fragments of us ֶָ֢ (odehan)

small cracks, glimpses inside

Over the next couple of days, Seungmin maintains his usual routine, coming into the café every evening to work on his paintings. But something about him seems different. A sense of melancholy hangs around him, his usually intense eyes turning hollow whenever Hyeongjun serves him coffee.

Hyeongjun tries not to overanalyze the situation, telling himself that Seungmin is probably just going through a rough patch and needs some time and space to sort through his issues. But the concern gnaws at the back of his mind every time he sees Seungmin sitting silently in the café.

On the third evening, Hyeongjun decides to take a risk. He brang Seungmin one cup of coffee and two slices of freshly baked cake. as he places the items on the table, he cleared his throat to get Seungmin's attention.

Seungmin looks up, his eyes a bit unfocused from his concentration. "Oh, coffee, thanks," he mutters, accepting the cup with a slight nod. He then notices the cake slices, his eyebrows raising in question.

Hyeongjun takes a seat across from him, gesturing at the cake slices. "I thought you might like something sweet," he says, keeping his voice casual. "You look like you haven't been eating well."

Seungmin's gaze flicks between the cake and Hyeongjun for a moment, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Thanks," he murmurs, picking up his fork and taking a small bite of the cake. It's obvious he isn't used to being fussed over, but he doesn't refuse the food

They sit in silence for a while, Hyeongjun stealing glances at Seungmin. He watches as he eats, seeing the first signs of color returning to his cheeks as he finishes the cake. But the silence is thick, filled with unspoken questions and a tense sort of anticipation.

Hyeongjun fidgets in his seat, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down on them. He knows he should say something, break the tension that's creeping between them. But the words seem to stick in his throat, and he finds himself just watching Seungmin, waiting for him to speak.

Seungmin seems to feel the weight of Hyeongjun's stare. He puts down his fork and sighs, raking a hand through his hair and messing it up further. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks, his voice flat and weary.

Hyeongjun starts a bit at being called out, realizing that he had been staring at Seungmin a bit too intensely. He tries to shrug off the question lightly. "Just making sure you're taking care of yourself," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of concern.

Seungmin rolls his eyes, a hint of weary amusement in his gaze. "You sound like my mom," he mutters, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Hyeongjun can't help but feel his heart flutter a bit at seeing that small smile. He leans forward, his expression earnest. "Well, someone needs to take care of you since I don't think you've been doing that yourself," he says, attempting to keep his tone light.

Seungmin lets out a small huff, his smile vanishing and being replaced by a defensive frown. "I can take care of myself just fine," he retorts, the familiar wall of defensiveness going up around him.

Hyeongjun holds back a sigh, seeing the defense mechanisms falling into place in Seungmin. He doesn't push though, knowing that it will just cause Seungmin to shut down completely. "I know you can," he agrees, his voice sincere. "But sometimes, it's okay to let others help you, y'know."

Seungmin looks away, busying himself with tidying up his painting supplies. "I don't need your help," he mutters, the words more defensive than convincing.

Hyeongjun studies him, trying to read through the stubborn exterior to the vulnerability beneath. "You don't need to push away everyone who cares about you," he says quietly, his voice carrying a hint of pleading.

Seungmin's hand stutters over his paintbrush, a flicker of something that looks like pain flashing across his eyes. But it's gone as quickly as it appears, his expression hardening again. "I don't need anyone," he mutters, his voice sharp and cold.

Hyeongjun resists the urge to reach out, to touch Seungmin and reassure him. He knows it won't go well, that Seungmin is too entrenched in his defense mechanisms to accept comfort right now. So instead, he continues to study him, quietly trying to understand the pain hidden behind his words.

The silence between them is thick and heavy, filled with the unspoken words and emotions. Hyeongjun watches as Seungmin finishes packing his things, the artist's hands moving with a practiced efficiency. But there's a weary slump to his shoulders, a tiredness in his eyes that betrays the strain he's under.

Hyeongjun hates to see him like this, hates the thought of Seungmin being so alone, shutting himself off from everyone who might want to help. He knows that Seungmin is likely doing it to protect himself, to shield his heart from further hurt. But it's a lonely way to live, and Hyeongjun can't help but feel a pang of sympathy and protectiveness

As Seungmin stands up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, Hyeongjun rises to his feet as well. He's about to say something, anything, to keep Seungmin here, to keep him from stepping out the door and isolating himself again. But he's stopped by Seungmin's weary voice.

"Thanks for the food," Seungmin mutters, his eyes fixed on the ground. He starts to turn to leave, but Hyeongjun's voice stopping him in his tracks.

"Wait," Hyeongjun says, his voice soft and pleading. Seungmin looks back at him, his face a mask of apathy, but Hyeongjun can see the hint of vulnerability in his eyes, the flicker of loneliness that he's desperately trying to hide.

"Don't go," Hyeongjun continues, taking a step closer. "Please, stay. Just for a little longer."

Seungmin hesitates, the battle between his desire for solitude and his loneliness playing out on his face. Hyeongjun watches him, his heart thudding in his chest, hopeful and anxious at the same time.

Seungmin glances at the door, then back at Hyeongjun, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "Fine. I'll stay for a bit," he mutters, his voice resigned.

Hyeongjun lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, relief flooding through him. "Good," he says, a small smile curving his lips. "Just...Sit down. Have some more coffee. We don't have to talk if you dont want to." 

Seungmin looks like he wants to object for a moment, but then he just huffs and takes a seat at the nearest table. Hyeongjun busies himself making them both cups of coffee, his heart a little lighter now that Seungmin is still here, within his reach.

Hyeongjun continues his shift, refilling cups and serving customers, all while taking every chance he can to talk to Seungmin. He keeps his voice light and casual, offering the artist small glances and smiles whenever their gazes meet.

The hours pass by in a comfortable blur, filled with easy conversations and shared laughter. Hyeongjun couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this light and carefree. Talking to Seungmin, seeing the artist relax and open up a little, made his heart feel a little bit fuller.

He didn't know what it was about Seungmin - his sharp wit, his hidden vulnerability, or maybe something deeper - that made Hyeongjun's heart skip whenever he smiled or laughed. All he knew was that these moments, these stolen fragments of joy, were quickly becoming something he craved.