Chapter Text
The restaurant is nice. That’s the only thing Hongjoong can say about his blind date with any certainty.
There’s soft lighting, linen napkins, and a menu with no prices on it, meaning that Yeosang—or Wooyoung, depending on whoever had organized the date for him—put actual effort in. Hongjoong appreciates the effort distantly, and with mild guilt knowing he never actually wanted this for himself..
“So you’re in software?” the man across from him asks. His name is Hyunseok.
“Yeah,” Hongjoong nods, curtly, having a hard time staying engaged in something he has no interest in. He doesn’t want to come across as rude, so he elaborates somewhat. “Mostly backend. Systems architecture.”
Hyunseok is smart and handsome and he has an easy confidence about him that probably works very well on most people, and Hongjoong thinks, distantly, that someone is going to be very lucky to sit across from him someday.
He just hopes Hyunseok can’t tell that the someone isn’t him.
“Oh, cool.” He smiles. “I actually have no idea what that means.”
Hongjoong laughs quietly. The date is going fine.
That’s what he tells himself as he cuts his food into smaller pieces than necessary and nods along to something Hyunseok is saying about his graduate program.
By the time his date is over, Hongjoong can tell that Hyunseok knows they probably won’t be going out on a second.
“Well it was nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” he murmurs outside, tucking his hands into his coat pockets awkwardly.
“You too,” Hongjoong waves goodbye as he walks off to his car. At least he had the decency to walk Hyunseok to his own. He meant it too. The date was pleasant for the most part, and if he had met Hyunseok on his own terms he might have even become friends with him.
Outside the restaurant the city is cool against his face. He breathes it in and feels his shoulders drop, settling into the particular relief of someone who has been performing and can finally take a break.
His phone starts to buzz before he makes it to the end of the block. His groupchat.
Operation Cupid
Wooyoung: REPORT IN
Wooyoung: it has been TWO HOURS
San: did you like him???
Yunho: give him a second oh my god
Mingi: are you guys going on a second date?
Wooyoung: MINGI
Mingi: what? thats literally the whole point
Jongho: he’s probably going back to the cafe
Yeosang: obviously
Wooyoung: KIM HONGJOONG IF YOU ARE AT THAT CAFE RIGHT NOW
San: babe he’s not gonna answer
Wooyoung: I KNOW AND IM FURIOUS ABOUT IT
He slides his phone back in his pocket. He is not at the cafe, but he is, however, walking toward it. It’s currently ten forty-three and the cafe is open until midnight; he has a problem on his project that has been turning over in the back of his head since this afternoon, and he would very much like to return to it
He automatically knows the way to his favorite cafe. The walk takes eleven minutes.
❈
Seonghwa hears the chime of the bell above the door during the tailend of his shift, tired eyes shifting up to meet whoever is coming into the cafe at this hour.
Shouldering his way through the door is a familiar face. Hongjoong, with one hand on the strap of his backpack while the other pushes his hair out of his face against the wind that followed him into the door.
Seonghwa immediately notices his collared shirt and trousers. Hongjoong is always stylish, but never this dressed up. He tries not to let the bite of jealousy sting him as he straightens up.
Seonghwa’s eyes follow him as he drops his backpack into the chair at the table he always sits at. It’s the same routine as it always is. Backpack first, then laptop pulled free and set open on the table, the cord for his headphones being unknotted with careful patience.
He watches until Hongjoong is settled and staring at his screen, soon after realizing that he literally stopped talking mid-conversation with his coworker, Soyeon.
“Sorry,” Seonghwa blinks as a flush rises to his cheeks. “What were you saying?”
Soyeon wasn’t even saying anything. She is looking between him and the back corner of the cafe with an expression that is doing all the work without the assistance of words at all.
“I’ll take the counter,” Seonghwa just nods.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re on dishes tonight.”
He quickly ushers her out of the way with his hands. “I’ll do dishes after!”
