There were many reasons to hate Minho, and Taemin would often list them as he ‘artistically’ laid out their selections of pastries (it was artistic in Taemin’s eyes but someone else always had to go back and rearrange them so that they looked less like some sort of surrealist painting and more like a pastry display). Minho was sporty, for one, and Taemin could barely walk up a flight of stairs without taking a breather on the fifth step, and he was tall and handsome and had a lovely sense of humour and was nice to everyone he met. He also had his love life completely sorted; he had been with his girlfriend for longer than Taemin had been able to ride a bike (he had, admittedly, learnt how to ride a bike at a considerably older age than most people).
Love life wise, Taemin was less successful. He blamed it on Minho, obviously.
There was no logical reason to blame it on Minho but he did, because Minho just happened to be there every time Lover Boy came in, so clearly it was Minho’s fault that they weren’t currently romantically involved. Clearly.
Taemin sighed and glared at Minho.
“No, he hasn’t,” he muttered, and Minho cooed back at him.
“Aw, Tae, I’m sure he’ll come and visit you soon.” Taemin only sent him a glare, busying himself with a group of young girls looking at the pastry selection. “You should give him your number,” Minho continued, ignoring the customers, knowing Taemin was still listening, “what’s the worst that could happen?”
Taemin sighed as he counted the girls’ change and handed it over.
“He could beat me up?” he answered, “I know you’re straight and everything but it’s not as easy as just walking up to someone and giving them your number, there are people that hate us Minho.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t, didn’t you say he was wearing an LGBT Society T-Shirt last time he came in?”
“Stop being such a clever little shit, Minho.” Minho scoffed.
“You’re just being a wuss,” he challenged, “you know what, I bet you ten dollars that you won’t write your number on his coffee when he comes in today.”
Taemin’s eyes squinted, Minho was a bastard. He knew that Taemin could never turn down a bet, he knew it. Maybe it was time for him to get a new job, one where his co-workers knew less about him. Yes, that was a good idea.
“Fine,” he spat, clearly not happy with the turn of events.
“Great,” Minho grinned, this never-ending bundle of happiness. Taemin hated him. Minho glanced towards the door and then back to Taemin, “good timing, Lover Boy’s here.”
Taemin span around so quickly that he almost pulled a muscle in his neck, then brushed his hands down the front of his uniform. Fuck, why hadn’t he ironed it this morning, he chastised himself, remembering how he had woken up five minutes before his shift was meant to start. He had made it in just in time, in what he could only really call a miraculous turn of events and probably Olympic speed athletics skills.
Lover Boy was chatting to a friend outside, his douchey cap on backwards, before he came through the doors and fuck he was so hot. Taemin heard Minho chuckle beside him and cleared his throat. He was a lot shorter than Taemin’s usual type but fuck those muscles made up for it tenfold.
“Hi,” he started, sounding out of breath and a little wheezy, before clearing his throat and trying not to act like he thought the sun shined out of this dude’s ass, “how can I help you today?”
Behind him Minho had, in what was probably his most annoying turn yet, begun to sing along to an annoying chart song, replacing all of the lyrics with “ten dollars, ten dollarssssssss.”
“Er, two strawberry lemonades please,” Hot Dude replied and grinned, “bit too hot for coffee,” he added, and Taemin smiled, blinded for a moment. Snapping out of it he glanced down to the cash register and meekly asked for the cost, not feeling remotely disgusted when Hot Dude handed over a bunch of sweaty coins and notes.
“Er, name?” Taemin asked as he grabbed two plastic take-out cups and the strawberry juice. Jonghyun looked confused, “to … er, to write on the cups.”
“Oh,” Jonghyun grinned, moving aside as Minho took over on the cash register, “Kibum,” he grinned, running a hand through white blond hair, “and Jonghyun.”
Taemin busied himself with the lemonade; ignoring the pokes Minho would send his way every few seconds. He growled at him as the blender mixed the juices together, throwing a cautionary glance to the Hot Dude, who could barely be seen over the top of the ledge. Damn he was short. Short but hot. Taemin kinda dug it.
