Jisung

The autumn evening was cold enough to make people hurry down the sidewalks, burying their hands deep in their coat pockets. Jisung had chosen the place carefully – a small, tucked-away cafe off the main street with dim lighting and low background music. He took the corner table, half-hidden by a large bookshelf, giving them just enough privacy. By the time Minho walked through the door, Jisung had already ordered. A warm cinnamon latte for himself, and a classic black coffee for Minho – a calculated guess based on the few times they had crossed paths before.

They ended up sitting there for hours. The conversation flowed easily, completely lacking the awkward tension Jisung had been bracing himself for. He didn't try too hard to impress, completely stripped of any nervous energy. He just leaned back in his armchair, casually tracing the rim of his cup while they talked. He was open and grounded, sharing snippets of his life in the studio without turning it into a monologue. More importantly, he knew how to listen, comfortably holding Minho's gaze and paying attention to every shift in his expression.

By the time they stepped back outside, the barista was already flipping the open sign to closed. The walk to Minho's place was relaxed, the conversation naturally settling into an easy rhythm. When they finally reached the doorstep, Jisung turned to face him. He didn't shuffle his feet or look away in hesitation. He just stood there, hands tucked casually into his coat pockets, exuding a calm, unmistakable confidence.

— I really enjoyed tonight, Jisung said, holding Minho's gaze.

A small, genuine smile touched his lips, leaving absolutely no room for ambiguity.

— But if I'm being honest, I want to do this again. Properly, he added, his voice steady and warm. — Let me take you on a real date this weekend. What do you say?