Byungjoo hated being alone at Starbucks, just him himself with his laptop on, completing assignments, or, since it's the holidays then, watching dance videos. He hated sitting down and owning a seat to himself just because he purchased a grande cup of vanilla frappe. And when he says alone, he meant alone, with only the employees and no other customers, just him and his laptop music, trying to out-loud the music they play there, alone. 

More than that, he hated it when the only other customer, who would only arrive at exactly 4.43pm, took the seat on the table opposite his where everytime Byungjoo looked up, they would have to exchange eye contacts. It wasn't just the fact that he was always there, always sitting opposite Byungjoo and that they were the only two customers then that made his identity distinct, it was the fact that he was the son of his father's friend-cum-enemy that made him distinct. Every single meetup of the two families had them sitting at opposite ends of the dinner table, exchanging not a single word while their families exchange a bit too much of it.

That particular day, the opposite table sat a forgotten piece of document as the customer was at the door, and Byungjoo decided that he had to return it before it fell into the endless pits of Starbuck's lost and found booth. Picking it up, he wanted to call out for the other, only to realise how despite the thousands of meetings, Byungjoo still hadn't know his name.

Most of the people I follow are either at work or in school and my dashboard is going so slow. It's so dull right now.