coincidental | minsung

02

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It's a few days later before they see each other again.

Jisung had finished his college lessons for the day, but his head was whirling with due dates and deadlines and word counts. What he made up for in raw talent, he severely lacked in organisational skills, and so he had forced himself to go to a café near campus to study.

The five minute walk was only a two minute run for Jisung, but this meant when he arrived he was out of breath and flushed pink. Without thinking, he hiked his bag up over his arm, and pushed his way into the café. The bell on the door let out a chime as it swung open and then closed behind him.

It was quiet in there, with only a couple of other customers and some music playing quietly on the speakers. The lights were lightly dimmed, the layout clean and minimalist, and there were small groups of plants scattered throughout the room. Jisung's mind skipped back to the party, and with Seungmin's face held spitefully in his mind, he had to push down the urge to light up a cigarette.

He was still panting. Still flushed. But when he turned to face the counter and spotted the barista standing behind it, his breathing paused.

Jisung had clocked him at the party. The angular face, each line precise and almost holding the control of a master artist, concaved and conflexed in all the right places. Swathes of dark hair, tussled as though he had no care for the style, almost long enough to graze his shoulders.

And those shoulders­- pulled tight against a perfect-fitting white t-shirt, highlighting every dip and curve of muscle and bone. He was cleaning a coffee filter behind the counter. His arms were toned, and Jisung wondered if this would be reflected in the boy's stomach and chest, too. He felt his cheeks warm slightly and tried to blink the image away.

They had not met eyes for more than a few seconds at the party, but Jisung still could have replicated the face from memory. Even more etched into his memory was the way it had made his breath stutter and his words almost slip. For the first time, he had almost lost control of his confident illusion back then. He felt the same now.

The barista had played on his mind a few times since then. Jisung was adamant to push the thoughts away, frustrated he had no name or story for this new mysterious character. He hadn't expected to see him again, never mind soon.

Jisung hesitated. The bell had chimed, but the boy did not seem to have noticed Jisung. He wasn't sure how to play this; would the barista recognise him? Would he prefer it if Jisung gave him the same confident flirting he did everyone else, or if he acted nonchalant, not caring? Should Jisung... Could Jisung even talk to him? The anxiety was hot and sticky in the back of his throat. Jisung ached to internalise his cocky exterior, if only for a second.

Minho made the choice for him when he glanced up at Jisung, and then looked back down at the machine as if not seeing him.

Jisung frowned, feeling snubbed, and this kickstarted him to keep up his image. If Minho didn't notice him, Jisung would have to make him.

"Polite of you to pretend you don't see me. Isn't that why you have the bell on the door?" asked Jisung, his voice smooth and low as he approached the counter. He felt a familiar smirk pull at his face as he flashed his grin at Minho.

Minho just blinked slowly, and this made Jisung roll his eyes.

"Are you sitting in or taking away today?" Minho's voice was lighter than Jisung expected, the pitch high and airy, the perfect customer service tone.

"If I sit in, can I sit with you..." Jisung's eyes flickered down for a moment to the name badge on Minho's shirt, and then back up to meet Minho's. "...Felix?"