She steps aside, unbothered. Seonghwa moves behind the counter and fixes his hair with just one hand, the other fumbling with the register.
Hongjoong doesn’t surface right away; he has to sink into whatever he’s working on first, locate himself within it, and only then does he remember he’s somewhere that requires things from him.
Seonghwa used to go over too quickly, in the early days, before he understood the rhythm of Hongjoong. He’d interrupt his work, receive a polite but absent smile—the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes—and it was always Seonghwa who had come back to the counter feeling like had done something wrong.
He doesn’t pester Hongjoong anymore. He waits for him to come up on his own.
It takes about four minutes, Seonghwa not counting.
When Hongjoong finally looks up from his screen, resurfacing, his gaze drifts to Seonghwa, smiles a little clumsily. He finds this part, on a personal level, extremely difficult.
“Hongjoong,” he nods kindly as the other finally makes his way up to the counter. “You’re in late tonight.”
Hongjoong glances up at him properly. There’s a kind of tiredness in his eyes, a bit screen-strained and a bit of something else beyond the deadline-haunted exhaustion he normally carries in.
“Yeah, I was just out with somebody.” With Hongjoong’s vague answer, Seonghwa can only assume that his earlier predictions regarding his clothing were correct. It hits him like a punch to the gut as much as he doesn’t want it to, his eyes already starting to drift back to his screen.
“The usual?”
Hongjoong pulls out his card. “Yeah. Thanks, Seonghwa.”
His name. Seonghwa nods and turns around to make Hongjoong’s drink before he could noice the ruddiness of his cheeks and ears.
He pulls out a glass and starts the shot, watching the espresso run dark and steady into the bottom of it while very deliberately trying not to think about the way Hongjoong looks tonight; dressed like that, coming in from whomever he’d just been with.
He takes a rag and starts to wipe the counter down with a huff. He’d already wiped it before Hongjoong had come in, so it wasn’t really necessary.
When the espresso is brewed, Seonghwa fills a cup with ice and a bit of water, pours the shot over it and watches the darkness bloom and curl through the clear liquid.
“Hongjoong?” he calls gently, grabbing a straw for Hongjoong to save him the effort, because Seonghwa knows he always takes his coffee with a straw. He meets him halfway to hand off his coffee, bowing politely.
Soyeon is leaning against the back sink with her arms crossed when he returns to the back. Her eyebrows are raised, telling Seonghwa everything he needs to know, so he hides his face in his hands as if it’ll shield him from her assuming gaze.
She pulls him by his wrists to peek up into his eyes. “Why don’t you just ask him out or something? I mean he comes to the cafe so often it wouldn’t be weird.”
Seonghwa vehemently shakes his head and picks up the rag again. The counter still doesn’t need wiping. She takes it from his hands and guides him to the kitchen sink to busy him with something that actually needs busying.
“Why not? The worst that can happen is him saying no, it’s not like you guys are friends.”
The thought of rejection makes his stomach twist. From across the cafe he can hear the soft, familiar sound of Hongjoong’s typing picking back up. It’s fast and focused, the rhythm of someone who has found the thread again.
“He was on a date,” Seonghwa mumbles, facing the sink. “Tonight. That’s why he’s dressed like that.”
Soyoen is quiet for a moment, then clicks her tongue. “Well how do you know?”
“He said he was out with somebody.” He turns the tap off. Sets a glass down, trying not to sound as frustrated as he feels. “And he’s wearing a collared shirt.”
“Maybe it was a work thing?”
“Maybe,” Seonghwa sighs, but his tone reveals that he doesn’t actually think so. “I just don’t understand it. He’s the most antisocial guy ever.”
Soyeon comes to stand beside him and picks up a towel to dry without being asked. This is the thing he likes about her, never making a big deal of anything. She just quietly shows up next to him when he needs it.
“Thanks.”
❈
At ten past midnight, Hongjoong drops his bag by the door. He’s finally made it home, sitting on the edge of his bed with his phone in his hand for a long moment before he finally finds the courage to open it.
