Archive of Our Own

Yeonjun didn’t think he was sweating, yet it still felt like he was. 

He was fairly certain he’d put on deodorant that morning (twice, just in case), and he’d even made sure to splash on his new cologne in every single piece of his outfit, the one that made him smell like clean linen and ambition. 

He was sure he’d done everything right. And still, he was haunted by the creeping dread of sweat prickling under his shirt, the kind that sits just beneath the surface, nervy and disloyal, like it knows a secret that hasn't been said out loud but you absolutely won’t like.

It was fine. 

He could handle it. 

Yeonjun was good under pressure. Great, even. He’d trained for this. Years following performing arts majors: dancing, theater, singing… He could slip into any character with ease. Today he was going to take on another role: a totally chill guy who doesn’t care but it’s dedicated enough to the job not to seem like a loser.

The café around him smelled like fresh bread and lavender syrup. The playlist was all full of jazz music, lo-fi and soft percussions. Altogether, it was cozy but it also felt too good to be true. Less like a coffee shop and more like a honey-drenched trap, with a couple of sugar cubes stacked on top to make sure you stayed.

Across the table, two men sat side by side. One had a laptop open and a pen tucked behind his ear, posture crisp, expression calm. The other was leaning back casually with a ceramic mug roughly the size of Yeonjun’s entire face.

“Alright,” said the one with the pen. Kim Namjoon, the café owner.

Despite the polished, borderline-corporate tone of the initial emails, Yeonjun had been surprised to find that Namjoon had instead warm, thoughtful eyes and the kind of calm, grounding presence that made you feel like he might run a book club on the side. 

One with reading lists that could either fix your life or unravel your entire sense of self. Either way, you’d probably thank him afterward for whatever he had to say to you.

“Let’s just run through a couple of questions,” Namjoon continued, glancing down at his screen. “Yeonjun, you’re here for the barista position?”

“Yes, sir.” he smiled, polite and practiced. “I’ve worked part-time at another café near campus. Specialty drinks, cold brew prep, and a fair amount of customer service too.”

Namjoon nodded thoughtfully and typed something into his laptop. “Great. And Soobin—”

Yeonjun didn’t look when the name left Namjoon’s lips. 

No matter how badly his Pavlovian instincts begged him to desperately turn toward his boyfriend. He resisted. He was supposed to be a chill guy, remember?

But he could feel Soobin beside him, a little nervous but steady and silent, posture perfect in that composed, quietly serious way that always made Yeonjun go a little gooey inside. 

To be fair, that focused stare of his? Kind of unreasonably hot.

He was wearing the soft blue hoodie Yeonjun had picked out for him the night before, the one that fit like a dream and made his eyes do that infuriating, sparkly thing that could capture anyone’s heart. His black hair was combed down just enough to brush his lashes, framing his face like an illustrator had obsessed over every line. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of a webtoon and wandered into this interview just to move the plot forward.

Honestly, kinda rude to the general public.

But also, entirely the point.

Yeonjun had carefully chosen the outfits with purpose. 

For him, a rather laid-back, effortlessly cool look. Think cool accessories, relaxed denim, simple sneakers, a graphic tee that whispered approachable but definitely got style.

For Soobin, something softer, going for baby blue tones that gave off a more subtle ‘this guy bakes cakes and pastries as sweet as he is’ vibe. The kind of warmth you can’t help but be drawn to. 

They were dressed to the nines, each step carefully choreographed to give off the most perfect first impressions anyone had ever seen. They needed that job, badly.

Still, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from stealing another glance, just to confirm that yes, Soobin still looked devastatingly good under fluorescent lighting and a little professional pressure.

He wanted to high-five himself.

But he stayed still. Smiling. Heart fluttering in his chest like a traitor. Pretending he wasn’t two seconds away from throwing an arm around Soobin’s shoulders and announcing, ‘Yeah, I bagged this myself, thank you very much.’

“I applied for the back kitchen,” Soobin answered evenly. “I’m a baking and pastry student. Pastries, bread, doughs… maybe even some more elaborate stuff. I’ve pulled overnight baking shifts before, and I’m more than comfortable with prep work.”

Namjoon nodded again, clearly impressed.

Yeonjun risked a glance at Soobin’s hands. Long, precise, steady, he remembered those same fingers measuring flour, folding dough, or curling gently around his wrist during cold mornings when neither of them wanted to break the silence just yet. The memory lingered for a beat too long, so he looked away.

Focus, he told himself.

“Very nice,” Namjoon said, finishing whatever he was typing into his laptop. “I’ll be honest: you both seem like a great fit. We were looking for help to cover two of our regular staff who’ll be out for the next few months, and you’re exactly what we needed.”

Yeonjun exhaled. Just a little. The tiniest breath of relief.

“I’ll hand things over to the manager now,” Namjoon added, glancing to his side. “He might have a few more questions, but from my end, everything looks great.”

That was when the second man leading the interview, Kim Taehyung, leaned forward.

Arms crossed over a faded graphic tee, dark hair falling slightly into his eyes, and a grin playing at the edge of his mouth like he already knew something no one had said aloud. He was all long limbs and relaxed charisma, but there was a flicker of curiosity, sharp and playful, nestled behind all the charm.

“So,” Taehyung said, tilting his head like he was genuinely curious, “did you two come in together today?”

Yeonjun blinked, caught off guard. What kind of question was that? Was it logistical? A scheduling thing? A test?

His voice came out on autopilot, a little shaky. “No, we arrived in separate cars.”

“Oh?” Taehyung smiled, eyes glinting with mischief. “So you don’t know each other?”

The silence that followed was brief but heavy. Not long enough to be suspicious, but definitely too long to be casual.

Would knowing each other be a problem? Were they worried about professionalism? Would they think people who knew each other would just goof around? And if so, wouldn’t it be worse if they knew they were actually a couple?

Yeonjun felt the air catch in both his and Soobin’s lungs.

“Huh, you see…” 

Soobin was the first to speak, voice a bit uncertain but playing along. “We go to the same university. I think we might’ve had a general elective together once, but nothing more.”

Yeonjun nodded a little too eagerly. “Yeah. Just... familiar faces.”

Taehyung didn’t say a word. He just blinked slowly, then jotted something down on his clipboard.

Yeonjun had no idea if that was good or bad, but now he was for sure sweating again.

Tapping his pen on the table, Taehyung added, “We actually prefer when new hires click quickly. It makes the whole environment easier to manage.”

Yeonjun caught Soobin’s eyes for a brief second, shooting him a silent, puzzled look.

Because, what? Why would he word it like that if they wanted them to be friendly coworkers? What was he expecting with a tone like that?

Soobin’s expression was a perfect storm of confusion and quiet mortification, while Yeonjun was dangerously close to giggling when he realized. The way he scrunched his nose was adorable.

Whatever. The situation was a little ridiculous but they could ask for clarification and fix it later. Once they got the job.

Yeonjun forced a tight smile. “Good to know.”

Taehyung clapped his hands together, cheerful. “The shift already started today, and we’re a bit short-staffed, so we don’t have much time for a formal trial run. But if you’re both alright with it, I’d love to have you step into the staff area now. Get a quick sense of your skills and judge for myself. Sound okay?”

Yeonjun blinked. Immediate hands-on trial.

Great.

“Of course,” he said with practiced ease. “Sounds great.”

“Perfect,” Namjoon said, closing his laptop. “Soobin, we’ll have you head to the kitchen, you would normally cover the morning shift with another one of our bakers, Sakura. She’s been here forever, but today she’s running a little late right now, so maybe you could present us with some of your own ideas?”

Yeonjun turned slightly, catching Soobin in his peripheral vision. He saw him nod, quietly and composed, but Yeonjun knew that calm for what it was: a carefully constructed front.

Unlike him, Soobin didn’t like being put on the spot. He liked to prep, being told what to do, having structure. His brain worked best when it had a blueprint. Directions. And right now? He was very clearly being handed none.

So underneath his calm facade, there was a quiet storm starting to form. The nerves, the slow rising anxiety, the sharp edge of being thrown in before he’d had time to settle or even think of a plan of action.

Yeonjun shifted his weight, already thinking of ways on how to help. He couldn’t stop the trial from happening, but maybe he could tweak it. He needed something lowkey though. Casual. Something that wouldn’t scream ‘I’m trying to rescue my boyfriend in secret without having you guys know’.

He cleared his throat, playing it off casual. “Hey, random question, do you guys take requests during trial runs? Because I skipped breakfast, and I’d honestly sell my soul for a warm banana muffin right now.”

Namjoon looked up, slightly caught off guard but clearly amused. “That’s… oddly specific.”

“Classic comfort food,” Yeonjun said with a grin. “Soft, cinnamon-y, nostalgic. You can’t go wrong.”

Taehyung laughed. “Look at you, already trying to rig the system.”

“I mean,” Yeonjun shrugged, “if you’re gonna test someone’s baking, might as well get something good out of it, right?”

Namjoon chuckled. “Fair point. Banana muffins it is, if Soobin’s up for it.”

Yeonjun didn’t turn to look at his boyfriend, he just waited for the subtle shift beside him. The tiny exhale that helped him catch his breath, the small easing of the shoulders. The kind of quiet relief only someone familiar would notice.

Soobin gave a nod. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Great,” Namjoon said, clearly pleased. “Sakura will still show you around once she’s in, but for now, feel free to get started.”

“And you,” Taehyung added, looking at Yeonjun with a grin, “let’s see what you’ve got at the bar. Think you can make something strong enough to match your sneaky ways?”

Yeonjun stood straight, all confidence settling back in. “Only one way to find out. Lead the way.”

They split off, Soobin heading for the kitchen and Yeonjun trailing behind Taehyung toward the bar. Just before the staff door swung shut behind him, Yeonjun caught it: the smallest flicker of a smile from Soobin, warm and grateful.

The hallway behind the staff door opened into the main workspace of the café. Warm-toned wood, hanging vines, and sun spilling through the tall windows out front. Yeonjun took it all in as he followed Taehyung past a line of half-stocked pastry cases and toward the front bar, where the espresso machines gleamed like chrome altars under the soft pendant lighting.

It smelled like roasted beans, caramel syrup, and the faint hint of citrus. The lo-fi jazz from earlier was still playing, but got a little louder out here.

“Welcome to the cockpit,” Taehyung said, waving dramatically at the counter as he stepped behind it. “Everything that happens out here runs through this station. No pressure.”

Yeonjun gave a little laugh, masking his nerves. “Looks like a spaceship.”

“Wait until you try steaming oat milk during the Saturday rush,” Taehyung replied. “You’ll start praying to it.”

Before Yeonjun could answer, someone slid up beside them from the dining floor, spinning a tablet in one hand and chewing on a straw. Tousled hair, silver hair and piercings adorned by a lopsided grin.

“This the new barista?” the guy asked, voice teasing but warm.

“Yeonjun-ssi, meet Beomgyu,” Taehyung introduced. “On record one of our full-timers and off-record the one employee I still can’t believe hasn’t run this place to the ground.”

Beomgyu stuck out his hand with a grin. “Nice to meet you. Pro tip: start memorizing the specials now, because you’ll be making ten of them at once while customers try to argue they actually never ordered half of them.”

Yeonjun shook his hand, matching his expression. “Lucky for me, my mom made sure I mastered the art of doing what I was told while also arguing politely.”

Beomgyu laughed. “Well, then, looks like you might just survive the week.”

He gave Yeonjun a wink before strolling off toward a table, expertly balancing a tray of freshly brewed coffee with surprising ease.

Taehyung turned back to Yeonjun and motioned him forward. “Alright, showtime. Walk me through how you’d set up for a shift.”

Yeonjun moved behind the bar, switching instinctively into muscle memory. Wipe the station, check the grinder, scan the beans, prime the espresso machine. His hands were steady and confident, but he could feel Taehyung’s gaze on him like a spotlight.

“Okay,” Yeonjun said as he opened the mini-fridge and eyed the milk options, “would you want me to do a standard espresso, or a latte, maybe something iced?”

Taehyung leaned against the counter, watching him like a judge on a reality show. “Dealer’s choice. Surprise me.”

That wasn’t intimidating at all.

Yeonjun reached for the oat milk. Safe. Smooth. A classic. He grabbed a clean cup, pulled a shot, carefully frothed the milk—not too hot, just enough air—and poured it with slow precision. A leaf pattern bloomed in the cream. Clean, sharp and very satisfying.

He slid the cup toward Taehyung. “Oat milk latte. Extra smooth. Classic leaf. No drama.”

Taehyung raised his brows and took a sip, pausing.

“Okay,” Taehyung said, still sipping. “Consider me intrigued. Let’s see how you handle a rush of different orders next.”

Yeonjun nodded, heart still beating a little fast, but steadying. Behind him, the espresso machine hissed like it approved of his technique.

So far, so good.

After brewing a few more coffees, whipping up an iced matcha, and even attempting a protein shake (which was more of an experiment than anything), Yeonjun could say with relative confidence that he was acing this trial run.

“Damn,” Taehyung said, leaning against the counter with a smirk. “You’re dangerously close to being a little overqualified for this job.”

Yeonjun relaxed a little, flashing a modest shrug. “I take my caffeine intake very seriously.”

Just then, the staff door swung open, and Namjoon stepped out from the back kitchen, carrying a wooden tray loaded with a fresh batch of muffins. Right behind him was Soobin, hands tucked into the pockets of his soft blue hoodie, looking calm and collected, if not a little tired.

“Look what just came out of the oven,” Namjoon said, setting the tray down with a proud smile. “Fresh banana muffins, straight from Soobin.”

Yeonjun caught Soobin’s eye, noticing a brief flicker of relief and something warm in his boyfriend’s expression. It was clear he was satisfied with how things had gone.

Taehyung’s grin widened. “Well, now that is a trial run if I’ve ever seen one. It smells angelic from here.”

Yeonjun moved quickly to rinse the tools he’d used and slipped off the barista apron, eager to finish at his station so he could savor the smooth taste of victory, and maybe reward Soobin with something a little sweeter later on.

He approached the small group gathered in a corner of the café, where Namjoon, Taehyung, and even Beomgyu had set up to sample the plate. Before Yeonjun could say a word, Soobin picked up a muffin wrapped in a napkin, balancing it carefully on a small plate, and handed it to him.

“Here,” Soobin said softly. “Careful, it’s still a little hot.”

Yeonjun’s heart clenched. Their fingers brushed just slightly, a fleeting contact charged with more meaning than the moment allowed. How could his boyfriend, even after all these years of being friends, still be so damn considerate, down to the tiniest details? It made Yeonjun want to marry him on the spot. He could ask him to elope the very next day and Yeonjun would say yes instantly, no questions asked. 

Just as he opened his mouth to thank him, Yeonjun noticed the surprised looks being exchanged between Namjoon and Taehyung. Their eyes flicked between him and Soobin, unspoken questions hanging in the air.

Yeonjun swallowed hard, suddenly hyperaware of the fragile line he was walking if this interview didn’t pan out.

Had their show of affection been too obvious? Did it make others uncomfortable or weirded out? Should they really pretend like they barely knew each other in order to get the job?

His cheeks warmed as he unintentionally stammered, “Uh, thanks. I mean, the muffins look really, uh—great. You did an amazing job.”

Soobin shifted slightly, perhaps sensing Yeonjun’s unease. For a fleeting moment, the calm mask on his face faltered, revealing a faint flush creeping up his neck. “Glad you liked it,” he murmured, voice low but steady. Avoiding Yeonjun’s gaze, his fingers clenched briefly around the napkin, pulling away just before he could fully reach Yeonjun’s hand.

Namjoon cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Alright, I don’t think it will be much of a surprise to you two, given how well you both did today but I’ll say it anyway: you’ve both officially got the job.”

Taehyung grinned, folding his arms with relaxed confidence. “Soobin, we’ll need you bright and early around 6 a.m. sharp to fire up those ovens.”

Namjoon nodded in agreement. “And Yeonjun, you can start around 7:30 or 8 a.m., whenever the morning rush really kicks in.”

Yeonjun shot a quick, relieved look at Soobin, who returned a barely-there smile. They were both a little flustered, but clearly ready to face whatever came next.

“See you tomorrow!” Beomgyu said, mouth stuffed to the brim with muffins, grinning through a crumb-full smile.

