Chapter Text
“Excuse me?”
Kim Seokjin jumped. He’d deny it later, but he did flinch, because the soft, high voice came from the other side of the counter, which he’d sworn had been empty a second before. He looked up, and then down a little, at the lithe young man he only knew as Book Guy—and only that because of Seokjin’s baristas’ lack of imagination.
“Yes?” Seokjin said. “How can I help you?”
Book Guy blinked and then pointed at something on the blackboard behind Seokjin.
“Which—um,” he said, his Korean halting as always. “Egg toast,” he said carefully. “What is that?”
“It’s…an egg sandwich?” Seokjin said. Book Guy bit his lip and combed a hand through his hair with something like desperation.
“What, um, what is—inside it?” he asked.
“Oh,” Seokjin said. “Yeah. It’s, um—egg, ham, cabbage, ketchup. That sort of thing.”
Book Guy pursed his thick, full lips. “Is it—delicious?”
“Of course!” Seokjin was a little affronted anyone would even suggest his cafe offerings were not delicious, but he let it pass. This guy seemed to be having a hard enough time as it was.
Book Guy nodded. “Uh,” he said. “How much…?”
“Three thousand five hundred won,” Seokjin said, punching the order in. Book Guy painstakingly counted and double-checked his money and handed it to Seokjin. “Thank you! I’ll have it for you in just a bit!” Seokjin said. Book Guy stared, so Seokjin grasped for the few English words he knew. “Coming up,” he said.
“Oh.” Book Guy nodded again. “Thanks.” He lingered by the counter, looking unsure, and Seokjin took pity on him.
“I will…bring you,” he said. “Okay?”
“Okay,” the guy said. He scurried back to his table, in the far corner by the windows, where he’d basically taken up residence since he first showed up in Seokjin’s coffee shop about a month ago.
Seokjin passed the order slip back to Heeyeon in the kitchen and resumed his place minding the register, occasionally glancing at Book Guy in the corner. He had a different book with him today, Seokjin noticed, a purple cover instead of a white one. Paperback. More dense than the last one, going by the way he was squinting at it in concentration.
Seokjin wasn’t watching him or anything; that would be weird. He just thought avid readers were a rather unusual sight. The books were the whole reason Jeongguk had come up with “Book Guy” in the first place, and despite being a boring moniker it was certainly accurate. Seokjin had never seen him in here without something to read.
Behind Seokjin, a bell dinged. “Order up!” Anh Heeyeon chirped, passing a plate through the kitchen window. “Egg toast.”
Seokjin took the plate with a scowl. “Yah, show some respect for your boss,” he said.
“Sorry, president,” Heeyeon said, with a wicked smile. “Now get that out to the customer before it gets cold, I worked super hard to make it good so you could impress him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not looking to impress anyone and you know it.”
“What? He’s cute.” Heeyeon shrugged. “If you don’t want him then tell him it was me who made the sandwich.”
“Sure, Heeyeon,” Seokjin said, rolling his eyes as he took the plate to Book Guy’s table. Book Guy looked up when Seokjin set the plate down in front of him.
“Thank you,” he said. “Seokjin-ssi, right?”
“Yeah,” Seokjin said, a little concerned before he remembered that he was wearing a name tag on his apron. “Yeah, I’m Seokjin.”
“Thank you, Seokjin-ssi,” Book Guy said. On top of his slightly-foreign accent, he had a tiny lisp, and he looked (as always) like a lost puppy, ruffled hair and sleepy eyes and all. But he had always ben very polite to Seokjin, and Seokjin—well, he had to admit that he was weak for enigmas, especially cute ones.
“Are you—student?” he asked, in English.
Book Guy shook his head. “No, I’m not a student,” he replied in Korean. “I’m just—I can’t do Korean well.”
“No, you’re doing well,” Seokjin said.
Book Guy blushed, bright pink. “No, I. I am still learning,” he said. “I need to learn a lot.”
“Are you from abroad?” Seokjin said.
“Yes,” Book Guy said. “America.”
