i wasn't lying when i said it would be posted soon.

also, if you're wondering why ljoe is randomly mentioned in here, it's because that's my secret crackship and i felt the need to mention him. there's no hidden motive.

Sungjong knew his boss was something else since, well, since he applied to the job by recommendation of one of his friends at school—Byunghun will pay, one of these days. But despite the fact that he speaks too many sharp words and dirty jokes, and has the tendency of sleeping with the girls he hires, his creativity and effort to make good business makes up for it.

One day, he comes up with the idea of an open mic night to bring some popularity to the café. He puts signs in the newspapers and announces it in the official blog of the café on Naver. Sungjong is left half interested and half annoyed. The interested half is due to the extra hours Howon is offering for the double shift, and the possible outcomes of the night—mishaps and success included. The other half is annoyed because there will (possibly) be so many people that him and the other two waiters won't be able to keep up.

But then he thinks back of his mother who isn't cleaning as much houses as she was last week and the thought of extra money doesn't sound so bad.

And talking about money…

"How much are you giving away to the winners?" Sungjong turns to face his boss, who's serving as the cashier since one of the other boys has called in sick. It's still an hour too early for Woohyun to arrive, and business is slow today, so he's lying on the counter, bored with his life, while the other counts money to entertain himself.

"No winners, but I'll give coupons to the participants."

"Only that?" the boy rises up slightly. After the older man nods, he mumbles, "So stingy."

"What do you suggest, then?" Howon finishes counting and turns to the computer, opening the program to change the song playing in the background. "The purpose of open mics is not to win money, Sungjongie—not for the participants anyway."

"Then what is it?"

"Have a good time, share work, whatever artists call it these days." His boss shrugs. "Who knows? If it goes well I might leave it as something weekly." He turns to give a quick look around the place. "The girls at table three are almost done, go ask if they want something else."

Sungjong makes a tsk sound but obeys. He goes and comes back with another order of a cappuccino and a Panini sandwich (people and their likes) and, after placing it for the cookers, sits back next to the elder.

"Have people signed in already?"

"Yeah, quite a few." Howon goes through a drawer in front of him and takes out a sheet with names and contact numbers scribbled down. There's a total of eight. "Wanna join? There's only one or two slots left."

"I pass," Sungjong shakes his head, eyes reading the names. Maybe, he thinks, there's the chance one of the girls who joined can be as good as Woohyun's ex-girlfriend. The possibility is slim and the thought, too naïve, but Sungjong doesn't lose anything with imagining his hyung finally finding someone to forget his past lover.

The bell from the kitchen's window chirps when the customers' order is ready, and Sungjong snaps out of his daydreams. The thought of Woohyun stopping his routine visits stings. It brings both gloominess and hopefulness, but it may be for the best. He would be glad with whatever makes his hyung happy.

Howon looks at him with a cocked eyebrow and mouth twisted. Sungjong frowns, embarrassed. The open mic night is nowhere near close and he's already thinking of his hyung falling in love with one of the participants.

"So, do I put this back inside?" His boss shakes the sheet in front of him. At first, Sungjong nods, but then he realizes there might be someone who might want to join.

"Actually no, let me see it." When he's given the sheet and a pen, the boy scribbles down Sunggyu's name and leaves the contact part intact. He hasn't asked Sunggyu for his number. "I have a hyung who might be interested in coming. He's a music teacher."

Howon nods, and when Sungjong gives him the paper to store it back, closes the drawer. "And you're sure he'll be coming?"

"There's no reason he wouldn't. He's a great singer," Sungjong says, even though he hasn't ever heard Sunggyu sing. "You just wait and see."

∞

Two weeks after his conversation with the boss, the café is bustling with life the day of the open mic. Sungjong, running around since the beginning of his shift, makes an annoyed huff when the door opens and the bell chirps. It's only six p.m., the place is not even big enough to fit so many people, and yet they keep coming.

