Violet Roses (1/2)
Title: Violet Roses (1/2)
Pairing: Onho, implied!jongkey
Genre: GROSS AMOUNTS OF FLUFF, romance, au
Rating: R
Word Count: 8000
Summary: A barista finally crosses paths with the florist he's been longing after.
"Hyung," Minho beckons, tone free of emotion as he hopelessly stares downward. "C'mere."
Jonghyun complies, almost warily approaching the younger, taller boy, hands reaching behind him to secure the tie on his apron. "What is it?"
"I can't get it right," Minho states, deadpan.
Jonghyun follows his gaze, only to be met with the rather pitiful sight of a lopsided heart that swirls idly atop a latte. He frowns, exhaling stressfully.
"Minho, I told you to stick to coffee, didn't I?"
"But I wanna learn to make latte art!" he almost whines-almost. Luckily, he has enough self-control and pride to not resort to whining to his (fairly dimwitted) older friend. He would never stoop that low.
"Why?" Jonghyun asks, looking legitimately curious.
Minho's expression is impassive as his head gradually turns, probably thoughtlessly, his gaze directed on the clear, glass door opposite of him. Jonghyun cocks a brow, looking in that general direction as well.
"You don't know?" one of the workers suddenly pipes in, crossing by the two other boys while simultaneously balancing a tray on his palm and the crease of his elbow. "Minho-hyung is practically obsessed with that clumsy florist guy across the street."
Minho abruptly coughs violently, attracting some attention and causing college students to peer suspiciously over their laptops. He flushes, spinning around to face the kitchen door.
"You okay?" Jonghyun carefully inquires, rubbing a few circles over the younger's back. Minho attempts to return his breathing pattern to normal.
"I'm...yeah, I'm okay," Minho whispers, mostly to himself. His face is burning hotly, cheeks on fire and his eyes are watery from the hasty choking-fit he just experienced. He swallows thickly, frowning at the way his heartbeat is erratically rapid.
"So I guess it's true, huh?" Jonghyun says randomly, leaning over the counter. He purses his lips and looks through the glass. Minho stares at him in horror. "You really like that guy."
"Not true!" Minho disagrees.
Jonghyun gives him a sluggish, unimpressed stare. "Uh-huh."
"It's not!" Minho insists, blushing again.
"Just admit it. And by the way, Table Four is waiting, go take their order."
Minho grumbles to himself, but does as he's told, only because Jonghyun runs the place and can fire him. Not that that would happen, considering their close relationship, but it's not something to risk. Pissing him off can still cause a decline in pay checks, and that certainly isn't something Minho desires.
He takes a woman's order, trying not to appear as reluctant as he feels, then returns to the coffee machine while Jonghyun makes up the more advanced beverages. Damn him and his five years of practice.
"You wanted to learn latte art to impress him, huh?" Jonghyun asks casually, flawlessly creating an elegant whirl over a warm latte. Minho stiffens.
"I never...I never said th-"
"But it was implied," Jonghyun shrugs. "If you want, I can teach you. It's really not all that difficult."
Minho fills his freshly-made coffee with sugar and cream. "Says the guy who's been doing this since forever," he grumbles, eyes narrowing.
"Really," Jonghyun defends with a slight laugh, harmlessly smiling. "I can teach you."
Minho longingly looks out the front window, watching as the nameless florist hands a customer a bouquet, his eyes lighting up and shining with friendliness. Minho wonders how that smile looks up close. If it's this bright and gorgeous from far away, then just think of how luminous it would be right in front of him...
"Minho," Jonghyun snaps. "Table Four."
Minho brings the customer her order, thanking her for dining here. He then blankly gazes outside again, unknowingly walking forward, as if in a trance. He stops at the window, childishly pressing his face to it. Through it, he can perfectly see Smiley Florist Boy, along with his two coworkers who seem to do more talking than helping. Minho grimaces in distaste. If he were over there, he'd be helping the florist boy as much as he could, he'd seize every precious moment with him and dedicate it to making the boy smile, to making him laugh...
"Minho, your position is here, not across the room," Jonghyun calls, a note of impatience in his voice.
Minho sighs, returning behind the counter. It's not a busy day, aka, it's another day to just stare pensively across the street, regretting the decision of not becoming a florist himself.
He sighs, dropping his head into his arms.
"Just go talk to him," Jonghyun states mid-afternoon, usually when the shop is at its busiest, but today it's eerily slow. "Say hi."
Minho stares at his hyung with disbelief. "'Say hi'?" he parrots, eyes widening comically. "You can't just go up to someone with that face and say hi!"
"People do it all the time," Jonghyun utters, flipping disinterestedly through a magazine.
"I-no, hyung, no. You're not talking me into this. That's just asking for embarrassment."
"Or maybe a date with him," Jonghyun retorts, not glancing up. Minho freezes, heart stuttering.
"No," he convinces under his breath, shaking his head. "No, no, I am not going over there. I don't even know how to make latte art!"
Jonghyun shushes him when a customer shoots Minho an annoyed glimpse.
"Just make him a coffee, Minho, Christ," Jonghyun says. "You don't have to impress him with latte art or anything elaborate. After all, he's always happy. If a customer so much as looks at him, he smiles like he's won the lottery or something. So it's easy."
"Easy," Minho mouths, smoothing out his apron. "Yeah, easy. You're right." He prepares a sweet coffee, sprinkling in subtle ingredients that he believes Flower Boy will appreciate. It'll probably impress him, an overly-optimistic Minho muses.
"This is easy," Minho tells himself, determination in his eyes. "This is so easy. I'm just gonna go give this to him, out of the kindness of my heart, and he'll see what he's missing, hyung, he'll fall in love with me the moment I smile."
Jonghyun raises his brows, humming distractedly. "Go get 'em."
And so he does, out into the wilderness where hiding is no longer an option.
So. It seems that "easy" isn't quite the word Minho would use to describe the experience of entering the flower shop.
Nerve-wracking, horrific, terribly fucking bloodcurdling would be a bit more accurate.
It seems easy, as he makes his way across the semi-busy street, stylishly-decorated coffee cup in his hand, but his confidence simmers down and lessens with each step, eventually just melting altogether and becoming a thing of the past.