That night, a quiet negotiation unfolded between them amidst the cozy clutter of their apartment, half whispered words, half exchanged glances as they lay tangled in bed. Yeonjun’s fingers traced lazy circles on Soobin’s arm while Soobin’s hand rested gently on top of his chest, their bodies pressed close in the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

“Do you think we should tell them?” Yeonjun asked softly, his voice hesitant, eyes searching. His thumb brushed over his boyfriend’s skin, as if hoping to soothe any worry lingering there. “It’s only been a day… but it seems like relevant information and maybe we could clear up any future misunderstanding now.”

Soobin shifted slightly, nuzzling into Yeonjun’s neck before sighing and rubbing the back of his own, seemingly weighing the question with careful consideration. “If we say it now, will it for sure change for the better? Or could it just make things... more complicated? They might see us as liars, or untrustworthy, and fire us as fast as they hired us. It’s the first job with an actual livable wage that we have found, maybe it’s safer to wait a little. Get a feel for the place, see how things are…”

Yeonjun tightened his hold, letting his head rest against Soobin’s. He nodded slowly, a flicker of understanding brightening his tired smile. “Yeah. And waiting can’t make it that much worse, right? We just need to be sure they’re okay with it and tell them later.”

Soobin tilted his head in a lazy, tired motion—something between a nod and surrender—then let his eyes fall shut. “Now sleep,” he murmured. “The earth won’t fall apart overnight just because we didn’t make a decision before twelve o'clock at nigh.” He slipped an arm around Yeonjun’s waist and shifted slightly, like that way he was settling in for good. “Gravity doesn’t work like that.”

So, they agreed to keep the secret a little longer. Give themselves enough time to settle in, to learn the rhythm of the café and without stirring up unnecessary drama.

Now, as Yeonjun stepped through the familiar door at seven in the morning, the rich aroma of fresh coffee and warm pastries greeted him like a new friend. A pang of longing hit him. He had missed the quiet comfort of Soobin’s back pressed against him when he had woken up that morning to find the brunette already gone for his early shift.

Tossing his things into the locker, he clipped on his apron, and made his way toward the barista station. On his official first day, he knew he had to be ready to face whatever the journey would bring.

Morning’s at Brew & Bloom seemed to begin softly, with golden sunlight spilling through the wide windows, casting gentle patterns across the worn wooden floor. The café was humming quietly, the low murmur of early customers, the clinking of cups and spoons, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the sweet scent of warm pastries.

Once Yeonjun made his way to the front house, Taehyung was quick to greet him and fill him in, voice calm but brisk. “Morning rush’s coming soon. Just take your time, breathe through it. The espresso machine’s got a temper, but don’t let it get to you.”

Before Yeonjun could even finish nodding, Beomgyu slid up beside him with that deceptively bright grin, juggling his tablet in one hand and a steaming cup in the other. He was already getting orders rattled off by the kitchen. “Welcome to the chaos,” he said with a casual shrug. “Looks like we’re holding down the fort today. Your job? Don’t burn anyone’s coffee. Easy enough, right?”

Yeonjun returned the smile, trying to steady his nerves. “I’ll do my best.”

Beomgyu nodded approvingly, then waved toward the bar window at the same time a girl approached, slipping a paper note into Yeonjun’s hand. “Table 10 wants their—uh, it’s a long one, sorry—two caramel macchiatos, one vanilla lavender latte with oat milk, a double shot espresso and two cheesecake slices with four spoons to share. I’m Yunjin, by the way.”

Yeonjun glanced at the note, then up at the girl. “That’s…a lot. And I’m Yeonjun.”

She smirked. “I know.”

“Oh, right. The nametag,” he said, glancing down.

“Nope, Beomgyu told me. You forgot yours in your locker.”

Yeonjun’s eyes widened, as he looked down to his apron to check that he was, in fact, not wearing any nametag. “Shit.”

“Don’t sweat it. Happens all the time when you’re new. Kai’s been here a year and still forgets his now and then.”

Before Yeonjun could get another word in, a blond guy poked his head out of the kitchen doorway like he’d been patiently eavesdropping, arms crossed and wearing an exaggerated pout. “Hey! Not cool throwing me under the bus like that, especially in front of pretty guys like him.”

Yeonjun blinked. Did he just get called pretty by this guy?

“Stop it, Kai,” Beomgyu said without missing a beat, shooting him a warning glance. “He’s taken. You wouldn’t want your new baker buddy throwing hands, he’s tall enough to fold you like a chair.”

Kai shrugged lazily. “Actually, they’re not together. Asked him this morning. Apparently they just know each other from uni.”

That got Beomgyu’s full attention. He turned sharply, eyes narrowing. “Shut up,” he said. Then, turning to Yeonjun, “He’s lying, right?”

Yeonjun felt a flicker of heat creep up his neck. He hadn’t expected this much attention on day one, and most definitely not this particular kind. Why did he have to lie about this so early in the morning?

He opened his mouth, stalling for some time to think of something to say. “Uh…”

Kai grinned like that was answer enough. “Told you.”

“But yesterday!” Beomgyu gasped, gesturing wildly now. “The looks! The tension! I saw their fingers brushing when he gave him a muffin. You can’t tell me it was just a coincidence.”

Across the coffee station, Taehyung, who only had been listening in and minding his business with quiet amusement, tilted his head. His eyes narrowed slightly as they landed on Yeonjun, his expression shifting, just enough to be a little too observant.

Yeonjun felt the alarms start blaring in his head like a fire drill. Shit, shit, shit.

“You were definitely trying not to check each other out,” Taehyung said, almost contemplatively, like he was reaching for invisible pins and imaginary red string to map out a theory only he could see forming behind his eyes.

Beomgyu perked up, triumphant. “Thank you! There was something. I’m not delusional!”

Taehyung shrugged, but his gaze didn’t waver. “If that’s true, though… it would mean you both lied to me yesterday during the interview.” His voice was casual, but the undercurrent was as sharp as his eyes seemingly focused down to even Yeonjun’s microexpression. “Which wouldn’t really make sense, would it?”

Yeonjun’s brain hit the brakes so hard it felt like a high-speed car slamming into a concrete wall. His smile twitched. But every possible sentence in his head was either incriminating or stupid.

He needed to say something, anything, before this turned into a very awkward manager-led interrogation. Play it cool. Say something. Act normal. Don’t get fired. Him and Soobin could untangle the mess later, but later was not today, not on their first shift.

“We’re not together,” Yeonjun said quickly, maybe too quickly. Then, catching Kai’s curious glance, he added with a another apologetic smile, “But I’m not really interested in anyone right now.”

Kai gave a little sigh. “Damn. Pretty, long hair and emotionally unavailable? You were exactly my type, what a shame.”

Beomgyu, of course, wasn’t done. “At least admit this: you think he’s cute.”

“Who?”

“Soobin! Who else? I saw you fumbling when he smiled at you after the trial run. It was sickening.”

Yeonjun scoffed, already regretting everything. “I didn’t fumble.”

“You blushed, Yeonjun.”

“I was sweating.”

“That wasn’t sweat, that was the glow of infatuation.”

Yeonjun opened his mouth, ready to continue battling for his honor but didn’t get the chance.

“Beomgyu,” Taehyung cut in, voice dry, “you’re two seconds away from HR paperwork again.”

“But hyung, you don’t get it!” Beomgyu looked genuinely distressed. “A workplace romance could be unfolding before our eyes—I physically can’t not be invested.”

“If I see you steaming heart-shaped milk into any of their drinks again, I will file the complaint myself.”

“Fine,” Beomgyu muttered, though he clearly meant just for now. As if on cue, the kitchen bell chimed and his tray was suddenly full of readied orders. With a dramatic spin, he grabbed it and marched off to the dining floor, grumbling something about ‘a loveless generation.’

As the atmosphere around them settled down again, Taehyung stepped a little closer to Yeonjun, tone lowering just enough to be heard over the coffee grinder. “Don’t mind him. He’s acting like a fool hopeless romantic lately. Lives for other people’s drama since his ex dumped him last month. It was kind of nasty. Beomgyu is harmless though. Loud, but harmless.”

Yeonjun nodded, a little unsure on how to respond, but a little relieved nonetheless to be out of the question ring.

“And for the record,” Taehyung added, tucking his hands into his apron pockets, “if you do like someone here at work, it’s not a big problem. Soobin seems like a nice enough fella, so I don’t blame you. Just… keep it lowkey. We prefer to avoid drama unless it’s customer-related.”

“Got it.” Yeonjun let out a breathy laugh, turning back to the espresso machine like it had turned into his own little life raft. “I can definitely do that.”

Except he couldn’t.

Because it wasn’t just his dumb little crush baking sweets in the back. It was his whole ass boyfriend of almost a year and they had both lied they’re ass off through their teeth to get the job.

He really needed to text Soobin. Urgently.

jjunie ♡

hey, any chance you can take your lunch break soon?

meet me in the back of the staff room when no one’s there pls 

it’s urgent but not bad urgent

just “us” urgent

binnie ♡

okay

give me 5

sakura’s finishing up a tray and then i can slip out

jjunie ♡

you’re the best

i will repay you with a kiss

or five

The room smelled faintly of flour and freshly ground beans—clean, quiet, the kind of pause in the middle of a place that never quite stopped moving. A beat of calm in an otherwise noisy day.

Yeonjun paced by the lockers, still in his apron, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet like someone trying to walk off adrenaline. The moment he heard the door creak open behind him, he turned, and relaxed only when Soobin stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him.

“Hey,” Soobin greeted him softly.

Yeonjun didn’t answer at first. He just walked over, wrapped both arms around Soobin’s neck, and pulled him in a hug.

Soobin let out a surprised little exhale, immediately bringing his arms up to wrap around Yeonjun’s shoulders, tucking his chin against the side of his neck. It wasn’t their usual kind of embrace. It seemed quieter, heavier.

They stayed like that for a moment, breathing each other in.

Then Yeonjun mumbled into his shirt, “I’m going to kill Beomgyu.”

Soobin blinked. “What did he do? I thought you told me he was cool.”

“He knows,” Yeonjun pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, slight exasperation written on his face. “Or at least, he thinks he knows. I apparently managed to convince him we’re not actually dating, but now he believes I just got a massive crush on you instead.”

He sighed. “I denied it, obviously. But then Taehyung jumped in, and Kai, who weirdly enough, flirted with me, I think? It was like a goddamn clown house.” Yeonjun ran a hand through his hair, frustrated as he unknowingly rested more of his weight on his boyfriend. “I mean, I can lie. I can. But not when I’m being interrogated by all sides.”

Soobin instinctively took a step back, trying to steady himself, and winced softly as his back bumped slightly against the cold metal lockers. The small thunk echoing faintly through the stillness of the staff room. Yeonjun, pulled along by proximity and momentum, followed, their bodies remaining loosely entwined in the half-embrace they’d fallen into the second the door had clicked shut behind them.

Soobin tilted his head back against the lockers, voice low and a little breathless. “Sounds rough.”

Yeonjun let out a little laugh, “Sorry,” then dropped his forehead to Soobin’s shoulder, words muffled against the fabric of his shirt. “I kind of panicked and told Kai I wasn’t interested in anyone right now, and I think he took the hint.”

He exhaled again, clearly frustrated. “But now I’ve basically lied again, almost got into a discussion with a coworker, and I think I may have broken the dish boy’s heart. All in one shift.”

Soobin blinked at him, a faint smile ghosting across his lips. While he seemed to be trying really hard not to laugh, his eyes betrayed him, twinkling with badly hidden amusement. “In a way… it’s kind of impressive.”

Yeonjun lifted his head just enough to pout. “Don’t tease me right now.”

“I’m just saying,” Soobin murmured, voice dry but fond, “I would’ve folded like a lawn chair at the second question.”

Yeonjun’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a lie. Kai told me he asked you about me and you said I was single.”

Soobin’s laugh bubbled up then, quiet but genuine. “I just told him I wasn’t your boyfriend,” he said with a shrug. “Apparently he took that as a glowing green light.” He let one of his hands slip down to find Yeonjun’s, fingers curling between his with instinctive ease. “So. What do we do then? Do you want to tell them?”

Yeonjun let out a breath, thumb brushing Soobin’s knuckle. “After the mess I literally just made? I don’t know. Taehyung did say it wouldn’t be a big deal if I liked someone, just to keep it lowkey. But I’m scared he meant something like, ‘You can like someone, you just can’t date them.’” His brows furrowed. “If we admit it now, it might seem like we lied intentionally. Like we knew it was against the rules or something.”

Soobin’s thumb brushed back in return, grounding him. “We are kind of hiding something important,” he said, voice even. “But not for the wrong reasons.”

“Exactly,” Yeonjun said, gaze flicking up. “It isn’t some calculated scheme. It’s just pure, dumb panic. With a generous scoop of caution.”

Soobin gave a thoughtful hum, head resting lightly against the lockers once more. “Let’s wait,” he said. “A week. Two, tops. Long enough to prove we’re good at what we do. That we’re not letting anything get in the way. Then we can bring it up on our own terms.”

Yeonjun nodded slowly, eyes softening. He squeezed Soobin’s hand. “Okay. But no more muffins or cupcakes handed to me with heart eyes in front of the entire staff.” He gave him a pointed look. “I’m a weak man, and you know damn well your sweets are the way to my heart.”

“No promises,” Soobin murmured, lips twitching into a smirk as his thumb brushed gently along the back of his hand.

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, but the smile that followed betrayed him. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Soobin tilted his head, eyes warm. “More than an Iced Americano?”

Yeonjun leaned in, slow and deliberate, until their noses brushed. His voice dropped, just above a whisper. “Don’t make me lie twice in one day.”

They didn’t kiss, their lips not quite meeting, but they grazed. Just for a heartbeat, light as a secret, before pulling back.

The air between them stilled, filled with warmth and unspoken promises, as their foreheads continued to press gently together. For a moment, the buzz of the café behind the door, the stress of the new job, the clatter of trays and voices, all of it disappeared. They stayed there, breathing the same quiet space, long enough to feel steady again.

Yeonjun was the first to break it, eyes flicking up with faux innocence. “You’re not going to get jealous over Kai by the way, right?” he asked, tone light, though his smile gave away the mischief underneath. “He called me a pretty boy, you know.”

Soobin arched a brow, unimpressed but moderately amused. “Fishing for compliments already?”

“Maybe.” Yeonjun shrugged. “Sue me for wanting a little praise from time to time.”

Soobin chuckled, the sound deep and fond as he gave Yeonjun’s waist a gentle squeeze. His thumb lingered in a soft stroke, grounding them both. “You know I’m not the jealous type, baby,” he murmured. His gaze moved across Yeonjun’s face, slow and familiar, like a painter studying a favorite portrait. “And I can’t exactly blame Kai either. He certainly wasn’t lying. You’re always pretty.”

Yeonjun felt his heart thump against his ribs. A wave of warmth swept through him as he bit down on his bottom lip, failing spectacularly at hiding the smile that bloomed fast and wide across his face. “Okay. Fine,” he huffed, voice nearly giddy. “You’re forgiven.”

Soobin leaned in again, gently bumping their foreheads one more time, his voice low and teasing. “I didn’t know I was in trouble for anything.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. “I’m sure if I thought hard enough, I could come up with something.”

Soobin laughed softly, breath brushing against Yeonjun’s cheek. “Then we better get back to work before you do—and I end up having to do something kiss-worthy just to shut you up.”

“Rude,” Yeonjun muttered, stepping back half an inch, just enough to pretend like he wasn’t tempted to stay right there forever. “Unfair. Inconsiderate. Teasing and edging me like that.”

“Later,” Soobin whispered, voice like silk, like something folded carefully and kept close. “When no one can walk in and catch us. I want to take my time with you.”

Yeonjun exhaled, slow and reluctant, his smile progressively softening into something deeper. He gave Soobin’s shoulder one last squeeze before pulling away fully, tucking his heart back to earth safely where it belonged.

From there, their days began the way most unexpectedly eventful things at a café did: with a slow, quiet shift that most often felt harmless at first.

The late-morning lull had settled over the front like a sleepy haze. Only a few stragglers lingered near the windows, nursing half-melted iced Americanos or oat milk lattes, their eyes hidden behind sunglasses and paperback novels. Beomgyu stood by the counter, sighing with the flair of someone who had already checked on each of his tables twice and was dangerously close to pretending to mop the floor just to feel useful. Somewhere in the back, Kai had disappeared under the vague pretense of “restocking ice,” which probably meant he was hiding near the dish station playing games on his phone. Even Yunjin, usually sharp and energetic, had succumbed to boredom, slouched against the pastry case scrolling listlessly through Instagram.

