Chapter Text
You were running late—again. Truth was you had been up way too late the night before trying to finish the article you wanted to get out before your move. You had been telling yourself for months you were going to get all your loose ends tied up and make sure you could really, truly embrace the move. Of course, life always has other plans.
Your family had been less than supportive of the whole idea of you just dropping your entire life in Los Angeles and moving to Seoul. You had spent an inordinate amount of time on the phone and through texts trying to convince them you knew what you were doing. You think you'd spent more time in "conversation" with them in the last couple of months than you had since you'd moved out at 18. They hadn't cared much about your whereabouts until now. You couldn't figure out what made them so adamant you stay put.
The tinkle of a little bell chimed when you opened the door to the coffee shop. Caffeine. That's what you needed. Caffeine and time away from your mostly-packed apartment to put the finishing touches on this article.
You kicked yourself for having run so late and now had to stand in a long line. However, you sighed in relief that it looked like the tables were mostly unoccupied. There were a couple at a table near the door and a man in a beanie and mask reading in the corner. "Everyone must be ordering to-go," you think.
When you finally get through the line, order, and get your drink and pastry, you sit down at a table along the windows of the coffee shop. You had thought about sitting outside instead, but the brisk morning air was just slightly too cold this time of day to be truly comfortable. You settle in and pull out your laptop to start working on the finishing touches of your article.
After a half hour, you sigh, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands, and look out the window. You were clearly way too tired when you had written this draft up. There were so many typos and weird sentences to fix. It was tedious. As you allow your eyes to adjust to looking at a distance further than your laptop screen, you watch a couple of little brown birds fighting over the crumbs of someone's forgotten bagel. Smiling, you look around the coffee shop to see if the rush you'd been in earlier has died down.
The couple that had been sitting at the table near the door had left and it was quiet at the counter as well. You look in front of you, across the top of your laptop, and are startled to see the man in the beanie, who had been reading the book when you sat down, was looking at you. He glances back down at his book quickly and you are sure you see a slight blushing on his cheeks at having been caught. Cute.
You let your eyes quickly drop back down to your laptop. What you tell yourself is that you’re not wanting to make a deal out of it and certainly not looking to start anything with anyone when you're moving out of the country soon. Of course, that’s the rational thing to say and the perfect excuse. The reality is you are terrified. You do not date. You haven’t really dated anyone since your first year of college. And looking back, you’re not really sure that even counted.
You look at your laptop. You don't see the words on the screen though. You are remembering that split second you had locked with the dark-eyed man in front of you. You couldn't really see any other features on his face, since they were covered in a beanie and face mask, but you could see those eyes. They were dangerously dark and a beautiful almond shape. You catch yourself thinking, "I could easily drown in those eyes." They felt familiar. They felt like home.
You give your head a quick shake in an attempt to regain focus. Flirting with the cute man in the beanie in an LA coffee shop is not an option. You're moving and have so much to do before then. You can't. And judging by those eyes, a fling was out of the question. Falling hard would be the only option. Absolutely not in the cards for you. No, it was safer to just enjoy the memory of those eyes.
After a few more minutes of realizing you are not going to get any more writing done, you quickly pack up your stuff. You would go back to your apartment where it look like the bomb had gone off and try to make that phone call to the movers you had been putting off.
You don't dare look back at the man in the beanie. You don't want to know if he's watching you again. You don't want to know if he's going to try to get your attention. You want to quickly shut and lock that door before it opens any further.
You grab your bag and head out the coffee shop door. Once outside, you don't feel as anxious. You walk down the sidewalk back towards your apartment, enjoying the November sunshine on your face, and not particularly looking forward to what was on your to do list. Although, you at least should be able to send this article off soon. Scratch that item off the list.
You hear someone shouting from behind you, which you ignore because you don't know anyone around here.
"Excuse me!" the voice gets louder and you hear hurried footsteps hitting the concrete behind you.