Oh God, Minho is actually going to talk to Flower Boy.
He's actually going to say words to him and the boy is going to respond.
Minho stops just before the doorway. Maybe it's not too late to turn back. After all, he can just play it off as a mistake, he was in deep thought and didn't pay attention to where he was walking, he took too many steps and found himself on the other side of the street by accident-
A boy from inside the shop glances up from a magazine, eyebrows lazily arching at Minho in query. Minho jolts back to reality, gulping. Well shit. Now he can't turn back.
He keeps eye contact with the blonde boy inside, for some stupid reason, before manning up and screwing it. He pulls the door open, getting hit by a gust of cool air as he enters. It feels refreshing, soothes his skin after walking through the summer's weather. Minho hopes to God he isn't sweating too badly-he imagines his anxiety is the main cause, but dear Lord he does not want to meet Flower Boy with his bangs matted to his forehead and stains under his arms. That is a nightmare.
"Hi!" a voice greets, and Minho looks up to see a brownish-haired boy grinning at him, his hair extraordinarily long and falling over his shoulders, the top layer tied behind his head. It's a rather attractive look, and if Minho hadn't been stalking the inside of their shop for the past few months, he would have thought this person was a girl. He knows he isn't, though, plus his boyish voice is sort of a giveaway anyway.
"Hello," Minho says shakily, awkwardly raising a hand to wave. His hand trembles in his peripheral and he lowers it promptly.
Flower Boy seems to be counting under his breath, brows drawn together, paying no mind to Minho. The latter doesn't mind-watching him concentrate is so adorable, in this strange way, and it has his heart fluttering, his lips coiling with fondness.
"How can we help you today?" the girlish boy asks conversationally. Minho glances at the blonde-headed kid-he's reading a magazine with a bored expression, and Minho is immediately reminded of a certain someone.
"Um. I just. I didn't really want flowers, exactly...er," he hesitates when the long-haired boy gives him an odd, confused stare. "I mean, yeah, I came for flowers, but I also wanted to..." he trails off, eyes involuntarily drifting to the figure behind the counter, the one who makes his heart ache in a strangely pleasant way on a regular basis.
Flower Boy curses softly, shaking his head and whispering numbers to himself, fingers extending one by one to tick them off.
"Um," Minho says, stepping forward.
Flower Boy quickly looks up, staggered by Minho's presence. Had he not noticed him this entire time? Is Minho really that easy to miss?
"Oh!" Flower Boy exclaims, scrambling up straight, spine tensing to make himself look more professional. "Hello! Sorry, I was just adding up sales and stuff. I accidently broke my calculator yesterday 'cause I kind of sat on it..." he fades out, eyes downcast. "In any case, I have to use my brain now, which isn't such a great idea considering I'm pretty average in math-"
"Jinki!" the blonde boy shouts suddenly, cutting him off. He eyes Flower Boy incredulously, appearing quite maddened. "He came for flowers, not a fucking biography."
Minho blinks at the foul language, but he honestly can't bring himself to care because this boy's name is Jinki.
Jinki, he thinks dreamily.
It's wonderful.
"Yah!" Jinki-oh God, is it beautiful-scolds, looking at him pointedly. "Sheesh, no need to get so angry. Anyway," he lifts his head, offering a bright, bright beam to Minho. His head is tilted up slightly due to the height difference and his eyes are shining along with his teeth and his honey-colored hair is practically glowing, looking so soft and touchable...
"I'm. I came for, uh," Minho sputters, wide-eyed. "Here," he blurts, extending his warm paper cup of coffee.
Jinki eyes it with interest, cocking his head. "What's this?"
"It's-it's c-coffee," Minho stammers, mentally punching himself in the face. He bites on his lip a moment after, and he can feel the stares of the other two boring into him, not to mention Jinki is staring at his cup, the cup that his hand is wound around-oh my God, he's looking at my hand, he's looking at my hand-
"For me?" Jinki asks, innocently looking up through his too-long bangs and Minho needs to leave now or his heart is going to burst.
"Yes," Minho puts simply, still awkwardly offering the drink.
"Oh," Jinki says, carefully using both of his hands to cradle the warm cup. Their fingers brush and Minho almost yelps in excitement. "Thank you," he smiles warmly, no teeth, eyes disappearing.
Minho falters. "It's no problem."
"But, hyung, you hate co-" Jinki elbows the long-haired boy in the gut. The latter coughs harshly and Minho sends him a sympathetic look.
"That was really thoughtful," Jinki utters, bringing the beverage to his lips and taking a sip. "You really didn't have to, though."
"I-no, I wanted to," Minho replies lamely. "I always see you working so hard over here and I-I mean, it's not like I watch you or anything so I wouldn't really know if you're working hard, but-I just assumed and..." he stops himself, rubbing at his nape.
Jinki, to his surprise, laughs. Freely and genuinely, a smile spread across his plump, soft-looking lips.
Minho can't repress the smile that slides onto his lips as well.
"So you work over there, huh? How is it? Is café-life fun?" Jinki asks sociably, tilting his head.
Minho tries not to squeal, for various reasons. "Yeah, it's okay," he admits truthfully. "I work with my best friend, so it's sort of fun, I guess."
Jinki smiles (when doesn't he, though?), gesturing to the two other boys with a nod of his head. "That bitchy one is Kibum and the cute one is Taemin," he introduces. "They're pretty much my best friends, so we started this business, but I'd say it's more like I started it, considering I do all the work around here."
"Hey," the other boys say in unison, Kibum glaring, Taemin pouting.
Minho can't help but laugh. "That just makes you a nice person, then."
He presses his lips together when he realizes what he had said. God, it's just so hard to not compliment this guy.
Jinki laughs again, luckily, but there's a bit of an edge to it. "Well thanks. But I wouldn't say I'm nice. After all, we've worked across from each other all this time and never even spoke to each other." A rather knowing smile splits his lips and he leans forward a little, setting his cup down. "That wasn't very nice of me to never introduce myself, or even come over for some coffee."
"Hyung, you can't stand c-"
Jinki jabs Taemin and the other boy screams, falling off of his stool. Minho blinks.