It was slow. Generally unremarkable.

Except for the printer beside the register who didn’t seem to be anywhere near stopping or slowing down. In fact, it seemed to be picking up speed, spitting out one, two, then three more slips in quick succession, each one curling into the growing stack clipped beside the espresso machine.

Yeonjun tore one off and scanned it. Then another. And another.

All takeout. All last-minute. All weirdly... festive.

“What’s going on? Is there a holiday I missed?” he asked aloud, eyebrows knitting together as he held up one particularly excessive order: twenty mini strawberry scones, four dozen lemon squares, and an entire chocolate cake.

Chaewon, the other barista who looked about two minutes away from clocking out, peered over his shoulder with a knowing grin.

“Nope. Just summer hitting full swing,” she said. “Tomorrow’s Friday. People go crazy with end-of-term brunches and baby showers and ‘random garden parties’ they planned five minutes ago. Sugar panic hits hard mid-June, and guess who gets to pick up the slack?”

Yeonjun shook his head in disbelief. “That’s not a party, that’s a blood sugar crisis waiting to happen.”

Chaewon patted his shoulder sympathetically before slipping off her apron. “Have fun.”

Almost on cue, the back door swung open and Taehyung strolled in, phone still in one hand, his expression already apologetic.

“Hey,” he said. “We’ve got a situation back there. Sakura’s drowning in scones and Soobin’s elbows-deep in lemon curd. We’re not gonna make it on time at this rate.” He paused, eyeing Yeonjun. “Didn’t your CV say you had some baking experience?”

Yeonjun hesitated. When he’d written “basic baking knowledge” on his application, what he meant was: He had watched my boyfriend stress-bake at two in the morning before exams, he can tell the difference between baking soda and powder, and he once whisked eggs without supervision.

Not exactly ‘I am capable of producing thirty cream puffs under pressure and don’t panic when icing bags explode’.

But Taehyung was still watching him hopefully. And the stack of takeout orders was only growing.

So Yeonjun sighed, tightened his apron like he meant business, and marched toward the kitchen doors.

The moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere changed drastically.

It was warmer—humid, thick with steam and the scent of sugar and caramelizing butter. Parchment paper rustled, oven timers beeped in intervals, and a bowl clattered somewhere near the back. The air was a heady mix of vanilla, citrus, and the very distinct aroma of stress.

Soobin stood at the prep table, sleeves rolled up, arms dusted with flour, his hair flopping over his forehead in damp waves. There was a streak of something, probably batter, across his cheekbone, and yet he looked maddeningly composed, whisking lemon filling with surgical precision.

Sakura was juggling trays behind him, muttering under her breath in a rhythm that matched the clink of the cooling racks.

Yeonjun blinked, caught in the doorway, momentarily stunned by the flurry of movement inside. He had no idea where he was supposed to stand.

Sakura glanced up, clearly frazzled until she saw him.

“Thank God,” Sakura said, exhaling like she’d been holding her breath. “Yeonjun-ah, can you weigh out the sugar for the lemon bars and start lining trays? Soobin’s already working on the batter.”

“On it,” Yeonjun replied, rolling up his sleeves with a small nod before stepping into the whirlwind of motion and warmth.

He slipped in beside Soobin without thinking, like muscle memory. Like second nature.

“Hey,” Soobin murmured, not looking up from the bowl.

“Hi,” Yeonjun answered, a quiet smile tugging at his lips as their eyes briefly met.

And then they simply… fell into rhythm.

They didn’t even talk much. They didn’t need to.

Soobin reached out, and Yeonjun was already handing him the whisk. Yeonjun cracked the eggs just as Soobin scraped down the bowl. A fresh bag of flour was opened right when it was needed. The oven beeped, and Yeonjun had already preheated it.

They moved in sync, like two dancers on autopilot. Fluid, familiar, instinctive. It wasn’t even about concentration. It was something simpler, older, deeper. Built from hundreds of quiet mornings and late-night baking sprees in their crammed apartment kitchen. Built from having already been two halves of a same messy, flour-covered whole.

At some point, Sakura paused, spatula mid-air, watching them with a curious tilt of her head.

“You two have insane synergy,” she said, brow raised in amusement. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

Yeonjun froze, mid-whisk, the bowl of eggs nearly slipping from his fingers. Across the table, Soobin startled, his spoon clanging against the metal bowl.

“Oh,” Yeonjun said, voice an octave too high. “Um… really? Huh. We’ve never really worked together before, I think. Or maybe once. Some college thing?”

Soobin nodded a little too fast. “Yeah. I think there was, like, an after-class program one time. Maybe. Possibly. Briefly.”

“Right, total coincidence, I don’t even remember it!” Yeonjun added, backing the lie in a second with a small nervous laugh. “So it’s probably more like just, you know, shared kitchen instincts.”

Sakura gave them both a look. The kind that said ‘I wasn’t born yesterday’, but she let it slide.

“Mmhm,” she murmured. “Well, keep doing whatever you’re doing. Just saying, though: "If you guys told me you were a married couple, I’d believe you immediately and mind my business.”

Yeonjun laughed again, perhaps a bit too loudly. 

“We should get back to work.” Soobin intervened and, in a desperate bid to change the subject, clapped his hands and accidentally sent a cloud of flour exploding across the counter, covering all three of them in a fine, white mist.

“I—I’m so sorry!” he sputtered, waving his hands helplessly as Sakura coughed into her sleeve and went to crack open a window.

“It’s fine, Soobin,” she called over her shoulder, amused.

Yeonjun wiped flour off his arms and dared a glance at his boyfriend. Soobin’s cheeks were flushed pink—bright as the strawberry glaze cooling on the rack—and when their eyes met, something unspoken passed between them. Embarrassment. Hysteria. Fondness. Dangerously close to a desperate fit of laughter.

His heart was racing.

He let out a slow breath, trying to compose himself, and turned back to the scale like he will make it re-pay for his emotional stability.

This was fine. Totally fine. Nothing was on fire yet.

Just their pants.

By the time the last tray had been slid into the display and the final takeout box sealed, the sun had dipped low outside, casting golden light across the kitchen tiles. The rush had passed, the sugar-hungry crowd vanquished. Now, the bakery was quieter, just the soft clatter of cleaning tools, the occasional hum of someone rinsing out mixing bowls, and the low hum of shared exhaustion.

Yeonjun leaned against the counter, arms dusted with flour, cheeks flushed from the heat and effort. Across from him, Soobin was drying his hands on a clean towel, hair sticking slightly to his forehead, sleeves rolled up, forearms dusted in sugar. They were both a mess but a far satisfied one.

Beomgyu had joined them at the back at some point, wiping down tables with exaggerated flair, still full of energy despite the long day. Kai was stacking dishes and singing quietly to himself. Sakura was carefully wrapping leftover scones while Yunjin boxed extras for tomorrow morning.

“Alright,” Taehyung said, stretching as he stepped into the kitchen. “Store’s clean, the floor’s mopped, and I am officially clocking out before I collapse. Good job, everyone.”

There was a quiet, tired chorus of “Good job” and “See you tomorrow” as the last of the staff began to drift out. Aprons were tossed into bins, bags slung over shoulders, sneakers dragging softly across the floor. The hum of the café dimmed into silence.

Soobin adjusted his backpack with a small sigh, offering the room a gentle wave. His voice barely rose above the shuffle of goodbyes. “Night, everyone.”

Yeonjun fell into step behind him as they slipped into the narrow hallway by the staff exit, the glow of the overhead light casting soft shadows between them. He slowed without realizing it, gaze lingering on the slope of Soobin’s shoulders, the quiet way he moved.

Just as he reached for the door handle, Soobin’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“I’ll head out now,” he said softly, already turning toward the exit.“Text me when you get home, okay? Be safe.”

Yeonjun’s chest squeezed tight, warmth blooming through the ache in that simple request. A quiet concern. A soft habit between them now, spoken like second nature.

He swallowed and nodded, his voice gentler than it had been all day. “Yeah. I will. You too.”

The moment lingered, quiet and close, until a conspicuous throat-clearing cut through the stillness.

Beomgyu stood a few feet behind them, one brow arched in exaggerated curiosity. The teasing grin from earlier was gone, replaced by something dimmer. More observant. Behind him, Sakura had paused mid-step, a Tupperware of leftovers still in her hand, clearly debating whether to keep walking or pretend she hadn't seen anything.

Yunjin leaning in from behind the pastry case, chin resting on her hand, didn’t have the same decorum. “Are we interrupting something?” she asked, not bothering to lower her voice.

Yeonjun’s head snapped toward them, his cheeks instantly flushing. “W–What? No!”

Soobin, mortified, let his head fall briefly against the door with a soft thud and shut his eyes like he was praying for divine intervention.

“There’s nothing to interrupt,” Yeonjun insisted, voice cracking slightly as he forced a laugh. “Soobin’s just being considerate. That’s all. He’s like that with everyone.”

There was a beat of silence before Soobin, recovering with admirable calm, added sincerely, “Yeah. I hope you all get home safe, too.”

Beomgyu didn’t miss a beat. “Should we text you when we’re home, too? Or is the premium customer care reserved for certain coworkers?”

Soobin, to his credit, blinked once then answered with a perfectly straight face. “...Sure, you can text me. I take great care of all my friends.”

Yunjin scoffed. Sakura turned around fully, pretending to be busy checking the weather on her phone. Even Kai, who had reappeared to grab a leftover dirty dish, let out a surprised little snort.

Yeonjun, standing beside Soobin like a man being slowly crushed beneath the weight of his own dignity, resisted hard the desire to bury his face in between his hands.

He didn’t know if he wanted to crawl seven feet underground or laugh hysterically until his lungs gave out.

Maybe both.

“I’ll go now,” Soobin murmured after a beat of awkward silence, his voice soft but steady as he adjusted his backpack and reached for the door.

Yeonjun followed him with his gaze, catching the familiar slope of his boyfriend’s shoulders as he stepped out into the night. His figure was framed briefly by the glow of the streetlight before the door swung shut behind him.

He wouldn’t be waiting outside for him this time, since they’d decided not to carpool today. Soobin had errands to run. Groceries, probably. Yeonjun hadn’t really been listening after he said ‘I am not getting you mint choco for the third time this week, babe’.

“You’re not going with him?” Beomgyu asked, peering over as he slung his own jacket on.

“Uh, no.” Yeonjun blinked. “We don’t come together that often.”

Beomgyu nodded slowly, clearly filing that away in the ever-growing ‘Yeonjun being weird about Soobin’ folder in his brain. “Where are you heading then? Taking the subway?”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun said, pulling his phone out to check the time. “My car’s in the shop until Monday.”

“Cool,” Beomgyu replied, casually flipping his keys in one hand. “We can walk together. I take the same line.”

“Oh,” Yeonjun said, startled by the offer. “Sure. Yeah. Okay.”

Beomgyu smiled, swinging open the back door and motioning with his chin for Yeonjun to follow. “Besides,” he added, “you seem fun enough. And tragically in need of subway etiquette tips.”

“For the record, I am not tragic, but how would you even know? We have never taken the subway together before.”

“I saw you trying to tap your card on the coin return slot yesterday on my way to clock in.”

“…That was one time.”

Beomgyu laughed, hands tucked into the pockets of his light jacket as they stepped into the cool summer evening. The scent of baked goods still lingered faintly on their clothes.

The streetlights flickered above them as they walked in step—quiet at first, the city buzzing gently around them, like the rush of adrenaline from the shift hadn’t fully left their systems yet.

Yeonjun glanced sideways. “So, do you always adopt the new staff like stray cats?”

Beomgyu snorted. “Nah. Only the ones who come with interesting, complicated subplots.”

Yeonjun raised a brow. “What makes you think I’m complicated?”

Beomgyu threw him a side glance, his grin widening like he’d been waiting for the hook and sink. “You freeze every time someone says the word ‘love’ or ‘boyfriend’, yet you trip over your own name when Soobin walks into a room.”

“Do you just keep a log of every humiliating moment I’ve had in the café?”

“I like to think of it as observational talent,” Beomgyu replied cheerfully. “It’s part of my charm.”

They turned a corner, their footsteps quiet against the sidewalk. The lull in conversation stretched comfortably, and maybe, Yeonjun didn’t mind the company. Not even if it came in the shame of Beomgyu’s mouth, which tragically never seemed to stop moving.

“So?” Beomgyu asked again, voice lighter now, curious. “What’s the deal? I mean, I get it if you wanna keep it under wraps, but I won’t say anything.”

Yeonjun’s pace slowed for half a step.

He didn’t like lying, not really. But he and Soobin had agreed that they’d wait. And no matter how kind Beomgyu seemed, this wasn’t just about being kind. It was about being careful.

“Nothing’s going on,” he said, aiming for casual. “Soobin’s just... an acquaintance.”

Beomgyu gave him a long look. “Acquaintances don’t give each other rides to work every day just because someone’s car is in the shop for a basic oil change.”

“We’re friends,” Yeonjun said quickly. “There. Happy?”

“No. You’re both clearly suffering from a painfully obvious crush and yet continue to do absolutely nothing about it.” Beomgyu threw up his hands in dramatic despair. “What you are, my friend, is pathetic.”

Yeonjun couldn’t help it. He let his laugh simmer out.

A real one this time, light yet half-exasperated. “You really don’t hold back, huh?”

Beomgyu grinned like he’d just won something. “Nope. Never learned how.”

As they reached the subway station, they could feel the faint buzz of the tubes arriving and parting beneath their feet. A few other commuters stood scattered along the edge, scrolling through their phones or staring blankly at the tracks.

Yeonjun dropped onto one of the benches, legs stretching out in front of him, the cool tile beneath his shoes doing little to ground the adrenaline still buzzing in his system. Beside him, Beomgyu flopped down with the theatrical groan of a man twice his age, flinging his tote bag onto the bench like it had personally betrayed him.

“I swear,” Beomgyu muttered, brushing a fine layer of flour off his sleeves, “if I hear the word scone one more time this week, I’m gonna start throwing them like ninja stars.”

Yeonjun smirked. “You say that, but I saw you stealing three before we closed.”

“That’s not theft,” Beomgyu said, all mock-seriousness. “That’s hazard pay. Emotional compensation. I’m basically unionizing.”

“You are so annoying,” Yeonjun let out a short laugh, arms crossing over his chest as he slouched back. “How do you have a comeback for literally everything?”

Beomgyu shot him a sideways look, lips twitching. “You just don’t like me because I figured out your entire romantic struggle in under three shifts.”

“You didn’t figure shit out.”

“Oh?” Beomgyu leaned in, the tip of one eyebrow arched like a challenge. “You sure about that?”

Yeonjun held his gaze. “Pretty sure.”

Beomgyu hummed, unconvinced. “So you’re not quietly harboring a massive crush on Soobin that’s been building since you’ve met him in college and only got worse once you started working together.”

Okay, maybe the phrasing was dramatic. But, scarily, not that far from the truth. Except, well, they’d already been through that phase and finally asked each other out sometime last year. So technically, completely different if he thought about it.

“No.”

“You don’t have a soft spot for his pastries or that focused little frown he gets while decorating them.”

Soobin’s pastries were objectively very good. And that little frown he made while decorating them? Also objectively cute. It wasn’t like Yeonjun had memorized it or anything.

“Professional appreciation.”

“You didn’t look like you were about to propose when he told you to ‘be safe’ earlier like he was seeing you off to war.”

You know what? Touché.

Yeonjun turned sharply toward the train schedule on the wall. 

Beomgyu’s grin spread, slow and smug. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Yeonjun sighed. “Has anyone ever told you you’d make an excellent little sibling in a sitcom?”

“Frequently,” Beomgyu replied without missing a beat. “I’m everyone’s favorite nuisance.”

The platform quieted around them, just the low hum of the lights above and the occasional shuffle of footsteps from other passengers. Somewhere far down the tunnel, the rails began to rattle softly. The next train was approaching.

Beomgyu’s tone shifted.

“Okay, seriously now.” He stretched his leg out, scuffed his shoe against the tile, and let his voice drop low enough to nearly disappear beneath the distant murmur of the subway. “I know I joke around a lot, and yeah, I mess with people because it’s fun and because it’s usually none of my business anyway.” He paused, then glanced at Yeonjun, more sincerity in his eyes than usual. 

