Music is beautiful.

That's what I've been told.

He always came in with a pair of headphones around his neck, ordered a coffee, and seated himself at the very back of the cafe, whipping out a laptop and typing away, occasionally pausing to situate the headphones over his ears and review what he had created. 

From there, he would either scrunch up his face, his brows furrowed with a slight smirk as he nodded to the beat, his dimples showing as he smiled in approval and sat up straight to continue working with renewed motivation. 

Or, he would press his lips together, crossing his arms and sliding down in his chair with a dissatisfied frown, running a hand through his chocolate hair and heaving a sigh.

I always studied his face from my place at the front of the Cafe, leaning forward with my elbows on the counter and my head in my hands. His expressions, his smiles and small frowns, how his full lips moved as they mouthed the words of the lyrics he had written — his body language told me everything I wanted to know about the kind man who came to my workplace so often.

But it was when he was in the latter, more adorably grumpy mood — which had settled onto him accompanying the writer's block — that I first actually talked to him, and found out his name.

"Chan?" I repeated for confirmation.  He nodded, his dimples deepening as his smile took over his masculine but soft-featured face, pressing the beautifully deep eyes, which I had stared into for so long from a distance, into thin crescents.

I told him my name when he asked for it, my eyes staying on his lips as they moved to form words, full of nothing but somehow holding everything, his voice, his emotions.

Smiling back, I left him to his work and returned to the counter that I manned in case a customer should come up to order.

He had left and come again the next week, the headphones still dangling around his neck and his laptop clutched so tightly in his hands, as if he slept with them by his side— If he'd slept at all the past few days, if the darkness under his eyes and his pale skin were anything to go by.

I waved as I recognized the man opening the door, his confident stride barely affected by his apparent exhaustion. "Hi, Chan!"

His eyes, darting to look up at me, brightened. "Hi, Y/N!" A tired but genuine smile showcased his dimples once again.

"Having a good day?" He had asked, tilting his head to watch me as he approached the counter.

I nodded, idly restocking some paper coffee cups. "Not too busy."

"Being busy can be good, it helps to keep your mind off of things." He tiredly ran a hand over his face, covering his mouth and causing me to miss his last few words. I brushed off the disappointment that I hadn't caught his remark.

"Overworking yourself isn't good, either," I glanced up at him from the cup tower I was stacking out of slight boredom, which had just silently toppled over.

He nodded slowly, closing his eyes to take a deep breath and flash a grateful smile. "I'll remember that, Y/N."

I fixed his usual coffee, adding a free muffin on the side that he profusely thanked me for before taking the seat at the back. Flipping open his laptop, he began his work and I watched him with nothing else to do, as he was the only customer for now.

Whatever he was working on had my full curiosity as he tapped his pen on the open notebook in front of him, then against his cheek as his brows furrowed in thought.

I wondered what he was writing. A love song? A heartbroken balad? Maybe a story that he wanted to tell, put to a melody?

He looked up, catching my eye with another bright smile, and I snapped out of my trance as he waved me over.

"Hey, what can I help you with?" I braced myself against the edge of his table, my eyes drawn to the writing on the ruled pages of the book in front of him. But he tucked it away, and instead turned his laptop towards me, offering me the pair of headphones that were for once separated from his neck.

I felt a pang in my stomach as I watched his next words form. "Would you mind giving me your opinion on something? I would love it if you could listen to this..."

My breath caught in my throat. I swallowed the lump that was forming there — it was bound to happen sooner or later. He was destined to find out eventually, and his face fell, his former bright smile disappearing when I motioned to my ears.

"...Ah, I'm sorry, I'm... I can't..." I pressed my lips together, forcing out a pathetic laugh. "I'm mostly deaf."

Chan's mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he was trying to find something to say. His brows furrowed as he finally found words to vocalize his sympathy. 

"O-Oh, I'm sorry! ... I didn't... " The brunette trailed of, biting his lip in a mix of regret and embarrassment as he turned his laptop back to himself, shrinking down in his seat. 

"It's fine," I said to fill the awkward silence that had settled between us after my revelation. "I really wish I could have listened to your music, though."

Chan nodded. "Yeah... thank you."

I turned and left, going back to the counter to escape atmosphere that I had brought down on us. It was always that way when people found out about me. It was awkward, and embarrassing, and sometimes they would ask a ton of curious questions which I didn't blame them for, but mostly they would regret finding out because it always ruined everything.

