Sehun fidgeted atop his stool in his usual coffee shop, his tall, lean frame teetering precariously back and forth, threatening to overturn the small seat. He rubbed his hands together through his gloves and blew warm breath against his fingers still stinging from the chilly December air, his eyes flicking to the empty, unassuming piano that rested on a stage in the corner of the shop. The tiny café was dark and warm and full of coats and hats and voices, all muted and contained within the sheltering embrace of the shop’s red walls.

Dozens of people waddled past each other to fill every last corner of the place, but Sehun was diligently focused on burning a hole in his coffee mug with his distracted stare. He didn’t even protest when people would bump his shoulders as they brushed past him (he was used to it, quite frankly). Sure, he was here for a delicious latte and holiday spirit, but lately he had been willing himself away from the warmth of his apartment to brave the temperamental winter weather for another reason. His heart thudded in his chest as he his lips nervously, shooting an anxious gaze back to the piano across the room.

It had started a few weeks ago, when he had first laid eyes on him. The nameless singer that had one day blown into Sehun’s usual haunt just as quickly and effortlessly as the dried leaves and November gusts swirled through the doorway simply appeared, and sat, and sang. This was not a rare occurrence; Sehun had watched the local entertainment that frequented his favorite café with calm appreciation, their faces and voices and music soon swept away from his mind by the wind that nipped at his face and tousled his hair as he would leave. This was, however, different—two sleepless nights and a little too much soju couldn’t even scratch his memories of the young, red-haired singer with long fingers and a voice that was just raspy enough to send goose bumps racing down his arms. Rather, the alcohol had a habit of elevating them, lifting the images and sounds that would repeat in his head to a level of ethereal euphoria that had Sehun knocked back on his bed, head lolling and bleary eyes trained to the ceiling to watch the boy sing for him and only him.

That had been a rough week. So had the following, considering Sehun almost laughed at how disappointed he was when the singer didn’t show up again on Monday, and almost cried at how ecstatic and nervous he was when the boy sang on Tuesday. It wasn’t like he purposely planned to be at the café when the entertainment was supposed to begin, he had explained to himself multiple times—he just wanted some coffee, and it simply added to the experience to be treated to a beautiful voice coming from a beautiful pair of lips that belonged to a beautiful boy—

Sehun burnt his tongue when he tried to drown that train of thought with an overzealous swig of his latte. Sputtering and turning to grab a napkin, he froze when he realized the boy he was waiting for all night was suddenly on the stage, his cheeks and nose still pink from the cold as he chatted amicably with the owner of the café. Momentarily distracted from his primary mission of grabbing a napkin, Sehun stood half in his stool and half on his feet, watching the soft, low lights play with the red in the boy’s hair and the white in his smile until that said smile turned towards him.

Sehun couldn’t tell from that distance if the boy was actually looking at him or simply facing his direction, but he was suddenly very aware of the latte that was dribbling down his chin like drool (or maybe it was both at that point) and snapped out of his stupor to hastily wipe his mouth on his coat sleeve. Flustered and flushing, Sehun almost dared not check if the boy was still there—almost. His lips still buried against the wool of his jacket, he stole a glance upwards to see the boy turned away and battling with a stubborn mic stand, and he tried to ignore the disappointment that sank in his stomach. The dramatic conclusion to their electrifying possibility of an interaction was probably for the best, Sehun dryly muttered to himself as he plopped back into his stool. He didn’t want to be remembered as the drooling latte boy by his celebrity crush, not that it would matter anyway considering Sehun hadn’t worked up the courage to do anything but stare at him from the furthest back corners of the café, most likely hidden by a sea of heads.

Perhaps that was why he was more anxious than usual tonight—he had convinced himself when he peeled his eyes open after another restless night of soulful singing and soft red hair that he would do it—he would talk to him. Sehun had spent more time than he was willing to admit in the shower that morning trying to think of something to say that would be cool or memorable, something original that wouldn’t be heard so often that its meaning was dulled from repetition—anything but the dreaded “I’m a really big fan,” or “I love your music.” Granted, it was a little hard to string meaningful thoughts together when his mind was busy being creative in other ways, ways that had Sehun flushed and panting against the shower wall as he pumped his throbbing , images of the singer using his pouty lips and low voice to moan his name seared behind his eyelids.