Tense, ready to fight for your life if you're about to get mugged, you turn to look at who's rushing at you. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see the man in the beanie two steps behind you. He's wearing a black beanie and a black mask over his nose and mouth. You can see just the barest fringe of orange-red hair peeking out from under the beanie and he has silver hoop earrings in his ears. Completing the look, he's wearing a black hoodie, black pants, and white sneakers. In his hand is a white cord. He looks too old to be a college student, although he's definitely dressed like one.
"Excuse me," he says, sounding slightly out of breath. English is clearly not his first language, as he speaks with an accent. But you can't help but love the sound of his voice, even though you've only heard two words. "You left this."
You jump with a start, realizing you're just staring at him thinking about his accent and his dark eyes. "Sorry?"
He holds out his hand to you, in which there is a white laptop charger. Your laptop charger. "You left this in the coffee shop."
"Oh! Oohhh," you shout, embarrassingly. You have the sudden realization you didn't need to avoid this guy's stare. You just needed to open your mouth and that would be enough to destroy this potential relationship before it started. "I'm sorry. Thank you for running all the way out here to give it to me."
You reach out and take the charger from his hands. It takes everything in you not to stare at his outstretched hand. His fingers are long. Was there any part of this person that wasn't beautiful?
"I'm really sorry to make you run all the way out here," you repeat. Trying to lighten the tense atmosphere, you chuckle as you say, "I'm very scattered."
The man scrunches his eyebrows together just slightly in confusion. Are you talking too fast? Maybe his English isn't very good? Slowly he says, "It was under the table. You probably couldn't see it."
You look at him again. You desperately want to know more about him. His eyes look like they've seen things - you want to know where he's from, what he does for a living, what was the book he was reading in the coffee shop. Anything. But you can't, you’re frozen in fear. And you're leaving and you absolutely cannot afford heartbreak with all these other life changes. Curse the world's worst timing for meeting him now.
~
He watched her as she walked away, hitching her bag up higher on her shoulder as she went. He sighed and ran his hands over his face, before collecting himself. He could admit to himself that when he first saw her in the coffee shop, he was intrigued because she was beautiful. But after surreptitiously watching her while she worked on her laptop, he couldn't help but be endeared.
She was clearly dedicated to whatever she was working on. She didn't surface once to look around her for a full 30 minutes, absent-mindedly sipping at the straw of her empty cup. She hadn't even noticed the couple get into a bit of a fight before rushing themselves out to avoid causing a bigger scene. She just kept plugging away at her keyboard.
Of course, when she did finally look up and locked eyes with him, he was mortified at being caught. However, for that half-second he held his gaze with hers, he was excited. There was something comforting in her eyes, almost home-like.
He was disappointed when she packed up a few minutes later. He knew he was going to have to get going himself soon, in order to make the next schedule. They were preparing for the upcoming concerts and these little blocks of time in the mornings were his small window of peace before the whirlwind.
Then she forgot her charger. It was laying on the floor, so it made sense she would miss it. But this was his chance. He pocketed the book he hadn't been reading, ran and grabbed the charger, and made it way after her.
Now that she was walking away, he felt the pang of disappointment in himself. Maybe he should have asked for her number? She clearly didn't recognize him. Should he have done more?
He replayed the conversation in his head.
Her face was clearly saying she felt awkward, but didn't know what to do next. "I'm Y/N."
"Min Yoongi. Yoongi," he said softly. He held his breath in that moment, waiting to see if maybe it was some weird fluke that she just hadn't recognized him because of the mask and beanie. But no spark of recognition appeared. She really didn't know who he was. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."
"Thanks again for bringing me my charger. It's the only one I have access to right now. I would have been in trouble without it," she said. She looked hesitant, as if she wanted to say more. But instead she ended the conversation with, "Well, I have a lot to do today. Thanks again for the charger, Yoongi. Bye!"
The informality of how she called him "Yoongi" rang through his brain, heating up his insides. He sighed. Maybe she will come back to the coffee shop tomorrow.