And I thought that the friendship between Chan and I was ruined as well, because he didn't come back to the cafe for a while. 

I leaned onto the counter when the Cafe was empty and I had a moment to stare at the booth in the back, where he always sat, laptop open and headphones hanging around his neck. I thought of how he scratched away at something in his ruled notebook, probably beautiful lyrics to an even more breathtaking melody.

Or maybe it was a drawing. Did he like to draw? I had never noticed, since he always tucked his notebook away and hid it whenever I came near his table. 

But now he wasn't there, sitting by himself, facing the counter up front so he could lift his head and smile at me every so often.

I would miss that smile, bright and fun and honest and genuine like he was, even if he hadn't slept well that night or maybe even the whole week. He always seemed to be exhausted, but the music he wrote helped him to hold on.

Sighing as I straightened, I wished that I could experience the music that seemed to be such an essential part of him.

But it didn't seem like he was coming back any time soon. Had I made things awkward for him? Did he not want to come back because of me? Or was he just finished with his song, and no longer needed a place to work on it?

I decided to go with the last assumption to relieve some of my guilt. But it didn't really help to keep my mind clear as I idly cleaned the counter and reorganized the creamers.

Seeing the door of the Cafe open in my peripheral vision, I mentally prepared myself to deal with another customer in my already blurred state of mind. "Hello, welcome, what can I—"

But I would have recognized those waves of chestnut hair anywhere. Those were the only eyes that I could stare into for hours and feel like I could experience his soul, his deepest emotions. That dimple-kissed smile stopped me mid sentence as I turned to face the figure who had entered the Cafe.

"Hey, Y/N." Chan greeted me with crescent eyes, his lips forming my name, coupled with what I just knew was the softest, most beautifully angelic voice. I could sense his presence, loving and gentle as he stood in front of the counter and waved.

In an awkward attempt that somehow turned into my hand opening and closing uncertainly, I tried to wave back, still a bit shocked. "Chan?" All I could do was repeat his name after he had been a distant stranger for days, which turned into weeks.

But now, he was back? Did he have more music to work on? Would he take a seat in the back like he always did, and order—

"A hot coffee with a bit of creamer and a pump of vanilla, please!" He chimed, his eyes slimming even more as his smile brightened the Cafe that held only us.

I couldn't help it — I smiled back and nodded. "Yeah, sure, o-of course." I turned to grab a cup for his coffee, stealing a glance at him as he stood at the counter and watched me fill it. 

Why was he glowing today? Had he finally gotten some rest? His eyes were brighter, and his hair gained golden highlights in the soft rays on midday sun streaming through the glass door. And his lips...

"...really pretty." I snapped to attention when I thought caught a glimpse of a sentence flashing across Chan's lips as he talked to me, his hands shoved into his pockets and a blush tinting his cheeks.

"Sorry, did you say something? I didn't catch it all," I said, tilting my head to look at him curiously from behind the counter.

"N-No, I didn't say anything," His words caught in his throat, causing his lips to faulter in their familiar movement as he ran a hand through his hair. I smiled at how cute he was when he was flustered.

"Did you say I was pretty?" I questioned teasingly, squinting at him as I finished his coffee and slid it across the counter. 

His eyes widened, but his mouth opened and closed in shock for a moment without forming a response. "I— That— Um, no, that's... not what I said—" 

He held a hand up as some sort of defense when he realized what he was implying, his face staining red as he tried to speak.

 "N-Not that you're not pretty! That's not wh-what I'm saying, because you're really... really pretty, and your eyes are really expressive and you're a very passionate person, and you're always nice to me, and... I..."

Chan trailed off, staring into my eyes and blinking a few times, as if lost in thought, his hands slowly lowering to his sides. "That's why... I..."

I raised an eyebrow impatiently as I waited for him to finish. "That's why you.... what?"

He paused for a moment, then gave a small laugh and ran a hand through his hair. Why did I like it so much when he did that? "Ah, nothing~" he swatted a dismissive hand, as if trying to clear the air of his former words.

Taking his finished coffee from the counter, he lifted it in my direction and nodded in thanks before retreating to the back of the Cafe and seating himself at the farthest booth. I tilted my head and watched him, leaning forward on the counter as he pulled out his laptop. 

His cheeks were still dusted with blush, which intensified when he raised his cup to his lips, glancing at me over the rim. Making eye contact with me, I caught a glimpse of the emotions swirling in his dark eyes before his gaze faltered.