"Um, it's okay, really," Minho chuckles, nervously, shrugging a little. "I know you're probably busy and all." He pauses. "I didn't just come to give you that, though. I came for some flowers, but I thought, you know, while I was here." He flushes in the slightest, directing his gaze to the healthy bunches of flowers with lengthy stems that stick out in different places around the counter, acting as décor.
"Oh?" Jinki says, interested. "What exactly were you looking for?"
"Um," Minho breathes. "I'm not exactly sure...I just needed something to-I don't know, decorate the café, I guess," he lies smoothly. "It's sort of ugly in there, and Jonghyun-hyung's been asking for a newer look."
"Ah," Jinki nods thoughtfully. "I have just the thing," he smiles.
He turns and gathers up a batch of flowers that Minho can't exactly see. He sees a flash of a stem, a leaf, and then Jinki spins around speedily with a grin, narrowly close to tripping. He catches himself last minute, though, and Minho withdraws his hands that had instinctively shot out.
"Violet roses," Jinki declares, offering the flowers. "They're perfect for the interior of the café."
Minho feels a little dizzy, as seeing Jinki hold that bouquet of purple flowers is perhaps the most attractive thing in the world, in the weirdest of ways. It suits him, for some reason.
"Thank you," Minho says a bit breathlessly, paying for the other boy's personal choice without a second thought.
"This is a little much, sir," Jinki mumbles, staring in awe at the amount Minho had absently slapped down.
"Keep the change," Minho tries to be charming, but his voice weakens and it sort of kills the attempt.
"Wow, thank you," Jinki grins.
"Yeah," Minho responds vacantly, a bit buzzed from Jinki's perfection. He turns to leave.
"Sir?"
His blood warms as he looks over his shoulder.
"I didn't get your name," Jinki murmurs, polite smile on his lips.
Minho's insides melt a little. "Minho," he provides unevenly.
"Minho," Jinki tests, and okay Minho has to leave now or he's going to die.
Still though, somewhere in the back of his mind, Jonghyun is nagging at him to take the risk, to just wing it...
"Um, hey," Minho says slowly. Jinki acknowledges him.
"I...here, take this," he mutters, reaching into his pocket and pulling out something to write on (and of course, he only has a gum wrapper, embarrassingly enough). He levels the inside of the wrapper out over the counter, fishing in his pocket again for a pen. He messily scribbles down his phone number, and it's sort of hard with his hand wobbling so violently, but he manages, somehow, to produce at least half-legible scrawl.
Jinki looks at the wrapper peculiarly when it is handed to him. "What's..."
"Call me sometime," Minho murmurs, throat swelling heatedly. "I...I'd like it if we could maybe hang out."
Jinki actually blushes, and Minho feels this surge of confidence and possessiveness course his veins; like he doesn't want Jinki to have that reaction to anyone else besides him.
"I...okay," Jinki finally breathes, and Minho chews on his lip, attempting to ignore Jinki's dumbfounded friends before he stumbles across the road again.
Minho ends up working late that day, only because he needs something to occupy his thoughts and redirect his future actions. He decides that being across the street from Jinki is just too much, that the mere thought of that man sends his heart into a stumbling mess. And that is something he does not want (so he's told himself), so he chooses to ignore him for the remainder of the evening, busying himself with redundant errands.
It's not quite as easy as it looks, Minho comes to find. His head automatically turns to steal glances out the window, but he's good about self-control, for the most part, so he catches himself and reminds his body to return to work, to not let any distractions get in the way.
It serves as more of a stress buildup than predicted, to his utter misfortune, and Minho leaves the café feeling empty and lost, to an extent, as if something is missing. Minho knows exactly what something is, but he ignores that little detail.
"Close up for me, yeah?" Jonghyun says as he tosses Minho the keys to the restaurant, and the younger boy knows declining isn't exactly an alternative. He gives a faint nod, and Jonghyun insists he cheer up (for what, the fourth time today?) before taking his leave.
Minho closes the café for the night, not exactly averse, but not ecstatic about the whole ordeal, either. He's been neutral for perhaps the entire day, his mood eerily bland as he worked. He didn't bother fighting a smile to his lips when met with customers, nor was he rude. It was...weird. Unsettling. Very uncharacteristic.
Jonghyun had informed him of this, but Minho can't change his ways...He's sort of messed up at the moment.
He begins his walk home; it's only a short distance from the café, fortunately, so he arrives at his apartment in a matter of perhaps seven minutes. The night is humid and slightly sticky, but it's nice. The cool rain drizzles a perfect amount from the sky, relaxing Minho's overworked bones and allowing a half-smile to slip to his lips. He's thankful for the weather. It's rather uplifting, which is exactly what he needs right now.
It's late, probably almost eleven by the time Minho reaches his flat. He travels upstairs with the little amount of energy that's left in his system, and hell is it little, before swinging open the door that leads to the balcony. He steps onto it, but stops short and feels his feet turn to lead a second later.
Jinki is standing there at the apartment beside his, a key halfway into the keyhole, frozen solid, his round eyes concentrated on Minho and oh my God he's wearing glasses.
Minho blinks hastily. "Um-"
"Minho-yah!" Jinki exclaims, face lighting conspicuously. One of Minho's knees locks up uncomfortably.
"You live here?" Jinki asks promptly, turning and leaning on what Minho assumes is his door (honestly, what are the fucking odds...), welcoming smile on his lips.
Minho stares for perhaps a second too long before responding. "Oh, uh-yeah, I do. Right next to you, actually, I'm 108."
"Oh," Jinki mouths, looking thoroughly involved.
Minho feels a tad awkward and clenches and unclenches his fists unnervingly. "Um. So, you're new here, I guess? I've never seen you around."
"I moved in a few months ago, actually."
"Months?" Minho gapes. How did he not know?!
"Yeah," Jinki smiles softly, a shade of mischief in his eyes. For some reason, detecting such a thing causes Minho to suddenly feel insecure, as if he's being internally searched, his darkest secrets on display for all to see.
"I come back this late every night since I stick around the shop longer than necessary. I'm guessing we have different schedules, so we just never had the privilege of running into each other."
Minho can swear he's floating away. Privilege, he said.
