raspberries and mocha | heejake ✔

6

The kitchen was finally winding down after hours of chaos. Heeseung could still hear the clatter of silverware and the murmur of conversations from the dining area, but he didn't pay it much mind. He was focused on washing the last of the dishes, each one slipping from his tired hands into the warm soapy water. The repetitive motion of scrubbing and rinsing was soothing, almost enough to distract him from the strange pull that had settled in his chest earlier.

Almost.

That scent had returned.

Heeseung paused mid-scrub, his senses suddenly sharpening. There it was again, faint but unmistakable—the sweet, almost intoxicating aroma of raspberries. It wrapped around him like a whisper in the air, cutting through the usual smells of the kitchen. His breath hitched, and for a moment, his heart seemed to stop.

Heeseung had smelled it before. That night when Riki had stumbled home, half-drunk and babbling in broken Japanese, he'd reeked of raspberries. At the time, Heeseung had dismissed it, assuming it came from one of Riki's friends. After all, the smell had clung to his clothes, and Riki had been too out of it to explain anything. But now...

Now the scent wasn't just a faint remnant on Riki. It wasn't even near Riki's table. It was here, lingering in the air, stronger than before. Heeseung's pulse quickened, his hands still submerged in the soapy water as he scanned the kitchen, as though the source might reveal itself.

But it wasn't in the kitchen. He knew that.

Heeseung took a deep breath and turned his head toward the dining area. There, amidst the low light and scattered tables, his gaze landed on Riki's group once more. His younger brother—no, son—was seated with his usual crowd, laughing, talking with a carefree energy Heeseung had grown so used to seeing. But as his eyes scanned the table, they stopped on the stranger.

Him.

The person he'd noticed earlier, sitting beside Riki, with that sharp yet softened look, the one who had stirred something deep in Heeseung's chest the moment their eyes briefly met.

And that was when Heeseung realized it—the scent wasn't from Riki or his friends. It was from him. The stranger.

His heart skipped a beat, and for a second, everything else around him seemed to fade—the sounds, the lights, the conversations. It all dulled as his senses zeroed in on that one realization. He was the source of the raspberries. It was woven into their very being, almost like an aura that surrounded them. Heeseung wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew.

He swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly as he set down the dish he was holding. He had to steady himself, forcing his breath to come out slowly, evenly, though it did little to calm the whirlwind of thoughts now racing through his mind. Who were they? Why did their presence—their scent—affect him so deeply?

Heeseung's eyes flicked back to the stranger. They were laughing softly at something Riki had said, their lips curving into a subtle, almost lazy smile. Oh fuck. There was something effortlessly captivating about them, something that felt fucking dangerous. Heeseung had spent years living quietly, keeping to himself, his life revolving around his job at the restaurant and raising Riki. It was a simple life, a safe life.

But this stranger—they were something else entirely. They exuded an energy Heeseung couldn't quite describe. It was magnetic, pulling him in with each passing moment, with every breath of that raspberry scent.

And that terrified him.

Because for the first time in a long time, Heeseung felt something stirring in him that he couldn't control. His usually calm, composed demeanor was slipping, unraveling the longer he stood there, inhaling that scent, watching them from a distance.

He wiped his hands on the front of his apron, his fingers still trembling as he tried to shake the feeling off. It was ridiculous, really. He didn't even know them, had never spoken to them, and yet here he was, completely thrown off balance by the mere presence of this stranger.

Heeseung cast another glance toward the table. Riki was still laughing, oblivious to the fact that his 'father' was standing frozen in the kitchen, utterly captivated by his new friend. The stranger leaned back in their chair, their posture relaxed, as though they belonged there, as though they had always been there.

And maybe, in some strange, inexplicable way, they had always been there—waiting, lingering just out of reach, until now.

Heeseung shook his head, trying to snap himself out of the fog. He couldn't afford to get distracted, especially not at work. He was a professional, after all. But no matter how much he tried to push it down, the scent clung to him, refusing to let go.

The raspberries were everywhere, in every breath, every heartbeat. It was them—it was always them. And the more Heeseung inhaled it, the more he realized that this was something he couldn't ignore.

As the night wore on, Heeseung kept himself busy with small tasks, trying to occupy his hands and mind. But every few minutes, his gaze drifted back to the table, back to them. And every time it did, his heart raced just a little bit faster.

Heeseung knew that this—whatever this was—was dangerous. The stranger had stirred something in him that he wasn't ready for, something that had the potential to upend the careful life he'd built. And yet, part of him—maybe the part that had grown weary of his quiet, predictable world—wanted to follow that scent, to see where it would lead.

Because deep down, Heeseung knew that he wasn't just drawn to them. He was bound to them.