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“Hey, Jiaheng, it’s about time for everyone to go on break,” Luhan said to his friend in Mandarin, calling him by his childhood name before Yifan changed it. “You going to try to talk to that curly-haired guitarist this time?” asked the feminine voice.

“What are you talking about?” the gruff voice replied in Mandarin, accompanied by Yifan’s signature ‘What the hell are you saying?’ face.

“You don’t see the way he looks at you, stealing those furtive glances? You don’t see how he always tries to get in your line to order?” Luhan smiled brightly.

“I could say the same about you and that tall, skinny, blonde model with the sour, foxy face,” Yifan retaliated. Luhan pursed his lips.

“He doesn’t look sour,” Luhan protested. “He’s just indifferent. And there’s totally a reason why he’s a model,” Luhan added dreamily.

“Ha! I knew you had a thing for him.” Yifan smirked victoriously. “Speaking of which,” he began but the chime bell as the door opened finished his thought. Luhan’s cheeks tinted pink.

“Welcome to Papillion,” Luhan said brightly to the two models who had just entered. They stared at him blankly and Yifan nudged his friend in the ribs.

“You’re still speaking mandarin,” he whispered, trying to keep the giggle out of his voice. Luhan’s doe-like eyes widened and his face turned a severe shade pink.

“S-sorry. W-welcome to Papillion,” Luhan stammered the second time. The tall blonde model cracked a small smile, which quickly turned to a scowl when his bronze-skinned friend burst into raucous laughter. The scowling boy punched his friend a little harder than playfully in an attempt to shut him up. When that didn’t work, the boy clamped a hand over his friend’s mouth and pulled him into a headlock. The tan boy pulled at the lighter boy’s hand but to no avail.

“Please excuse this idiot. I don’t know why I keep him around. I’m going to have a chocolat bubble tea and all he wants is,” the boy paused and grimaced when he felt something slimy come in contact with his palm. “You’re just being immature now, Jongin,” He looked down at his friend and glowered only to get a cheeky eye smile in reply. “Scratch that, he doesn’t get anything.” The eye smile morphed into a glare. “Fine. He wants strawberry milk tea.” Jongin shrugged, still at his friend’s mercy and Luhan couldn’t help but give Sehun his own little smile of amusement.

“That will be £ 4.50.” Sehun pulled the cash and coins straight out of his back pocket without releasing his friend. “Thank you. Your tea will be ready in a minute.

“That was cute,” Yifan teased in Mandarin.

“Shut up,” Luhan grumbled, not without humour. They heard the tinkle of the bell a second time and it was Luhan’s turn to smirk. “And there is that cute guitarist of yours,” Luhan whispered.

“Welcome to Papillion,” Kris said politely.

“I’m off to make those bubble teas,” he giggled in Mandarin.

“Hi,” the guitarist replied with that strange and endearing grin of his.

“What can I get you?”

“What do you recommend? I know I’ve been here a lot before but I’ve never actually asked you what you think is good.”

“Well the cappuccinos are good,” Yifan replied with unmasked enthusiasm. Like this, he could woo his crush with his glorious art skills.

“Then I’ll take a cappuccino” he requested.  “Hey, Xing. What do you want?” the guitarist asked his daydreaming companion.

“Huh?” The processing speed on this one appeared to be far from optimal. “Can I get a banana milk?”

“Is that everything?” their cashier asked.

“Probably,” the spacey one replied.

“Uhm. That will be £4.25.” Yifan replied. The curly-haired boy dug the money out of his wallet and handed it to Yifan. “I’ll bring it out to you shortly,” Yifan finished.

“Thank you!” the pair replied in unison before going toward a table by the window.

In the process of finding a table, the tan model and spacey musician collided and the shorter of the two fell onto his bum. He scrambled to his feet and began apologising profusely in Chinese, bowing again and again.

“Uhm. I can’t understand what you’re saying,” the model began, “But if you’re saying sorry, it’s cool.”

“I’m sorry,” the musician apologised again, this time in Korean. “Sometimes I forget to speak Korean,” he added, face tinting red.

“No, it’s okay,” the model repeated, his own face heating up. A knowing smile played across his pale friend’s lips. The ever suave Jongin was getting flustered, not without reason. Sehun had to admit that the boy was cute, but not his type per se.

Chanyeol giggled lightly, knowing exactly what was going on. The only oblivious one in the room was the spacey boy who was probably usually clueless anyways.

Yifan didn’t get the chance to see the scene out to the end as he went back to make the cappuccino. Foam art was his specialty; well it would be his specialty because he had never done it before. ‘If Kyungsoo could do it, how difficult could it be?’ he thought to himself.  Admittedly, Kyungsoo was a much better chef than Yifan was, but those were just details that could be overlooked.

Brewing the coffee was easy enough but the foam art turned out to be more complicated than Yifan had originally anticipated. The heart that he had tried to draw was looking more like a cross between a distorted balloon animal and a Pac Man. When Kyungsoo passed by him on the way to get something from the back, he saw Yifan’s foam “art” and almost burst out laughing.

“Shut up! I can do this. I’ll definitely do it the second time around,” he grumbled. Kyungsoo actually did laugh at that.

“When you give up, just call me and I’ll help you. You can still tell the curly-haired giant that you did it yourself and just hope he never asks you to do it again.”

After the third cup, he finally conceded and called Kyungsoo over to help him.

“It was a valiant effort,” Kyungsoo commented at the blob of foam with little sprinkles of cinnamon and chocolate powder in random places.

He got a new cup and within almost seconds had composed a new piece of foam artwork.

“Thanks Kyungsoo,” Yifan said begrudgingly.

“Anything to help you two along,” he hummed before returning to the register to help another customer. From what Yifan could see from the back, it was the maroon-haired boy with the fingers of a pianist. If Yifan remembered correctly, he was a singer with the same company as the spacey musician and the guitarist.

Yifan walked out carrying the carefully made cappuccino and found its recipient sitting at a table for four by the window. The models must have invited the musicians to sit with them, or more accurately, the tan model must have asked the spacey Chinese boy to sit with him.

“Here’s your cappuccino,” Yifan announced, placing the cup in front of his crush.

“It’s so cute!” the boy exclaimed. “Did you do this yourself?”

“I had a little help but yes.”

“Thanks.” The boy grinned and Yifan nodded rather dumbly before retreating.

Yifan saw from the counter that the tan model, by the name of Jongin, and the spacey musician, called Yixing, had exchanged numbers before they left. Once the party was gone, Yifan went to clear the table only to find the napkin sitting next to the empty coffee cup with a string of digits on it and the words “for the cute cappuccino artist: call me!”

[A/N: If you want any other drabbles based off of this story, just drop a comment :)]