I startled as he broke eye contact with me and choked on his coffee, my eyes widening from behind the counter as he sputtered, but managed to swallow his sip and cough again.

I took a step to round the counter and help him, but he held up a hand and shook his head, grabbing a napkin to cover his mouth. "I'm good, I'm fine," he insisted after taking the napkin away. Pausing to think, I finally nodded. "Okay, let me know if you need something."

Chan opened his mouth at my offer, but bit his lip to stop himself from saying something, so I started to turn away.

"W-Wait, Y/N?"

Before I turned, I noticed my name pass his lips. I faced him and smiled in question.

"...Actually, could you come here for a second?" Burrowing down into his black hoodie, shyly tugging at the strings to bring the hood to cover his face, he sank down in his seat with a sheepish smile. 

I rounded the counter and approached the booth against the wall in the back of the Cafe. "Sure, what is it, Chan?"

He popped his head out of the drawstring confines of his hoodie, his face coming into full view again, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Here, put these on." Chan took the black headphones from around his neck and held them out to me. Again.

I stared at the headphones in front of me and sighed softly, not bringing my disappointed eyes to meet his. "Chan—"

"Just trust me," the brunette insisted, his smile hiding something more, like the notebook that he had once again tucked away, out of sight. Reaching out suddenly, he swept my hair behind my ear, his hand lingering for a moment. "You trust me, right?"

My heartbeat quickened at his action, and I could still feel the warmth of his touch on my face, which was probably red by now. I decided not to respond, and instead slipped on the headphones with a slight nod.

Chan smiled, his dimples flashing in happiness. "Close your eyes, too," He instructed.

I raised an eyebrow, but closed my eyes. "What's all this for...?" I questioned, sitting down beside him at the edge of the booth and waiting.

There was nothing. I wanted to peek and see what he was doing, but I kept my eyes closed like Chan had asked. A long moment went by, or maybe it seemed long because I was impatient.

But then I felt it.

I couldn't hear it; but I didn't need to. I could feel it.

The vibrations of the bass rippled through me, and the soundwaves carried silent depths of love and dedication. The music washed over me like a wave of emotions. I couldn't hear it, but I could feel Chan's heart like the beats in the track.

I could feel everything and imagine it so vividly. Was this what he had been working on? I smiled as I sat still to feel the vibrations.

Soon, I felt something else as Chan took my hand in his. I felt his hand brush against my palm in motions that I recognized. 

Was he... signing into my hand??

I opened an eye to peek at him, my gaze shifting from his eyes to focus on the purposeful movements of his hands. He met my eyes and smiled again, stealing a glance at what was written in his notebook before continuing to sign a short stanza.

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦. 

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵.

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴.

𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘮𝘦, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘠/𝘕? 

My mouth dropped open in shock. 

When I finally regained my senses, I grinned uncontrollably and slid the headphones off, snatching his notebook from the table beside him. Chan laughed and half-heartedly reached for it, but I stood up and held it away from him as I looked over the pages.

There were paragraphs of sign language notes and sketches of hand motions. "Did you write all of this? Is this what you've been doing this whole time?" I questioned, flipping the page. My heart felt warm as I studied Chan's handwriting, the detailed notes showing how persistent he was in learning this.

My breath caught in my throat and my cheeks heated. This was all for me? 

Chan nodded shyly. "Yes. I really like you, and I thought you would appreciate this..."

I scanned over every handwritten line, taking it in before lifting my eyes from the page to smile at him. "I love this. Thank you, Chan."

"So, will you date me?" He looked up at me with anticipation, his hands fiddling idly in his lap before he slowly stood up and faced me.

I nodded. "Yes, I will."

His smile grew even wider, which I didn't think was possible, and his dimples deepened as he gazed at me, his eyes filled with happiness. He reached for his notebook, but I pulled it away from him again. "No way, I wanna keep this! This is so cute," I said, glancing at the neatly filled pages again.

I would read over those pages repeatedly, treasuring each word, each sketch.

I would always treasure the length that Chan went to show me how much he liked me.

And because of those lengths, because of how much he cared, I liked Chan even more.

𝗔/𝗡: 

𝗗𝗶𝗱 𝗜 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗮𝘀 𝗜'𝘃𝗲 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗱? 𝗜 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗮 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁, 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 — 𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿, 𝗜 𝗱𝗶𝗴𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀.