“You know if you stopped wasting time staring out the window and just went to speak to him, you might actually get somewhere.” Minho jumped out of his seat at the sound of Kibum’s voice, turning abruptly to see him and Jonghyun sliding into the booth he was currently occupying.

Jonghyun grinned, “Is this what you do, Minho? You come to this café just creep on some guy you don’t have the balls to speak to face to face?” Minho didn’t honor that with a response

“Ah, young love,” Kibum sing-songed, playfully leaning his head on Jonghyun’s shoulder, “Remember when you were like that?” He asked, turning his attention to the shortest of the three. Jonghyun shrugged him off, embarrassed.

“I was never that bad.” He defended, gesturing to how attached Minho was to the window. Pitying him, Kibum just patted his head.

Minho continued to gaze out the window, like he was shooting a scene from a painfully melodramatic drama.

Kibum sighed, shaking his head at Minho’s hesitance, “He seems like such a nice boy, go talk to him. If anything, his only crime would be that he works at a fast food joint.” Jonghyun picks up Kibum’s phone, giving him a pointed look while making a show out of his Jeremy Scott case. The younger man rolled his eyes and snatched the phone away, turning his attention back to Minho.

They didn’t understand, you can’t just walk up to an angel and say “hi, how are ‘ya?” There has to be an extensive amount of finesse, of swagger; things that Minho has absolutely none of.

It been only a few weeks since the boy had started working at the fast food joint across the street and effectively occupied Minho’s every thought, his every sense. He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t help but watch his every move at his work like it depended on him.

He would pick the same booth every time he came to the café and go about his routine, alternating between his tablet and watching the smaller man intently, falling in love with everything he does, every move he makes.

Of course, this is creepy and embarrassing to admit, but he couldn’t stop himself, not even for a minute.

“Why don’t you just go in there, order a burger, and make small talk?” Jonghyun suggested, “Who knows, maybe it’ll blossom,” he smiled, unnecessary emphasis on the end of the sentence. Minho had it in his right mind to knock him once in the head, but he refrained, settling on going back to staring longingly out the window at his prince.

Prince. ing really?

“I don’t even eat fast food.” He deadpanned, trying to get them to back off.

Jonghyun shrugged, “Then go get me some fries.”

“Oh and bring some ketchup!” Kibum chimed.

Minho had to count to ten.

In a way, he felt he could easily be content with just admiring the thin man for afar; with a street, two windows –it seemed like two worlds to him—between the two of them, there was so much less pressure. He felt privileged just to be able to see him do what he did. He loved the way his shoulder length hair fell in his eyes and when he tucked it behind his ear, it was as if the world slowed down. Minho could feel himself not breathing when the other man would smile; even though it was a bit hard to see because of the distance, he still lit up the world –at least, Minho’s world. He had to fight with himself to not run over there and lay one on him right then and there.

“His name’s Taemin.” Jinki announced, bringing the coffee and snacks Jonghyun and Kibum had ordered. He placed the platter their food was perched upon on the table and sat down, asserting himself on the cushioned bench beside Minho.

Jinki was the owner of this café that they frequented (it was sort of an unspoken rule that this is where they meet for everything) and the final member of their group from college. He was the eldest and the most knowledgeable, despite popular belief.

Kibum perked up, eyes widening, “How do you know that, hyung?”

“He came by after his shift one day for a drink. It was a pretty slow day so I just kind of entertained him. He’s a dancer too! Besides that job over there, he teaches classes at the studio a few blocks from here.” He nudged Minho, not sure if he was still listening because of the glassy, unfocused look in his eyes.

Taemin. Minho could say it over and over again and it would never lose its novelty. His name was just as pretty as he was.

Kibum chuckled, turning to look out the window again, “Is he even legal? He looks like a high schooler.” Jinki just shrugged in response.

“Don’t make fun of him, he’s just got youthful features,” Minho shot back as if he were the one being talked about. He felt that any attack on his ang—Taemin—was a direct hit to him as well and he would defend Taemin’s honor to the ends of the earth.

This, of course, resulted in a hearty amount of ridicule from Jonghyun on how whipped he was by a guy he didn’t even know and in that moment, Minho was quite sure he needed new friends.

On his way to the café that day, Minho stopped briefly before entering, taking a moment to acknowledge the restaurant just across the street. It amazed him how he could allow himself to become a blubbering mess at the thought of some boy he had never spoken to. He was Choi Minho dammit, far too mature, collected, and sure of himself to fall into the trap of a cliché coffee shop romance.

