Donghae likes to observe.

He likes to sit on a bench at a park, notebook and pen in hand, and write about the things he sees.

A couple holding hands. Children chasing after each other on the grassy grounds and the mud clinging to their shoes. A man in his late twenties to early thirties jogging, beads of sweat in his hairline. Two teenage girls sitting on a bench across his, giggling about something on their phones.

Sometimes it isn’t about the people.

He’d write about the color of the sky. The blooming flowers on a colorful day in May. The sun’s scorching heat in the summer. Red, orange and yellow leaves falling from a tree. A nest of birds sitting on the branch of said tree. A blanket of snow covering what was once a grassy terrain. The smell of rain falling on his fingertips.

Sometimes it isn’t about the place or the weather.

He’d sit in a coffee shop with his small laptop and write about the steam and the rich taste of the freshly brewed coffee he’s having. Or the aromatic scent of the earl grey tea carried by the patron who had just passed by his table. The tang of the lemon square he’s chewing on and its soft and creamy texture. The beads of water clinging to the plastic cup of someone’s forgotten cold drink. The chatter of the people and the clangs of utensils against plates, blending in with the sound of strings being plucked in the acoustic track playing in the background.

Donghae really isn’t one to talk.

He prefers to keep to himself, to be lost in his thoughts, either observing the world around him or seeing nothing as he creates a world of his own in the landscape of his mind.

It isn’t to say that he doesn’t have friends though. Of course he does. Quite a lot of them, in fact.

But there are just those days when he likes to be alone. Even amidst plenty of strangers, or in a totally crowded place, Donghae enjoys the solitude. It’s a time where he can relax and recharge—an escape from the mind-boggling stress of college life and part-time work.

A time to think to himself, without any pressure or deadlines.

A time for reflection.

It’s almost a routine. Every Sunday, he would find himself a spot at any random park or coffee shop, where he would stay for hours until his body demands for the comfort of his small, cozy studio apartment. It gets physically tiring sometimes—sitting in one place for far too long, but the peace it provides to his mind makes it all worth it.

It’s his favorite day of the week.

One fine day sometime in late April, however, something quite unusual happens.

He is typing away, the vivid imagery of a different world of knights and warlocks painted in his mind and defined by his words across a fresh page on his laptop’s writing application. A boy arrives and jolts him away from his thoughts, the images in his mind quickly vanishing in a puff of smoke as he looks up and frowns accusingly at the panicked male standing by his table.

“Do you mind if I…” the boy gestures wildly to the empty seat in front of Donghae. “I’m sorry. It’s just – I need to finish this paper and my apartment’s current state doesn’t help me to write so I went out. But there aren’t any vacant tables around and—”

“It’s fine,” Donghae says, flashing the boy a friendly smile. “I don’t mind.”

He means it.

He could only understand too well the pressure of having to finish a paper, and really, even though he was interrupted in his writing, he couldn’t turn down such an honest request.

“Thank you,” the boy breathes and the relief soothes the knots that had formed between his brows. He smiles back as he sits down and begins setting up his laptop, and Donghae continues to work on his piece, his mind recreating the images he had formed before he was abruptly interrupted.

They fall into a comfortable silence, one that brings surprise to the back of Donghae’s mind, because although he likes to observe, he isn’t really the type who would find it easy to interact with strangers. Not that he is actually interacting with the boy, but the fact that he is sitting there, a feeling of familiar companionship lingering in the air between them, is a strange yet welcome distraction.

He finds himself glancing upwards every now and then, observing as always, but this time something is different. His attention is not constantly being stolen by the various things around him, but instead is focused on the boy quietly typing a paper in front of him. Donghae watches, like he always does, his curious eyes flitting towards the strands of styled hair—its color, he isn’t very sure how to describe, but he’s thinking somewhere between light auburn, ginger, or washed-out brown. The boy’s hair seems rather dry, perhaps the result of being dyed one too many times, his bangs hovering just above the single-lidded almond-shaped eyes. Donghae observes down to the straight bridge of the pointed nose, and the faded rose color of the slightly parted puffy lips. He sees angular cheekbones and a defined jaw, and in a fleeting thought, Donghae decides that the boy is rather good-looking.

He then continues to write.

-

Hyukjae is a little frustrated.

Truthfully, he prides himself for being quite a patient and understanding person, but at the moment, he could not help but seethe silently at the message popping out on his chatting application. Irritably, he types back a reply, the sound of his fingers hitting the keyboards louder than usual, and without realizing it, Hyukjae makes the brunette in front of him look up in mild curiosity.

He is still typing furiously, ignoring the typographic errors that he couldn’t help but make, unknowingly knitting his eyebrows, when a the sound of a throat being cleared jolts him out of his anger-induced reverie and makes him blink upwards.

The brunette blinks back before offering a hesitant close-lipped smile. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh—um,” Hyukjae stammers, a bout of embarrassment flooding him as he realizes his angry typing might have disrupted his companion’s concentration. “Y-Yeah, I mean—no, not really, I’m just annoyed at something but it’s – uh, nothing too serious. Sorry. I must have disturbed you.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” the boy says, waving his rather small hands in front of him. “I was taking a break actually so you didn’t. Um, disturb me, I mean.”

“Oh,” Hyukjae says, gradually recovering himself from the shame and flashing a small, friendly smile. “That’s good then.”

His eyes flit back to the screen of his laptop only to see a reply from the person he was talking to, and he doesn’t realize his annoyance had momentarily disappeared until it comes back in full force. “Motherer,” he mutters irritably under his breath, once again forgetting that there is, after all, someone sitting there with him, and so when he hears a small, nervous gulp, he jerks and stares at the brunette with wide, alarmed eyes. “H-Hey, I didn’t mean—I mean, I wasn’t talking about you, okay? It’s just this – this person,” he gestures wildly to his laptop, “this person I’m talking to is just being very annoying. I’m sorry.”

The boy blinks before he surprisingly laughs, his deep voice coming out loud and boisterous despite the fact that the back of his hand had been covering his mouth.

Hyukjae is confused for a moment—was it something he said?—and he could only tilt his head in wonder as he watches the bright eyes crinkle up.

“Sorry,” the brunette lowers his hand and smiles sheepishly. “I knew you weren’t talking about me. I was worried since you looked pissed and kinda scary. And then you suddenly became all alarmed and jumpy. It was amusing.”

“Oh,” Hyukjae utters, and he mentally smacks himself as he realizes this is the third time in a row he’s said that stupid useless word. “Well… People say I look scary when I’m mad. But I’m harmless. I think. And I guess I am a little jumpy right now,” he shrugs and eyes the half-empty cup of coffee sitting beside his computer, “You know. Caffeine.”

“Caffeine makes you jumpy?”

“Yeah, especially when I drink three cups in one day.”

Double-lidded brown eyes wid