“Why—” Seokjin fumbled with the strange English words. “Why you came to Korea?”
“I am—I help my grandmother,” Book Guy replied, again in Korean. “She is—here.”
“Oh, you are Korean?” Seokjin asked.
“My family.”
“Ah.”
An awkward pause. Then, “So you like the coffee here?” Seokjin asked, gesturing to the cup of coffee by Book Guy, which he still hadn’t finished despite having ordered it when he walked in the door.
Book Guy just blinked at him, so Seokjin repeated himself, a little slower.
“Ah,” Book Guy said. “Yes. It is like at home.” He laughed, embarrassed, cheeks flushing an adorable shade of pink.
Too cute. Seokjin liked cute people, and cute friends (it was why he kept Yoongi around). “What’s your name?” he asked.
Book Guy smiled, eyes curving into half-moons. “Jimin,” he said. “Park Jimin.”
#
It was nearly eight in the evening when Jeong Hoseok finally found himself making the climb uphill to his home. On days like these, he always paused to wonder why the hell he and Seokjin had been so set on that particular piece of real estate. Sure, it was nice. Sure, the location was perfect for the coffee shop, they loved the flat on top of it, the street curved sweetly down a hill and gave them a lovely view of Namsan (on the days it wasn’t obscured by smog). But those were the arguments that had been presented to Rational Hoseok. Post-workday Hoseok, who really should have been given more consideration, was a different creature entirely, and more concerned about the fact that the walk was uphill and nearly fifteen minutes from the nearest station.
It was Friday, which meant Seokjin was probably still caught up in inventory stuff. So Hoseok took the stairs and passed the cafe on the second floor for their apartment on the third floor. He let himself in, hung up his work clothes, ran a damp towel over his sweat-soaked skin. Pulling on some more comfortable everyday clothes, he grabbed a water bottle, locked up the apartment again, and took the inside stairs down into the coffee shop.
Sure enough, Seokjin was there, but he wasn’t exactly doing inventory. Instead, he and Heeyeon were paused over their work, listening to Jeongguk telling some story, the kid gesturing widely with his hands as he talked.
“I think he’s from the English academy where Namj—where Taehyung works, you know the grad student in my film class,” he was saying. “Taehyungie-hyung said he’s cool, really cute and easy to talk to, he said. Great pronunciation.”
“Of course he’d care about that,” Heeyeon said, chuckling.
“And of course you just happen to know this,” Seokjin said, a note of exasperation in his voice.
“Of course, hyung,” Jeongguk said.
“That’s not what you were texting him about all afternoon? While you should have been doing the dishes?”
“Hey, I thought you’d want to know he’s probably an okay guy,” Jeongguk said. He smiled, wide and innocent and somehow also suggestive. “I’m just looking out for you, hyung.”
“What’s this?” Hoseok asked, choosing then to make his presence known. “You lusting after a college kid, hyung?”
“No, don’t be ridiculous,” Seokjin said, rolling his eyes fondly. He reached out and tugged Hoseok over to him, kissing him on the cheek. “How was work?”
“Good,” Hoseok said. He returned Seokjin’s peck with one of his own (and ignored Jeongguk miming vomiting in the background). “Exec meeting today. We had some guys from Marketing pitch a fit over the budget, but.” He grinned. “Yoongi was in fine form today, so.”
“Of course,” Seokjin said, while his employees laughed. Min Yoongi came in and had coffee at Old College Chai often enough that they were all familiar with his soft ways and sharp tongue.
“Yah, boss,” Heeyeon said, holding out her clipboard. “I finished. Everything accounted for.”
“Great,” Seokjin said, glancing at the inventory sheet.
“So this college kid,” Hoseok said, not quite willing to let Seokjin off the hook yet. “What’s his name?”
Seokjin sighed dramatically, but Hoseok could tell that there was no real annoyance in it (yet). “Not in college,” he said. “His name’s Jimin, he’s become a regular here. He’s pretty awkward. Kind of shy.”
