doren cafe.

Usually, when you dream in your sleep, it is either of the two: it involves you or somewhere you thought of being involved in. But mine is a little different, someone else appears and I have no idea how and why it happened. It's like a system within me, every time I close my eyes, I see him. But when it's open, he was never there.

--

Today is a usual Saturday at the coffee shop; swarming with people combined with the cacophony of their chitchats. I don't hate it but I like the stillness of Tuesdays better. The smell of coffee never fails to elate me which is why I love my job. Making people drinks and seeing them enjoy it over either a me-time or hangout with friends intoxicate me. And well, free coffee!

"Two Iced Americano for Johnny!"

It was almost closing time yet there are still people left; some coming in, but most are leaving. I was preparing to clean up when I heard the door open, perhaps rushing in as it is just ten minutes before closing. The customer might have tripped himself since there was a rattle of chairs near the entrance.

"Uh, sorry about that. I can still order, can't I?" he asked my co-worker who was assigned to be today's cashier.

"Yes, sir. You're just about in time." I can hear her smile through the words she just uttered. Washing my hands to prepare for his drink, I didn't mind looking back. Upon confirming the order, I started working on it. I usually remember the first and last customers of the day. They seem special in a way that out of all the customers, I'm most thankful for them. For trusting a barista in either making or ruining their morning, and coming in even if the door seems closing already.

"One iced latte for Do---young?"

And that moment, I was so sure I won't forget today's last customer. He looked at me with those eyes, those that I’ve only seen in my dreams. I'm not sure how long I stared but I was sure that his eyes were dreamier in person.

"Uhm, yes? That would be me."

Confusion is painted on his face that I always longed to touch. But no, this can't be real. I'm starting to think that it may be because I had four cups of coffee today.

"Ah right! Enjoy your drink, Doyoung."

I handed him his drink and stared at his hands instead. It's as pretty as I always see with my closed eyes and recurring dreams. He smiled at me as he said thanks and I just smiled back, or I thought I did. Standing there in what feels like forever, I turned to my colleague.

"I'm sorry but can you close up for the day? I just remembered something really really important."

"If it's your gas valve, then you should run for your life."

"Thanks! I'm going."

I grabbed my bag and ran out as fast as I could, looking right and left thinking where he headed to. My mind has stopped functioning properly but my feet were constantly moving. This must be the luckiest day for me as I saw him waiting on the bus stop, with the coffee I made in his hands. He might have heard how loud my thoughts were (or it's because I was panting from the run) because he stood up and got worried all of a sudden. I watched him struggling to check his pockets while holding the latte in his other hand as I catch my breath. With much of a thought, I said,

"Uh....hi!"

But he replied as soon as I greeted him,

"Sorry! Did I leave my card behind?? I'm sorry you have to run all the way I---"

"No, it's not that."

He stopped looking for his wallet and gave me a questioning look. The way he tilted his head a bit and curiosity flashing through his eyes got me giggling: you can never really fail to catch what he's thinking through that mind of his.

"Sorry, didn't mean to laugh. I just had to say something but it might sound really weird. Well, actually, it ---"

"What is it?"

He cut me off, surprised and I knowingly smiled. He really can't stand not knowing something huh.

"It is weird so please bear with me, and I'm apologizing in advance."

"No, not that."

"What?"

"I meant the giggle, what's with that?

He caught me off guard with his question, as he always did in my dreams. How come he's real? I thought he was just a figment of my frivolous imagination. And yet, he's here standing in front of me dressed in his usual alluring self, with my very own open eyes. I'm still doubting if this is just the effect of my caffeine intake plus the fatigue today's shift has brought me, or maybe this is one of those dreams again pretending it is real. Either way, I decided not to let this pass.

"It's just that...you're very transparent and you do not even try to cover it up, well, most of the time."

Eyes boring into me and eyebrows meeting a bit in the middle, it is evident that he is questioning this very moment, me, and the unknown that I didn't have an answer to. Ah, it's the Aquarius in him. I wanted to laugh but I don't want to look weirder than I already am, instead I gave him a nervous smile.

"Wait, you know me?"

"Uh, well, I first heard your name like 10 minutes ago?"

"I mean, me. Not my name."

That smart mouth of his never misses its timing. My smile turns bigger but not enough to shake the nervousness away.

"So?"

He asked with sassiness and kindness combined I don't know how he does it. I just find it amazing, I mean everything about him is.

"I told you it's weird and it's a long story. But if you want to know--"

"I'm all ears."

"Uh, okay? Uhm would it be alright if I ask that we walk around the park?"

He raises his eyebrow and I felt myself blushing with all the ideas coming to his head. I want to bump my head on a hard surface so that I can think straight since I'm not really sure what I'm doing but every cell in me shouts to make the most of this chance so I did.

"I mean, it's just that, I don't think I'll be able to tell you all about it while standing still and just staring at you. But if you're not comfortable with it, it's totally fine!"

It must be because I look and sound dumb, he grinned. He is as warm as I've always seen in my dreams, my heart can't help but flutter.

"A walk sounds good."

He smiled like he's assuring me that I'm still fine, not crazy enough for him to shout for help. I've always had existential crisis but this is the most I've had in a day, and maybe, just maybe this is the answer to it.