It irritated him, to say the least, that he is reduced to a fraction of his former self and now his friends –Jonghyun in particular—had something to poke fun at him with. His clean slate ruined and his stable sanity gone completely askew.

He thought about what he would do if he actually walked in there, what he would say, what he would do (which was hopefully anything but vomit all over the poor kid’s uniform). The thought alone was enough to scare him into the café where he was safe. He his heel and headed straight for the entrance.

“Minho, you’re here!” Jinki ran to him as soon as he entered the shop, significantly more happy to see him than usual.

The taller man lifted a hesitant eyebrow, “Hello to you too hyung… Do you need something?”

Jinki batted his eyes, ready to beg, “I’m terribly under-staffed today and I really need an extra hand… so would you… mind…” He trailed off, twiddling his thumbs and obviously trying to appeal to the younger.

Minho sighed, turning to look at Kibum and Jonghyun who were huddled in a booth in the furthest corner of the store and probably celebrating that they didn’t have to help out as well. Reluctantly, he turned back to Jinki and nodded, but lawing down a mandatory IOU in return.

“Yes! Thank you, Minho-yah. Go wash your hands and I’ll grab you an apron from the back,” he flashed a toothy grin, giving him a thumbs up as he rushed off to the heavy door behind the counter that red “EMPLOYEES ONLY”.

It was times like these that Minho sincerely hated how generous he could be. The café was packed and he was doing most of the heavy lifting thanks to Jinki who appointed him as the waiter. He was running back and forth (passed Jonghyun and Kibum’s table a lot more than he would’ve liked) throughout the little shop that had definitely surpassed its maximum capacity limit.

In all the hustle and bustle, he wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going; most focused on running back and forth between the tables (and trying to remember which table was which). It came as no surprise when he ran right into one of the customers. Jinki will have his head.

When Minho’s vision focused again, he was on the ground and a blur of brown hair was flopping about in front of him; the person he ran into was apologizing. He turned his head and saw Kibum and Jonghyun staring at them, hard. He frowned and quickly turned back to the person in front of him, who was still bowing and shouting “sorry” like crazy. It wasn’t until they stood straight again to look him in the eye did he realize what they were staring at.

Prin- Taemin. He’d bumped into Taemin and ruined his day and whatever path the shorter boy was on had been ruined because he was unfortunate enough to cross paths with the lesser life form, Choi Minho.

Taemin bowed again, hurried apologies shooting from his mouth, “Oh man I’m so sorry. I should really watch where I’m going. I didn’t- are you okay?” His eyes widened as he looked down at Minho whose face was flushed blood red. Out of the corner of his eye, Minho could see Kibum stifling a laugh in the corner of the shop.

“Oh- um yeah sorry. I’m okay.” He replied, blinking himself out of his momentary trance. The skinnier man reached his hand out to help him up; with an awkward laugh, he took it and pulled himself up.

. Their hands were touching and he couldn’t breathe and Taemin’s going to have to take a shower because his Niagara Falls sweat has definitely grossed him out beyond compare. Taemin smiled again and Minho’s heart skipped a beat; they were still holding hands and Minho was worried that he was burning a hole in his Taemin’s head with how hard he was staring at the shorter male, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn away.

He heard Jinki distractedly ask the customer he was serving to repeat their order three times.

This was his chance, right? He should take it because lord only knows when another opportunity will come around or when he’ll ever have the confidence to speak to Taemin ever again.

“Well… sorry. Again…” Taemin laughed a bit, teeth catching his bottom lip as his eyes shifted everywhere, anywhere but at Minho.

They were about to let go and it would be all over. Taemin was going to let go of his hand, buy a coffee and leave, never to come back again and he would never forgive himself for as long as he lives; he racked his brain for anything he could say to keep him from leaving that was socially acceptable and wasn’t just him blurting out his name. Something charming… something cool…

“My name is Minho.” Dammit. He did it anyway.

Surprised, Taemin looked up at him through his bangs, but made no move of discomfort or retracting his hand. Slowly, a smile crept on his plump lips and he started shaking Minho’s hand.

“Taemin.” Was all he said and Minho thought it was the coolest thing ever.

He shook his hand as well, trying not to fist pump Breakfast Club style and embarrass himself any more than he already has. He really didn’t want to end up a cliché, but he would take it anyway.

a/n: yeah i don't write 2min so this was a little weird but  i did it for you skye so yeah. appreciate me. happy birhtday, you're gr9
and a million thank yous to any one else who reads this c: i really appreciate it