Chapter Text
Jeongin tapped Minho’s shoulder, snapping him out of whatever daze he had fallen into. “Let’s go sit,” Jeongin signed, pointing toward a small table tucked against the far wall, away from the counter.
Minho nodded and followed, not looking back. But Hyunjin did.
From behind the counter, he watched them sit. His grip tightened slightly around the towel in his hands as he dried them, slower than necessary. His heart hadn’t settled yet, still beating a little too fast for something as simple as…whatever the fuck just happened.
“Here.”
Hyunjin blinked and looked down. Yeji was holding out a pudding.
“For Minho,” she said, like it was obvious.
Hyunjin stared at it for a second. “…Me?” he signed.
“Yes, you,” Yeji huffed lightly, pressing it into his hands. “Don’t just stand there looking stupid.”
Hyunjin took it, still a bit dazed.
“Don’t embarrass yourself again,” she added with a small smile before turning away to help another customer.
Hyunjin stood there for a moment before he looked over at the table. Minho was sitting across from the boy with him who was currently watching him closely, like he was trying to figure something out. Minho, on the other hand, was staring very intently at the table. He wasn’t looking up or barely even moving. Hyunjin exhaled quietly, walking over before he could think too much about it.
The moment Minho finally forced himself to look up, he made eye contact with Hyunjin. And shit. Because Hyunjin wasn’t across the room anymore, he was walking toward them. Minho’s stomach dropped. He looked away immediately, heat creeping up his neck. Fuck.
Jeongin tilted his head slightly, watching him. “What’s with you?” he signed.
Minho shook his head, eyes glued to the table. “Nothing.”
Jeongin didn’t look convinced.
Minho practically felt Hyunjin’s footsteps approaching, and fuck his life the way his brain suddenly refused to function like a normal human being. He risked another glance, and much to his short circuiting cognitive function, Hyunjin was right there.
“Hey,” Hyunjin signed softly, placing the pudding down in front of him. “For you.”
Minho stared at the pudding for a second, like it had personally betrayed him. “Uh… thanks,” he muttered. Smooth. Real smooth.
Silence settled over the table, thick and awkward. Hyunjin shifted his weight slightly, hands hovering for a moment before he signed again, slower this time. “It’s nice to see you looking better.”
Minho swallowed. “Thanks,” he signed back, a little stiff. “Still bruised.”
Hyunjin’s gaze flickered briefly to his hands, to the faint marks still visible despite the makeup, then back up to his face, nodding. “I figured.”
Another pause. Jeongin looked between them. Once. Twice. Thrice, his eyes widening slightly. Minho, on the other hand, immediately grabbed his pudding and started eating it like his life depended on it, avoiding eye contact completely.
“So…” Hyunjin signed after a moment, glancing between them. “Is there anything I can get for you and your friend?”
“I’ll have an americano and pancakes topped with strawberries, please,” Jeongin signed smoothly.
Hyunjin blinked, caught off guard for a second, his eyes widening slightly. He nodded quickly. “I wasn’t aware. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Jeongin signed with a small smile.
“Anything else?”
“Water, please.”
Hyunjin nodded before turning back to Minho. Minho, who was very intensely focused on his pudding like it held the secrets of the universe.
“And you?” Hyunjin signed, a faint, almost amused smile tugging at his lips.
Minho did not look up or acknowledge a single thing. Jeongin stared at him. Then, without hesitation, kicked him under the table. Minho choked slightly.
“Ow—fuck! You little shit,” Minho coughed, glaring at Jeongin as he tried to recover.
“Stop being a prick,” Jeongin shot back, completely unbothered.
Hyunjin let out a quiet sigh, the corner of his mouth lifting despite himself. He reached forward gently, taking the pudding from Minho’s hand before he could choke on it again. “Careful,” he signed, his movements calm. “You alright?”
Minho blinked at him. Up close again…too close. “…Yeah,” he muttered, then corrected himself, signing quickly, “I’m fine.”
