The contract with Death! M.YG× Reader

Desperate times call for Desperate Measures

I had done my best to convince myself that it didn't matter what Yoongi would think about my showing up announced—I had to do it anyway.

I gripped the doorknob and wrenched the door open, stepping inside before I lost courage and turned to go home.

There was a fire burning in the grate, just like last time, and a few people were lounging about at tables with coffee and magazines. There was a hidden radio somewhere set to a classic station, music filtering quietly throughout the place, but for the most part, it was empty.

I approached the front counter, wondering if Yoongi was crouched down behind the pastry case or somewhere in the back, only to come face-to-face with Mrs.Min as she walked out of the kitchen.

"Oh!" A smile crossed her face. "Y/n!"

I was pleasantly surprised to find that she remembered who I was and that she seemed genuinely glad to see me. "Hi," I said, returning her smile. "Nice to see you again."

I really did mean it. If Mrs.Min was smiling and all perky, that had to mean nothing terrible had happened to Yoongi. We made a few minutes of small talk, discussing the sour weather and Thanksgiving, which was just next week.

"Are you looking for Yoongi?" Mrs.Min asked as she wiped up a spill on the counter.

"Um, yes." I tried not to flush in embarrassment.

"Well, I'm sorry to say that he's not in," Mrs.Min said, looking apologetic. "He's out running errands with my mother right now."

Sweet relief coursed through me. Yoongi was okay. Thank God there was that.

"Oh." I still couldn't keep back the defeated sigh that seemed to be becoming the norm for me. That walk in the snow had been for nothing, then, but at least I knew Yoongi was all right. "Well. Okay. Thanks anyway. I should probably—"

"Wait a moment, Y/n!"

I turned back to Mrs.Min, halfway to the door already. "Yeah?"

"You could always stay for a cup of coffee, you know," she said. "I'm sure Yoongi will be back soon, and besides, it looks like the snow is picking up outside."

I looked out the window, and sure enough, snow was now falling with a considerable amount of force. A hot cup of coffee sounded much better than stepping into the flurry. "You know what? That would be lovely, thank you."

Mrs.Min's answering smile lit up her eyes. "Great! Have a seat. I'll whip up a special blend."

I took a seat at a square table by the counter, and Mrs.Min joined me a few moments later with two steaming mugs of coffee. I said my thanks and brought the mug up close to my face, inhaling the rich scent of what I thought was cinnamon.

"This is delicious!" I exclaimed when I took a sip. "It tastes like a snickerdoodle!"

Mrs.Min laughed, sipping at her own mug of coffee. "Thank you. Our coffee is the only reason this place stays in business. Well, that and we own and live in the apartment upstairs."

Mrs.Min then told me how she and her two sisters and brother had grown up in the building, and how the Yang family had been in the coffee business ever since her great-grandmother, had emigrated from Sicily to the United States in 1895. Now she and Yoongi, her daughter, Rosie, and her mother, still lived in the apartment above the coffeehouse.

"Well, it's a lovely place," I said, sipping at my coffee as I glanced around. "It's very . . . charming."

"Thank you," Mrs.Min said. Then she paused. "So . . . do you have a crush on my son?"