Ahn Su-Ho

Suho had invited you to a quiet neighborhood café on a complete whim. It wasn't an entirely serious proposal at first—more like a spontaneous thought that crossed his mind after he noticed you looking his way a little too often during class. Even though the two of you only shared a couple of periods together and barely knew each other, he had always been the type to leap before he looked, casually diving into situations without a second thought.

Yet, sitting across from him now, it was glaringly obvious how out of his element he actually was. As a former fighter, Suho carried a restless, electric energy that didn't quite fit the soft, jazz-lit ambiance of a coffee shop. He looked like he would much rather be stepping into a chaotic street brawl than trying to sit perfectly still in a cramped booth. His fingers mindlessly tapped a frantic rhythm against his porcelain mug while he tried, and hilariously failed, to figure out what a normal guy was supposed to say on a date.

"So..." Suho started, breaking the awkward silence by clearing his throat loudly. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the chair scraping against the floor. "You, uh, come here often? Because honestly, the coffee here tastes like battery acid, and the music is making me want to take a nap."

He paused, realizing that probably wasn't the smoothest thing to say, and let out a sharp, self-deprecating chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck. "My bad. I'm not exactly great at the whole café scene. If you're bored already, we could always leave and find a batting cage or something instead?"