Hyunjin didn’t pull away immediately. His eyes lingered for just a second longer than necessary, scanning Minho’s face like he was checking for something, then he stepped back, placing the pudding down in front of him again. “I’ll get your order,” he signed softly.
The second Hyunjin was out of earshot, Jeongin leaned forward slightly and nudged Minho’s shin with his foot. “You have some explaining to do,” he signed.
“Fuck off,” Minho muttered, leaning back in his chair and stabbing at his pudding with his spoon.
Jeongin didn’t budge. “I won’t tell Seungmin or Chan,” he signed, softer this time. “Promise.”
Minho paused, exhaling through his nose, shoulders dropping just a little. “I’ll explain later.”
Jeongin studied him for a second. Then nods, satisfied. “He’s hot,” Jeongin signed casually, a sly smirk creeping onto his face. “I don’t blame you.”
Minho froze. Then immediately kicked him under the table. “Shut up.”
Jeongin just grinned wider.
A few minutes later, Hyunjin returned, balancing a small tray. He set Jeongin’s americano down first, then the water, placing another glass in front of Minho without a word.
Jeongin smiled. “Thank you,” he signed, already taking a sip.
Hyunjin nodded before his attention shifted back to Minho. “So,” he signed, “decided on what to eat yet?”
Minho nodded, sitting up a little straighter than necessary. “Avocado toast with a fried egg,” he signed. “Yolk. And a side of rice.”
Hyunjin blinked once, then nodded. “Coming right up,” he signed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he turned to leave.
“Oh—and Hyunjin—” Minho winced immediately after saying it. The name felt…natural. Too natural. Hyunjin paused and turned back, brows lifting slightly in question. Minho cleared his throat. “Can I get an iced coffee too?”
Hyunjin held his gaze for a second longer than necessary. Then nodded. “Of course.” And just like that, he turned and walked off again.
Across the table, Jeongin was staring. Hard. Minho avoided his gaze completely, reaching for his water like nothing just happened.
Jeongin slowly set his americano down. “…Hyunjin,” he signed, dragging the name out just enough to be annoying. Minho kicked him again.
Yeji appeared a moment later, setting an iced coffee down in front of Minho. “Hyunjin’s making your food,” she signed. “He insisted.”
Minho’s fingers twitched slightly around his cup. “Thanks,” he muttered.
Yeji turned to Jeongin, offering a small bow. “Yeji. Nice to meet you,” she signed. “I noticed your friends signing whenever you come in, so I figured you’d understand.”
Jeongin bowed back politely. “Jeongin.”
“Cute,” Yeji smiled, clearly pleased, before shifting her attention back to Minho. “So,” she signed, angling her body just enough so Jeongin could see. “How’s it going with Hyunjin?”
Minho didn’t even look up. “Fine,” he mumbled.
Yeji hummed. Her eyes flicked between the two of them before she leaned in just a fraction. “He doesn’t usually bring things out himself,” she added casually.
Minho’s grip tightened around his cup.
Yeji straightened, satisfied. “I’ll let you two enjoy,” she signed with a small smile before heading back to the counter.
Silence lingered for half a second. Then Jeongin turned to Minho. Minho took a sip of his coffee. “Don’t,” he muttered.
“Don’t what?” Jeongin signed, taking a slow sip of his water like he had no idea what he was doing.
Minho huffed, rolling his eyes before bringing his coffee to his lips. “Just… don’t.”
Jeongin didn’t respond.
Minho pulled his phone out, scrolling aimlessly, not really reading anything. Every few seconds his eyes flickered up toward the counter then back down again like it didn’t matter. Like he wasn’t waiting.
The café slowly began to quiet. The earlier rush thinned out, voices fading, chairs scraping less frequently, the hum of conversation softening into something calmer. The music became more noticeable now, low and steady, filling the gaps. Minho tapped his fingers against his cup. Jeongin watched him silently.
Then from the corner of his eye he saw movement. Minho looked up before he could stop himself. It was Hyunjin. He was carrying a tray and walking toward them again. Minho’s grip tightened slightly around his phone.