“But for what it’s worth, I’m not joking this time. I mean it. If you ever did decide to do something, if you told him how you felt or even just flirted a little, I really don’t think he’d back away. You two could actually make it work. Not just in some fantasy, not in a ‘maybe in another life’ kind of way. Like… really work.”

Yeonjun glanced over, caught off guard by the shift in Beomgyu’s tone. The sarcasm had drained out of him, leaving something unexpectedly grounded. When he stayed quiet, Beomgyu took it as his cue to keep going.

“I’m guessing Taehyung already gave you the water down version of my ex breaking up with me and how now I’m supposedly ‘obsessed with everyone else's’ love lives’ or whatever,” he continued, a small, dry smile tugging at his lips. “So honestly, I don’t blame you if you’re tuning me out. But right now I'm not talking about me.”

He made a second pause then, searching for the right words.

“It’s just… I notice things,” he said finally, voice quieter now. “Moments, shifts in people. The way you get whenever someone brings up relationships…it’s like there’s this reflex in you. Like the word itself cuts a little too close. Like you’re afraid of what it might reveal about you.”

His tone softened further, warmer now.

“But if what you’re guarding is a crush for a friend… that doesn’t make you messed up. Or broken. Or dishonest. Or someone people should no longer trust. You don’t have to treat it like a stain you’re trying to scrub out. You’re human. You’re allowed to feel things. To want things. That kind of tenderness isn’t shameful. It’s not wrong. Love is still love, no matter for whom it shows up.”

Yeonjun stared ahead, quiet, something tightening beneath his ribs. Beomgyu’s words landed with the kind of weight that cracked against walls he hadn’t even realized were still standing. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it before—hadn’t felt it—but hearing someone else say it out loud, with such calm certainty, made his chest ache in a raw, unfamiliar way.

He was past that part of his life, maybe. But he still remembered what it was like—how heavy it felt to carry a secret like that alone. Back when Soobin had just been a friend, and all Yeonjun had were quiet, hopeless feelings he was convinced would never be returned.

“…Thanks,” Yeonjun said at last, voice low, almost reverent.

Beomgyu shrugged like it was nothing, but the smile he gave was real. “I mean, personally? If someone gave me heart eyes over lemon bars, I’d already be building a Pinterest board for the honeymoon.”

That finally made Yeonjun laugh, a breathless sound that came unguarded coming out of him and rising up before he could stop it.

“God help whoever falls for you next.”

“They’ll be blessed,” Beomgyu replied, deadpan, just as the train came roaring in, a gust of warm wind rustling the hem of Yeonjun’s shirt.

The train doors slid open with a low, mechanical hiss. The two of them stepped in together, shoulder to shoulder, and found a quiet spot near the back. The car buzzed with fluorescent lighting and soft murmurs, the familiar hum of the city carrying on.

But somehow, for once since starting that job, Yeonjun didn’t feel so out of place next to a coworker. There was something calming about Beomgyu’s presence, annoying and loud as it sometimes was, it filled the quiet in a way that made the world feel less heavy.

A beat passed, filled only by the sway of the train and the faint screech of metal on metal.

Then Beomgyu spoke, voice casual but a little more deliberate than usual.

“It was a guy, by the way.”

Yeonjun blinked. “What?”

“My ex,” Beomgyu clarified. “He was a guy. I’m bi. Though, to be fair, I’ve only ever dated guys, which might explain the ongoing disaster that is my love life.” He let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “Anyway, I just figured I should say that. I know we work in a queer-friendly café, but in case some part of you still thought I wouldn’t understand... I do. No matter what people or society say, it’s okay. We’re okay.”

Yeonjun didn’t respond at first. His gaze stayed fixed on the blur of tunnels flying past the window, but something in his posture shifted. His fingers curled slightly in his lap.

It took a moment before his voice came, quieter than usual.

“I… I’m bisexual too,” he said, like he was trying the words on again after not needing them for a long time. “I’ve mostly dated girls throughout my life. Only a couple of guys… and just one of them ever felt real.”

Beomgyu didn’t smile at him, didn’t nod in understanding either. He just let the silence hold. “Good to know,” he said simply, steadily, with quiet acceptance.

And for the first time that day, Yeonjun let himself breathe a little deeper. He allowed himself to sink into that rare moment of peace and honesty, grateful to be able to share it with someone else.

Once Yeonjun reached the entrance to their apartment, he didn’t waste a second—keys in, twist, and a gentle shove with his hip had the door swinging open. He stepped inside, exhaling a sigh that seemed to deflate his entire body, and toed off his shoes in one practiced motion, the quiet settling around him like a familiar blanket.

“Home,” he muttered to no one in particular, dropping his keys into the ceramic bowl by the door, the one Soobin had made in his first and only attempt at pottery class. Although it had admittedly turned out a little lopsided, it also held good, endearing memories so they had decided to keep it anyway.

He shrugged off his bag, toes curling into the familiar warmth of the floorboards. The place smelled faintly of cinnamon and something citrusy—probably some candles Soobin had lit after dropping off the things from the supermarket. His heart tugged a little at that. Even when Soobin knew he wasn’t around, he still left traces of comfort scattered around for him without even realizing.

Yeonjun pulled out his phone and opened their chat.

The latest message from Soobin was from thirty minutes ago:

Some of my high school friends asked me to catch a movie. Might be back a little late.

He hit the record button.

“Hey,” he started, voice soft as he padded into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, took out the leftover pasta, and popped it in the microwave. The hum filled the air behind his words. “I didn’t want to spam you with fifty texts since you’re probably busy now, so… you’re getting a weird podcast episode as a retelling instead.”

He grabbed a fork from the drawer and leaned against the counter, still recording.

“Beomgyu cornered me at the station again. And yes, again. I don’t know what kind of emotional radar that man has, but I swear he’s like one soul read away from learning my deepest and darkest secrets”

A beat of silence while he stirred the pasta halfway through heating.

“He actually asked me, point blank, if I was ‘harboring a massive crush on you since college,’” Yeonjun said, scoffing softly to himself as he finished stirring his food and closed the appliance in order to resume the heating. “Which, I mean… hilarious. Considering we both know I did. Horribly. Painfully. Embarrassingly so.”

He broke off with a quiet laugh, low and sheepish, tinged with fond disbelief. The microwave beeped behind him. He padded across the kitchen, grabbed the bowl carefully by the edges, and carried it toward the couch like it was a ritual.

“I told him no, of course,” he added, plopping down with a dramatic sigh and a content hum as he settled in. “Because we agreed we’d wait a little more. Keep it under wraps for a while in case there’s some sort of dating ban or whatever.”

He tucked the bowl into his lap, poked at the food absentmindedly.

“But is it weird if I say I’m kind of… weirdly proud that people can still tell?” He chuckled, scooping a forkful. “Like, yeah, I know it probably says something tragic about how rusty my ability to act has gotten, but I’d rather believe our chemistry is just that strong. That I look at you in a way that’s obvious. That people see it. Inevitably.”

A pause.

“Still… I kinda wish I told him the truth.” Another bite, a moment of thought. “Well, I guess I did tell him something. I told him I was bi. And then he launched into this whole impromptu pep talk about not letting labels or fear hold me back, which was actually really sweet, don’t get me wrong. But now I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m secretly in love with you, just too deep in internalized homophobia to admit it.”

Yeonjun let out a sound between a groan and a laugh, flopping back into the couch cushions. One arm draped across his forehead, like the full weight of life had finally collapsed on top of him.

“Tell you what,” he said, eyes on the ceiling. “What if we just… let them figure it out on their own? No big announcement. No confession. No more big lies either. Just… us. Like we always are. If they catch on, great. If not, well, they clearly should’ve been paying closer attention.”

He sat up halfway, fork paused midair.

“Because honestly? I like working with you. I really do. But I don’t like pretending I don’t want to kiss your stupidly cute face every time I pass you in the hallway.”

The words came quieter now. Soft around the edges. A little cracked open.

“I kinda miss you,” he murmured, like a secret. “I know we live together. But it’s not the same lately. We barely see each other lately when our schedules don’t match, other than, well, some quick mornings or late nights. I don’t know… I just wanted you to hear it.”

He tapped his thumb against the side of the bowl, unsure if he should say more.

“Anyway. I’ll shut up now. I am way past the three minutes mark, oh my god. Hope the movie was fun. Text me when you're on your way back?” A breath. “Love you.”

He ended the voice message and set the phone down beside him, heart a little tangled in the things he had to wait to say face to face.

The supply room was barely big enough for one person, let alone two. The overhead light flickered lazily, casting a dim yellow hue across boxes of coffee beans, paper cups, and sacks of sugar. It smelled like cardboard and cinnamon. Yeonjun balanced awkwardly on the second step of a wobbly stool, reaching for a stack of syrup boxes shoved into the top corner of the shelving unit.

Soobin stood behind him, trying not to hover, but close enough that Yeonjun could feel the warmth of his presence every time he shifted.

“Don’t fall,” Soobin warned, his voice low, barely above a whisper but weighted with concern. His hands hovered near Yeonjun’s waist, twitching as if resisting the urge to grab him just in case.

“I’ve got it,” Yeonjun replied, stubbornly determined. His fingers stretched toward the top shelf, brushing the edge of the box that refused to cooperate.

Soobin sighed under his breath, the sound soft and familiar, before stepping in. He reached out to steady the unsteady stool with one hand and hovered his other just behind Yeonjun’s lower back. “Here, I’ll hold you.”

“You just want an excuse to touch my hips.”

“I’m trying to prevent a concussion, but yeah,” Soobin murmured, lips twitching. “I won’t pretend it’s not a nice bonus.”

“When I said I wanted us to start acting like a couple again, I didn’t mean you should start thirsting after me on the clock…” Yeonjun muttered, voice tight from the effort of lifting and entirely too breathless for his own good.

Soobin let out a quiet chuckle.

Yeonjun finally managed to pry the stubborn box loose, but the shift in balance threw him off. He leaned too far back, too fast.

Their shoulders bumped.

Soobin caught him instinctively, a firm hand on his waist anchoring him to earth and another bracing against his back, steadying him as his feet half-slipped off the stool. Yeonjun startled slightly, breath caught in his throat, eyes dropping.

Their faces were suddenly close, close enough to count each other’s eyelashes.

Neither of them moved. Soobin had gotten home late again the night before, and Yeonjun’s early shift that morning had pulled them apart all over again. They hadn’t had a single real moment alone in days, no quiet conversation, no unhurried touch. 

It had even been over forty-eight hours without a proper kiss, which, if you asked Yeonjun, bordered on unbearable.

Now, squeezed together in the cramped storage closet, with only the faint hum of the café bleeding through the door, the world felt muted enough for a stolen moment. The perfect excuse to close the distance.

Yeonjun licked his lips out of habit, the seconds stretching thin and electric between them.

As if reading the same unspoken thought, Soobin’s gaze flicked down, following the movement. Yeonjun’s pulse thundered in his ears, skin burning beneath Soobin’s touch. The hand on his waist hadn’t let go; in fact, as if Soobin had just realized it, his grip tightened, fingers curling in with a soft, almost imperceptible squeeze.

But just then, the door slammed open with the grace of a sledgehammer.

“Who keeps forgetting to restock the oat milk?!” Chaewon’s voice sliced through the cramped space like a whistle. “I swear, if I have to dig through mystery boxes one more time just to make Yunjin’s usual order, I’m—”

Yeonjun and Soobin sprang apart like magnets flipped the wrong way. Yeonjun fumbled with the box in his hands, knocking over a tin of tea bags as he spun around, wide-eyed.

Soobin, panicking due to the compromising position, tried for once to be quick on his feet, blurting out some flimsy excuse. “I told you the decaf beans should be stored alphabetically!”

Yeonjun blinked, flustered and a little slow on the hint until he understood to play along. “And I told you that makes zero sense when they’re literally labeled by roast!”

Chaewon’s eyes narrowed sharply.

A heavy silence fell.

The tin rolled to a stop by her feet.

She didn’t seem to buy it. She stared at them, then at the bean shelf, and finally at the thick, charged air in between.

“Good god,” she said slowly, shaking her head. “You guys are the absolute worst.”

“We weren’t—” Soobin began.

“Nothing even happened.” Yeonjun stammered.

Chaewon held up a hand. “Spare me. I’m not blind, but I’m seriously hoping to turn deaf before I hear whatever noises come out of this closet.” She huffed, grabbed two cartons of oat milk from the side, and waved them at the door as she left. “Now please, actually take care of the inventory before someone more nosy than me decides to take a peek.”

The door closed behind her with a strong thud.

Yeonjun looked at Soobin. Soobin looked back, stunned and still pink-cheeked.

“…So,” Yeonjun said.

“We are surrounded by coffee beans and my brain short-circuited. That’s all it gave me,” Soobin replied solemnly.

Yeonjun cracked first, pressing his face into his hands to hide his laugh.

Soobin leaned against the shelf, smiling down bashfully at the floor.

Once they’d finished reorganizing the supply room, both alphabetically and by brand, they were sent back to the front. Yeonjun returned to the espresso machine, hands steady as he frothed milk to a velvety swirl. Beside him, Soobin stood at the display counter, gently decorating cupcakes with pale pink icing and tiny piped hearts, his brow furrowed in soft concentration and the corners of his mouth tugged into a shy, distracted smile.

If, from time to time, their shoulders leaned a little too close or their shoes brushed beneath the counter a little too often, well, no one needed to know. It was subtle. Harmless. Innocent, for the most part.

Then, just as Yeonjun reached for the next order slip, simultaneously sidestepping what he suspected was a very unsubtle attempt from Soobin to grab his ass, a customer leaned across the counter. They wore a grin that was far too knowing for Yeonjun’s peace of mind.

“You two are seriously adorable,” the customer whispered, like sharing a secret. “How long have you known each other?”

Yeonjun nearly choked on air. “First year orientation?” he blurted, voice cracking like a dropped plate.

Soobin, far too calm, offered a soft, bashful smile as he smoothed out a swirl of frosting. “Yeah,” he said gently, “it’s been great.”

The customer clasped their hands together with a wistful sigh. “Ah, you people and your young love. What I would give to go back to those days…” They gave them one last look and wandered off with their drink like they’d just talked to the main couple of a romantic drama destined for critical acclaim.

Soobin turned to Yeonjun, lips twitching with barely restrained amusement. “Seems like you were kinda right. We’ve got a natural on-screen pull.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes and turned toward the espresso machine, grabbing a ceramic cup to prepare the next order, but the smile tugging at his mouth gave him away. “That was definitely too close. I said let them guess, not hand it to them on a silver platter. What if someone overheard us? We haven't even agreed on how to begin to explain if they end up asking us again.”

Soobin stepped a little closer, just enough for his elbow to graze Yeonjun’s arm, and with mock ceremony, dropped a sugar cube into the cup Yeonjun was preparing. His tone was low and syrup-smooth. “Sweeten up buttercup. If you think about it, we’re really like, the café’s favorite ship. It's fun.”

Yeonjun snorted, stifling a laugh behind the back of his hand. “God, now I kinda want to report you to HR for that pun. Would it count as abuse of humor?”

“Liar,” Soobin murmured, lips twitching. “You just hate that you didn’t think of it yourself first.”

Before Yeonjun could edge on their banter, the kitchen door swung open with a bang, the manager storming out, apron slightly askew.

Yeonjun immediately snapped back into professional mode, hands flying to the nearest towel as he wiped down the counter. Soobin straightened so fast he nearly bumped the espresso grinder. He quickly made sure to put some distance between them, as if suddenly deciding to frost cookies on the complete opposite side of the counter made a lot more sense.

“Where the hell are my runners?!” Taehyung barked. “Table 8 and 15 have been sitting with their plates getting cold for ten minutes!”

From under one of the corner booths at the back of the café, Beomgyu’s head popped up, wide-eyed and slightly dust-covered, followed closely by Yunjin’s—both of them blinking like gremlins caught mid-heist, their guilt practically radiating off them in waves.

“We were, uh…” Beomgyu started, glancing at Yunjin for backup.

“Analyzing the customer flow!” she offered, trying to look serious but failing as her lips twitched.

Yeonjun blinked, his stomach flipping with unease. God. How long had they been under there? It was the corner booth with the clearest view of the barista station. Had they seen anything? Heard anything? That would lowkey be very embarrassing.