"Yeah, I guess not..." Minho murmurs, failing to hold up his gaze. Staring into that smiling face is just too much, damn it!
"So you worked late tonight, I guess?" Jinki sparks up another conversation, and Minho has the slight urge to ask him to just shut up because Lord knows he's not escaping this one without humiliating himself.
"Yeah. Hyung asked me to lock up for him, so...yeah," he explains lamely, flushing afterward.
Jinki nods thoughtfully. "Hyung," he mouths. "Is 'hyung' that little stubby guy you work for? Your best friend, you said?"
Minho actually laughs, authentic. "Yeah."
"He doesn't look like the hyung," Jinki observes, lips pursing.
Minho has the strong urge to kiss him.
Oh God, don't think that, not right now, dumbass. Stop looking at his mouth, his eyes, his eyes, Minho-wait, no, his eyes are too goddamn bright-
"Yeah he's...you know, really short and stuff, so..." Minho wants to crawl into a hole and die.
Jinki laughs. "Yeah," he agrees.
Minho swallows.
"You must be pretty young then, huh?" Does he ever stop?! "How old?"
"Twenty," Minho mumbles.
"Wow, twenty-three," Jinki counters, looking all-too pleased with himself.
The age difference lights a flame somewhere in Minho, most likely near the competitive side, and he quirks a brow. "Being older doesn't make you better."
Jinki chuckles. "That it doesn't," he concurs. "But it comes in use sometimes, hm?" and it almost looks like he's challenging him.
Minho stands his ground, mostly because his legs have been reduced to jelly and he's pretty sure he'll topple over if he tries to move. "I'm a legal adult now anyway, so no," he states stubbornly, unconsciously pouting.
Jinki laughs for the nth time that night, pushing his weight onto his door, and unexpectedly falls when it swings open. Minho's façade sweeps of all disdain and his eyes broaden.
"Hyung? Are you all right?"
Jinki lifts himself to his elbows, eyes crinkled, glasses crooked. "You called me 'hyung'."
If Minho isn't falling in love in that very moment, then he isn't sure how to explain the swelling sensation inside of him.
"Well...yeah, you're older and I mean...I," he shuts himself up briskly, reflexively extending a hand to help the elder up. Jinki graciously takes his offered aid, hand clasping firmly around Minho's. His hands are warm, so, so warm.
Minho inattentively helps the other boy to his feet, world a little muddled around the edges due to the slight contact he and Jinki had just shared.
"Well, I better…"
Minho snaps from his trance. "Oh, yeah."
"I'll, uh. On my next free day, I'll call you," Jinki says, atypically shy, eyes focused on his feet. Minho's breath hitches for a moment.
"Yeah...yeah, that'd be cool."
"Cool."
Then they go to their respective apartments, and Minho has to physically resist the urge to burst through the wall and squeeze Jinki till he faints.
During the next day, Minho is more or less a giddy schoolgirl because one: Jinki agreed to date him sometime in the (hopefully near) future, and two: the object of his affection lives right beside him, which, all things considered, causes Minho to have trouble sleeping at night, but mostly just because he's inevitably scatterbrained (in a good way).
Jonghyun decidedly picks up on his attitude but apparently doesn't choose to comment on it; why, Minho isn't sure, but hell if he cares when Jinki is just across the street, working hard and grinning at each customer that he comes in contact with, cheery mind-set contagious.
On his lunch break, Minho gleefully scoots into a booth, mouth watering at the sandwich he had prepared. Really, half the reason he works at the café is for the lunch...the bread is just so good.
His phone unexpectedly vibrates against his thigh and Minho questioningly draws the device from his pocket. He doesn't recognize the caller ID, but chooses to answer anyway, simply because it may be important.
"Hello?" he says, tearing off a large bite from his sandwich.
"Hi, Minho-yah!"
Minho swears he almost spits his chewed food right back up on the table.
He swallows hastily, choking a little in the process and he has to pound at his chest just a few times to get his frail voice to return to normal. "Hyung?" he squawks.
"Whoa, sorry, didn't mean to make you choke on your sandwich," Jinki jokes, chuckling a little. Minho is about to ask how Jinki knows, but he lifts his head instead, and sure enough, the older boy is across the street in his own personals shop, leaning against the windowpane, a smile on his lips.
Minho is suddenly glad he chose the booth right next to the front.
He smiles hesitantly. "Hi."
"Hi," Jinki returns, and the sound is delayed through the phone, his lips mouthing the word before it even reaches the younger’s ears.
"Any reason you decided to bother me on my one and only break?" Minho teases, unsure of where his sudden confidence even came from.
"Just wanted to say hello," Jinki says, sounding and looking very sure of himself, and Minho stifles a smile.
"So, um," Jinki's smile fades. "I'm free tomorrow. Well, I work in the early morning, but after that..."
"Oh yeah?" Minho asks, smug because he can, sipping his nearby cola a bit obnoxiously.
"Yeah," Jinki says, voice far-off. "I...we could...get some coffee or something."
"Yeah?" Minho's features soften, smile effortlessly tugging at his lips. "Not here, though, right? I've had enough of Jonghyun teasing me about this already." His eyes widen when he realizes he just implied that he is utterly obvious when stalking Jinki, and he coughs shortly after. "I mean, he'd be bothering us the whole time and stuff, you know."
Jinki laughs, and Minho's heart trips. "Yeah, I know. There's a café downtown, anyway, we'll just go there."
"Yeah," Minho says, feeling that his vocabulary is quite repetitive when it comes to speaking with Jinki.
"So..." Jinki seems painfully awkward. Minho isn't any better.
“So…I’ll pick you up? Tomorrow? At…when do you get off?”
“Uh, noon is fine. Kibum and Taemin will be able to hold up while I’m gone.”
“Okay,” Minho nods, “tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow,” Jinki echoes, smiling vibrantly. Minho’s stomach stirs achingly, knowing that this is goodbye.
“Bye, hyung.”
“Bye, Minho.”
Minho swears he’ll never get used to that. He punches the red button and punctually spins in his seat, flashing Jonghyun a lewd grin. The latter tilts a brow.
“Tomorrow,” Minho mouths giddily.
Jonghyun only rolls his eyes, flipping a page of his magazine.
next.