“Is he cute, though?” Hoseok asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Why the hell are you so interested?” Seokjin laughed, giving Hoseok a light cuff on the shoulder. “Go upstairs or something!”
Hoseok laughed, but he moved toward the stairs anyway. The sooner he let Seokjin close up shop, the sooner they could snuggle together in bed, preferably with a movie. “I’m going,” he announced. He waved to Heeyeon and Jeongguk. “Bye guys! Oh—babe, what are you thinking for dinner?”
Seokjin pursed his lips. “I was thinking of ordering in?” he said. “I’m kind of tired.”
“What, college boy’s got you worn out already?” Hoseok tried not to crack a joke, he did, but the opportunity was too good. He laughed and ran up the stairs before Seokjin could do more than squawk in indignation. He paused on the landing, fishing in his pocket for his keys. Seokjin’s voice floated up the stairwell.
“That man is an actual child,” Hoseok heard him say, more fond than peeved. “Remind me why I live with him.”
“Because you love him?” That was Jeongguk’s voice.
“Oh, yeah.” Now Hoseok could hear the smile in Seokjin’s voice, warm and wide and beautiful. “I guess I do.”
#
It was not looking like a good day for Park Jimin.
For starters, it was raining—pouring, by the time he ducked under the awning at Old College Chai. He didn’t have his umbrella, because it had been perfectly nice and sunny when he’d left the house to go run errands and, somehow, he’d assumed it would stay that way. Idiot. He really ought to have a better grip on Seoul weather by now, but—well. Clearly there was room for improvement.
A wave of cold air washed over Jimin when he entered the shop. He was relieved to see that it wasn’t too busy—only a few people in the line, a few more at the pickup counter, and Jimin’s normal place mercifully still empty. He made his way over, trying not to slip or track in too much water. He needed new shoes, too, he thought, wiggling his toes uncomfortably. Or at least he’d have to figure out how the hell to ask for waterproofing spray in Korean, if that could even be bought here. A lovely day to be finding all of this out.
Jimin was grateful to sit, though, and he deposited his bag in the chair next to him. He checked his wallet and stifled a groan. He would only have two thousand won left after ordering his usual coffee because he’d forgotten to get more cash (like a dumbass). Which meant he’d have to stop at home and get more money before he could get his dinner.
This sucked.
Once Jimin mustered the energy, he got up and joined the line at the counter.
He wasn’t even surprised when Seokjin looked at him critically from behind the register.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Of course.” Jimin nodded to show it clearly. A dozen tiny raindrops sprayed the floor. “Can I—my usual, please?” He sneezed.
Seokjin raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything as he took Jimin’s money—other than, “Coming right up.” He passed Jimin his receipt and buzzer and smiled briefly, before turning to greet the next customer in line.
Jimin floated over to the little knot of people waiting at the pickup counter. He scrolled idly through his phone as he waited, not really paying attention to anything on the screen. It was all the same, anyway, day in and day out. Updates about his old college friends living their new lives in new places, interspersed with Korean ads that Jimin still couldn’t really read. He sighed softly. He did like Seoul, most days. He did manage to function, mostly. But sometimes it was all a little too strange, a little too big and lonely and unfamiliar, and today was beginning to feel like one of those days.
“Park Jimin-ssi?”
Jimin looked up at the unfamiliar voice. The girl addressing him from behind the counter—Seongsoo, going by her nametag—indicated the coffee cup in front of her.
“Oh,” Jimin said, looking down at his buzzer and realizing that its lights were flickering. He handed it over. “Sorry, I didn’t realize…”
“It’s okay,” Seongsoo said, smiling. She carefully lifted the cup and saucer and handed them to Jimin. “Please enjoy!”
“Thank you,” Jimin mumbled. He made his way back over to his table. He set the coffee cup down and nearly knocked it over because he sneezed, again. And then again.
“Aish, see, I knew I was right to get you down here,” Seokjin’s voice said, somewhere behind Jimin. Jimin turned, to see Seokjin coming towards him, towel in hand, another guy on his heels.