Soobin and he had only been fooling around, sure, but the air between them had practically crackled, charged with something that, in a different setting, could’ve easily passed as foreplay. It screamed anything but coworkers doing their job.

But they had been working! Yeonjun swore it. Just maybe a little distracted.

He needed to know what they saw. What they thought they saw.

He waited until Soobin disappeared into the back, then approached Beomgyu and Yunjin where they were wiping down a tray, badly pretending like they weren’t vibrating out of their bodies like cartoon characters.

“So…” he began slowly, wiping his hands on a towel a little too casually, “how long were you guys… observing the customers?”

Yunjin tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Long enough to know someone’s got game today.”

Yeonjun narrowed his eyes. “Define game.”

Beomgyu grinned. “You guys were flirting so hard!”

Yeonjun flushed instantly. “What did you hear?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Yunjin said, hands up in mock innocence, her smile far too bright to be trusted. “We were too far to hear anything. But watching? Oh, we saw plenty. You two were standing so close I’m pretty sure the glass fogged up at some point. And Soobin? He had that hungry, heart-eyed look going on. Like he couldn’t decide which looked tastier: the cupcake he just frosted or the guy next to him steaming milk. Honestly? Top-tier body language.”

“I—” Yeonjun, as he was getting more and more embarrassed, looked wildly around the café like it might crack open a trapdoor to save him. “God, screw you guys. He wasn’t looking at me like that.”

Beomgyu clapped him on the back, all sympathy and no subtlety. “Hyung, don’t be embarrassed. You deserve to be looked at like that. You were radiating first-love energy so hard back though so no worries. And for that, congratulations.”

Yeonjun blinked. “Congratulations?” he echoed, surprised.

“For finally making a move on your crush,” Yunjin chimed in, grinning like a cat with cream. “We were this close to staging an intervention. It was getting tragic.”

Wait, they still thought Soobin and him were just friends?

“I didn’t make ‘a move’ on a crush, it was—”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Beomgyu shrugged. “He dropped a sugar cube in your drink like it was some kind of secret barista love spell, and you blushed like he just confessed his undying love in your hidden love language. My bad, it was clearly the intro scene of a horror movie, not a romcom.”

Yeonjun buried his face in his hands. “I hate your nosy asses so much.”

“You love us.” Yunjin sang as she slid past him to grab a few glasses from a now empty table.

“And we love love,” Beomgyu said dreamily, already reaching for the used plates. “Now go clean the milk steamer and bring a drink back for Soobin. Make up some dumb excuse—‘made a double batch’ or whatever. Don’t let him think even for a second that you’re not into him!”

“It’s not—” Yeonjun started to protest, he couldn’t believe these guys were trying to set him up with his own boyfriend! But both Beomgyu and Yunjin were already gone, practically bouncing toward new customers like gremlins.

Yeonjun sighed and returned to the counter, where Soobin was already perching nearby through the small kitchen window, leaning forward with curious eyes and a playful smile. With perfect timing, he announced, “Now that he mentioned it, I am a little thirsty.”

Yeonjun shot him an incredulous look. “I hope you die of it,” he muttered under his breath, but as he passed by, he carefully began selecting the ingredients for the iced tea he knew Soobin loved.

God helped him.

A few days later, the staff room buzzed with the usual frantic energy of a hectic afternoon. Though there were brief pockets of calm between rushes, it was the kind of day that demanded every pair of hands on deck and feet moving nonstop.

At the counter, Yeonjun handed over yet another order, flashing a tired but genuine smile. “Here’s your order! Have a nice day,” he greeted the customer—who, by now, was probably the hundredth of the day. Since starting, this had definitely been his most demanding shift yet.

“Thanks,” the customer replied, returning a small smile. Then, hesitating, he parted his lips as if about to say something else, only to close them again and offer a slightly tighter smile. “Thanks,” he repeated softly before turning and walking away.

Weird, Yeonjun thought, brushing it off and forcing his focus back to the next batch of orders.

Hours later, as the café finally approached closing time, Yeonjun finally snagged a moment of relief. He sank into a chair by the window, closing his eyes, savoring the rare chance to rest.

Then, breaking the quiet, Yunjin appeared at the front with a dramatic flourish, holding up a small, folded note between her fingers.

“Found this wedged at the bottom of a coffee cup,” She smiled slyly as she unfolded it and read aloud, “To the handsome barista with the soft voice: your coffee isn’t the only thing that’s hot.”

The words hung in the air like a playful secret, instantly shifting the mood of the room.

Beomgyu gasped and clutched at his chest. “Oh my god. I knew this day would come.” He puffed himself up, striking a pose like he was mid-magazine shoot. “Soft voice? Obviously me. Handsome? Double check. Mysterious allure? Please.”

Taehyung, who was lounging nearby with a dish towel draped over his shoulder, didn’t even blink. “Hate to break it to you, lover boy, but you’re not a barista. You’ve spent more time this shift fighting with a customer’s kid than touching an espresso machine.”

Chaewon raised an eyebrow and held up her left hand, flashing the silver ring on her fourth finger. “Whoever it’s for, it’s definitely not me. I wear this on shift specifically to keep guys from thinking we’re in some type of coffee shop AU.”

Kai, who had been quietly finishing wiping the floor with a mop, leaned forward with a knowing look. “It’s gotta be Yeonjun then. He’s the only one new enough and cute enough to inspire that level of anonymous thirst.” He looked pointedly at him. “You’ve got the voice, the face, and the latte art. I heard some people talking, but didn't think they were brave enough to actually try though.”

Yeonjun, still seated, blinked like he’d unexpectedly been caught in someone else’s dream. “Me?”

Yunjin waved the note like a concert lightstick, grinning. “Unless we’ve got another soft-voiced heartthrob hiding in the breakroom, I’d say the evidence speaks for itself.”

Yeonjun opened his mouth, then closed it again, cheeks flushing warm. He wasn’t sure if it was flattery or panic settling into his bones but either way, the room had already decided for himself.

“You should totally respond,” Beomgyu said, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Respond?” Yeonjun choked. “Why? How? I don’t even know who wrote it.”

Chaewon leaned against the counter. “Then don’t write a love letter back. Just leave something casual. Flirty but vague. Like a ‘thank you, secret admirer’ type of thing.”

Kai nodded enthusiastically. “Come on, you have to do it! It’s romantic and mysterious, with enough suspense and giddiness that comes with the secret admirer energy. It’s giving ‘To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before’ meets ‘You’ve Got Mail’.”

As Yeonjun rolled his eyes, ready to shut the idea down, his manager beat him to the punch.

Taehyung crossed his arms. “I don’t know… speaking as your pseudo boss, I’m not exactly thrilled about this. How would you even reply if you don’t know who left it? What if you hand something to the wrong customer and it spirals into a complaint about inappropriate staff behavior?”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun muttered. “This isn’t a romance movie.”

“Do you remember anyone being especially nice to you today?” Yunjin asked, completely ignoring the warning and tilting her head like a curious lab assistant.

“I had a lot of customers,” Yeonjun answered, dismissively. “And it’s not like I keep track of who might think I’m hot. I don’t exactly conduct surveys.”

“Okay, but maybe someone tried to flirt? be smooth?” Kai offered, leaning in. “Like, stayed at the counter a little too long? Gave you that look, like they were writing poetry off your cheekbones?”

“I—what?”

Before the interrogation could spiral any further, Soobin’s voice cut through the chatter, calm but mildly suspicious.

“What’s going on?”

He stepped out from the kitchen hallway with Sakura trailing behind, wiping his hands on a towel, brows furrowed as he took in the cluster of grins and blushing baristas.

There was a beat of collective silence.

Then Beomgyu grinned. “Oh nothing, just solving a little love mystery.”

Soobin blinked. “A what?”

“Apparently Yeonjunnies’s got a secret admirer now. Someone left this in a tray between some dirty dishes that was in the kitchen.”

And just like that, as if that last word had some sort of magic word, the room collectively turned toward Soobin, every pair of eyes zeroing in like they'd rehearsed it.

“Yo do work in the back kitchen all day, don’t you?” Beomgyu squinted. “Soobin… anything you wanna tell us?”

Kai leaned in, conniving. “Doesn’t that handwriting look familiar to you in any way shape or form?”

Yunjin pointed to the note with her finger. “It says ‘soft voice’? Weren’t you literally just saying the other day that Yeonjun’s voice is ‘weirdly soothing’ even when cursing at the espresso machine?”

And honestly, for a second, Yeonjun felt his cheeks flush at the thought, as well as an inoffensive flicker of irritation. It would be so like Soobin to call him hot in a scribbled note left for everyone to find, just for the fun of it… and then simply not sign his name. Just to mess with him.

Stupidly enough, Yeonjun kind of dug the idea a little.

Taehyung tilted his head. “Kid. Be honest. Did you write it?”

Soobin opened his mouth, then promptly closed it again. His brows knit together in visible confusion, lips parting once more as if to speak—only to stall completely. He looked like someone who’d just been hit with a pop quiz in a class he didn’t know he was enrolled in.

That puzzled Yeonjun. Was he… not the author, then?

Before offering any kind of defense, Soobin reached out and took the note from Yunjin’s hands, his movements slow and cautious, bordering on reluctant. He unfolded it slowly, eyes scanning the words with a deepening frown—less like someone caught red-handed, and more like someone trying to decode a message written in a language he’d hated the existence of.

“To the handsome barista with the soft voice: your coffee isn’t the only thing that’s hot…” he read out loud in a fast and low tone, blinking again. “Wow. They really went for it.”

Kai narrowed his eyes, surprised. “You didn’t write it?”

Soobin shrugged, still calm as a leaf yet a little stiff too. “Would I be analyzing it right now with you guys if I had?”

“You could just be weird like that.” Yunjin pointed out.

Soobin glanced around, caught between deciding to look just amused or show genuine bafflement. “I swear, I don’t know who it’s from. But I’ll just say that whoever did this has quite the guts.”

Beomgyu smirked slightly, leaning forward. “Well, whoever it is, clearly thinks they can charm their audience too. Soft voice, handsome barista...”

Yeonjun shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide the flush creeping up his cheeks. “Or you guys are mistaken and it’s not for me?” he muttered, but his words were lost in the sea of eyes and ears still fixed on Soobin.

“Any other suspects then?” Yunjin pressed, folding her arms with a knowing smile.

Soobin sighed, shaking his head. “This one’s above my pay grade. We should all just go home and forget about it. If it’s anonymous, it’s for a reason. Maybe they don’t want to be found. Would that be the worst thing?”

Beomgyu shook his head instantly. “Forget about it? No way. This is way too juicy. We need to solve the mystery!”

Kai nodded in agreement. “Yeah, this is way better than our usual gossip.”

Yeonjun exhaled, defeated. “Great. So what now? You’re sticking me in some cheesy coffee shop rom-com? What’s next? You’re going to fabricate some sort of dramatic rainstorm confessions?”

Soobin chuckled softly at the idea. “Well, if they do that, I’ll make sure to have an umbrella ready.”

For a brief, suspended moment, the entire room seemed to hold its breath. Even Yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat. It was a small comment, sure, but it felt deliberately placed. Soobin had flirted a thousand times with him before, but it was always subtle, quiet, done through ways that would fly under everyone else’s radar. He wasn’t the PDA type, usually just indulging Yeonjun’s love for attention with the occasional passing compliment. Never this loudly or openly. Never in front of a full audience, not even their friends. This? It hit different. Intentional. Bold.

As if that realization had crossed Soobin’s mind at that exact same time, he quickly added, trying to break the tension with a sheepish grin, “I mean, as part of the general plan. We wouldn’t want you missing your chance of chasing down your secret long-lost love, would we?”

Beomgyu was the fist to burst out laughing, shattering the charged silence, the laughter of the others quickly following behind and rippling through the room, light and contagious. 

The audacity of the man to still try to try to back track off his comment like that was almost impressive.

Yeonjun stayed quiet though, his eyes fixed on Soobin across the room. While everyone else seemed to take the last words as some sort of clumsy failed flirting attempt Soobin had made on his ‘work-crush’ or maybe even a twisted admission of having written the note but being too much of a coward to admit it, Yeonjun knew better. 

Soobin’s smile could be timid, easy and warm right now, but his eyes held something deeper, trying to mask something rare and dark. Something Yeonjun hadn’t thought he’d see in a long time. And it thrilled him immediately.

There was no way that had only been Soobin playing up the part of the lovestruck coworker; no, that had been him unintentionally stepping fully into his role as Yeonjun’s actual boyfriend—and he was marking territory.

Yeonjun’s lips curled into a slow, mocking grin as he mouthed slowly, discreetly enough for only Soobin to catch, “You’re jealous.”

Soobin responded with a soft tsk, avoiding his eyes, but made no effort to deny it.

Oh, Yeonjun was definitely going to have a field day with this.

The apartment door clicked shut behind them, followed by the muffled thud of Yeonjun tossing his bag dramatically onto the couch.

Instantly, he turned with a devilish glint in his eye, lips already curling into trouble.

“You’re jealous,” he sang in a teasing lilt. “You’re sooo jealouuus~”

Soobin didn’t even get his own shoes off before he groaned defeated, scrubbing a hand down his face as he made a direct line for the kitchen.

“I knew this was coming the second I opened my mouth to say that stupid umbrella thing,” he muttered, but Yeonjun was already on his heels, practically bouncing with glee.

“You should’ve seen your face,” Yeonjun went on, following him like a smug shadow. “Trying so hard to act unbothered, but the second they kept going on and on about the ‘secret admirer’ you were giving ‘back off, bitches’ energy so hard, all over the place.”

“I could tell you weren’t comfortable, I was just trying to redirect the conversation,” Soobin explained, walking over to their kitchen and opening the fridge.

Yeonjun leaned dramatically against the counter like a spoiled cat, resting his chin on his hand. “Uh-huh. Redirecting it straight into territorial boyfriend performance. It was hot, by the way. Very possessive. Very ‘this man helps me bake my cupcakes and no one else’s.’  I liked that.”

“It wasn’t possessive—I’m not possessive,” Soobin said calmly, yet as he took out some vegetables, he started to chop them with suspicious force and precision. “You’re projecting. I was simply flirting, like usual. And you practically melted to the floor when I talked.”

“I did not!” Yeonjun gasped, scandalized. “I just smiled. And blushed. And maybe said something cute, but that doesn’t count. I was distracted! I think I’ve been stuck in a mental loop of ‘SOOBIN HOT’ since we left the café. That’s not melting. That’s just... being a humble victim of basic human desire.”

Soobin snorted quietly, still not looking up. “You’re an idiot.”

“A charming idiot,” Undeterred, Yeonjun hopped up to sit on the edge of the counter, swinging his legs and grinning from ear to ear. “Just admit it. You’re jealous. A tiny bit. It’s okay. I won’t judge.”

Soobin set the knife down with a soft clack, wiped his hands on a towel, and walked over until he was standing between Yeonjun’s knees. The air shifted, his expression unreadable in that way Yeonjun had always found maddening and more than a little bit thrilling.

“So what if I am?” Soobin said, voice quiet and defiant.

Yeonjun blinked, the teasing edge from his smile gradually vanishing like someone had started pulling on a thread. “Wait. Seriously?”

Soobin didn’t answer with words.

Instead, he stepped closer, his hands rising slowly until they came to rest on Yeonjun’s thighs, grounding him. His gaze lingered, eyes flickering down to Yeonjun’s lips, then back up again as if asking one last, silent question.

He leaned in slowly, giving Yeonjun time to stop him—not that he ever would—and finally kissed him. Their lips met in a full, steady press that was instantly far from tentative. There was no teasing in it, no hesitation. Just pure, deliberate intensity. Soobin’s mouth moved against his with a tenderness that tasted like restraint, but weighted like everything he wasn’t saying. Yeonjun could feel warmth unfurling between them, slow and consuming, like sunlight drawn into the skin after a long winter.

His hand rose instinctively, pressing against Soobin’s chest, not to push him away, but to keep himself tethered, grounded, upright. Their mouths moved in a slow rhythm, soft, searching, but with just enough friction to send sparks fluttering down Yeonjun’s spine and heat blooming down his stomach. Soobin's hand slipped up to Yeonjun’s waist, thumb brushing against the hem of his shirt, making him both want to squirm and stay in place.