He would make Sungyeol—the tall, lanky and generally clumsy one—get it, but the guy's busy flirting with a group of girls sitting at the counter. And to make things better (reads: worse), the boss is all charming smiles and funny jokes next to him. Their only waitress (the new one that rarely comes out of the kitchen and yes, refuses to sleep with the boss), for that matter, is busy being a good employee for once and serving the customers.

The boy yells a polite apology and I'll be with you in a second while he carries two orders to the far corner of the place, not forgetting to throw a quick glance towards Woohyun. The man has his eyes fixed on the book he's reading, unaware of his surroundings. Sungjong feels a breeze of guilt polluting his insides; after all, it's because of him that the older male has stayed more time than usual.

Sungjong serves the pastries at table three, offering a charming smile that—mind you, it's not like he cares too much about that, but it's a bit ego boosting—makes them giggle nervously and share embarrassed smiles between them. After that, he goes to table six and asks if everything's okay, receiving (yet again) more orders. It's still early, he reminds himself, and Howon is too busy flirting to even attempt to test the sound of the microphone. Sometimes he feels like he's the only one doing his job.

His musings are shaken off his mind when he hears (and recognizes) the familiar chuckle that comes from the person who entered as he breezes past the door, towards the kitchen. Turning towards the sound, Sungjong finds Sunggyu giving him an amused smile, dressed up in nice, harmonizing clothes and playing with the strap of his guitar case.

"Oh, hyung!" he says, trying to fight the noise around them. He moves backwards and motions the older man to follow him. "Sorry, I didn't know it was you." When he's in front of the kitchen's window and one of the orders for table seven is about to be delivered to him, the boy speaks again. "I'll give you a seat in a second, okay? Forgive me hyung." The kitchen's bell chirps and Sungjong picks up half of the order. "Some people are just not helping me and Kahi-noona."

Sunggyu nods at his attempt of a cute pout and big, apologetic eyes (that Sungjong knows, never fails him when it comes to help him convice people) and leans to a place where he's not obstructing the flow. From the corner of his eye, Sungjong can see Howon and Sungyeol finally snapping out of their conversations and getting to business.

"Sunggyu?" A voice, confused and surprised, echoes close to them. Sungjong knows who is the owner of the voice, but in front of him, Sunggyu tenses when his eyes settle on the one who's calling him.

"Woohyun?" he says, equally surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Woohyun barks a dry laugh that, if Sungjong were focused enough to pay attention, he would notice the slight bitterness behind it. "Pretty self-explanatory, don't you think?"

Sunggyu shifts on his place, crossing his arms around his chest. A barrier; Sungjong's read about that before. The boy is going to ask further about it, but suddenly the bells (both the entrance's and the kitchen's) are chirping and Howon is calling him to help him find the emergency tables they have in the storage room to put them outside because who would have known we were going to have full house?

"Hyung, do you know each other?" The young waiter asks, glancing back and forth between them. Woohyun throws a surreptitious glance at Sunggyu that doesn't go unnoticed. Then, they both nod, hesitating. "Great! Could you sit together for a while? I'll be with you in a second."

It's a win-win situation, he thinks. Sunggyu and Woohyun know each other, which means a table saved for other customers. Before they can answer, he's shoving both of them into the table and repeating his words to the new clients.

After serving the orders and giving a table at the newcomers (and telling Howon that he can do that by himself there are more important matters now thank you very much somewhere between those two things), Sungjong asks the two men for their orders. The atmosphere is tense, and the silence between them looks like an extra person accompanying them since the beginning, but Sungjong doesn't falter.

"I'll take an Americano," Sunggyu replies and the waiter observes him. His face turns as if a smile were to break at any moment, but his face doesn't change. It remains in the forced edge of cheery. From the corner of his eye, he can see Woohyun's eyes also set on the red-haired man and the boy senses something's off.