Pairing: Onho, implied!jongkey
Genre: GROSS AMOUNTS OF FLUFF, romance, au
Rating: R
Word Count: 8000
Summary: A barista finally crosses paths with the florist he's been longing after.
"Hyung," Minho beckons, tone free of emotion as he hopelessly stares downward. "C'mere."
Jonghyun complies, almost warily approaching the younger, taller boy, hands reaching behind him to secure the tie on his apron. "What is it?"
"I can't get it right," Minho states, deadpan.
Jonghyun follows his gaze, only to be met with the rather pitiful sight of a lopsided heart that swirls idly atop a latte. He frowns, exhaling stressfully.
"Minho, I told you to stick to coffee, didn't I?"
"But I wanna learn to make latte art!" he almost whines-almost. Luckily, he has enough self-control and pride to not resort to whining to his (fairly dimwitted) older friend. He would never stoop that low.
"Why?" Jonghyun asks, looking legitimately curious.
Minho's expression is impassive as his head gradually turns, probably thoughtlessly, his gaze directed on the clear, glass door opposite of him. Jonghyun cocks a brow, looking in that general direction as well.
"You don't know?" one of the workers suddenly pipes in, crossing by the two other boys while simultaneously balancing a tray on his palm and the crease of his elbow. "Minho-hyung is practically obsessed with that clumsy florist guy across the street."
Minho abruptly coughs violently, attracting some attention and causing college students to peer suspiciously over their laptops. He flushes, spinning around to face the kitchen door.
"You okay?" Jonghyun carefully inquires, rubbing a few circles over the younger's back. Minho attempts to return his breathing pattern to normal.
"I'm...yeah, I'm okay," Minho whispers, mostly to himself. His face is burning hotly, cheeks on fire and his eyes are watery from the hasty choking-fit he just experienced. He swallows thickly, frowning at the way his heartbeat is erratically rapid.
"So I guess it's true, huh?" Jonghyun says randomly, leaning over the counter. He purses his lips and looks through the glass. Minho stares at him in horror. "You really like that guy."
"Not true!" Minho disagrees.
Jonghyun gives him a sluggish, unimpressed stare. "Uh-huh."
"It's not!" Minho insists, blushing again.
"Just admit it. And by the way, Table Four is waiting, go take their order."
Minho grumbles to himself, but does as he's told, only because Jonghyun runs the place and can fire him. Not that that would happen, considering their close relationship, but it's not something to risk. Pissing him off can still cause a decline in pay checks, and that certainly isn't something Minho desires.
He takes a woman's order, trying not to appear as reluctant as he feels, then returns to the coffee machine while Jonghyun makes up the more advanced beverages. Damn him and his five years of practice.
"You wanted to learn latte art to impress him, huh?" Jonghyun asks casually, flawlessly creating an elegant whirl over a warm latte. Minho stiffens.
"I never...I never said th-"
"But it was implied," Jonghyun shrugs. "If you want, I can teach you. It's really not all that difficult."
Minho fills his freshly-made coffee with sugar and cream. "Says the guy who's been doing this since forever," he grumbles, eyes narrowing.
"Really," Jonghyun defends with a slight laugh, harmlessly smiling. "I can teach you."
Minho longingly looks out the front window, watching as the nameless florist hands a customer a bouquet, his eyes lighting up and shining with friendliness. Minho wonders how that smile looks up close. If it's this bright and gorgeous from far away, then just think of how luminous it would be right in front of him...
"Minho," Jonghyun snaps. "Table Four."
Minho brings the customer her order, thanking her for dining here. He then blankly gazes outside again, unknowingly walking forward, as if in a trance. He stops at the window, childishly pressing his face to it. Through it, he can perfectly see Smiley Florist Boy, along with his two coworkers who seem to do more talking than helping. Minho grimaces in distaste. If he were over there, he'd be helping the florist boy as much as he could, he'd seize every precious moment with him and dedicate it to making the boy smile, to making him laugh...
"Minho, your position is here, not across the room," Jonghyun calls, a note of impatience in his voice.
Minho sighs, returning behind the counter. It's not a busy day, aka, it's another day to just stare pensively across the street, regretting the decision of not becoming a florist himself.
He sighs, dropping his head into his arms.
"Just go talk to him," Jonghyun states mid-afternoon, usually when the shop is at its busiest, but today it's eerily slow. "Say hi."
Minho stares at his hyung with disbelief. "'Say hi'?" he parrots, eyes widening comically. "You can't just go up to someone with that face and say hi!"
"People do it all the time," Jonghyun utters, flipping disinterestedly through a magazine.
"I-no, hyung, no. You're not talking me into this. That's just asking for embarrassment."
"Or maybe a date with him," Jonghyun retorts, not glancing up. Minho freezes, heart stuttering.
"No," he convinces under his breath, shaking his head. "No, no, I am not going over there. I don't even know how to make latte art!"
Jonghyun shushes him when a customer shoots Minho an annoyed glimpse.
"Just make him a coffee, Minho, Christ," Jonghyun says. "You don't have to impress him with latte art or anything elaborate. After all, he's always happy. If a customer so much as looks at him, he smiles like he's won the lottery or something. So it's easy."
"Easy," Minho mouths, smoothing out his apron. "Yeah, easy. You're right." He prepares a sweet coffee, sprinkling in subtle ingredients that he believes Flower Boy will appreciate. It'll probably impress him, an overly-optimistic Minho muses.
"This is easy," Minho tells himself, determination in his eyes. "This is so easy. I'm just gonna go give this to him, out of the kindness of my heart, and he'll see what he's missing, hyung, he'll fall in love with me the moment I smile."
Jonghyun raises his brows, humming distractedly. "Go get 'em."
And so he does, out into the wilderness where hiding is no longer an option.
So. It seems that "easy" isn't quite the word Minho would use to describe the experience of entering the flower shop.
Nerve-wracking, horrific, terribly fucking bloodcurdling would be a bit more accurate.
It seems easy, as he makes his way across the semi-busy street, stylishly-decorated coffee cup in his hand, but his confidence simmers down and lessens with each step, eventually just melting altogether and becoming a thing of the past.