When Soobin tilted his head slightly and deepened the kiss, Yeonjun exhaled shakily, lips parting to let him in. His other hand moved up to curl into the back of Soobin’s neck, fingers threading through the soft hair there to anchor them both

Although it wasn’t desperate, not quite, it was serious. Decisive. Like a quiet vow being exchanged entirely through mouths and breath.

Soobin’s fingers had found their way to Yeonjun’s bare skin, brushing slightly against his lower back, a soft stroke that made Yeonjun hum and lean in just that little bit more. There might not have been a rush about the way their lips moved together, but it was still slowly driving him crazy. It was pious, like they were mapping out something sacred. Paying homage to something that had always been inevitably theirs.

By the time they finally broke apart, Yeonjun’s breath was uneven, his pulse hammering in his ears, knees slightly buckled from the force of everything unsaid, but implied.

The air between them still thrummed with heaviness. With meaning. With the ghost of the kiss still clinging to both of their mouths.

And Soobin just stood there, composed and beautiful and softly smiling, like he hadn’t just rewritten gravity in the whole room for Yeonjun.

“In my defense,” Soobin murmured, their foreheads brushing, “it’s killing me not being able to tell everyone you’re mine.”

Yeonjun opened his mouth, wanting to say some witty remark but unable to balance anything out on the edge of his tongue. His brain stalled. Heart pounded. All he could manage was a breathless, “Oh.”

Soobin smiled faintly and pressed one more quick, almost chaste, kiss to Yeonjun’s flushed cheek, then turned back to the stove like nothing had happened at all.

“Now, sit there quietly,” he said over his shoulder, “or you’re helping me cook.”

Yeonjun blinked at his back, dazed, heart stuttering, cheeks glowing. He opened his mouth, and closed it again, momentarily speechless. He stared at the kitchen counter like it might explain with detailed instructions what just happened and how to proceed. 

“Okay, but seriously, I need to know… is this jealousy thing gonna wear off anytime soon? Because I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of really into it.”

“Couch,” Soobin called.

“Worth it,” Yeonjun muttered, grinning as he slid off the counter.

It wasn’t until three days later, mid-shift and mid-latte art, that the mystery was finally solved.

Yeonjun had just finished steaming milk into a flawless little cat design when the bell above the front door jingled. In walked a boy clad in a navy hoodie that hung a bit too loosely on his slender frame. His confident facade was the kind that came easy—too easy—like someone who hadn’t yet been told “no” enough times to second-guess himself yet. His hair was dyed a soft reddish-brown, tousled just enough to look effortlessly styled, and his sneakers squeaked softly as he stepped up to the counter.

He leaned casually against the edge, like he’d practiced the move a dozen times in front of a mirror and had only finally settled on a specific expression last night.

“Hey,” he said, flashing a grin. “Got a second?”

Yeonjun returned his usual customer smile, keeping the tone light. “Yeah, sure. What can I get started for you?”

“I’ll have an iced Americano.”

“Got it. Just give me a moment. My friend over there will ring you up, and I’ll bring your drink as soon as it’s ready,” Yeonjun explained.

The boy waved him off, amicable. “I know the drill, don’t worry.”

Yeonjun smiled again, then turned to start making the drink. It was simple enough not to require much thought, especially since it happened to be his own favorite. Once finished, he approached the counter again.

“An Iced Americano for you…” he said.

“Jaehyun. Myung Jaehyun,” the guy replied quickly, offering another small, easy smile.

“Well, nice to meet you, Jaehyun. Hope to see you ordering here again soon.”

“I’m around here a lot, actually.” he jumped up to say, “Not sure if you’ve noticed me before.”

Yeonjun chuckled, shaking his head. “No, sorry. It’s pretty hectic back here—I barely remember where I put my own head most days. But I’ll definitely try to pay more attention now.” 

Just as he turned back to his other orders, the guy called out, “Wait—!”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a familiar folded piece of paper.

Yeonjun blinked.

It was the note.

Well, another note.

But in the same handwriting.

The guy offered it between two fingers, smiling shyly but clearly pushing through his nerves. “I figured I should just give this to you face to face this time, instead of hiding behind a throwaway napkin. I’m the one who wrote it the first one too.”

“You’re—” Yeonjun’s brain nearly short-circuited. “Wait, what?”

“The note?” the guy asked, cheeks flushing with a hint of pink. “You know, ‘To the handsome barista with the soft voice’? That was me. Oh god—please tell me you actually read it, because if not, I’m currently making a complete idiot out of myself.”

Yeonjun blinked. “No, I read it. It’s just…” He stared, baffled. “No offense but, you look… barely legal.”

“I’m twenty-one,” the boy said quickly, lifting his chin a little. “Old enough to know what I want.”

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to be amused or horrified. “And what exactly is that?”

“A date. With you.”

Yeonjun nearly knocked over the tip jar the way his jaw opened in shock. “You’re serious?”

“If you say yes, yeah.”

The boy grinned, earnest, fearless, and just the right amount of smug. It wasn’t obnoxious; it was oddly charming, in the way only someone genuinely confident could pull off. Yeonjun opened his mouth again. Then closed it. Then opened it again. He almost said it, ‘I have a boyfriend’ in the tip of his tongue, but remembered they hadn’t told people yet, and this wasn't the way he had wanted to have to explain. 

Instead, the words that came out were the second-best excuse he could think of:

“I don’t date.”

Jaehyun didn’t even blink. If anything, his smile grew like he’d just been handed a puzzle and couldn’t wait to solve it.

“Look, I know I look way younger than I actually am and that may be throwing you off, but I’ve always been told I’ve got an old soul. And you’re cool. Like really cool-cool. I like the way you dress, and how you talk to people, and how you laugh at bad jokes even when you think no one’s listening. And, um…” He ducked his head, then added, almost shyly, “Your hair looked amazing last Thursday. Haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

Yeonjun stared at him, once again speechless and somewhere between flattered and flustered.

What the hell was going on this week?

He just had to try again.

“It’s not personal, I promise. I’m just not looking to date right now. In general.”

Jaehyun raised both hands in surrender. “It’s okay then! I get it, I was just saying anyway. Still, just words never hurt anybody so I’m just gonna say it: I like you. You look pretty today too and I already wrote you a note while I was waiting for my order. I wouldn’t mind taking you out for bubble tea if you ever changed your mind. Or, I don’t know, to a bookstore. Whatever you would like, I’m adaptable.”

“I don’t really do—um, dates. Of any type really.”

Jaehyun chuckled softly. “That’s okay too. I'm opened to anything. Just think about it, will you? Maybe I’ll ask again next Tuesday, just in case.”

With that, he turned and strolled out of the café, somehow looking triumphant despite having just been gently rejected. There was an undeniable bounce in his step, like he’d walked away with a personal victory anyway.

Yeonjun stood behind the counter, blinking in mild disbelief. What just happened? One second he was restocking napkins, the next he… got asked out?

“Who was that?” Beomgyu’s voice chimed in a moment later, nosy as ever, leaning far too casually over the counter. “You were talking to him for a while. Longer than usual.”

Yeonjun frown. “Weirdest guy I’ve ever met.”

“Uh. What’s this?” Before Yeonjun could stop him, Beomgyu had already snagged the note left on the counter. His eyes widened like he’d just uncovered national treasure. “No way. No way. It’s him!? You were talking to secret admirer guy?!”

“Shhh!” Yeonjun hissed, glancing toward the open floor. “Yeah, I think? He sort of came clean just now and said it was him.”

“And?”

“And I tried to let him down gently,” Yeonjun muttered, as if still trying to understand the situation himself. “But then he said he’s just gonna ask again next Tuesday.”

Beomgyu wrinkled his nose. “Okay, that’s maybe a little... stalker adjacent. Want me to tell the manager?”

“No, don’t,” Yeonjun said quickly. “He’s just young. Probably grew up watching way too many movies where persistence and awkward charm magically win the love interest over in ninety minutes. He’ll figure it out eventually.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes, he looked harmless. It’s probably just a temporary crush anyway. He’ll move on once he realizes I’m a boring adult with a weird sleeping schedule and unresolved childhood issues.”

“Bold of you to assume that wouldn’t just make him like you more,” Beomgyu said, eyes scanning the note quickly. “‘To the handsome barista with the bright smile, I’m not sure what’s more addictive: your espresso, or the way your eyes light up when you laugh.’” He looked up. “This is peak delusional heartthrob energy, kinda cute not gonna lie, but I don’t see him getting the hint any time soon.”

Yeonjun sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “I need a stronger coffee.”

And like clockwork, as Beomgyu said, Jaehyun didn’t seem to get the hint. He even became a regular in some sort of way, and one of Yeonjun’s favorite customers because… Well, he tipped really well.

Every other day, Jaehyun would stroll in, order his usual iced americano, tip like he was trying to fund a college education, and drop some friendly greetings and a flirty little one-liner on his way out.

“You look really cute today. Just saying.”

Or

“Can you look away for two seconds? You’re being too charming and I’m trying to think what to order.”

And Yeonjun… well. He never encouraged it of course. Never once flirted back or said anything out of simple politeness and customer service. But he didn’t exactly shut it down decisively either. His compliments got flimsier with each visit, the hesitancy and blushes came quicker, but the tips man. They were too good.

“He’s kind of cute, isn’t he?” Yeonjun muttered one afternoon, eyes trailing after Jaehyun’s retreating figure as the door chimed shut behind him—complete with the usual last-minute wink tossed over his shoulder, which he immediately seemed to regret, quietly scolding himself as he passed the big front window.

Soobin, preparing the counter display beside him, didn’t even glance up. “If I ever hear the words kinda cute come out of your mouth about him again, I will replace your shampoo at home with dish soap.”

Yeonjun grinned. “Kind of cute in a little brother way,” he amended innocently, then bumped Soobin’s hip with his own. “You’re jealous again.”

“I’m not,” Soobin replied too fast, too flat, and definitely too much like a liar.

Yeonjun just raised a brow, smug and unrepentant. “You are,” he added, sing-song under his breath. "So jealous."

Soobin let out a long-suffering sigh, the kind reserved for people who knew exactly how to push his buttons and did it anyway, lovingly. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossibly lovable,” Yeonjun corrected with a sly smile.

“Impossibly irritating,” Soobin shot back without looking up.

Yeonjun leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a teasing whisper. “You should hear what Jaehyun said last time you weren’t around. He asked me if I preferred being called pretty or handsome. I told him I wasn’t really opposed to either.”

Soobin kneeled down to the pastry display, fussing over trays that didn’t need it. “If he ever shows up with flowers or any kind of gift, that’s where I draw the line.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t think he’d have the guts. And anyway, how exactly would you handle that?”

“I’m not above sabotaging a customer’s order if they get on my nerves enough.”

Yeonjun tried to keep his cool, but the tiniest smirk tugged at the corner of Soobin’s mouth. He noticed—of course he did.

Reaching out, Yeonjun lightly tugged at Soobin’s apron strap, leaning in and making him finally look over.

“You know you’re always going to be my one and only favorite,” Yeonjun said softly, eyes warm.

Soobin blinked, clearly caught off guard.

“I mean,” Yeonjun added with mock seriousness, “your tips are trash, but the flirting? Pure entertainment. And the kissing? Definitely world-class.”

Soobin rolled his eyes, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“See?” Yeonjun grinned. “On shift Jaehyun can try and flirt with me all he wants, but you get free reign all the other days.”

Soobin scoffed. “Now you’re just doing it on purpose.”

“So what if I am?” Yeonjun replied, mimicking Soobin’s defiant tone back from that night at their apartment.

At that, Soobin’s voice softened, almost sincere. “Then you’re an even bigger dumbass than I thought. You don’t need to rile me up and make me jealous to see me act a little rough. Just ask. You know I’d do anything short of pulling the moon down from the sky for you.”

Yeonjun’s heart made a rapid, ecstatic flip.

Suddenly, the espresso machine hissed sharply, breaking the moment and reminding them that break time was over and their coworkers wouldn’t be long in returning.

“Back to work, needy,” Soobin said, already moving to the kitchen, refusing to indulge him further and ignoring Yeonjun the rest of the day.

“You have no leg to stand on, enabler.”

But later, after their shift ended, Soobin handed Yeonjun a cupcake with a tiny heart piped on top.

Just because.

And on their ride home, Yeonjun stayed silent the whole way while he ate it, a contented smile curling at his lips.

He didn’t care how many love notes appeared or how many random confessions any customer made.

To him, Soobin’s were the only ones that held any weight.

The cozy café had undergone a quiet transformation. What was usually a peaceful corner of the neighborhood—filled with soft music, the scent of roasted beans, and the rhythmic tap of laptop keys—had turned into something far livelier for the night’s special event: karaoke.

They’d spent the better part of the morning dragging tables aside, rearranging chairs, and stringing up fairy lights that now cast a golden glow from wall to wall. Even during their break, someone had been fiddling with extension cords or taping makeshift signage to the glass front door. The espresso machine had taken a break from its usual dominance of the room, momentarily replaced by a set of small speakers and some mic stands borrowed from a friend of a friend.

Now, as the sun started hiding outside, the café hummed with quiet excitement. People trickled in slowly. Some shy and lingering near the back, others already scanning the song list with the kind of chaotic energy only free karaoke could inspire. Mismatched chairs had been pulled into cozy clusters, the scent of cinnamon and steamed milk hung sweet in the air, and the low murmur of conversation mixed with nervous laughter and the occasional clatter of ceramic cups.

Taehyung, the café’s unofficial hype man for the night, gathered the staff just before the official start of shift to lay out the theme and goals of the evening. 

Grinning confidently, he announced, “Tonight’s all about having fun, letting loose, and sharing the spotlight. It’s friendly karaoke and each singer has to dedicate their song to someone or something here in the café. Whether it’s a crush, a friend, or even between us staff, it’s all about making connections.” He paused, then added, “Our job tonight isn’t just perfect drinks or good food—it’s about creating a space where every customer feels welcome, entertained, and part of something special.”

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, folding his arms with a smirk. “So, what happens if someone gets really nervous? Are we supposed to cheer them on?

“Exactly,” Taehyung said with a nod. “We’re the hype squad tonight. Everyone deserves a little extra encouragement, especially if it’s their first time singing here.”

Soobin, quieter but curious, chimed in, “And what happens if someone totally bombs their song? Do we have to pretend it was amazing?”

Taehyung laughed, clapping a hand on Soobin’s shoulder. “Absolutely! Positive vibes only. Remember, it’s about having fun, not winning a Grammy.”

“You’ll love it for sure, it’s like one of our monthly traditions,” Beomgyu grinned from across the room, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And since we staff get to participate too, there’s a prize on the line: full weekend off. So, everything counts, ballads, rapping, duets… Even poetry if you have the material. You guys are welcome to participate in the friendly sabotage too, of course.”

Taehyung shot him a playful glare, shaking his head. “Keep it fun, Beomgyu. No unplugging mics or tripping over cables, got it?”

Yunjin, already sizing up the open mic setup with a sly smile, leaned in and teased, “This month I’ll make sure to steal the spotlight. Kai, watch out—you’re about to be dethroned as the reigning karaoke champ.”

Kai rolled his eyes but grinned, crossing his arms, ready. “Bring it on. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The small crowd that had formed not long after the event had begun, hummed with eager anticipation as the first performer stepped onto the makeshift stage, the soft glow of fairy lights casting a spotlight on him. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the music to fill the air and set the night’s rhythm.

Kai had been the first volunteer, settling with a small piano with effortless grace. “This one is for the red haired girl over there. Let’s see if you can match this.”

As his fingers danced over the keys, he launched into a ballad so raw and emotional it felt like the walls themselves were leaning in to listen. His voice wavered and cracked at just the right moments, each lyric soaked in longing and sincerity that wrapped around everyone like a warm, bittersweet embrace.

Unexpectedly, he looked up to the audience and seemed to make some sort of signal as he tackled the first chorus.

Then, a customer who was clearly not a regular rose from their seat and stepped into the soft spill of light near the piano. His voice, pure and steady, slipped seamlessly into the melody, weaving a haunting harmony that wrapped around Kai’s ballad like silk. The two voices blended with such precision and emotion that it felt like the air itself stilled, the clink of mugs forgotten, the hum of conversation fading into reverent silence. For a moment, it was as if time had been folded neatly into the shape of their song, the whole room caught in the hush of something quietly extraordinary.