Sungjong realizes he's been staring for a second too long and looks down at his notepad. "Would you like something with it, like cake?" He faintly registers Sunggyu tilting his head, lost in thought. It's a cute action, but Sungjong is too focused on the poorly written order he wrote on the pad. What if it was a mistake to put them together?

"Is there strawberry?" Sunggyu asks and Woohyun shifts. His movement is almost imperceptible, but Sungjong notices. He nods and scribbles it down with messy and quick handwriting, barely noticing the way Sunggyu's lips curve upwards in a minimal movement.

When he turns to Woohyun, the boy notices the empty plate and cup placed in front of him and an idea pops out on his mind. "Would you like something else?"

"What are you talking about, Sungjongie?" Woohyun's smile is nervous and tense, like his whole body. He points at the used cutlery with curly motives in black. "I already had my part of today."

The boy puts his notepad down, disappointed with the answer. "Hyung," he says, "I don't know if you've noticed, but we've made the double of the past two weeks in just this afternoon." Sunggyu chuckles, but covers his mouth and busies himself with pushing his guitar case further against the window. "Come on, this one's on the house."

Woohyun nods. "Fine, then." He nods. "So, the usual?"

Sungjong scribbles it down, too, but stops when he remembers there's a problem. He hopes his smile (and heated-up cheeks) show his embarrassment when he looks back at the two men. Sunggyu appears to be distracted looking through the window (with that one movement that reminds the boy of Woohyun's on rainy days at an alarming level) and Woohyun is going back to casting his eyes down at the table.

"There's a thing, Woohyun-hyung." Said man looks up with the mention of his name. Sunggyu tilts his head, too, but doesn't move further. "I think there's only one piece of strawberry cake, and other cake would take around an hour."

Woohyun looks lost at words for a moment, and the other man's expression remains unfazed. He bows his head a little in an apologetic movement while Woohyun snaps back to reality. "Oh, don't worry. I mean, I can—"

"Give it to him. I'd like a chocolate one instead." Sunggyu interrupts, eyes still lost between the curve of his guitar case and the spring-filled streets of Seoul. Sungjong glances back at Woohyun, who is, again, staring at him with the same grave eyes. There aren't any words pronounced after that. Sungjong sighs.

"I'll be back with your orders in a second," he mutters after he receives no sign of protest from the black-haired man. When he looks back, the heavy silence between the men is still there, breathing the same air.

After another exhausting moment of rushing between tables and serving orders, along with listening to his boss being annoying, Sungjong can finally pick his hyungs' orders and serve them. As expected, they don't answer other than to thank him in whispers suffocated by the lively chatter of the other customers, still without sharing a word with each other. They don't even spare a look at him, as Sunggyu's taken out music sheets he seems to be re-arranging and Woohyun's gone back to his book.

Sungjong sighs loudly, going back to his place next to the kitchen's window to pick up another order. While he waits, he surveys the place. It's full to the point Howon has put a sign in the front door, even though it hardly stays closed as the man comes and goes to serve the customers sitting outside. But, despite the boy taking his time looking at his co-workers roam around and the customers and their antics, his eyes find their way back to the pair sitting on the far corner.

At first, there's nothing especial about them, each one focused on their own thing, but a slight movement changes Sungjong's point of view about them. Sunggyu cuts a small piece and brings it to his mouth, and leaves the fork between them while he re-arranges the sheets. Then, Woohyun puts the book down and, with a movement that looks far too natural to be planned, switches their plates.

The redhead doesn't notice at first, but the brunette manages to knock out his fork while he's re-arranging the cup, and his head snaps back from the papers to stare at Woohyun, who doesn't bother to look up. When he's done, he takes a sip from his coffee and goes back to his book. Again, not a word is shared between them.