Oh God, Minho is actually going to talk to Flower Boy.
He's actually going to say words to him and the boy is going to respond.
Minho stops just before the doorway. Maybe it's not too late to turn back. After all, he can just play it off as a mistake, he was in deep thought and didn't pay attention to where he was walking, he took too many steps and found himself on the other side of the street by accident-
A boy from inside the shop glances up from a magazine, eyebrows lazily arching at Minho in query. Minho jolts back to reality, gulping. Well shit. Now he can't turn back.
He keeps eye contact with the blonde boy inside, for some stupid reason, before manning up and screwing it. He pulls the door open, getting hit by a gust of cool air as he enters. It feels refreshing, soothes his skin after walking through the summer's weather. Minho hopes to God he isn't sweating too badly-he imagines his anxiety is the main cause, but dear Lord he does not want to meet Flower Boy with his bangs matted to his forehead and stains under his arms. That is a nightmare.
"Hi!" a voice greets, and Minho looks up to see a brownish-haired boy grinning at him, his hair extraordinarily long and falling over his shoulders, the top layer tied behind his head. It's a rather attractive look, and if Minho hadn't been stalking the inside of their shop for the past few months, he would have thought this person was a girl. He knows he isn't, though, plus his boyish voice is sort of a giveaway anyway.
"Hello," Minho says shakily, awkwardly raising a hand to wave. His hand trembles in his peripheral and he lowers it promptly.
Flower Boy seems to be counting under his breath, brows drawn together, paying no mind to Minho. The latter doesn't mind-watching him concentrate is so adorable, in this strange way, and it has his heart fluttering, his lips coiling with fondness.
"How can we help you today?" the girlish boy asks conversationally. Minho glances at the blonde-headed kid-he's reading a magazine with a bored expression, and Minho is immediately reminded of a certain someone.
"Um. I just. I didn't really want flowers, exactly...er," he hesitates when the long-haired boy gives him an odd, confused stare. "I mean, yeah, I came for flowers, but I also wanted to..." he trails off, eyes involuntarily drifting to the figure behind the counter, the one who makes his heart ache in a strangely pleasant way on a regular basis.
Flower Boy curses softly, shaking his head and whispering numbers to himself, fingers extending one by one to tick them off.
"Um," Minho says, stepping forward.
Flower Boy quickly looks up, staggered by Minho's presence. Had he not noticed him this entire time? Is Minho really that easy to miss?
"Oh!" Flower Boy exclaims, scrambling up straight, spine tensing to make himself look more professional. "Hello! Sorry, I was just adding up sales and stuff. I accidently broke my calculator yesterday 'cause I kind of sat on it..." he fades out, eyes downcast. "In any case, I have to use my brain now, which isn't such a great idea considering I'm pretty average in math-"
"Jinki!" the blonde boy shouts suddenly, cutting him off. He eyes Flower Boy incredulously, appearing quite maddened. "He came for flowers, not a fucking biography."
Minho blinks at the foul language, but he honestly can't bring himself to care because this boy's name is Jinki.
Jinki, he thinks dreamily.
It's wonderful.
"Yah!" Jinki-oh God, is it beautiful-scolds, looking at him pointedly. "Sheesh, no need to get so angry. Anyway," he lifts his head, offering a bright, bright beam to Minho. His head is tilted up slightly due to the height difference and his eyes are shining along with his teeth and his honey-colored hair is practically glowing, looking so soft and touchable...
"I'm. I came for, uh," Minho sputters, wide-eyed. "Here," he blurts, extending his warm paper cup of coffee.
Jinki eyes it with interest, cocking his head. "What's this?"
"It's-it's c-coffee," Minho stammers, mentally punching himself in the face. He bites on his lip a moment after, and he can feel the stares of the other two boring into him, not to mention Jinki is staring at his cup, the cup that his hand is wound around-oh my God, he's looking at my hand, he's looking at my hand-
"For me?" Jinki asks, innocently looking up through his too-long bangs and Minho needs to leave now or his heart is going to burst.
"Yes," Minho puts simply, still awkwardly offering the drink.
"Oh," Jinki says, carefully using both of his hands to cradle the warm cup. Their fingers brush and Minho almost yelps in excitement. "Thank you," he smiles warmly, no teeth, eyes disappearing.
Minho falters. "It's no problem."
"But, hyung, you hate co-" Jinki elbows the long-haired boy in the gut. The latter coughs harshly and Minho sends him a sympathetic look.
"That was really thoughtful," Jinki utters, bringing the beverage to his lips and taking a sip. "You really didn't have to, though."
"I-no, I wanted to," Minho replies lamely. "I always see you working so hard over here and I-I mean, it's not like I watch you or anything so I wouldn't really know if you're working hard, but-I just assumed and..." he stops himself, rubbing at his nape.
Jinki, to his surprise, laughs. Freely and genuinely, a smile spread across his plump, soft-looking lips.
Minho can't repress the smile that slides onto his lips as well.
"So you work over there, huh? How is it? Is café-life fun?" Jinki asks sociably, tilting his head.
Minho tries not to squeal, for various reasons. "Yeah, it's okay," he admits truthfully. "I work with my best friend, so it's sort of fun, I guess."
Jinki smiles (when doesn't he, though?), gesturing to the two other boys with a nod of his head. "That bitchy one is Kibum and the cute one is Taemin," he introduces. "They're pretty much my best friends, so we started this business, but I'd say it's more like I started it, considering I do all the work around here."
"Hey," the other boys say in unison, Kibum glaring, Taemin pouting.
Minho can't help but laugh. "That just makes you a nice person, then."
He presses his lips together when he realizes what he had said. God, it's just so hard to not compliment this guy.
Jinki laughs again, luckily, but there's a bit of an edge to it. "Well thanks. But I wouldn't say I'm nice. After all, we've worked across from each other all this time and never even spoke to each other." A rather knowing smile splits his lips and he leans forward a little, setting his cup down. "That wasn't very nice of me to never introduce myself, or even come over for some coffee."
"Hyung, you can't stand c-"
Jinki jabs Taemin and the other boy screams, falling off of his stool. Minho blinks.
