And there he was again, for the third time. Minho, or so he had written on the handkerchief last time. He had made Chan give him his number, without even introducing himself. Maybe he was used to people falling at his feet, just at the sight of his handsome face.

"How presumptuous."

He felt Minho's gaze on him and above all he felt that the stranger was trying to look at his arms. What the hell did he want to look at?

Chan was busy that day - of course! He wasn't doing it on purpose, for sure - so he huffed and walked over to Minho's table.

«What can I bring you?» he asked, his eyes fixed on his notebook.

«Wow, not even 'Good morning'?» Minho smiled, with a cheeky expression.

Han bit his lip, trying not to talk back. That guy was a customer anyway.

He looked up and met the boy's eyes: «Good morning,» he hissed, «what can I bring you?» he tried again. 

Minho smiled cutely. He really seemed a cat with that smirk.

«A cupcake and an iced Americano, please.» 

Han nodded and was about to walk away when the boy spoke again: «What time do you finish here, Jisung?»

Minho had managed to catch a glimpse of the tag the waiter had pinned to his chest, so he knew his name. 

"That's smart of him"

Han turned to the boy again and grimaced: «The place closes at 6 pm»

«Can I buy you dinner?» Minho asked innocently, blinking several times.

"Woah, he is direct!" Han thought, trying to maintain a disinterested expression. The truth is that he was surprised. No one had ever hit on him like this.

That boy was hitting on him, wasn't he?

«Why should I have dinner with you?» he asked, holding Minho's gaze, «I do not even know you.»

Minho smiled: «Because of this, to know me.» he explained and without giving him time to reply, he added «I swear, I don't bite.»

Han watches him for a moment, raising an eyebrow. The boy had a damn sweet smile. He was handsome, for sure, and he seemed nice too, but Han didn't want to know anyone. He didn't want to be known by anyone.

«No, thanks» he simply blurted out, returning to his work, avoiding exchanging any more words with Minho for the rest of his shift.

Although he was annoyed by the his behavior, on his way home Han almost smiled, thinking about how he had rejected a boy who looked like an idol. It had been fun, after all. 

.          .          .

It was raining outside; to be more precise, the whole sky was coming down.

Han had just returned from a long day at the café and had only managed to take a shower. Without supper, he had flung himself on the bed and was once again enveloped in his own darkness.

«Honey?»

His mother's voice reached him from the corridor, through the door to his room, «Why don't you write to that guy, Minho?»

His mother had been surprised to hear his son talking about a boy. He had barely told her his boss's name and he had been working there for over an year, since he had finished High School.

On the contrary, the day before, when she'd asked him how work had gone, Han had replied "Today a guy hit on me" instead of the usual "All right".

He had a little smile on his lips and she was completely amazed by that. She wasn't surprised by the fact that someone could hit on her son - he was damn handsome! - but by the fact he had remembered the boy's name and had told her about him.

«Is he hot?» she had asked, smiling.

«Mom!»

«Oh, come on! There's nothing wrong with using your eyes!» she had added with a winks and Jisung had giggled too.

So there she was, in front of his silent room. She was not being able to help him herself, so she hoped that talking to a peer could distract him a little. She hoped that Han could allow himself to have at least one friend. But she knew well that he didn't want to risk again.

Han didn't want to be hurt anymore.

He didn't answer, as always, but she knew he heard her.

«He seems nice, the way you talk about him» she added, before leaving.

On the other side of the door, Han sighed in the dark room, continuing to hide his face in his elbow, in his usual position. He knew  that Minho was both cute and kind, but he wasn't going to text him.

He didn't want friends, he didn't trust anyone, and no one could understand him.

Better to be alone, right?

.          .          .

«No yellow apron today?»

Minho was there, again, sitting at the usual table and smiling at him.

"How could he always smile?"  Han asked himself. He knew that there were people in the world with perfect lives, maybe that boy was one of those people.

«If you like that apron, I'll tell you where we ordered them» Han joked, holding the customer's gaze.

«It's absolutely awful!» Minho said bursting out laughing.

Han couldn't hold back a smile and Minho didn't let it slip, but he said nothing. He just took a mental photograph of that image. That hint of a smile was like a flower in the snow.

«A yellow apron can only look good on you!» he added.

Han raised an eyebrow, not knowing if that comment was cute or cringe. Maybe it was both.

«Thank you, I guess?» he said with a grimace, «An iced americano and a cupcake?» he asked, hurrying to take his order and go back to the counter.

«You know me well, baby!» Minho winks.

Han rolled his eyes and walked away.

"Baby?"

.          .          .

«Why haven't you written to me yet?»

By now Minho showed up more than once a week, always at different times. Han was getting used to his presence and his absurd way of flirting amused him, actually. Chan disappeared each time on purpose, as soon as he saw Minho enter: he had to go buy the milk that was finished, he took a break, he needed the bathroom... All excuses.

«Why should I?» Han asked, curious about the new ways to hit on him that boy would find. He was original, he had to admit it.

«Because I'm nice and I make you laugh.» Minho smiled, moving a strand of hair that had fallen over his eyes.

«I don't really want to laugh» Han said simply, neutrally. But a glint of sadness in his eyes didn't go unnoticed by Minho.

«I don't want to insist, but if you ever feel like write to me, I'll give you my number again.» he said softly, grabbing another napkin, «I know you threw it away» he said feigning resentment.

Han watched the boy write down his number and hand him the napkin. He grabbed it reluctantly and met his eyes.

He hadn't noticed it before, but that boy's eyes were really big. And there was something, there was something in those irises, that Han hadn't seen in his own when he looked in the mirror. They looked like sparks, it seemed that his eyes were shining.

«Why are you flirting with me, Minho?» he asked.

The boy looked surprised by that question but smiled: «Well, there are at least 100 reasons to hit on you, like free cupcakes for example» he said, getting a glare from Han.

«But for real, I just want to be friends with you.» he said, in an extremely soft voice.

"Damn him, why he has to be so nice!"

«Sure» Han snapped, keeping his face expressionless, and walked away.

But this time he left the note in his jeans pocket, pretending to forget about it.

That evening Han came home and wrote two sentences in his diary. He often made that gesture, he hoped that some of them would turn into a song. He hadn't been able to compose anything for months. 

Music was his passion, it always had been, and after all he'd been through he'd managed to use it as an outburst. He wrote songs that he would never let anyone listen, far too depressing, but at least he composed. Until one day he felt so pathetic that he could no longer pick up the guitar. Who did he want to make fun of: he couldn't sing, he hardly played, his songs were sad...

He was just a waiter, after all.

He chased away that thought and, trying to have a nice handwriting, he put down:

"I know how it starts

Trust me, I've been broken before"

He slipped in the note with Minho's number and closed the diary.

He wasn't going to write to him anyway.

Elle's note:

Okay, I don't know if I'm liking this ff ahaha it's definitely very sad. Too much?

Let me know what you think, please!!

Next chapter: next Thursday!

L