Sunggyu keeps his eyes set on the other man, but after finding no reaction, sighs and retreats back to the papers. At the same moment he's looking back down, Woohyun looks up, eyes fixed on the redhead for brief seconds before turning back to the inked pages. It's only until their silence is filled with things that are begging to be said and tears to be shed—placed like thousands of butterflies flying around them, filling he entire café—that Sungjong realizes he's got it wrong all this time. The mature lover who dreamed in Technicolor and the one who cried his lover's tears, they're well, them.

It's always been about them.
 

∞

The truth is that Sungjong would give anything to have a bit of time for himself now that he's finally seen something that was so obvious since the beginning. In other circumstances, he would lock himself in the bathroom, maybe cry a little to vent his frustration (and why not? Sadness) and smile at his reflection afterwards, when he's calm again.

Still, he can afford that now, can he? Especially not when he's on shift and there are customers waiting to be served. And besides, there's nothing he can gain with doing that—the reason would still be sitting at the table, confined in their own world—so he it up and works harder, moving from table to table with efficient movements and gifting with kind smiles to whoever wants them.

Sunggyu and Woohyun start talking after a while, Sungjong hearing snippets of the conversation here and there while he cleans near tables. ("You dyed your hair" with a hum as a response; and "How's your job" with an instant "Boring, how about yours?" and "Fine" as the sharp responses; and later, when the boy picks up the used dishes from their table, something that sounds like a "didn't make it" and "too late" on the bitter side of neutral that has him wondering what is that about.) They are mostly timeless, submerged in a parallel universe that doesn't falter even after the sun's gone down and Howon's announcing the beginning of the open-mike night.

Sungjong finally has time to rest once the open-mic has started, as the people focuses in the first couple of participants. Plus, Howon's brothers come to the café to help, so the boss gives him a well-earned break. His first impulse is to go and sit down with Sunggyu and Woohyun, to try to cheer them up—or to find out what happened them—but that sounds unreasonable when he considers it again. He ends up sitting next to Sungyeol, who's given a break too, and divides his attention between the men and the show.

When Woohyun excuses himself to the bathroom—maybe to cry a little, his mind suggests cinically—and Sunggyu is left on the empty table while a girl onstage is reading angsty poetry, Sungjong sees another thing he's got wrong. That time when the red-haired man was carrying endless papers on one hand and waving with the other, in what seems like years ago, wasn't when he looked the loneliest. It's now that he has his shoulders slumped down and hands folded together on the table that he does.
 

∞

Some time (hours, minutes—Sungjong's not sure anymore) later, it's Sunggyu's turn to go onstage since he's the last to perform. Woohyun says nothing when Sungjong comes to their table and calls the redhead. The brunette's eyes are hooked on the artificially lighted city streets and hands clenched against the book he's finished reading.

The red-haired man stands up and takes the guitar out of the case, leaving the black item next to the music sheets on the table. His steps towards the improvised stage are steady, composed. He never looks back at them, but his eyes move on their direction when he sits on the chair and adjusts the microphone. At first, Sungjong thinks he's looking at him, but the thought is too sweet and too naïve to be true. It's Woohyun whom the gaze is directed to, but the man doesn't bother to meet his eyes.

"Hyung," Sungjong calls him, sitting on the same place where the redhead was. Sunggyu's polite voice while he introduces himself echoes in the background. Woohyun head tilts a little, but otherwise he doesn't budge.

"I guess you figured, didn't you?" His voice has a hint of amusement and another of something else the boy is unable to grasp. "Of course you would,"—Woohyun looks at him and Sungjong's breath is caught in his throat and he thinks hyung, I think I like you, but Sunggyu's voice and guitar strumming are clearly heard and oh, he's singing Drifting Apart—"you're too sharp aren't you."

"It was hard not to notice." Sungjong gives him a thin smile. "Sorry for misunderstanding."

"It's alright. I didn't know how were you going to take it, you know?"

Sungjong nods, and Woohyun doesn't say anything else after that. They're immersed in their own thoughts, Woohyun looking back down and the table and Sungjong playing with his thumbs. From the corner of his eye, the waiter can see Sunggyu closing his eyes and leaning a bit more towards the microphone like it's a lover, like the act is something intimate and pure.

His eyebrows curl, and his voice is sad and lonely. Sungjong finds himself overwhelmed by inexplicable emotions and when he looks back at the brunette in front of him, he wonders if the man knows how he's feeling; if the man himself feels the same.

Woohyun sighs in a movement that is both constricted and alienated. He wiggles on his seat while the acoustic sound and dim chatter of the customers surround them. The man takes a credit card out of his wallet and slides it in front of Sungjong. The plastic edges grace against the boy's fingertips, cool and soft. He's had enough.

"I'll pay for the both of us," it's the only thing Woohyun says, meeting his eyes. Sungjong looks at him, trying to find any kind of emotion, but meets sternity. The decision is final; Woohyun is leaving even before the song's over. The waiter stands up, a disillusioned and frustrated sigh escaping from his lips without consent.

"You should at least wait to say goodbye to him," he advices, but Woohyun shakes his head and later, when he's given the card back to him and Howon is announcing the closing of the show, leaves without any more words.

(Sungjong ends up discovering that he did wait, long after the show's over and he's taking out the trash. He hears the rustle of steps moving back and forth—probably of two people struggling, he realizes with uneasiness—after he opens the back door that leads to the alleyway and freezes, scared it might be someone dangerous. Still, he closes the door without producing a sound and, a couple of steps later, hides behind the container to observe the movement. What if someone's getting hurt?

There's not enough light to identify the people, but after what seems like a gasp and more struggling, Sungjong recognizes the voice who speaks.

"Why didn't you come back," one of the voices says—not questions. It's Woohyun, who must have been waiting here since he left the café. His tone is hostile and intense, something Sungjong's never heard before.

"You would've liked that, wouldn't you?" comes as the sharp reply. In the time the boy's known Sunggyu, he's never heard the older man use other tone than a composed one—except when he was singing, when his voice was spilling thousands of different, complex emotions—, but now his voice sounds just as strangled as Woohyun's. "Me crawling back to you like you said I would."

The sounds of struggling increase and, between curses and sharps intakes of breath, they stop abruptly. Sungjong is about to go and stop them, the thought of them hurting each other intimidating on his mind, but suddenly panting and choked gasps are heard, accompanied by the muffled echo of the guitar inside its case also hitting the wall.

"Goddamnit Sunggyu, you know that wasn't it." Woohyun's voice is emotional and intimate, and Sungjong doesn't know if he should feel relieved they're not fighting or hurt to realize it's something else. (But they're always something else; he should have realized that by now-) "I would have waited for you."

"But not anymore." Sunggyu's voice is now strained, weak. His words come between deep breaths that have the waiter leaning on the hurt side a bit more. After the sound of rustling of clothes and more sharp intakes of breath, he speaks again. "Wait, Woohyun,"—Another gasp—"Not now."

"Then when?"

Then there's the sound of shaky breaths and steps leaving and one of them (who knows who, as Sungjong is too scared to go and face them) staying to take deep breaths. After some more time, he leaves, too. At the end, the boy is left feeling the cool spring wind on his nape, the trash bag heavy on his hands, and the bitterness of the possible answer at those words ringing on his ears.)
 

∞

"Sungjong." Woohyun promptly looks up from the new book he's reading—the last in the saga, the man had explained with a half-smile—when the young waiter picks up the dirty cutlery. "Can you give me Sunggyu's number?"

The boy blinks. His first instinct is saying he doesn't have it, but then he thinks back of when he asked his number to the older man to put it under the 'contact' list on the sign-up sheet a week ago and saved it on his phone, and he can't lie. So, instead, he analyzes the man with stern eyes. He's doesn't have dark circles around his eyes, nor he looks shabby or desperate, and yet, he's wearing sadness like a thick coat for the winter.