Hyunjin set the tray down on the edge of their table, careful, steady. Jeongin didn’t waste a second. “Thank you,” he signed quickly before immediately digging into his pancakes, like he hadn’t eaten in days. Hyunjin huffed out a quiet breath of amusement.
Minho, on the other hand, stayed still. Hyunjin reached for the other plate, placing it down in front of him. “Avocado toast. Fried egg. Rice,” he signed, precise.
Minho nodded. “Thanks.”
Hyunjin lingered for a second. Minho noticed, forcing his gaze down to his food, focusing very hard on literally anything that wasn’t Hyunjin’s hands. His arms. The way his sleeves were pushed up just enough. Minho’s brain short-circuited. Again.
“You should eat before it gets cold,” Hyunjin signed after a moment, voice soft even without sound.
Minho blinked, snapping out of it. “Right.” He picked up his fork a bit too quickly.
Jeongin glanced between them, chewing slowly. Hyunjin picked up the tray, bowing slightly to both of them. “Enjoy your food,” he signed. He gazed at Minho one more time before walking off.
Minho had to admit, this was the best avocado toast with egg and rice he has ever had. It pissed him off. Across from him, Jeongin was just as pleased, happily working through his pancakes like nothing else in the world mattered. Yeji stopped by a few minutes later, collecting their empty plates with a satisfied smile when she saw how clean they were.
Minho signs something about needing to piss and stands, heading toward the restroom before Jeongin could say some slick shit. The cool air inside hit him immediately. When he finished, he leaned over the sink, turning the faucet on, letting the water run over his hands longer than necessary. Get it together.
Minho stares at his still bruised hands for a second. The feeling of someone behind him makes him freeze. He looks up into the mirror and sees Hyunjin leaning casually against the door, watching him through the mirror.
“Glad to see you liked the food,” Hyunjin signs, a hint of teasing in his expression.
Minho scoffs, grabbing a paper towel. “It was alright.”
Hyunjin clicks his tongue softly and pushes himself off the wall, stepping closer. Minho’s shoulders tense slightly as Hyunjin stops just in front of him, close enough to notice the small details—the fading bruises, the uneven blend of concealer along his jaw.
Hyunjin’s gaze softens. Before Minho could react, Hyunjin reaches out, fingers light against his chin, tilting his face just slightly. Minho’s breath catches. “What the hell are you doing?” he mutters, stepping back a fraction too late.
Hyunjin doesn’t answer. Quietly, he licks his thumb and reaches again, brushing it gently along Minho’s jaw, wiping away a faint streak of makeup. Minho stills.
“You’re healing well,” Hyunjin signs with his free hand.
Minho swallows hard. “Obviously.” It came out rougher than he meant. He swats Hyunjin’s hand away, turning quickly to toss the paper towel, putting space between them. Hyunjin watches Minho leave the restroom not a second later.
Once out, Minho exhaled like he’d been holding his breath the entire time. The hallway was quiet. Minho’s eyes land on the painting again. The same one from last time. He didn’t know why it kept pulling him in, but it did. It was as if it was saying something he couldn’t quite hear.
The door to the restroom opens, Hyunjin stepping out and stopping beside him. Neither of them spoke. Hyunjin’s gaze shifted to the painting, a small frown tugging at his expression. Minho glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
Then Hyunjin reaches into his pocket and holds something out. A small card. Minho takes it, brows furrowing slightly. A discount card, for coffee and a meal. He turns it over to see a phone number. Minho blinks. By the time he looks up Hyunjin was already walking away, disappearing behind the counter like nothing had happened.
Minho stood there for a second longer than necessary wondering what the hell just happened. He shoves the card into his pocket and goes back to the table.
“So let me get this straight,” Jeongin signed, brows furrowed. “He found you sitting in an alley, looking like absolute shit, helped you, drove you home… and he still doesn’t know what actually happened?”
