“Are you sure this’ll work?” Byunghun chewed on his lower lip anxiously, sparing glances chronically at the barista across the café.

“Of course it will. How else did I score that steaming hot plate of man-cakes that is Ahn Daniel?” Minsoo looked toward the direction of his significant other, winking. However, Daniel, being preoccupied with a cellphone game involving pixelated birds, rejected it. Byunghun made a gagging noise, rolling his eyes.

“No need to tell me your entire life story.” He drawled. In a lower voice, he added, “He had no other choice, since you were all but imploring him.” Hearing this, Minsoo placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“What’re you still talking to me for? Work your magic, and keep my advice in mind,” he said. With that, he shoved the blonde toward the counter, releasing his hands. His all but graceful entrance all but vexed the customers around him. Regaining balance, he fell into line. There were only two people in front of him, and he needed not to crane his head and search for a drink, which spared him from the embarrassment. He was a regular that all the employees recognized, partially for his bright hair color, and also—though he’d refuse to admit it—for his petite stature. He clenched and unclenched his hands. He loathed dry, cracked hands, but using an excessive amount of moisturizer might have been his biggest fault. His palms were clammy and sweaty. He rubbed them against his the length of his jeans habitually.

He could not figure out why he was so anxious. It was more than obvious it was not his first time talking to the barista, but with each day that passes he perceived that he was utterly infatuated with him.  It could have been his velvety cream skin, or the way his eyes would crease when he smiled.  Could it have been his feminine built, the way his hips swung when he all but sauntered from the counter to the kitchen? Nothing was too rushed about him; the environment around him seemed to meld flawlessly with his aura. Or maybe it was the subtle, subconscious things he had done, like when his tongue would dart out to his lips when he was focused. Or when he’d nod to himself whilst listening to a customer’s lengthy order. Or maybe—

Chanhee lifted his slender wrist and snapped his fingers in front of Byunghun’s face. It had brought a curious sense of amusement to the former. The blonde blinked several times before his eyes widened, suddenly noticing he was in front of the sanctity that was Lee Chanhee.

“What would you like to order?” he repeated, although he was already far aware of the response.

“I-I’ll have an iced hazelnut macchiato,” Byunghun bit down on the inside of his cheek, mentally cursing at himself. Things were definitely not starting out the way he had planned.

“That’ll be 4,500 won.” He slid the exact change across the counter, before tucking his wallet into his back pocket. He held his breath. He knew what was next. He could feel his heart thumping in his ribcage, that familiar feeling fluttering his stomach. He watched Chanhee’s fingers dance across the cash register and listened to the grinding of beans and the gentle taps and clicks. ‘Here it comes,’ he thought to himself. He mustered up enough courage inside him, as he attempted to convert the anxiety within the core of his gut to pure, confident energy. “May I have a name for the order?” the barista asked, eyes still glued to the screen. He took a deep breath.

“Your future boyfriend.”  He said, simulating a suave voice. Chanhee looked up from his long lashes, his doe eyes widening. If Byunghun had squinted, he could have sworn to see a light scarlet dust his cheeks. The barista blinked several times.

“Holy crap, he actually did it,” Minsoo flung his hand to his mouth as he doubled over in his seat, trying to repress the wave of laughter that crashed over him. Daniel elbowed his partner in the ribcage, shooting him a contempt glare.

“Poor kid,” he said half-sympathetically before returning to his cellular game.

“I’m sorry?” Chanhee said, raising an eyebrow after his eyes returned to its normal size. The shorter blonde leaned forward on the counter, resting his elbow against it, his palm cradling his chin. He looked up at the barista, who returned the gaze under his long, thick lashes.

“Oh, sorry.”  He began. “Did you want me to spell that?” Minsoo nearly howled in laughter, as he ducked his head to avoid Daniel’s blows. Chanhee now had both eyebrows raised. Byunghun could feel his heart race; this was the first time the barista’s eyes darted amongst his features, examining them, before returning his gaze to the cash register. After some swift typing, the traces of a smile marked the corners of his lips. With one crisp, decisive motion, he ripped the receipt and slid it across the flat surface. To the blonde boy’s dismay, Chanhee turned his back on him.

“Your order will be ready within a few minutes,” he replied coolly, as this was the Byunghun’s cue to retreat from the line. Stepping away from the counter, he headed towards the pick-up area and stood amongst the diminishing gaggle of customers waiting for their orders. The blonde let out a quiet sigh as he wiped his palms against the back of his jeans. His heartbeat was still erratic.  Had it really worked? Could the barista possibly have found his little line at least the slightest bit cute? “Iced Hazelnut Macchiato!” the voice Byunghun recognized quickly called out. He absentmindedly reached out for the plastic cup, and brought the green straw to his lips, the caffeinated goodness. He walked over to Minsoo and Daniel.

Minsoo was previously semi-absorbed in watching Daniel attempting to be his high score—which, altogether, was not very high—when he glanced up to see the cup he was holding, and took a double take. Taking a longer glance the second time, he glanced from the beverage to the Byunghun’s bemused face. He thinned his lips. Minsoo nudged his boyfriend’s elbow, and, in response, received a loud groan.