"Sorry hyung, but I don't think Sunggyu-hyung would appreciate that." Sungjong doesn't know what the man's reaction would be, but that's precisely what makes him uncertain. There's no way to know, what if Sunggyu gets mad?

(And when Sungjong remembers that night in the alleyway and their passionate and intense voices echoing on his head, he's actually scared of the other possible outcomes.)

Woohyun looks abashed for a second, but his eyes become stern and determined, and he's going through his pocket and picking a napkin in record time. "Do you see him often?"

Sungjong nods, sure that the brunette is not looking at him. "Yes, why?"

The older male finds a pen and, instead of asking for paper like a normal person would do, starts scribbling down a note that looks rather lengthy in the napkin. When he's done and the napkin is bleeding ink and has fissures here and there, Woohyun hands it in to Sungjong.

"Could you give that to him? It's rather important."

The boy looks tentatively at the note, biting his lower lip. If he delivers the note, they will be back together, so it's a good thing. (It's a good thing, it's a good thing; the thought beats like a heart on his mind) He grabs the paper with both hands and folds it.

"Sure hyung." Sungjong gives him a quick, half-hearted smile, and puts the napkin inside his pocket. The other male's lips curve upwards in what seems like the most sincere smile Sungjong's ever seen.
 

∞

The same smile that the brunette wore with such easiness that afternoon follows Sungjong after his shift is over and he's sitting next to Sunggyu on the bus, Standing in the Rain coming from the earphone placed on his right ear. Sunggyu has his eyes closed, threatened by a cold that is most likely to affect him at any moment, and head lying on his shoulder. Sungjong watches him for a while, wondering if Woohyun had more smiles like that for him back when they were lovers, and feeling pangs of tiny jealousy that is unfair.

(For him, for them, for everyone.)

He has no right to be upset, but he remembers Woohyun's melancholic smiles dedicated to him and his attempts to cheer him up, and his hand finds its way inside the pocket of his jeans and clenches the napkin until it's nothing but a wrinkled piece. Sunggyu shifts a bit with his movements, startling him. The hand goes back to its original position in a second, mindless fear of being caught leading his actions.

"What time is it?" the redhead asks, rubbing his eyes with a unocuppied hand, the other buried in papers and books. Sungjong grabs the phone entrusted to him and looks at the digital clock.

"Almost eight." Sunggyu starts rising up from his position as the boy speaks, earphone falling down from his left ear with the movement. "Your stop is almost here, too. I was about to wake you up."

"I wasn't asleep Sungjongie," the man lies but Sungjong says nothing about it. On his pocket, the napkin feels heavy and scorching. If the man is miserable, he does nothing to show it, even though sadness is so clear on him it doesn't look alien anymore. "And before you say something, I'm okay."

Sungjong opens his mouth and calls him before he can stop himself. "Hyung I—" I have a note from Woohyun for you, he doesn't say. At that same moment, he's frozen. The napkin is burning, making a hole on his pants. The boy weighs his options. They will get back together. It's a good thing, it's a good thing. On the other side, he cherishes the routine they made for themselves—he made for himself—spending a part of his afternoon with Woohyun (who listens and engages conversation so easily one would almost forget about the desolation casting on him like a shadow) and other bit with Sunggyu (who is so distant and yet so warm.)

The redhead seems to notice he's spaced out and asks, "Yes?"

Sungjong realizes he doesn't want to miss those afternoons that belong to him, to them, so he keeps the napkin on his pocket and puts a worried look on his face—that doesn't feel too fake, but is not for the reasons the older man would think. "I just think you need to rest more. You look tired."

Sunggyu nods, and when he's at his stop, stands up and waves goodbye with a flimsy smile. Sungjong ends up tying to convince himself it was the best decision all through his way home, which isn't as easy task as he thought.

dude, i feel like, really grateful for your response. your comments make me feel like urgh, i don't know. i can't put it into words.

feels appropriate.