Minho shrugged, dropping his keys onto the counter. “It already looked bad enough,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “And I was barely holding it together. Kinda hard to explain anything when you’ve just been jumped.”
Jeongin stared at him unimpressed. “Right,” he signed slowly. “Or,” Jeongin continued, tilting his head slightly, “you couldn’t form a single coherent thought because he was standing too close.”
Minho froze. “…Shut up.”
Jeongin’s lips twitched. “I saw your face,” he signed. “You were malfunctioning.”
“I was not malfunctioning.”
“You choked on pudding.”
“That was your fault.”
Jeongin nodded, very serious. “Sure.”
Minho clicked his tongue, turning away, grabbing a glass from the cabinet just to have something to do with his hands.
Jeongin watched him for a second longer. “You like him.”
Minho stilled. “…No.” It came out too flat.
Jeongin nodded slightly. “Okay. He does seem interested in you though. He gave you his number.”
“So? We just met, okay?” Minho sighed, dropping onto the couch. The cushions sank under his weight, his shoulders following, like something in him finally gave out. “And I can’t just… like someone else when I’m still not over…” He swallowed, jaw tightening. “…Han.” Saying his name still felt wrong. Like pressing on a bruise that never healed.
Jeongin didn’t respond right away. He moved quietly, sitting down beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. His hand found Minho’s, fingers curling gently around it. “You know…” Jeongin started, his movements slower now. Careful. “I used to have a crush on Felix.”
Minho let out a short, breathy huff. “Oh, I’m aware.”
Jeongin shook his head, a faint smile ghosting his lips. “Apparently everyone was.” The smile didn’t last, fading just as quickly as it came. “But after what happened…” his fingers tightened slightly around Minho’s, “I couldn’t even think about anyone else.”
Minho didn’t look at him. He couldn’t.
“I didn’t get to…” Jeongin’s hands faltered for a second. He stopped, bringing one hand up to quickly wipe at his eyes before continuing. “…I didn’t get to tell him. I lived with that for a long time,” he went on, steadier now, even if his eyes still glistened. “Knowing he never heard it. That I liked him.”
Minho’s chest tightened.
Jeongin exhaled slowly. “But at some point…” he signed, gaze dropping to their hands, “I realized if I kept living in the ‘what ifs’… I’d miss everything that’s actually here.” A pause. “I think Han would want that for you too.”
Minho’s grip tightened unconsciously.
“Not forgetting,” Jeongin added quickly, looking at him now. “Never that.” His expression softened. “But keeping him with you… while still letting yourself live. While still making new memories.”
Minho stared ahead, his breaths shallow, like a weight settled on his lungs. Jeongin squeezed his hand once. “You’re allowed to feel something again.”
Minho nodded, leaning his head against Jeongin’s shoulder, not willing the tears forming in his eyes to fall. And when Jeongin left, Minho stayed on the couch, now staring at the card in his hand, Hyunjin’s number taunting him.
Should he call? No, Hyunjin doesn’t talk. Dumbass. Text, then. But what the hell was he supposed to say? Hey, thanks for patching me up and making me forget how to function like a normal person? Minho groaned, tossing the card across the couch like it burned him. “Fuck this.”He dragged a hand down his face, staring up at the ceiling.
But no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept going back. Dark eyes. Careful, strong, warm hands. That stupid, quiet way Hyunjin looked at him like he was something to be understood. Minho sat up abruptly, annoyed and frustrated. At himself more than anything.
He grabbed his phone instead, forcing his attention elsewhere—texting parents about the studio reopening, confirming schedules, anything to keep his thoughts occupied.
It didn’t work. Well shit, nothing worked. Hyunjin kept slipping back uninvited. By the time evening settled in, Minho was drained. His hair was still damp from his shower, droplets tracing down the back of his neck as he moved around his kitchen: rice, tuna, seaweed. Simple and familiar. And good as fuck.
He ate standing by the counter, leaning against it like he didn’t have the energy to sit. Because if he needed anything right now, it was comfort. And silence. And something to drown out the way his chest felt too full.