Thirty-three unread messages. He scrolls to the top.
Wooyoung: okay hes not answering so im going to assume it went terribly
Wooyoung: OR he’s so in love he forgot we exist
San: it’s definitely one of those two
Yunho: or he went back to the cafe
Wooyoung: yunho dont say that
Yunho: i’m just saying it’s statistically the most likely outcome
Mingi: wait do you guys think he likes him
San: MINGI
Wooyoung: MINGI
Mingi: what? what did i miss?
Jongho: he went back to the cafe
Jongho: I drove past it on the way home
Wooyoung: JONGHO!!!
San: YOU DROVE PAST IT?
Jongho: it’s on my way
Yeosang: it is literally not on your way
Jongho: whatever
Hongjoong pauses his scrolling, Jongho drove past the cafe? He doesn’t know whether to be touched or concerned and settles on a little of both. He scrolls.
Wooyoung: okay new plan, new man.
San: yes omg I have someone in mind actually
Yunho: maybe give him a few days first
Wooyoung: yunho hes had YEARS
Mingi: what if he just doesn’t want to date anyone?
Wooyoung: so thats actually not an option mingi
Mingi: why not
Wooyoung: because im the leader of this operation and i said so
Yeosang: ironclad logic tbh
Hongjoong lets his hand fall to the side of the bed, falling back until his back hits the plush sheets. His phone is still resting in his palm but he’s staring up at the ceiling.
Mingi, he thinks, is the only one of them operating with any kind of clarity right now, and the fact that Wooyoung has already dismissed him in favor of planning the next ambush is exactly the problem. He loves them. He loves them so much it occasionally makes him want to move to another city.
He keeps scrolling.
San: okay but genuinely how did it go? we just want to know you’re okay
Yunho: ^^
Wooyoung: ^^^
Wooyoung: i mean i also want the drama but mostly the first thing
Jongho: he’s fine he had his laptop with him
Yeosang: concerning that that’s your metric for fine
Jongho: for hongjoong it is
He exhales through his nose. Jongho is also operating with clarity, just in a way that is deeply unflattering to Hongjoong specifically.
He hits the bottom of the text thread and lets out a breath, finally typing.
Hongjoong: I’m fine. He was nice but wasn’t really the right fit for me. Please don’t set me up again.
He watches the read receipts stack up one by one, following an onslaught of messages. Why all of his friends stay up as late as him he doesn’t know.
Wooyoung: HE LIVES
San: wasn’t right how?? give us something so we know what ur looking for
Mingi: I told you guys he just doesn't want to date anyone
Wooyoung: mingi I will not be taking questions at this time
Yunho: joong we just want you to be happy
Wooyoung: what yunho said
Wooyoung: please dont just give up
Wooyoung: san has someone in mind. just one more. youll love him
Hongjoong: No.
Wooyoung: joong 🥺
San: joong 🥺
Yunho: joong 🥺
Hongjoong: Goodnight.
Hongjoong plugs his phone in, silencing it and placing face down on his nightstand. He lies back on his bed with his arm over his eyes.
They’re going to do it, anyway. He knows them. Wooyoung has already decided and when Wooyoung decides something the others fall in line like dominoes—San first, then Yunho because he secretly loves it, and then eventually Yeosang and Jongho will get worn down and stop resisting.
It is only a matter of time before another name appears in his messages, another carefully chosen restaurant, another evening of sitting across from someone perfectly fine while his brain is somewhere else entirely.
He’s not opposed to the idea of it, in theory. A relationship. Someone who is organized and quiet enough to let him study while providing him company. He can see the appeal, abstractly.
He doesn’t not want to be happy.
Between his coursework and his projects and the internship application he has been quietly panicking about for the last three weeks, there is just not a lot of time left over for a partner. He doesn’t want to upset someone with his vigorous work schedule, having to tell them constantly that he doesn’t have time for them in the same way he doesn’t want to be burdened by having to worry about someone other than himself.
