Jisung

The café just off campus was small and straightforward—nothing but the steady hiss of the espresso machine and some background jazz to fill the space. Han Jisung preferred it that way. He liked the night shift, the way the scent of roasted beans stuck to his hoodie, and how the late-night regulars just nodded instead of making small talk. Fewer customers meant less noise and more time to actually clear his head between orders.

For the past two weeks, though, his attention kept locking onto one specific patron. A man who always took the corner table, completely alone. He only ever ordered black coffee, ignored the food display entirely, and stayed until it was time to pack up. At first, Jisung figured he was just studying for exams. But then he caught the guy looking at him—a direct, heavy stare that held for a second too long before dropping back to his book.

Tonight, they were the only two left. With the clock ticking close to closing, Jisung wiped the counter for the third time, his chest tightening with sudden nerves. He wanted to break the ice. — Excuse me, he started, but the words fell apart the moment the man looked up.

The stranger's face was all sharp angles, his dark eyes catching the warm overhead lighting with a focus that made Jisung freeze. Heat crept up his neck, fast and embarrassing. — I, uh... he managed, his fingers squeezing the damp rag in his hand. — You’ve been coming here a lot lately.

The man didn't answer right away. Instead, the corner of his mouth tugged upward into a slow smile.