"Um, it's okay, really," Minho chuckles, nervously, shrugging a little. "I know you're probably busy and all." He pauses. "I didn't just come to give you that, though. I came for some flowers, but I thought, you know, while I was here." He flushes in the slightest, directing his gaze to the healthy bunches of flowers with lengthy stems that stick out in different places around the counter, acting as décor.
"Oh?" Jinki says, interested. "What exactly were you looking for?"
"Um," Minho breathes. "I'm not exactly sure...I just needed something to-I don't know, decorate the café, I guess," he lies smoothly. "It's sort of ugly in there, and Jonghyun-hyung's been asking for a newer look."
"Ah," Jinki nods thoughtfully. "I have just the thing," he smiles.
He turns and gathers up a batch of flowers that Minho can't exactly see. He sees a flash of a stem, a leaf, and then Jinki spins around speedily with a grin, narrowly close to tripping. He catches himself last minute, though, and Minho withdraws his hands that had instinctively shot out.
"Violet roses," Jinki declares, offering the flowers. "They're perfect for the interior of the café."
Minho feels a little dizzy, as seeing Jinki hold that bouquet of purple flowers is perhaps the most attractive thing in the world, in the weirdest of ways. It suits him, for some reason.
"Thank you," Minho says a bit breathlessly, paying for the other boy's personal choice without a second thought.
"This is a little much, sir," Jinki mumbles, staring in awe at the amount Minho had absently slapped down.
"Keep the change," Minho tries to be charming, but his voice weakens and it sort of kills the attempt.
"Wow, thank you," Jinki grins.
"Yeah," Minho responds vacantly, a bit buzzed from Jinki's perfection. He turns to leave.
"Sir?"
His blood warms as he looks over his shoulder.
"I didn't get your name," Jinki murmurs, polite smile on his lips.
Minho's insides melt a little. "Minho," he provides unevenly.
"Minho," Jinki tests, and okay Minho has to leave now or he's going to die.
Still though, somewhere in the back of his mind, Jonghyun is nagging at him to take the risk, to just wing it...
"Um, hey," Minho says slowly. Jinki acknowledges him.
"I...here, take this," he mutters, reaching into his pocket and pulling out something to write on (and of course, he only has a gum wrapper, embarrassingly enough). He levels the inside of the wrapper out over the counter, fishing in his pocket again for a pen. He messily scribbles down his phone number, and it's sort of hard with his hand wobbling so violently, but he manages, somehow, to produce at least half-legible scrawl.
Jinki looks at the wrapper peculiarly when it is handed to him. "What's..."
"Call me sometime," Minho murmurs, throat swelling heatedly. "I...I'd like it if we could maybe hang out."
Jinki actually blushes, and Minho feels this surge of confidence and possessiveness course his veins; like he doesn't want Jinki to have that reaction to anyone else besides him.
"I...okay," Jinki finally breathes, and Minho chews on his lip, attempting to ignore Jinki's dumbfounded friends before he stumbles across the road again.
Minho ends up working late that day, only because he needs something to occupy his thoughts and redirect his future actions. He decides that being across the street from Jinki is just too much, that the mere thought of that man sends his heart into a stumbling mess. And that is something he does not want (so he's told himself), so he chooses to ignore him for the remainder of the evening, busying himself with redundant errands.
It's not quite as easy as it looks, Minho comes to find. His head automatically turns to steal glances out the window, but he's good about self-control, for the most part, so he catches himself and reminds his body to return to work, to not let any distractions get in the way.
It serves as more of a stress buildup than predicted, to his utter misfortune, and Minho leaves the café feeling empty and lost, to an extent, as if something is missing. Minho knows exactly what something is, but he ignores that little detail.
"Close up for me, yeah?" Jonghyun says as he tosses Minho the keys to the restaurant, and the younger boy knows declining isn't exactly an alternative. He gives a faint nod, and Jonghyun insists he cheer up (for what, the fourth time today?) before taking his leave.
Minho closes the café for the night, not exactly averse, but not ecstatic about the whole ordeal, either. He's been neutral for perhaps the entire day, his mood eerily bland as he worked. He didn't bother fighting a smile to his lips when met with customers, nor was he rude. It was...weird. Unsettling. Very uncharacteristic.
Jonghyun had informed him of this, but Minho can't change his ways...He's sort of messed up at the moment.
He begins his walk home; it's only a short distance from the café, fortunately, so he arrives at his apartment in a matter of perhaps seven minutes. The night is humid and slightly sticky, but it's nice. The cool rain drizzles a perfect amount from the sky, relaxing Minho's overworked bones and allowing a half-smile to slip to his lips. He's thankful for the weather. It's rather uplifting, which is exactly what he needs right now.
It's late, probably almost eleven by the time Minho reaches his flat. He travels upstairs with the little amount of energy that's left in his system, and hell is it little, before swinging open the door that leads to the balcony. He steps onto it, but stops short and feels his feet turn to lead a second later.
Jinki is standing there at the apartment beside his, a key halfway into the keyhole, frozen solid, his round eyes concentrated on Minho and oh my God he's wearing glasses.
Minho blinks hastily. "Um-"
"Minho-yah!" Jinki exclaims, face lighting conspicuously. One of Minho's knees locks up uncomfortably.
"You live here?" Jinki asks promptly, turning and leaning on what Minho assumes is his door (honestly, what are the fucking odds...), welcoming smile on his lips.
Minho stares for perhaps a second too long before responding. "Oh, uh-yeah, I do. Right next to you, actually, I'm 108."
"Oh," Jinki mouths, looking thoroughly involved.
Minho feels a tad awkward and clenches and unclenches his fists unnervingly. "Um. So, you're new here, I guess? I've never seen you around."
"I moved in a few months ago, actually."
"Months?" Minho gapes. How did he not know?!
"Yeah," Jinki smiles softly, a shade of mischief in his eyes. For some reason, detecting such a thing causes Minho to suddenly feel insecure, as if he's being internally searched, his darkest secrets on display for all to see.
"I come back this late every night since I stick around the shop longer than necessary. I'm guessing we have different schedules, so we just never had the privilege of running into each other."
Minho can swear he's floating away. Privilege, he said.