He enjoys studying at his quiet cafe with his laptop and the back corner table where nobody bothers him. That isn’t loneliness, it’s just the shape his life has taken. He’s made his peace with it, more career driven than most people his age.
What he has not made his peace with is six people who love him very loudly refusing to accept that.
He blinks absently at the ceiling.
He needs a way out. Something convincing enough to make them stop long enough to buy himself some quiet so he can get through this semester and start his internship. He’s tired of being ambushed every other week by someone’s well-meaning contact in his messages.
He closes his eyes and decides it’s a problem for tomorrow.
❈
Hongjoong’s last class ends at half-past five and he is at the cafe by six. It’s later than he’d like but earlier than yesterday, so he decides to count it as a win.
The evening crowd is thinning out when he arrives. The after-work laptop people are mostly gone, while a few students still occupy the middle tables with the glazed expressions of people who have been staring at the same document for too long. Hongjoong knows the feeling all too well.
He pushes through the door and feels the warmth of the place settle over him, the smell of coffee and something faintly sweet; the low murmur of the speakers play some indie playlist.
His table is usually free at this hour, like the universe has quietly agreed to save it for him. He doesn’t think too hard about what it says about him that this is the most reliable thing in his life right now.
He gets settled. Backpack down, laptop out, headphones around his neck. He finds where he left off this morning and reads back through his work, verifying and reviewing everything for a few minutes. The familiar routine is exactly what he needs after a long day of sitting in lecture halls, thinking about all the stuff he’d be able to get done instead of listening to his professors drone on about things he already knows about.
He’s about to put his headphones on to really lock in when he hears Seonghwa’s voice cutting through the cafe, the anxiousness of it contrasts his aura of usual calm.
“—I’m serious, Soyeon! I sat down with it for an hour last night and I don't even know where to start. I’ve never written a single line of code in my life. I don’t even know what a function is. It’s due in three weeks and I—”
Hongjoong’s fingers freeze on the keyboard, but he doesn’t look up right away, just listens.
“—I just don’t understand why an education major needs to know how to build anything. I’m going to teach five year olds. They use crayons.”
The other voice, also familiar but not as distinct, replies, “Did you ask anyone for help?”
Seonghwa groans, exasperated. “Who am I going to ask?”
Hongjoong looks up, then.
Seonghwa is behind the counter with his back half-turned, a cloth in his hands, talking to his coworker. He looks tired in the soft way he sometimes does at this hour, and Hongjoong wonders if he only has the time for closing shifts. If he’s an education major, as Hongjoong’s just learned, they probably attend the same school. Seonghwa’s day is most likely occupied with lectures and homework, so it makes sense that he works this late into the night.
Hongjoong looks back at his screen, eyes flitting over to Seonghwa occasionally.
His phone buzzes in his pocket and he already knows what it is without checking. More messages, Wooyoung or San picking up exactly where they left off last night as though the intervening hours were just a formality. He checks the notification just to verify that he was right (he was), before putting it face down on the table once again.
Something assembles itself quietly in the back of his mind. Piece by piece, like each part of a puzzle is clicking into place until the whole thing is just sitting there, waiting for him to catch up to the obvious picture right in front of him.
He needs something convincing that his friends can see and believe and finally, finally leave alone. Seonghwa needs someone who knows what a function is.
Hongjoong closes his laptop, bolting up and out of his seat before he can talk himself out of it. It’s new—he’s usually very good at talking himself out of things due to his own introvertedness, but the opportunity is too good for him to pass up.
Seonghwa startles a little at the presence suddenly behind him, turning around quickly. He shoots his coworker some kind of a look before he settles in front of the register with his usual, kind smile. “Hongjoong! Sorry about that, it’s good to see you again… your usual?”
“Actually,” Hongjoong mumbles, and then stops, because he hadn’t quite planned past this part.