“Here,” Seokjin said, shoving the towel at Jimin. “Dry off a little and put this under your collar, you’re still soaked.” He peered down at Jimin. “Are you cold?”
“No,” Jimin lied. “I am—I am fine.” He bowed his head toward Seokjin. “Thank you.”
Seokjin smiled, a little doubtfully, and then pulled the guy behind him forward. “Hoseok, this is Jimin,” he said. “He’s the one I told you about.”
Immediately Jimin found his cheeks getting pinched.
“He’s so cute!” the guy said, at a pitch and volume Jimin wouldn’t have thought possible for mankind. “You’re so cute!”
“Hoseokie, no, don’t be like this,” Seokjin groans, dragging Jimin’s attacker back. “Are you okay?” he asked Jimin, who nodded. “I’m sorry about this one,” Seokjin said. “He’s not…well, actually, he’s usually like this, but he’s also a good guy, mostly.” He reached out and pinched Hoseok’s cheek. “Aren’t you, Hoseok-ah?” he asked in an exaggerated baby-talk voice. “Such a good boy!”
“Gross,” said the guy apparently named Hoseok, batting Seokjin’s hand away. He stuck out his hand to Jimin. “Anyway, because Seokjin has no manners, I’m Jung Hoseok,” he said. “Seokjin’s boyfriend.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Jimin said, shaking Hoseok’s hand and trying to swallow the disappointment bubbling up in his gut. Of course Seokjin had a boyfriend, why hadn’t he ever thought of that? And of course it’d be someone like this Hoseok, who looked good even in sweatpants and a worn tee with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. They were both pretty people, and Jimin already knew that Seokjin was nice and talented and kind, and Hoseok was probably the same way. It wasn’t fair, Jimin thought, that some people got the whole package.
He wrapped his hands back around his coffee cup, relishing its warmth. He glanced outside—still pouring rain. It was going to be a long walk home, he could already tell.
When Jimin looked back at Seokjin and Hoseok, he found Seokjin watching him sharply.
“Have you eaten today, Jimin?” Hoseok asked.
“It’s fine,” Jimin said, shaking his head. “I mean, I was just gonna pick up some instant food for when I get home, so—”
“Instant food?” Seokjin and Hoseok both said the word like it was a personal offense.
“Hyung, how could you let this happen?” Hoseok asked, turning to Seokjin. He pointed an imperious finger at Jimin. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “You’re going to sit here and stay here until I make you a real meal. Okay?”
He didn’t wait for Jimin’s answer before turning on his heel and walking towards the back of the shop.
“Wait for it,” Seokjin murmured to Jimin.
Hoseok turned and walked back.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Should’ve asked before—is bibimmyeon okay?”
“Y-yes,” Jimin said. “Of course.”
Hoseok nodded, and then he said something in Korean that Jimin couldn’t catch. Seeing Jimin blink, he pursed his lips and looked at Seokjin.
“Um,” Seokjin said. “Al-allergy?” he asked in English. “Do you have it?”
“Oh! No,” Jimin said. “Bibimmyeon is good, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Hoseok said, smiling brightly. He headed back toward the shop kitchen. “Hyung, I’m using the unit down here,” he added over his shoulder.
“Don’t leave scorch marks,” Seokjin replied.
Hoseok stopped, hand on the swinging kitchen door, and scowled at his boyfriend. “I swear, hyung, that was one time,” he said. He caught Jimin’s eye. “You should know, Seokjin-hyung really knows how to hold a grudge,” he said.
“As does Hoseok,” Seokjin cut in smoothly. “Which is why we’re perfect for each other, aren’t we, Hob-ah?”
Hoseok shook his head, but Jimin spied a smile on his face as he disappeared into the kitchen.
Seokjin patted Jimin’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “He’s actually a pretty good cook. You’ll eat well.”
“Okay,” Jimin said. “Thank you, again.”
“Of course,” Seokjin said. He gave Jimin another pat and drifted back toward the counter, greeting other customers as he went.