Minho was sending him these knowing looks from over at the cash register, a fan of ten-dollar bills in his hand as he fanned himself. Taemin hated him.
He didn’t know what pushed him to do it, but he bit the bullet. Maybe it was the temptation of $10, maybe it was because Lover Boy was really really hot and Taemin kinda had the biggest crush on him ever, despite only ever talking to him to take his order. Suddenly, however, he found himself scribbling his number on the plastic cup nearest him, with a little ‘text me ;)’ that had sort of killed him inside to write. He was never going to be smooth; he didn’t know why he tried.
Grinning, he pushed the two cups over to Lover Boy, saddened when he didn’t notice the number, glancing up from his phone briefly to grab the two cups before wandering out, the soles of his trainers squeaking on the floor.
“I believe this is yours,” Minho bowed at him in some fake imitation of politeness, pushing a $10 bill into his hand. Worst-case scenario, he had $10.
With Minho’s heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder, Taemin reluctantly went back to work, a fluttery nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Taemin would be lying if he were to say that he hadn’t been checking his phone every ten minutes for the entirety of his shift, but it wasn’t until later that evening that Taemin finally received a message, under the flashing title ‘unknown number’ and his stomach lurched.
hey, he read, it’s kibum from the coffee shop. you gave me ur no?
Taemin’s fingers didn’t appear to be working in his favour and it took his several attempts to type out his response.
er hi haha i hope you didn’t think it was creepy?? my friend just got sick of me creeping on you and bet me i wouldn’t give u my no
He sent it before thinking too much and then panicking.
actually telling you that probably doesn’t make me seem less creepy :’( i promise im not creepy
hahaha, the reply came, it’s cool! what’s ur name?? u didn’t put it on the cup?
Oh. God, he really couldn’t do the smooth thing at all could he?
it’s taemin, haha sorry im not really?? used to giving guys my no u were the first actually haha
ur cute, the reply came, ur not using your cliché teen job to get guys?? i guess i shud b honoured
Getting to know someone via text messaging was annoying, Taemin found. It was really restricting, and often Kibum would say things that he meant to be funny and Taemin just wouldn’t get it, or vice versa, but he managed to keep the conversation up. Kibum was a couple of years above Taemin, and would be starting his final year of university after the summer, weirdly enough at the same university Taemin was enrolled to start at. (He didn’t like to think of it as a sign but Minho had been adamant that it was one and Minho was one of the most rational people he knew so Taemin found himself believing it too.) He was in the university choir, and the dance club, and he had an unhealthy obsession with Instagram (Taemin had been too nervous to ask for it and had searched high and low but couldn’t find it). He lived in a shared dorm with an older friend of his called Jinki, who was working at the university as a TA whilst finishing his PhD, Jinki’s boyfriend Jonghyun, and his two dogs, who had weird French names that Taemin could never remember.
It felt like the next natural step to call Kibum, so he found himself doing so after a brief text conversation in which Kibum ranted about how bored he was. The voice that answered was tired, and Taemin blushed, imagining Kibum all snuggled up in bed.
“Hey, what have I done to deserve this random phone call?” There was a deep laugh and Taemin almost choked. Fuck, even his voice was perfect.
“I just thought,” he mumbled, playing with the hem of his t-shirt, “I dunno, texts are so much of a hassle and –“
“Oh so talking to me is a hassle,” Taemin heard the teasing lilt but still found himself jumping to defend himself.
“No! I love talking to you, it’s just-“
“I was joking,” Kibum chuckled, and Taemin could hear him faffing about with something over the other end of the phone.
They ended up talking for hours, about the city, about their friends, their family, funny stories and memories. Kibum told him a lot about the university, the buildings and what to expect, and Taemin talked about how terrified he was to move away from home, to move to a newer, bigger city, with so many people he didn’t know.