Sehun planted his chin in his palm and abruptly crossed his thin legs when he felt his twitch at the memory. He looked at the ceiling distractedly, willing himself to stop being such a creep until a familiar voice sounded across the café. “Hello, everyone….” Sehun’s neck snapped to the boy across the room as his heart jumped in his chest. He felt the corners of his lips pull into a smile on their own accord as the singer bared his dazzling grin to the audience. How could he not feel happy after seeing a smile like that?

The warm buzz of voices that filled the café dimmed to silence as the boy spoke at the microphone. “Tonight’s just like any other night, yeah?” he asked mischievously, quirking his eyebrows at the girls in the audience as he searched for a reaction. Some cheered and some swooned, and Sehun suddenly wished he had the courage to sit even a single table closer. He craned his neck to hear a few high pitched voices call out the singer’s name. “Baekhyun! We love you Baekhyuuun,” Sehun managed to decipher. Their voices seemed so small and muted, so contained—much like his own, actually—but whenever he’d hear Baekhyun speak, it was a sound that cut through the air with an effortless precision and power, a sharpness and clarity that filled Sehun’s chest. It was beautiful, and he couldn’t get enough.

“Ahh, yeah…” Baekhyun continued, his nimble fingers curling and uncurling around the mic in his hands. “It’s just another night, just like yesterday and tomorrow. But now it feels a little different though, right?” Sehun watched carefully as a certain seriousness blanketed Baekhyun’s cheery face, a calm smile tinted with something solemn. “It’s almost Christmas, isn’t it? It’s a time to be happy and feel the warmth of people you love even though it’s cold out…but it’s also a time when you can feel lonely.” Baekhyun’s lidded eyes drifted across the café and eventually fell to his feet. “Out of all the times of the year, I think it’s easy to notice when there’s no one next to you. Even if there will be soon, the empty space can just feel so big sometimes, you know?”

A beat of silence was filled by the thump in Sehun’s chest, tense and heavy. He studied how the boy’s grey sweater draped over his petite frame, how his white jeans clung to his thighs as he moved to sit on the stool atop the stage, and it seemed suddenly so apparent that Baekhyun was surrounded by the very space he was talking about—open and vulnerable in a bubble of distinct otherness that separated him from the collective warmth of darkened silhouettes before him. Sehun was frozen to his spot at the sight, only remembering to blink when Baekhyun spoke again, a smile returning to his face as he looked up. “So tonight I see a lot of people here with people they love, and some by themselves. Tonight, I hope I can fill your empty space with my music.”

Sehun clapped lightly as a low hum of chatter and clinking of dishes and mugs returned to the café, and Baekhyun hopped off the stool and sat at the piano, his long fingers the keys with an ease and grace that made Sehun shiver. He let the soothing falsetto of the boy’s voice carry his shoulders from side to side, head swaying slowly to the warm chords of the piano. He sat listening contently as the customers next to him came and went at a leisurely pace, even when Baekhyun’s songs faded into the background of the café as his main set of songs for the night ended. People eventually stopped sitting next to him when he’d accidentally bump their arm with the sway of his shoulders or nudge their shin while he tapped his foot to the beat—not that he really noticed, though—their presence dripped and rippled like tiny raindrops in the ocean that was his singer.

Sehun was hoping that his crush might be at least marginally less creepy if he actually mustered up the courage to talk to Baekhyun tonight, but when the boy hopped up from the piano and began packing his things, he immediately spun around in his stool and focused on drilling a hole in the espresso machine with his heavy eyes—what time was it, anyway? When did this place close? He chanced a glance from side to side to survey the amount of people left in the café and almost fell off his stool when Baekhyun hopped up on the stool next to him, ordering an iced mocha. A tiny voice in the back of Sehun’s head told him that was weird because it was December and it was very cold, but the incessant pounding of his heart quickly drowned it out.

“Thanks,” Baekhyun said to the barista as Sehun almost flew out of his seat. The boy scrunched up his face and rubbed his throat, taking the drink and sighing, “Ahh, my poor throat is so sore now,” with feigned seriousness.