When the final note drifted into stillness and the crowd erupted into applause, all eyes turned toward the newcomer.

Kai stood from the bench, grinning with pride as he slung an arm around the stranger’s shoulder. “Okay, okay, I know that was amazing,” he said into the mic, laughing as the applause lingered a little too long. “Let me introduce you guys to my best friend since diapers, Kang Taehyun.”

Taehyun offered a shy wave, a little bow, and an easy smile that only seemed to charm the room more. 

He was dressed simply—black slacks, a soft grey sweater, silver chain tucked under the collar—but carried himself with the kind of quiet confidence that made you want to look twice. His big eyes were magnetic, and his voice still lingered like a phantom in the air.

“He’s a professional singer,” Kai added, practically glowing. “I asked him to come help keep the energy up tonight. If you guys have come to these before, you know I have a title to defend.”

“That’s cheating,” Yunjin called from the back, but she was grinning too.

“It’s not cheating if there’s no rules,” Kai shot back.

While most of the staff and customers broke into conversation or swooned appropriately, Yeonjun’s attention was momentarily pulled elsewhere, specifically, toward the counter, where Beomgyu stood frozen, mid-sip of his drink.

He hadn’t blinked once since Taehyun stepped onstage. It was weird, like he had either been close to dying and suddenly seen the light. Or a ghost.

“Gyu?” Yeonjun leaned in, bumping his elbow lightly against Beomgyu’s side. “Are you okay?”

Beomgyu’s gaze stayed locked on Taehyun, wide and glassy, like watching a miracle restore someone’s faith in real time. “I think I just saw my future husband.”

Yeonjun scoffed, incredulous. “You and half the room, buddy. Kai’s friend is definitely handsome but you need to pull yourself together.”

But Beomgyu didn’t even crack a grin. He lowered his drink slowly, like he was in a trance. “No, like… for real. I think that was divine intervention.”

Chaewon peeked over from her seat behind the counter, clocking the dreamy look on the boy’s face. “Oh god,” she muttered. “It happened again. He’s been hit. Cupid’s dumb little arrow found him.”

Beomgyu suddenly stood straighter, his face shifting into something terrifyingly focused and calculating. “I need him to talk to me. Immediately.”

Yeonjun laughed, full and loud. “You’re ridiculous.”

Beomgyu didn’t look away from Taehyun. “You can’t say anything, Mr. ‘I I have a crush on my coworker but won’t do shit about it.’”

Yeonjun stiffened. This again… He couldn’t believe they were still having this discussion after almost a month since they'd been hired had passed.

Just then, Taehyun stepped off the stage, graceful and relaxed, rejoining Kai near the drinks table with a soft smile that probably ruined at least three people’s ability to speak.

Without missing a beat and with the subtlety of a parade, Beomgyu started tousling his hair, fixing the sleeves of his shirt, and licking his lips like he hadn’t done it five times already in the past minute.

“Chapstick. I need chapstick.”

Yeonjun leaned against the counter, reached into his back pocket and wordlessly handed over a tube of glittery lip gloss.

“How do I look?”

Yeonjun gave him a once-over. “Good.”

“Like ‘I might just be the love of your life so you should hit me up sometime’ type of good?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. That’ll work.”

He smacked his lips once last time, and exhaled dramatically like he was about to walk into battle instead of possibly flirt with a customer.

Yeonjun’s lips quirked into a grin. This was going to be so much fun.

Chaewon appeared beside him, propping her elbows on the counter as if she’d been summoned by the scent of possible humiliation alone. Together, they watched Beomgyu strut across the café, both of them silent and wide-eyed like they were watching a wildlife documentary in real time.

“Do you think he’s gonna trip over the rug again?” Chaewon whispered.

Yeonjun bit his lip. “God, I hope so.”

In the distance, Beomgyu had decided to make a first move, sidling up to Taehyun near the drinks table, trying very hard to look both casual and effortlessly charming. He gestured a little too animatedly with his hands. Taehyun smiled at something he said. Or maybe he was just being polite.

“Is he… doing it?” Yeonjun squinted, eyes narrowing.

“I genuinely can’t tell,” Chaewon murmured. “He’s either rizzing him up successfully, stammering through a tragic attempt at conversation, or pitching a startup idea. Those hand movements are a little vague.”

Beomgyu laughed at whatever the guy said, throwing his head back. Taehyun tilted his face, amused and seemingly trying to hold in a laugh himself.

Yeonjun made a face, scrunching his nose. “Okay, he found that kinda cute. But Beomgyu is about to have a nervous breakdown if he doesn’t sit down this second.”

Chaewon snorted. “God watch over him.”

Just then, as Yeonjun turned his attention back to the drinks counter to grab a towel and busy his hands polishing a few glasses, he realized from the corner of his eye, belatedly, that they weren't alone.

He hadn’t heard the soft footfalls or noticed the faint shift in air behind him, but Soobin had quietly slipped out of the kitchen, ghosting into his orbit like he knew he belonged there.

He was standing just a few steps back, a dish rag slung over his shoulder, apron slightly askew, the sleeves of his shirt pushed to his elbows. His gaze was steady, entirely fixed on Yeonjun. Soft but intense. Unreadable in that way that always made Yeonjun’s breath catch just a moment too long. There was something tender in his posture, like he was trying not to disturb their space, but couldn’t keep himself from being close.

For a second, it looked like he might step forward, arms slightly shifting, fingers twitching like they were already reaching for Yeonjun’s waist, already imagining holding him.

But he didn’t.

He just hovered instead, a breath away, standing behind Yeonjun like a singer stuck between the chorus and the bridge, chewing on the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile far too fond for casual company.

Chaewon, of course, noticed immediately. She was the most likely one to be anywhere close to guessing their situation, especially after all the times she had seen them interact suspiciously comfortable with each other.

And like a clock chiming midnight, She glanced between them with the unspoken ease of someone who had finally figured out the subtext. Her eyes softened. With a quiet shake of her head and a smirk tugging at her lips, she slipped away from the counter, murmuring something vague about checking dessert stock, though it wasn’t remotely her job.

Yeonjun, sensing the shift in atmosphere after her exit, finally turned around fully, finding himself face-to-face with Soobin, closer than expected.

“Didn’t your elders ever teach you it’s impolite to sneak up on people like that?” he asked, trying for nonchalance and teasing.

Soobin blinked, his eyes crinkling in a small, happy smile at being caught. “My elders told me they liked it, actually. A lot.”

“Brat.” Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, trying hard and failing spectacularly not to reciprocate the smile. “Were you missing me that much or something?”

“No,” Soobin replied. “Just checking on you.”

Yeonjun squinted. “You are such a bad liar.”

Soobin’s eyes darted to the side, as if the napkin dispenser next to them had suddenly become fascinating. The tips of his ears had turned a telling shade of pink, but the corner of his mouth curved—subtle, shy, and unmistakably fond. “They turned the AC up,” he mumbled, voice quieter now, almost sheepish. “And I know you hate the cold.”

His gaze remained on Yeonjun’s face for a moment longer than necessary.

“I just thought… you might need something warm.”

From behind his back, Soobin slowly brought his hands forward, and only then did Yeonjun realize he’d been hiding something. A soft, worn out sweater, folded messily in his arms. Yeonjun recognized it instantly: baby blue, slightly oversized, and undoubtedly Soobin’s favorite and the one he had gifted him.

He blinked, surprised. “Wait, are you—?”

Soobin shrugged, casual. “I thought you could use it. Just for tonight. I don’t think they’ll comment on it.”

Yeonjun stared at him for a moment. The sweater was warm in more ways than one, it smelled like cinnamon and detergent. Like Soobin and home.

“You’re…” he trailed off, gaze flicking between the sweater and Soobin’s face. Slowly, he reached out and took it, their fingers brushing in the handoff. The contact was brief, barely more than a graze, but it sparked a jolt of electricity all the same.

“I swear, it’s like you’re in some secret competition with yourself to make me fall in love with you all over again.” he said, voice low, awe disguised as teasing.

Soobin rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting to the side. “I mean…” he mumbled, as if he hadn’t entirely meant to let the gesture mean that much.

Yeonjun narrowed his eyes affectionately. “You’re absolutely making it a thing from now on, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t dream of losing,” Soobin replied.

Yeonjun didn’t wait any longer. He pulled the sweater over his head right there, letting it slide down his frame. The fabric was soft and familiar, swallowing him slightly at the shoulders and arms. The sleeves fell past his wrists, and the neckline slouched just enough to make it obvious the sweater wasn’t his.

It was too warm, maybe, but that didn’t matter. It smelled like his boyfriend. It was his.

When he looked up again, Soobin was staring at him like he'd just hung the stars in the sky and knew he had gotten to choose the name of each himself.

Yeonjun tugged the sleeves over his hands like makeshift mittens, then grinned. “How do I look?”

Soobin didn’t answer immediately. His hands twitched before reaching forward to adjust the hem of the sweater. It was unnecessary, just another excuse to touch, to be close. He brushed down an invisible wrinkle and let his fingers linger just a little longer.

“You look better in it than I do,” he said, quietly.

Yeonjun’s heart stuttered in his chest, a quiet flutter that settled somewhere deep. 

There it was again, that feeling. 

The one that only ever moved through him in a way uniquely tied to Soobin, like his presence alone held all the power. As if he ever decided to ruin him, he could do it with just a sentence and Yeonjun would let him.

Standing there, wrapped in the warmth of Soobin’s sweater, he realized he couldn’t think of a single clever thing to say.

And Soobin…

Well, he just smiled. Like he already knew.

The soft moment stretched between them like spun sugar. Fragile, golden, suspended in air. Soobin’s gaze held Yeonjun’s, unspoken warmth in between them, the kind that made the world blur slightly at the edges.

And also like sugar meeting water, it dissolved in an instant.

“Hello everyone! I’m Myung Jaehyun, and tonight I have a beautiful song to dedicate to a beautiful boy.”

The spell snapped clean in half.

Soobin blinked, startled. Yeonjun stiffened, still half-wrapped in his sweater, as the voice echoed across the café.

They didn’t just both hear what he thought they heard, right?

Right?

They turned, slowly, as if unwilling to confirm their fear—only to see Jaehyun standing confidently center-stage, hand curled around the mic like he owned it, wearing the kind of grin you usually reserve for talent shows and first dates. His hair, styled to casual perfection, shimmered under the fairy lights overhead. He was scanning the crowd, waiting for a sign from the universe—or, more accurately, from a barista.

“I’ve only met him a few times,” Jaehyun said, voice soft but charged with a nervous sort of bravado, “and mostly just watched from afar, because I never really knew how to approach someone like him. A week ago, I finally tried. It didn’t go how I hoped, I don’t think he feels what I feel. But you know,” he paused, laughing to himself, “my mom didn’t raise no quitter.”

The crowd murmured, a few customers chuckling. Some turned to glance around, wanting to piece things together. Soobin’s jaw clenched.

Yeonjun, stunned in disbelief, whispered, “This is not happening.”

Jaehyun’s eyes finally landed on him—like a bullseye—and locked in.

“This one’s for the handsome barista with the most perfect laugh,” he said, with the kind of dramatics usually saved for movie climaxes, “you never fail to make me shy.”

And then he winked.

Directly at Yeonjun.

Soobin seemed to exhale all the air he had left through his nose.

The backing track crackled faintly through the speakers, and Jaehyun’s voice rose over it, earnest and determined.

“Oh, her eyes, her eyes make the stars look like they're not shining…”

“Oh my God,” Chaewon, who had unknowingly picked the worst time to come back, said out loud with an innocent halfway smile. “Is someone getting serenaded by Bruno Mars?”

Burying his entire face in his hands, Yeonjun's entire soul threatened to leave his body.

A few customers clapped along, clearly enjoying the surprise serenade. Someone let out a soft ‘awww’. One of the regulars actually raised their mug in salute. 

Breathe, he just needed to breathe. It was nothing but a young boy willingly choosing to make a fool of himself in front of max… twenty other people. It didn’t have to have anything to do with him, he hadn’t asked for any of it.

Yeonjun peeked through his fingers just in time to see Jaehyun pointing at him during the chorus.

“When I see your face… there’s not a thing that I would change…”

Soobin, on the other hand, was so far still standing, absolutely rigid, beside him. Arms crossed, jaw tight, expression unreadable in that way that meant he was trying very hard not to look like he was plotting someone’s public execution.

Sakura, who had visibly followed Chaewon back into the main area, stopped in the middle of the room. She blinked once. Twice. Then turned to her friend and whispered, “Oh. Oh, he’s singing to Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun just made a pain noise in response, close to a dying animal.

Soobin was dead silent, his expression remaining cool. Dangerously cool. He shifted his weight, like it was taking him actual restraint not to walk across the café and physically remove the mic from Jaehyun’s hand.

“You’re amazing, just the way you are…”

Jaehyun belted the final note with all the commitment of a man auditioning for the lead role in a drama.

The applause was immediate. Loud. Slightly unhinged. Someone whistled.

Yeonjun could feel some eyes turning toward him. He was red to the tips of his ears.

Jaehyun bowed deeply, beaming. “Thank you! That was for the staff member who makes the best Americanos in Seoul. You know who you are.”

“I’m going to move to another country. Change my name. Learn how to code.” Yeonjun murmured under his breath. “It’s not too late for a career change, is it?”

“It’s fine. You’re fine. We’re fine,” Soobin said, like a shaky mantra meant to reassure, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than his boyfriend. “It’s over now. There’s no reason to make a big deal out of this. No reason to be… feeling… things. I’m not even a little bit jealous, see? That’d be insane. Because it’s fine. Totally fine. Completely fine.”

His smile was tight, his voice calm, but his eyes looked like they were about five seconds away from considering committing a federal offense a valid action. Yeonjun tugged awkwardly at the sleeves of Soobin’s sweater. A tiny, guilt-tinged comfort.

Across the café, Jaehyun was basking in the glow of applause, soaking in the attention with a grin that could probably power half of Seoul.

But then someone shouted, “Let him respond!”

And that was all it took.

Suddenly, the café burst into chants.

“Barista! Barista! Barista!”

“Oh, come on,” Yeonjun groaned, ducking behind the espresso machine like it could shield him from public humiliation. “There’s no way in hell I’m going up there.”

There was a brief lull, just long enough for him to think he’d escaped it, before Soobin’s voice cut through the buzz of the café, quiet but steady. 

“Do you want me to tell them to shut up?” His tone was soft. Measured, but unmistakably firm.

Yeonjun blinked, caught off guard. Soobin wasn’t glaring. He wasn’t pouting either. There was something else in his expression, something still and serious. The kind of quiet that followed after a deep breath you didn’t want to take.

“I mean sooner or later you’ll have to turn him down, again,” Soobin said, his gaze steady on him. “And yeah, right now it’s not exactly the dream scenario since it’ll probably go down as one of the most painfully awkward moments of his life. But at least you’ll be honest. With him. And with everyone here.” He paused, his voice gentler now. “But if you really, really don’t want to, you don’t have to. I can cover for you. We’ll figure something else out.”

Yeonjun swallowed, throat dry. The weight of those last words pressed against his chest.

Because they weren’t really talking about Jaehyun anymore.

They were talking about them.

Their relationship. Their ‘not-so-secret’ secret. The thing they had yet to announce out loud in front of anyone here, the thing that inside these four walls had just lived in exchanged glances and passing touches, but never in concrete, forward words. Not in a name. At least not yet.

And Yeonjun knew Soobin was right. The longer they avoided saying anything, the longer they stayed silent, the more it started to look like they were hiding because they were doing something wrong when it wasn’t the case at all. Them being together could never be wrong.

With a final sigh, Yeonjun stepped out of his hiding place in surrender. “Fine. I’ll talk to him now. If I die of embarrassment, I want you to tell my mother it was your fault.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic now putting it all on me?”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “She loves you more than me, she wouldn’t even blame you.”

Soobin didn’t deny it.

With that, Yeonjun stepped out from behind the counter, nerves buzzing under his skin. The moment he made himself visible for the whole café, it erupted in cheers, hoots, and light applause.

He forced a smile, shoulders back, posture perfect and the picture of composed. On the inside, he was already drafting up his resignation letter. Just in case.

As he made his way to the makeshift stage, Kai met him halfway with one of the mics, eyes gleaming far too brightly in amusement for someone who was supposed to be his friend.