“It’s so beautiful in autumn though,” Kibum muttered, sleepily, as they discussed the campus, “have you seen my Instagrams of it? They have these massive trees and all of the leaves turn the colours of fire and it’s beautiful.”
“I, er…” Taemin found himself blushing, “I couldn’t find your Instagram. I looked for so long but maybe I’m just shit at the whole Internet stalking thing.”
“You’re clearly rubbish at Internet stalking, I found yours weeks ago,” he chuckled and then commented, “cute teddy bear collection by the way.” Taemin scoffed. “You could have just asked me for it,” Kibum teased after laughing, “it’s bumkeyk,” he continued. Taemin found himself typing it into this search bar, knowing it was probably not a good idea to search for it whilst still on the phone with Kibum, but when it loaded he was only confused.
None of the pictures were Kibum, or at least not his Kibum. They were all another guy, tall and lean, with perfect skin and a cute button nose, the prettiest eyes and pouty lips. He was gorgeous, like, incredibly gorgeous, like, shit how the fuck is that humanly possible gorgeous, and Taemin was taken aback.
There were no pictures of the guy from the café though, not at least until he scrolled down at little and found one with him and the pretty guy together, another Instagram account linked in the caption - jonghyun.948, and damn, that was the guy, that was Lover Boy. Shit.
Taemin hung up soon after that. Kibum had figured out something was wrong and kept asking if he was okay, so he muttered something about being tired and having to go, and hung up.
He didn’t want to be an arse, because Kibum was hot, he had just been so fixated on him being someone else that he didn’t really know what to do with himself for a while. He sighed, glancing at Jonghyun’s Instagram profile, and it just felt foreign. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was nothing there. Sure he was hot, but that was it, but when he clicked over to Kibum’s profile it was Kibum and he found himself clicking through photo to photo for hours until he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. He’d managed to get back through at least fifty different hair colour changes but he couldn’t stop.
Suddenly he was glad that this guy hadn’t come into the coffee shop because there was 0% chance he would have been able to keep his cool.
“Minho,” Taemin whined as they worked together a few days after. He hadn’t had chance to phone Kibum back and he thought it was really a conversation that needed to be done at least over the phone, not via text message. “What am I even meant to say? Hey, I’m sorry I freaked out and hung up on you, I thought you were your less hot best friend Jonghyun.”
Minho stood agape in front of him, and it was one of the first times that he had seen it. He hadn’t even gaped when Taemin showed him pictures of what Kibum actually looked like.
“Er, Taem, I think you might wanna-”
There was a laugh behind him and Taemin froze. Shit shit shit shit, he knew that laugh, he’d heard that laugh countless times over the phone.
“So,” Kibum greeted, smirking as Taemin flushed red. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. The time he peed his pants at the age of 15? Nothing compared to this. The time he sat on dog shit and didn’t realise for the entire day? Nothing. Compared. To. This. Torture. He sniffed, straightened his back and cleared his throat.
“Hello sir how may I help you today?”
“Are we going to ignore the fact you just-”
“Our blueberry muffins are currently on a 3-for-2 deal, all profits go to the local dog sanctuary and I can guarantee it’s worth the money!” Taemin continued, trying to drown out the embarrassment.
“You thought I was Jonghyun?!”
“It was an easy mistake to make, what was that, 15 blueberry muffins? Why how generous of you Sir.”
“Taemin, are we going to talk about this or-”
“And coffee for everyone in the queue, Sir you are truly a saint.”
“Taemin,” Kibum grinned, handing over his card, “fine, fine, if that’s how you want to play it. Dinner, tomorrow night? I’ll let you call me Jonghyun?”
Taemin blushed and nodded.
“Okay, fine, Kibum, now move along please, Minho will bag your mountain of muffins.” Kibum scoffed, taking his card back and slipping it into his (very expensive looking) wallet. “Oh,” he added as Kibum glanced up, “just for the record, you’re like ten billion times hotter than Jonghyun.”