“What? I almost beat my high—“ he began to complain until his voice trailed off when he noticed where his lover’s gaze was held. His thick lips shaped into a small “o” as he glanced back at his cellphone.

Being ultimately confused by the duo’s peculiar response to his presence, Byunghun glanced between the two, then at his drink. It was what he always ordered, so it should not have come to a surprise to either of them. Glancing at the cup from his side, there was simply the coffee shop’s logo. As he begun a panoramic view of the cup, he turned the beverage 180 degrees to discover the name of the cup written in large, bold permanent marker.

“Idiot.”

Flushing red, he looked up from the five-letter label at his two friends, who averted their glances. He spun on his heel to face the barista, who, from the counter, sent him a smirk.

Chanhee was sure that one label was enough to scare the shorter boy away. Or, at least, to teach him to keep distance. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. Byunghun still came every day, ordered his usual, but, of course, the barista knew better than to ask for a name for the order.

“Aren’t you tired of coffee?” Chanhee muttered under his breath, whilst tapping the register keys.

“I need my daily dose of caffeine, like most of us.” He admitted shyly. Chanhee glanced up at the boy, somewhat surprised the blonde heard what he said.

“I can tell, by that height of yours,” he commented snidely. The short boy blushed.

“I’m not that short,” without even looking up the barista could hear the pout in his voice.

“Short enough to pass as a high-schooler,” he remarked.

“But still tall enough and old enough to kiss you,” he shot back. Both young men were surprised by the blonde’s boldness. Biting down on his lower lip, the chestnut-haired boy refused to let himself get swept away with such clichéd comment.

“Who said I’d let you?” he retorted.

“Who said you wouldn’t?” the blonde boy countered. Heat crawled up the barista’s cheeks as he brashly tore the receipt from the machine and all but slammed it against the counter.

“Your order will be ready shortly,” he turned away from the blonde as they parted ways.

“You’re getting better at this,” admitted Minsoo, before swiping his lover’s mobile device form his grasp. Before Daniel could scowl at him, he glanced at the poor blonde boy, and tightened his lips.

“Yeah…Chanhee’s a little…harder to warm up to.” He elaborated. Byunghun nodded in comprehension. “Keep working at it.” Daniel advised the blonde boy.

But Byunghun knew this would not be a battle easily won—or even won at all, for that matter. As much as he tried to counter all of the barista’s verbal attacks, the blows still returned, with a more destructive impact as the last.

“What is it that you want from me?” the chestnut-haired boy finally asked exasperatedly.

“The usual—you know, the iced hazelnut macchiato,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“No,” he emphasized. “I mean, why do you keep hitting on me like this?” he demanded to know. The blonde boy looked up at the barista in nearly utter shock, unaware of how to react to the situation. Color flooded his cheeks.

“I—“ a series of witty comebacks failed to inundate his mind, as he stammered out. “I—I just think you’re really attractive and all.” He spilled. “And, and, and, I-I really like the way you nod to yourself and your lips when you’re focused into what other people are saying. And the way your eyes look like little croissants when you smile, or the way your nostrils flare and your head drops back when you laugh, even if it wasn’t a funny joke. The way your lips tug into broad smile, a really cute one, when you greet every single customer, with such hospitality. Like you truly care about them. As if they were your friend.” He lowers his voice, until it was something of a quivering noise. “Except me. A-all I really wanted was to capture that smile, maybe at least once, even it was simply out of pity. But what is it that makes me so different from the others?” His gaze drops to the wooden counter. The blonde was sure his face was beet red. There was a pregnant pause, and not even Chanhee could bring enough courage to glance at the boy.

“That’s what I’d like to know myself,” the chestnut-haired boy admitted softly. Before Byunghun could glance back up at the barista, he had already printed the receipt, sliding it over the counter. “Your order will be ready momentarily,” he mumbled off to himself, stepping away from the counter. The blonde moved away as well, letting out a deep sigh, dropping his head. He should have known better than to speak so thoughtlessly, and gush out his feelings in said manner. The chestnut haired boy was a barista, not a therapist, and certainly not his boyfriend.

Chanhee had not even bothered to call out the name of the order as he slid it across the pick-up table. Byunghun, hearing the familiar sound, glanced up to find the barista’s back facing him, and his order already placed in front of him.  Grasping it, he walked away from the counter and absentmindedly glanced at the cup. A fleck of ebony caught his eye as he took another prolonged glance. Turning the cup around, he found something scribbled on the back of his cup in black permanent marker. Scanning over it, his heart thundered in his ribcage, an impromptu euphoria rushing through his veins.

Seven letters.

Seven digits.

Taking a sip from his coffee, Byunghun’s lips curved upwards.

Yes, somehow his beverage tasted sweeter now.

A/N: If it behooves you, generally most mobile numbers in South Korea are seven digits (according to Google Search). I'll let you decide your interpretation of the ending from there (although there isn't much there to interpret). Also, on a side note, I have never drank coffee once in my life. But to say I haven't had a single drop of caffeine before--no, that'd be practically inhuman. Thank you for reading, and feel free to drop a review if you have anything you'd like me to know about, be it constructive criticism, praise, or anything in between.

Until next time!