"Let's go?"

"Uh yes, okay. Let me just take off my apron. Oh god, I was wearing it this whole time?"

I did a lot of things to be embarrassed about but I never thought that talking to the man I like in my barista apron, and realizing it later on could be the worst of it all. I turned around for the sole purpose of hiding my abashed self, and untied my apron as the excuse. His hearty laugh is all I hear and even though it must be because of how foolish I look, it makes me feel giddy.

I walked ahead of him since there is no doubt that I'm all red and yet I wanna look back and check if he's following me only to see that he's walking beside me already. I avoided eye contact, cursing myself internally for all the things that I could've done better today. I don't think I could bring to trust myself for making the first move or uttering the first word due to shame I brought upon myself so I matched my every step with his.

Seconds passed and he asked, thank the gods old and new he did,

"So what's the long and weird story you were talking about?"

Then again, he smiled. One expressing benevolence and a hope of not making someone discomfort. Right there and then, I realized, there is one thing I hate about him: he easily smiles. I breathed in and started story-telling.

--

I told him how I started seeing flashes of him since the start of college and how terrified I was at first since it felt like I was invading his privacy or something. Added in the bits of my conspiracy theory about this and that I tried knowing more about it then eventually giving up. Lastly, I narrated how it turned from mystery to curiosity of knowing him to affection and longing. I don't think I can save face after all this, but this is it. No backing out. I heave a deep sigh.

"And now you're here, listening to this non-sense I stated. It feels like a fever dream, really."

He stopped walking and turned to me, the iced latte cup left with some ice cubes in hand.

"It's a beautiful story. I don't fully believe you but I don't think you made this up either. Plus, the Doyoung in your dreams sounds like me so if I was in your shoes, I'd be confused too."

He laughs and I can't help but smile. I know it was too much to take in, especially from a stranger but he was considerate enough to listen and try to comprehend. I haven't met the whole population of men in this vast universe but I don't think I can ever look at them the way I look at Doyoung. I was just hoping that his kindness would go a long way, so I mustered the remaining courage I have in me.

"I bet this is all confusing for you, but this is what I'm sure of: I like you, Doyoung. I really do."

But fate had plans and his kindness has its limits.

"I'm sorry."

If this is a dream, please wake me up now. Please.

"It's a beautiful story, and I had fun listening to you tonight. But I don't think it's me, it's the man in your dreams that you like, not me."

"It is you. I just didn't know your name before or of your existence but it is you!"

"You didn't even know if I exist before. I just happened to walk in that café and the characteristics of the man from your dream fits so you decided it is me. We maybe alike but I'm not him. You like him, that we're sure of, but I'm not him. I'm sorry."

Every rationality I have left struck through me and tears started falling. As always, he's right.

"But I've seen you. I'm sure of those eyes that show what you feel or think as of the moment, that build looking so sturdy yet there's a hidden clumsiness, that smart mouth of yours that doesn't miss its beat. And these hands, I'm sure it is the one I'm always holding in my dreams. It is you."

I held on his soft hands like a lifeline, dropping on the ground. I never cried publicly so this must be a first and I know people are staring, I just can't seem to prioritize what they think of me over how my heart feels like it is hammered to pieces. This can't be real. I squeezed his hand for validation, praying this is just a nightmare or a joke, yes I think I can take this as joke but he squeezed my hand back. I hid my face between my knees as tears won't stop. My throat feels like someone poured a whole bottle of whiskey on it, I'm on fire, and I'm slowly burning to ashes, about to scatter away. It hurts.

I felt him match my current height. Without letting go of my hand, he held my face in his other one and all I see are his eyes. Those eyes that always made my day, reassured me when I was feeling doubtful, looked at me like he was happy to have me in every moment we had, and never hid any emotion with me. And as I looked at him, I see that he feels sorry for me, and confused with what he needs to do. So I did, what I have to. I let go of his hand, stood up and smiled at him.

"Sorry for all the ruckus. I'm pretty sure you didn't sign up for this."

I tried laughing but he smiled at me, and now my eyes are starting to send a new batch of tears.

"I really am sorry. I don't know what to say but I do hope you'll find him."

Isn't it ironic? Someone waving his goodbye with hopeful wishes of you finding the one you've longed for but it is him. You know it is him. But he knows himself, better than a stranger whose been seeing him only in her dreams. He is sure it isn't him, his face tells it all.

I looked away, not able to handle looking at him, walking away.

"I guess this is goodbye?"

Goodbye never sounded so painful like this until it came from him. He smiled and I nod, diverting my face away.

My eyes once again began to well up. I waved him a single goodbye and didn't dare look. I can hear him walking away and it was the saddest song I ever heard. I hugged myself while silently crying in the middle of the night at a park. Suddenly, I realized that this is the probably the last I'll ever saw of him so I dared look. He's walking towards the bus stop where I found him earlier. The image is so heart-rending but I can't look away either. I want to see him more, even if it's the sight of him walking away from me.

--

Sometimes, if I look closely, I can still see him.

His eyes, telling me that he's sorry.

His smile, bright against the dimness of the night, trying to console me.

His figure walking away from me, sure of himself and what he did.

His words, carefully constructed to a stranger who claims she knows him through her dreams.

He exists and he's out there.