Yeonjun took it, making sure to avoid any sort of eye contact that would get him to chicken out last minute.

“Okay, mhm, hi everyone,” he started, voice low and slightly raspy. “Before anyone makes a thread or a tiktok about this moment—I’m sorry, but I will have to disappoint you all tonight.”

A few customers booed dramatically. Others just laughed, watching with sympathy.

Yeonjun still powered through.

“Jaehyun, right?” he asked, finally glancing to the side.

The boy in question still smiled at him. “You know it.”

Yeonjun offered him a gentle smile in return. “You’re sweet. And honestly? You’ve got guts. It takes a lot to perform in front of a crowd, I’m really flattered. But…” He paused, just long enough for the room to quiet. “I’m already seeing someone else.”

A ripple of whispers moved through the crowd.

Yeonjun took a breath. “I actually have a boyfriend.”

There was a collective gasp from the crowd. A few customers exchanged wide-eyed glances, others whispered behind their mugs. 

Somewhere serving the back of the tables, Beomgyu seemed absolutely flabbergasted. “What!?”

Someone else clapped once, uncertain. Then stopped, instantly.

To his credit, Jaehyun didn’t crumple. His smile faltered just a little, but the spark in his eyes remained intact.

“Damn,” he said simply, then shrugged. “That makes sense actually. Can’t blame a guy for trying, though.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you from the beginning," Yeonjun replied, feeling the tension ease just a little. “For what it’s worth I did appreciate the compliments. Really.”

Laughter fluttered through the room, a few people raising their drinks in amused approval.

Yeonjun offered one last, more relaxed smile. “And also thanks for the song. It was embarrassing, but cute.”

Jaehyun gave a small bow. “Anytime.”

As the boy stepped down from the stage, Yeonjun made the mistake of thinking that would be the end of it.

It clearly wasn’t.

Because before he could even set the mic down, Beomgyu and Yunjin were already storming the side of the makeshift stage like gossip-hungry pirates boarding a ship. They grabbed the second mic and immediately turned their spotlight toward Yeonjun.

“A boyfriend!? Excuse you!?” Beomgyu barked into the mic, his voice dramatic enough to send feedback squealing.

“Since when!?” Yunjin cried, clutching her chest as though Yeonjun had just personally stabbed her with betrayal. “Who is he? Do we know him? Is he hot?!”

Yeonjun blinked like a deer caught in fluorescent lighting, frozen mid-step.“Guys. Chill. I’ll explain later. I swear, it’ll make sense, just not here. Okay?”

Beomgyu narrowed his eyes. “This better not be about some random guy we don’t even know, Yeonjun. I will riot.”

“It’s not,” Yeonjun shot back, already backing away.

“Wait,” Yunjin whispered. “If it’s someone we know then… Is it another customer? someone who’s been here all along?” Her eyes went wide.

“Later.” He reiterated.

“But what about Soobin!?” Beomgyu called out. “You two have had some mad unresolved sexual tension for like, almost a month! Are you seriously gonna tell me—?”

Yeonjun was already halfway out the room. “I’m going now. Goodbye. Enjoy the music and the rest of the night, everyone.”

“You’re not getting out of this, Choi!” Beomgyu bellowed after him. “We deserve answers! We’re like your found family!”

Yeonjun didn’t stop. He fled like a man evading courtroom summons, disappearing once again behind cups, glasses and machines as if the objects themselves could shield him.

Thankfully, possibly feeling pity for a stranger’s soul, Taehyun chose that exact moment to take the stage and a mic, already queuing up a soft instrumental on the tablet beside him.

The crowd’s curiosity and thirst for gossip was momentarily replaced by the warmth of a delicate, popular melody. The lighting dimmed slightly, fairy lights twinkling overhead like stars caught in glass.

Behind the counter, back in his safe little corner of the universe, Yeonjun finally exhaled. Soobin joined him a moment later, wordlessly passing over a mug of steaming tea. Their fingers brushed in the exchange.

Yeonjun took it with both hands, the warmth sinking into his skin. “That was awful,” he whispered, voice low enough to be only for Soobin. “I’m never listening to any of your encouraging advice ever again.”

Soobin bumped their shoulders together. 

“You were close but you didn’t combust,” he said, voice dry and gentle. “I’m proud of you.”

“That makes one of us.” Yeonjun huffed a laugh and tugged the oversized sleeves of Soobin’s sweater over his hands like armor.

Soobin watched him, eyes soft and sure. “So… I guess we’re telling them today?” he asked, voice low, hesitant in the way people are only when something really matters. “After the night is over?”

Yeonjun looked up, meeting his gaze. “Yeah. Is that okay with you?”

“More than okay.” Soobin’s answer came without pause, certain. “I’m tired of pretending like I’m not always looking at you.”

Something in Yeonjun’s chest curled in on itself, warm and aching.

Setting the teacup down, their hands brushed in passing again, except this time Yeonjun reached out fully, gently curling his fingers around Soobin’s and lacing them together. Neither of them made any attempt to move away. No flinching. No hesitation. The hold was firm, evident. Just the quiet, undeniable truth of it.

There was no need to hide anymore. Not here. Not with each other. 

Never with each other.

The chairs were stacked, most of the lights were off, and the last crumbs of the evening’s home made cookies had been swept off the tables. Only the soft hum of the espresso machine cooling down remained. The café had officially closed for the night, but none of the staff had gone home yet.

They lingered, far too energized, too nosy.

Yeonjun had just finished wiping down a table when he felt it: the unmistakable sensation of being hunted. 

He turned around slowly and there they were.

Taehyung stood front and center, arms crossed like a principal about to call someone out to his office. Beomgyu leaned dramatically against the counter like he was in a telenovela and Sakura, Chaewon, Kai, and Yunjin were scattered behind them, expressions ranging from poorly concealed smugness to open glee.

Yeonjun blinked. “What?”

Taehyung didn’t blink. “So. A boyfriend, huh?”

The room instantly turned into a pressure cooker of suppressed giggles and stifled snorts. Even Kai, who was usually composed, bit down a smile. Beomgyu looked like he might physically combust.

Yeonjun glanced to his far left, Soobin who had just finished up in the kitchen, had frozen halfway through untying his apron. Slowly, very slowly, he straightened and locked eyes with him like he was about to brace himself for trial.

Yeonjun sighed, wiping a hand down his face. “Is there any universe where I can say ‘no comment’ and you guys let it go til tomorrow morning?”

“Unless you tell us it was some sort of elaborate ploit to turn down that guy from before, absolutely not,” Yunjin chimed. “You lied to us. By omission. Which is arguably worse.”

“I didn’t lie on purpose, I had my reasons—”

“Then explain,” Beomgyu interrupted. “In detail.”

Taehyung raised a hand, effortlessly silencing the chaos like a judge calling a court to order. “Alright, let’s make this easy,” he said, leveling Yeonjun with a look that was more amused than stern. “Are you or are you not dating someone?”

Yeonjun paused.

His fingers found the edge of the oversized sweater he was still wearing and closed around the fabric like it might soothe him. A brush, a squeeze around something familiar, steady.

“Yeah,” he said finally, the word quiet but clear. “I am.”

That alone was enough to set off one or two gasps. But Taehyung wasn’t done.

“How long?” he asked, arms folded, eyebrows climbing.

Yeonjun hesitated just a second, then: “It’ll be a year in October.”

“A year?” Beomgyu practically choked. “I knew you were hiding something, but I thought it was just, like... emotional negligence.”

Kai’s eyes widened as he nodded slowly, assimilating the information. “I’m kinda impressed. I didn’t even suspect it at all.”

Yunjin, however, was already narrowing her eyes like a detective sniffing out a scandal. She jabbed a finger in Yeonjun’s direction. “Okay, but hold on, what about Soobin? I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That’s not workplace friendliness, that’s full-blown K-drama chemistry. Like ‘falling in love during a montage’ levels of tension.”

She gasped dramatically. “Wait. Is he the clueless third? Do we need to tell him to back off? Because for you Jun, I will fight him. Six feet of shy nerdy boy energy aren’t going to save him.”

Yeonjun held up his palms, backpedaling quickly. “No, no, no, guys, please. Nobody fight Soobin. It’s... it’s not what you think.”

Taehyung, still calm, stepped forward slightly, arm extended in front of Yunkin like a seasoned mediator. “Tell us then what it is actually,” he said, voice patient but firm. “Who’s the mystery boyfriend?”

Yeonjun hesitated. His fingers twitched at the sleeves of Soobin’s sweater still wrapped around him, and when he turned his head, Soobin was already looking at him. Ready.

No more hiding.

“The person I’m dating is…” Yeonjun began.

But Soobin beat him to the punch, stepping up in front of him, voice soft but words unambiguous.

“It’s me,” he said. “I’m the boyfriend.”

And just like that, the café detonated.

Chaos.

“What!?”

“You liars!”

“I knew it!”

“But we had a bet going on!!”

“What’s gonna happen to my twenty bucks!?”

Yeonjun ran a hand up his face, gripping at his hair like he was bracing for a typhoon. “We panicked, alright? When we first got interviewed, we thought there may be some sort of dating ban between staff, so we just… decided to keep it quiet and see how long we could get away with it.”

“We really needed the job,” he added, then glanced at his boyfriend.

Soobin continued, without missing a beat. “Yeah. We’re saving up for the last payment on our apartment since we’re almost done with college and we really needed the money.”

That did it.

“You live together?” Yunjin almost shrieked. “How did we never even notice? I’m losing my mind.”

“We’re sorry we lied,” Soobin said, ducking his head a little, his voice shier. “We really didn’t mean to hurt anyone or make it feel like we didn’t trust you. We just weren’t sure it was safe to say anything. And then the longer we waited… the harder it got.”

Yeonjun jumped back in, hands pressed together like he had been torn between surrendering and praying, and ended up choosing both. “Please don’t fire us. We didn’t mean any harm. It was just fear and… really poor decision-making.”

Taehyung let the chaos simmer for a beat longer. Finally, with arms crossed and a sigh that carried the weight of someone who'd had to witness a countless number of ordeals throughout his shifts, he spoke.

“No one is getting fired,” he said. “and I’m not mad.”

Yeonjun practically folded over the table he had been cleaning in relief, letting out a deep sigh. Beside him, Soobin exhaled all of the air he had stashed in his lungs, like behind the strong front he had been bracing himself for the worst all along.

Taehyung cracked a smile. A little one, sharp and knowing.

“Honestly? I’m not that surprised. I did believe you two at first when you told us you weren’t together. Thought we will have to deal with one of those painfully slow-burn friends-to-lovers situations.”

Yeonjun laughed softly into his hands, rendered embarrassed once again.

“But then,” Taehyung continued, now turning around as he started to walk toward the staff room, “after the third suspiciously close ‘accidental late shift’ excuse followed by you both arriving freshly showered and suspiciously smelling like you share the exact same shampoo, I put two and two together.”

“You were waiting for us to say something?” Soobin asked.

“No,” Taehyung called from inside the other room. “I was waiting for you to realize you were being a couple of idiots.”

He returned a moment later with a laminated sheet of paper in hand and held it out like a damning piece of evidence.

“There’s no dating ban. Never was. In fact, I printed this yesterday in case I needed to spell it out for you two slowpokes.” He waved the flyer in front of their faces. 

With a big, bold font at the top, it read:

“Message From Management to All Employees: 

YES, you can date. 

No, I don’t care. 

Just don’t be gross about It.”

Yeonjun snorted, pressing his forehead into the flyer before dragging a hand through his hair. They had been so fucking dumb. “So… we’re good?”

Taehyung stepped closer and clapped a firm hand on his shoulder. “We’re good,” he said with a grin. “Just don’t make out behind the pastry display. I’m too old for that kind of psychological trauma.”

Yeonjun laughed again, watching as Soobin turned a deep shade of red but tried to play it off with a straight face.

Beomgyu, meanwhile, clasped both hands over his heart and whispered like it was sacred gospel, “Our ship is canon.”

From the other corner, Yunjin raised her coffee like a toast.

One by one, the rest of the staff offered cheeky congratulations and way-too-late good wishes, still reeling from the news. Once the teasing had dwindled, and the last chairs had been stacked, the café slowly exhaled into a quiet, satisfied hum as it officially closed down for the day.

Out on the quiet street, beneath the fading glow of the café’s logo, Yeonjun leaned over, letting their shoulders brush while he subtly adjusted his pace to match Soobin’s. As if on instinct, Soobin’s hand reached up and tangled their fingers together.

“Guess we survived,” Yeonjun said quietly, his voice carrying that soft, stunned disbelief that follows the last plot twist in a film you weren’t ready for.

Soobin glanced up at him with a smile that wasn’t painted over with caution but was instead open, gentle, and more than amused. “Told you it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

Yeah, maybe it hadn’t been. It was, apparently, never going to be. 

They’d just built up a storm in their own heads, tangled themselves in worst-case scenarios that would’ve hardly come true and in the end it left them still with just them, together.

They probably should feel a little guilty for hiding it so long and being forgiven that quickly. But right now, guilt had no space to grow in Yeonjun’s bones.

Under the remaining glow of street lights overhead, he tugged Soobin to a stop mid-step, his hold around his hand tightening with a motion that felt instinctive by now.

They came to a halt, turning to face each other. Soobin’s brow lifted, a silent question in his eyes, mild confusion flickering across his features but Yeonjun knew he didn’t need an answer right away. Soobin would indulge him, the way he always did. So he just smiled, slow and sincere, all the feelings he’d held back the last few weeks in fear of exposing them at the wrong moment suddenly pouring out through the gentle curve of his lips and the warm, unspoken glint in his gaze.

There was no fear of getting something wrong this time or saying too much. No scary audience possibly watching from the shadows that shouldn’t be previewed to their lives.

It was just him. Just Soobin. Just him, his warmth and a steady squeeze from his hand that anchored them both.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Yeonjun’s mind wasn’t racing with different thoughts at all.

He was just... there. In the moment.

With Soobin’s hand in his.

“I love you,” Yeonjun said, breathless, the words slipping out before he could think of catching them.

They’d said it before, of course. A few times, even. During important moments, milestones, or special occasions that called for more care and commitment than ‘I like you’ could offer. But even after all this time, it had yet to become a habit. Each time he spoke the words, they still struck deep, his tongue weighing down by the meaning and his heart beating like a quiet drum beneath his ribs.

“I love you too,” Soobin replied easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But Yeonjun shook his head, gripping his hand tighter. “No, not like that,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. 

He inhaled deeply, chest rising and falling, as if searching for the right way to hold a feeling.

“I mean I really love you. Like… Like in a way that makes my chest physically ache when I don’t hear you laugh at least once a day.” His eyes locked with Soobin’s, steady and unwavering. “Like my body actually feels different when you're near me. Lighter. Steadier. Like only then the world itself can start to make sense.”

His thumb brushed gently over Soobin’s hand, a soft tremor showing the vulnerability beneath.

“If you ever stopped looking in my direction the way I know you always do, I’d probably forget how to exist properly.” His voice dropped then, raw and terribly sincere. “I love you in a way that makes me think gravity only works because you’re here tethering me to the ground.”

That was it. That was Yeonjun laying all his cards on the table, no longer holding anything back. There was no going any deeper than that, because in that moment, he had shed every single layer and bared his entire soul before him, exposed and whole heartedly vulnerable. Never had he been so utterly naked in front of another human being.

And Soobin stood there, silent for a moment. Taking it all in.

Then he stepped closer, reducing the little space between them until there was nothing left in the air but a single shared breath.

“I see,” he said softly, his voice low and full of everything shining.

Then, with that quiet steadiness only he possessed, he raised their joined hands and placed a kiss over Yeonjun’s knuckles.

“That’s also what I mean when I say it,” Soobin said, eyes never leaving his. “I love you, too.”

Yeonjun exhaled, heart full and overflowing.

In that instant, his mind blossomed with vivid dreams of a future. A cozy house filled with laughter and warmth, walls lined with pictures of precious moments, quiet mornings with coffee shared on a sunlit balcony. He could see children’s smiles, joyful voices mingling in playful chaos.

But that vision would have to wait, because beneath the soft, mingled gleam of streetlamps and moonlight, standing hand in hand in the middle of the quiet road, there was nothing else he needed to say.

After all, it was like the whole world already knew without doubt and without question that they belonged in each other's orbit. Fully. Unequivocally. And always.