’re friends already.

Jackson tells him how he moved to Korea from his hometown in Hong Kong, where his parents are, to pursue a degree in political science, before he finally got involved in modern art – music, fashion, and stuffs – though he did manage to finish his study because it was what he promised to his father. He never met Mark until three years ago when both became a part of an art performance project. Currently, he’s working as a junior creative director for an up-and-coming branding agency, and apparently only a few months older than Jinyoung.

Although Jinyoung’s only objective is to prove that Mark’s wrong, he still has to admit that Jackson doesn’t . It’s rather the opposite, really, since the Hong Kongese is such a pleasant and entertaining company, although he absolutely won’t admit it to his best friend openly. Besides, none of them actually make a move – no hint, no flirtatious act, no nonsense – and so Jinyoung realizes that Jackson may make a good friend, indeed.

It’s almost six when Jackson receives a call. From what Jinyoung can hear, it seems like the other is about to meet his friends for dinner and whatnot, and Jinyoung doesn’t really mind that their first and most likely last meeting should end, mainly because he’s also starving. Besides, he needs to continue reading the book, and the comfort of his bed makes him miss his private space a little more.

“Thanks for today, Jinyoung,” Jackson smiles and hums a friendly ‘thank you’ to Jaebeom who hands him a box of Cookie Monster cake Jinyoung saw earlier. “And more importantly, thank you for not being actually mad at me,” the male winks, to which Jinyoung merely responds with a scoff.

“Just for the record,” Jinyoung’s eyes captures the glow on Jaebeom’s nose stud, “I’m not mad, but it doesn’t mean that it’s okay to make someone wait. But you’ve apologized, and your apology is accepted.” His lips form a small arch when his stare is met with Jaebeom’s, who responds with the same small smile before he moves towards the corner Jinyoung and Jackson occupied earlier – Jinyoung follows the other with his eyes, not muttering any single word.

Another grin spreads across Jackson’s face, threatening to split his face into two – this time, Jinyoung doesn’t wish it to happen, though – when he nudges Jinyoung lightly with his shoulder. The man leans closer and whispers, “In all seriousness, though, you could’ve just left earlier. Why didn’t you?”

But before Jinyoung can respond, Jackson already leaves a hasty peck on his cheek and enthusiastically strides towards the door, loudly thanking Jaebeom again before he leaves the store.

“Are you going home now?” Jaebeom approaches him with a stool in each of his hand. However, this time he doesn’t return them to the storage but only relocate them to the empty corner behind the counter.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung fishes his phone out of the coat pocket and finds new messages from Mark. He scrolls up, ignoring the new messages and to look for one where the American told him what cake Jinyoung should bring home. Once he finds it, he puts his phone on the black marble countertop and observes the cake display. “I’ll have New York cheesecake and… actually, I have no idea,” meeting the chef’s eyes, Jinyoung shoots him an awkward smile. “Could you please choose for me?”

Jaebeom chuckles and speaks in a low voice, “Alright, don’t worry.” He then asks some questions regarding Jinyoung’s preference and finally takes a slice of carrot cake and a strawberry shortcake cup out of the display chiller, to which Jinyoung nods in excitement.

“Don’t forget the coffee,” Jinyoung adds hastily when Jaebeom inputs the order to the cash register. “I should pay for that too.”

But the chef doesn’t spare Jinyoung a glance as he continues operating the machine, casually responding, “We don’t even sell drinks here, Jinyoung, so I can’t bill it.”

“Well, I can tip you?” However, the tip jar is nowhere to be seen on the counter.

“You don’t have to,” the chef snickers and accepts Jinyoung’s card, his eyes disappear into the wide smile.

The dissatisfaction must be quite visible on Jinyoung’s face because when Jaebeom’s about to return the card, Jinyoung reads hesitation from the way Jaebeom chews the inside of his cheeks and how his stare somewhat loses its focus, albeit only for a few moments.

“Wait a sec,” he murmurs and hurriedly strides towards the other room Jinyoung still assumes the kitchen. The chef doesn’t leave for too long, but when he returns, he’s holding a piece of paper in his hand.

Without uttering any single word, Jinyoung accepts the paper along with his card and a paper bag containing the cake box.

“I know it’s 2021 already,” the pink dusts Jaebeom’s cheeks when he speaks, subtly but visible enough under the shop’s lighting, “and I could’ve just borrowed your phone so I can give you my number. But I’m afraid that you’ll delete it right away.”

