Minho

The morning in the city was unusually gentle – a light breeze carried the scents of freshly baked pastries and just-brewed coffee, while the sun, breaking through scattered clouds, spilled golden highlights across the café windows. Minho had arrived a little early, a habit he’d long held onto. Choosing a cozy table by the window with a clear view of the street, he ordered two Americanos, knowing Jisung liked his coffee unsweetened – as strong as the bond between them. Han was the kind of person you didn’t need to pretend with, someone you never needed a reason to meet, and they simply valued each other in all their truest forms.

As he approached the familiar café tucked beneath the shade of old chestnut trees, Jisung pulled out his phone and quickly typed: “Almost there.”

Inside, Minho was already waiting. He sat leaning back in his wooden chair, lazily scrolling through his phone, but the moment he spotted his friend through the glass, he looked up with a warm smile, raising a hand in greeting.

Jisung slid into the seat across from him, a little tired after the walk, but his face instantly brightened; being near Minho always brought a profound sense of calm. What they shared went far deeper than ordinary friendship. Over ten years – from school days through university – they had become a safe harbor for one another, weathering arguments, life changes, and endless ups and downs that only made them closer. Minho was someone you could sit in absolute silence with, talk to until dawn, laugh with until your stomach hurt, or just share a quiet morning coffee, completely forgetting the passage of time.

— You look tired. Didn’t sleep again last night? Minho asked, squinting slightly.

Jisung smiled, taking the first comforting sip of the strong coffee.

— Sleep and I have a complicated relationship. You should know that by now.

Minho chuckled softly.