Sehun swallowed hard as he watched Baekhyun’s slim fingers his neck out of the corner of his eye. He flinched when Baekhyun’s eyes flicked to his own, shooting him a crooked smile before returning to his drink. Sehun suddenly felt like he was on fire despite the chill wind that stung ears as the swinging door of the café traded the leaving customers for frigid December air. His eyes rapidly shot back and forth from the worried knot his fingers were tangling themselves into to Baekhyun, who sat sipping his drink, blissfully unaware of the sweating bundle of nerves next to him. Sehun his lips until the process was actually counterintuitive, waiting for the right time to say something—not now, Baekhyun was looking at his phone, not yet, he was studying something in the pastry case, maybe after he was done yawning…

Suddenly Baekhyun was standing up. Sehun’s stomach clenched with Baekhyun’s grip around his bag of singing equipment, an icy spear of panic spiking his chest. He could almost feel his chance being choked from him by fingers of urgency around his throat as he tried to form sounds—something, anything before Baekhyun left—which would mean another night of drinking, another night of vivid dreams that left him drained and wanting in the bleak morning, another morning of frustrated showers.

“Uh—uhm,” Sehun suddenly called out breathlessly as Baekhyun began to button up his coat. The boy turned to him, a relaxed smile spreading his lips as he dropped his bag to the floor. Now that Sehun had his attention (a moment he never actually thought would happen), all of his carefully scripted potential opening lines he spent crafting in the shower vanished like smoke. “Uh…” Baekhyun blinked, his eyebrows raised expectantly. Sehun cracked the most awkward smile he had made in recent memory and stuttered, “I-I uh, I’m a really big fan. I love your music.”

Sehun decided to drown what he had just said with a deliberately large swig of his latte, which he quickly found out was grainy and stone cold. He choked it down with the grace of a pelican as Baekhyun broke into a toothy grin. “Ahh, thank you! I’m so glad you like it.” He blinked curiously, studying Sehun’s face. “You know, you look kinda familiar…” Sehun’s heart stopped. “Have I seen you before?”

Sehun laughed nervously, his lips and choosing not to mention the fact that he might have stumbled upon the other cafés that Baekhyun performed other gigs at when he was not at his favorite place. “Um…I don’t think so—”

“Ah! Were you the drooling latte boy from earlier tonight?” Baekhyun interrupted enthusiastically, smirking in a way that twisted Sehun’s stomach.

Sehun wanted to sink into the floor. “Ha, what? No, that was some total ,” he attempted to reply nonchalantly, running a hand through his hair. He was almost certain that he lost all control of his actions at this point.

Baekhyun laughed, a low and soothing sound. “Ahh, never mind then.” He waved his hand dismissively, and Sehun tried not to follow it with anything more than his eyes. He still couldn’t quite believe this was happening to him, and he was almost positive that he was actually someone else watching this interaction happen from across the room. This might have explained why he thought it was a good idea to reach a little too quickly for Baekhyun’s bag when he saw him begin to look for it, and why their hands were currently touching.

“Oh!” Sehun squeaked as he released the bag, hand still coursing with electricity from Baekhyun’s touch. His milky cheeks flushed pink as he mumbled his apologies, but Baekhyun cut him off.

“Don’t worry about it.” He scrunched his face up again, rubbing his shoulder as he slung his bag over it. “This thing is so damn heavy, so it’s nice to have some help,” he chuckled with a grin, turning on his heel. Sehun put a considerable amount of effort into tearing his eyes away from the boy’s plump thighs and , just barely peeking out from the boy’s coat. “Maybe I’ll see you at my next show, huh?”

Sehun perked up at his words while simultaneously laughing bitterly in his mind at the irony of them. “Ah—ah, um…yeah! Yes. Yeah. I’ll be there.” Too desperate. “I’ll try to be there.” Less desperate, but still pathetic.

Baekhyun nodded as he stood at the door of the café propped open with one leg, the light dusting of snow that blew in ruffling his hair. “Awesome. See you later then.”

Baekhyun was gone, but Sehun stayed glued to his seat by a mixture of euphoria and regret and the energy of a thousand synapses firing as they attempted to process what just happened until the owner of the café nudged him lightly. Sehun jumped, staring at him blankly. After a beat of silence, the owner said dryly, “Sorry, we’re closing now.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Sehun replied slowly, rising to his feet. His lanky limbs shook with nervous energy and somehow managed to carry him all the way back to his small apartment. He threw himself onto his bed, nose and ears still red from the cold (as for his cheeks, they may have been flushed for another reason), curling himself into the covers of his own empty space, waiting for Baekhyun’s voice to fill it as he slept.