Jinyoung opens his mouth, only to be cut right away by the blushing chef.

“Hence I take this… more traditional measure because at least I can pretend that I’ve given you my business card. But hey,” Jaebeom clears his throat, pressing his palms against the black countertop, “I could see that your date didn’t go quite as planned. So, perhaps we can, I don’t know, go on a lunch date? Or maybe having a relaxing chat over coffee? Only when you’re free. And when you’re interested, of course.”

Silence stretches between them, and Jinyoung is still gaping at the other man before him, his brain processing the words he just heard. Wait a minute, he tips his head to one side, did he just ask me out? And when the realization finally strikes him, the only sound that finally escapes from his agape mouth is a loud, “Oh!”

Unfortunately, just right when he’s about to give his answer, Jaebeom quickly fixes his posture and greets, “Welcome, Ma’am! Did you just return from your kid’s daycare?”

Jinyoung gives a curt smile to the woman who’s entering the place with a toddler on her side, moving to give way to them. From the exchanges they share with Jaebeom, it seems like they’re regulars – the chef, albeit focusing his attention to them, steals a glance or two towards Jinyoung’s direction, and Jinyoung only responds with a small smile on his face.

The lady and her daughter do not take too long inside the cake shop and leave right away with the similar paper bag in the kid’s hands. The amount of concentration she puts to keep the dessert safe makes her pout her lips – that sight tugs the tails of Jinyoung’s lips upwards and soon enough, the creases on the corner of his eyes follow.

“When they visit on Saturday, that means the mom has to work,” Jaebeom’s stare follows the two figures who are already outside, nodding when the woman waves at him before she disappears. “So she brings her kid here after she returns from work and lets her choose whatever cake she likes.”

“I see,” Jinyoung nods and turns to the chef. “You know what? Here’s my phone.” Hastily, he unlocks the device and taps the phone icon, before handing it to Jaebeom. His heart is beating way too fast Jinyoung swears it won’t be surprising if he’ll actually explode. “Give me your number. I promise I won’t delete it unless you ghost on me first. And give me your phone so I can give you my number.”

It’s Jaebeom’s turn to gape at him this time, but Jinyoung isn’t willing to let it last for too long – otherwise his heart will jump out of his chest and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of a pretty creature named Im Jaebeom, especially when the other just openly showed his interest in him.

“Jaebeom?” asks Jinyoung impatiently. “Your phone. Please.”

The said male immediately breaks out of his stupor, his hand pulls his phone from his own pocket. “Here,” says Jaebeom after he unlocks the device.

“Sweet,” Jinyoung doesn’t even bother to resist the urge to grin that’s threatening his face – he doesn’t even care about how he looks right now, thinking that he must have looked like some highly enthusiastic school girl who’s meeting her idol. “Aaaand here’s my number. Park Jinyoung, followed by a peach emoji, in case there’s another Park Jinyoung or two you know.”

Jaebeom’s laughter is filled with pure warmth, and Jinyoung takes the liberty to associate it with the scent of vanilla and butter, perhaps with a sprinkle of cinnamon powder just like the cookie he had for breakfast this morning. “No,” the man is beaming when he returns Jinyoung’s phone, and Jinyoung isn’t trying to be cheesy but Im Jaebeom does smile brighter and warmer than the sun, “now I only know one Park Jinyoung.”

“That sounds like a great start,” Jinyoung hums, not minding now if Jaebeom thinks that he intentionally lowers his voice. “Unfortunately, I have to leave now because I must settle something with my good-for-nothing best friend. I’ll see you soon?” Their fingertips touch when Jinyoung takes his phone back.

The eye smile still lingers on Jaebeom’s face, and perhaps Jinyoung can learn to get used to the sight. “Soon.”

The grin stubbornly refuses to leave when Jinyoung walks towards the door. However, he chuckles as he recalls something, and turns around. “And for your information, that date went quite as planned. So next time we meet, I’ll absolutely set a much, much higher standard.”

It’s not difficult to notice the kindness in Jaebeom’s voice, not when he’s looking at Jinyoung like that. “I won’t be late.”

“Yeah, you can start with that.” And Jinyoung returns to his place with his heart overflowing with such a pleasant giddiness not even Mark’s endless stream of questions or his new book can distract him.

Not when Jaebeom texts him: Good night :)

 

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