Presently Hoseok came back through the doors, toting a tray laden with food.
“I have returned with gifts,” he said grandly, setting the tray down before Jimin. Jimin saw two steaming, colorful bowls and at least four smaller dishes.
“Weren’t you just making bibimmyeon?” he asked weakly.
“Well, yeah,” Hoseok said, sinking down into the chair facing Jimin. “But what’s bibimmyeon without some side dishes? It needs friends!”
That startled a laugh from Jimin. He’d never quite heard it put that way before. It was cute.
Hoseok reached forward and grabbed a pair of scissors that lay on the tray.
“Seaweed on top?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” Jimin said.
“Perfect,” Hoseok said. He picked up a few pieces of kim and snipped them into neat ribbons over bowl. Jimin looked around and spotted the two painted cans on a nearby table, one with chopsticks and the other with spoons. He got up and fished out a set for himself and one for Hoseok.
“Thank you again,” he said. He sat down and passed Hoseok a set of utensils.
“Thank you!” Hoseok said. His smile had genuine warmth in it, which confused Jimin as much as it comforted him. He placed one in front of Jimin, chirping something in Korean that Jimin didn’t catch but knew to mean “eat well!” So he did. It wasn’t hard; Hoseok clearly knew what he was doing where cooking was concerned.
“So Seokjin tells me you’re a teacher?” Hoseok said, after a while.
“No,” Jimin replied. “I just help the teacher.” He ducked his head. “I’m not good enough at Korean to actually teach.”
“Don’t say that,” Hoseok said. “You’re doing great!”
Jimin pushed down the twinge of annoyance at the back of his throat. Why did everyone insist on saying that, he wondered. It never helped. He wasn’t doing well, not enough, and hearing that he was doing great just drove the point home.
“So you’re Seokjin’s boyfriend?” he asked, a little more shortly than he meant to.
“Yeah, I am,” Hoseok said. A dopey smile took over his face. “I dunno why though, his jokes are so bad.”
It was true. Jimin smiled.
“I feel bad for our friends sometimes,” Hoseok continued. “I told him jokes to cheer him up but then he ran with it, it’s too much.” He grinned at Jimin. “Now that he’s learning English he’s started making bad jokes in English too. He’s probably happy he can practice on you.”
Jimin snorted. This was also probably true.
“Try and discourage him, okay?” Hoseok said.
“Sure,” Jimin said, knowing he would do no such thing.
They both looked up when they heard someone approach their table.
“Hey,” Jeongguk said. He shoved a paper cup at Jimin. “Hyung wanted you to have some more coffee. It’s on the house.”
“Oh,” Jimin said. “Thanks.”
“Hey, while you’re here,” Hoseok said. “I left a bowl of bibimmyeon on the counter, can you tell hyung that’s for him?”
“Wow,” Jeongguk said. “I wish I had a boyfriend who would make me lunch.”
“Hurry up and ask out Namjoon and maybe you will have one,” Hoseok replied crisply. “It’s not my fault you can’t talk to him.”
“But hyung, he can’t cook!” Jeongguk said petulantly. Jimin had the distinct impression he was whining for the sake of it.
“Hey, you never know.” Hoseok shrugged. “Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
“Sure, hyung.” Jeongguk rolled his eyes.
“Yah,” Hoseok said, reaching over to slap Jeongguk lightly on the hand. “Aren’t you still on shift? Go back to work!”
“But hyung, you’re so much more fun than Seokjin hyung,” Jeongguk said, but he was moving toward the kitchen door anyway.
“I’m telling Seokjin you said that!” Hoseok called after him. The kitchen door swung shut. Hoseok turned back around to look at Jimin, still grinning, and Jimin could not hold back the smile unfurling on his own face. This was nice, he thought, his insides filling with a warmth that had nothing to do with the noodles. This was kind of familiar—the bickering, the affection, the homeyness. It was nice.
For the first time in a long time, Park Jimin forgot about feeling lonely.