Seonghwa waits. He has a patient quality about him that Hongjoong has noticed before. It is, at this particular moment, mildly inconvenient, because it means Hongjoong has to be the one to continue.
He clears his throat. “I heard you talking. About your project.”
Something shifts in Seonghwa’s expression, like a quick, small mortification, there and gone. “Oh,” he murmurs, looking embarrassed for some reason. “Sorry, I didn’t realize—”
“Don’t apologize.” Hongjoong shakes his head. “I can help you. With the project, I mean, if you want.”
Seonghwa blinks. “You… sorry?”
“Software engineering,” Hongjoong continues, by way of explanation. “It’s what I study. Whatever they have you building, I can help you figure it out. It wouldn’t take long.” This part is true, it wouldn’t take him very long at all. However, he is aware this is not a universal experience and tries not to let it show on his face.
Seonghwa is looking at him with an expression he can’t quite read. A little surprised, maybe, like he’s trying to find the part where this makes sense. “Why would you do that?”
Hongjoong had anticipated this question.
“I, uh, have a proposition,” he laughs a little breathlessly, it’s his turn to be embarrassed, especially when his suggestion came out more formal than he intended. He watches Seonghwa's eyebrows lift slightly and presses on before the moment can get away from him. “My friends keep trying to set me up on dates and I need them to think I’m already seeing someone so they’ll stop doing that.” He pauses. “I heard you say you don’t know anyone who could help you with your project. I wouldn’t even mind doing it for you, so…”
He lets the offer hang in the air.
Seonghwa stares at him for a long moment, cogs visibly turning behind his eyes. His hands are flat on the counter, and behind him, Soyeon has gone completely still, absolutely listening in and wanting very badly not to be caught doing it.
“So you want to fake date…” Seonghwa confirms very slowly, “Me?”
Hongjoong nods tersely, “In exchange for help with your project, yes.”
“That’s—” Seonghwa stops, finds his sentence, then continues again, “a very unusual thing to ask someone.”
“I know,” Hongjoong winces. He can’t give up yet. “But it’s practical. You get what you need, I get what I need, nobody gets set up on any more blind dates.” He hears himself and adds, “That last part is mainly relevant to me.”
Something moves across Seonghwa’s face; it’s quick and unreadable, gone before Hongjoong can catch it. He looks down at the counter for a second, hands balling up a little.
“How long?”
Hongjoong perks up a bit. He hadn’t expected that to be the next question. He’d expected more resistance, especially due to the fact that they’re both men. He had come up with his plan so abruptly that he didn’t even bother to find out if Seonghwa might be queer. However, Seonghwa seemed to have skipped straight to logistics, and Hongjoong is pleased that they have that in common at the very least.
“Until your project is done,” he recovers. “Hopefully my friends will lose interest by then.”
Seonghwa looks at him for a moment longer. Once again, there is something going on behind his eyes that Hongjoong cannot parse, which is not unusual. He has never been particularly good at reading people.
“Okay.” Seonghwa agrees, too easily for Hongjoong’s brain to fully wrap around.
“Okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” The corner of Seonghwa’s mouth does something that isn’t quite a smile but is close enough to one. “I help you, you help me. I’ll do it.”
Hongjoong’s lips part for a moment then he presses them together. He offers a quick, flustered nod. “Okay, yeah. Great, thanks.”
He shuffles back to his table, again, opens his laptop back up, before he hears Seonghwa shyly call from the counter again.
“Hongjoong? Could you please order something?”
“Oh, right.” He scrambles to his feet again.
Seonghwa clears his throat with a kind smile. “And I might also need your phone number.”
“Right.” Hongjoong agrees again, and fumbles to get his phone out of his pocket.
When he returns to his table, order placed and Seonghwa’s contact sitting in his phone, the cursor on his laptop blinks unhelpfully at him. He decides, that evening, to finish his coffee and leave his work alone.