"Yeah, I guess not..." Minho murmurs, failing to hold up his gaze. Staring into that smiling face is just too much, damn it!
"So you worked late tonight, I guess?" Jinki sparks up another conversation, and Minho has the slight urge to ask him to just shut up because Lord knows he's not escaping this one without humiliating himself.
"Yeah. Hyung asked me to lock up for him, so...yeah," he explains lamely, flushing afterward.
Jinki nods thoughtfully. "Hyung," he mouths. "Is 'hyung' that little stubby guy you work for? Your best friend, you said?"
Minho actually laughs, authentic. "Yeah."
"He doesn't look like the hyung," Jinki observes, lips pursing.
Minho has the strong urge to kiss him.
Oh God, don't think that, not right now, dumbass. Stop looking at his mouth, his eyes, his eyes, Minho-wait, no, his eyes are too goddamn bright-
"Yeah he's...you know, really short and stuff, so..." Minho wants to crawl into a hole and die.
Jinki laughs. "Yeah," he agrees.
Minho swallows.
"You must be pretty young then, huh?" Does he ever stop?! "How old?"
"Twenty," Minho mumbles.
"Wow, twenty-three," Jinki counters, looking all-too pleased with himself.
The age difference lights a flame somewhere in Minho, most likely near the competitive side, and he quirks a brow. "Being older doesn't make you better."
Jinki chuckles. "That it doesn't," he concurs. "But it comes in use sometimes, hm?" and it almost looks like he's challenging him.
Minho stands his ground, mostly because his legs have been reduced to jelly and he's pretty sure he'll topple over if he tries to move. "I'm a legal adult now anyway, so no," he states stubbornly, unconsciously pouting.
Jinki laughs for the nth time that night, pushing his weight onto his door, and unexpectedly falls when it swings open. Minho's façade sweeps of all disdain and his eyes broaden.
"Hyung? Are you all right?"
Jinki lifts himself to his elbows, eyes crinkled, glasses crooked. "You called me 'hyung'."
If Minho isn't falling in love in that very moment, then he isn't sure how to explain the swelling sensation inside of him.
"Well...yeah, you're older and I mean...I," he shuts himself up briskly, reflexively extending a hand to help the elder up. Jinki graciously takes his offered aid, hand clasping firmly around Minho's. His hands are warm, so, so warm.
Minho inattentively helps the other boy to his feet, world a little muddled around the edges due to the slight contact he and Jinki had just shared.
"Well, I better…"
Minho snaps from his trance. "Oh, yeah."
"I'll, uh. On my next free day, I'll call you," Jinki says, atypically shy, eyes focused on his feet. Minho's breath hitches for a moment.
"Yeah...yeah, that'd be cool."
"Cool."
Then they go to their respective apartments, and Minho has to physically resist the urge to burst through the wall and squeeze Jinki till he faints.
During the next day, Minho is more or less a giddy schoolgirl because one: Jinki agreed to date him sometime in the (hopefully near) future, and two: the object of his affection lives right beside him, which, all things considered, causes Minho to have trouble sleeping at night, but mostly just because he's inevitably scatterbrained (in a good way).
Jonghyun decidedly picks up on his attitude but apparently doesn't choose to comment on it; why, Minho isn't sure, but hell if he cares when Jinki is just across the street, working hard and grinning at each customer that he comes in contact with, cheery mind-set contagious.
On his lunch break, Minho gleefully scoots into a booth, mouth watering at the sandwich he had prepared. Really, half the reason he works at the café is for the lunch...the bread is just so good.
His phone unexpectedly vibrates against his thigh and Minho questioningly draws the device from his pocket. He doesn't recognize the caller ID, but chooses to answer anyway, simply because it may be important.
"Hello?" he says, tearing off a large bite from his sandwich.
"Hi, Minho-yah!"
Minho swears he almost spits his chewed food right back up on the table.
He swallows hastily, choking a little in the process and he has to pound at his chest just a few times to get his frail voice to return to normal. "Hyung?" he squawks.
"Whoa, sorry, didn't mean to make you choke on your sandwich," Jinki jokes, chuckling a little. Minho is about to ask how Jinki knows, but he lifts his head instead, and sure enough, the older boy is across the street in his own personals shop, leaning against the windowpane, a smile on his lips.
Minho is suddenly glad he chose the booth right next to the front.
He smiles hesitantly. "Hi."
"Hi," Jinki returns, and the sound is delayed through the phone, his lips mouthing the word before it even reaches the younger’s ears.
"Any reason you decided to bother me on my one and only break?" Minho teases, unsure of where his sudden confidence even came from.
"Just wanted to say hello," Jinki says, sounding and looking very sure of himself, and Minho stifles a smile.
"So, um," Jinki's smile fades. "I'm free tomorrow. Well, I work in the early morning, but after that..."
"Oh yeah?" Minho asks, smug because he can, sipping his nearby cola a bit obnoxiously.
"Yeah," Jinki says, voice far-off. "I...we could...get some coffee or something."
"Yeah?" Minho's features soften, smile effortlessly tugging at his lips. "Not here, though, right? I've had enough of Jonghyun teasing me about this already." His eyes widen when he realizes he just implied that he is utterly obvious when stalking Jinki, and he coughs shortly after. "I mean, he'd be bothering us the whole time and stuff, you know."
Jinki laughs, and Minho's heart trips. "Yeah, I know. There's a café downtown, anyway, we'll just go there."
"Yeah," Minho says, feeling that his vocabulary is quite repetitive when it comes to speaking with Jinki.
"So..." Jinki seems painfully awkward. Minho isn't any better.
“So…I’ll pick you up? Tomorrow? At…when do you get off?”
“Uh, noon is fine. Kibum and Taemin will be able to hold up while I’m gone.”
“Okay,” Minho nods, “tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow,” Jinki echoes, smiling vibrantly. Minho’s stomach stirs achingly, knowing that this is goodbye.
“Bye, hyung.”
“Bye, Minho.”
Minho swears he’ll never get used to that. He punches the red button and punctually spins in his seat, flashing Jonghyun a lewd grin. The latter tilts a brow.
“Tomorrow,” Minho mouths giddily.
Jonghyun only rolls his eyes, flipping a page of his magazine.
next.