Downpour

THE UNHIDDEN MAGIC

He hits the ground again.

It's with the same amount of force, and he sprawls out over the floor. It knocks the breath out of his lungs.

He lies there without moving. There's a thumping in his head and the strongest sense of deja vu that he's ever felt. Something damp seeps into his shirt.

He can't feel Wonwoo's arm, even though it should have been digging into his stomach, the fingers twisting into his gut.

He can't hear the empty silence of the alleyway. He can't hear the footsteps of the men chasing, can't smell the putrid smoke.

But he can hear the clinking of china cups, the quiet hum of conversation. The scent of sweet baked goods fills the air, followed by the powerful smell of coffee.

He opens his eyes.

"Chan!" Junhui says, pulling him off the ground, "Are you okay?"

He's definitely not in the alleyway anymore.

Instead, he's in a small coffee shop. Small tables ladened with pastries and cups of tea surround him, and a few of the customers sitting at them are looking at him with concerned eyes. There's a slightly dusty piano sitting in the corner of the room, the ebony colour dark against the pastel theme of the room. Both Jun and him are wearing black aprons with sparkly name tags attached.

At his feet, an overturned cup of coffee soaks into his shoes. The tray it was on lies a few feet away, surrounded by large shards of china. A slice of cake is pressed into the floor. The sponge is damp with coffee, and the cream is smeared into the floor.

"I'm fine," says Chan, staring at the mess, "I just tripped."

He had tripped, except it wasn't in a coffee shop. But there was no sign of the alleyway, or the men. Or Wonwoo.

Junhui raises his eyebrows, like he knows something is off. He meets Chan's eyes, staring into them for a few seconds. It's unnerving.

"Let's get you cleaned up." He finally says, gesturing to the coffee stain on Chan's shirt. He pulls Chan past the mess and through a door behind the counter. They pass Seokmin as they enter, carrying a dustpan and brush.

"Try not to be so clumsy, next time." he says, but there's a huge grin on his face and no malice in his words. He starts sweeping away the broken cups. It seems strange, using a broom when there's still liquid on the ground.

As the door shuts behind them, Chan can just make out that the coffee and cake had disappeared.

He keeps his eyes trained on the door even after it's closed.

"I've got a spare shirt for you to change into," says Junhui, holding out a light blue t-shirt, "It might be a bit big, but it's better than walking around with that huge stain all day."

Chan takes the material, staring at it. "It's mostly hidden by my apron, though. Surely no one will notice."

The older turns, smiling. "You're not seriously thinking of walking around town in an apron? You'll be a laughing stock, Channie."

Town?

He hadn't quite known what to expect from this dream, but he'd at least thought that he'd be working in the coffee shop for a little while. Not being shown around town.

The material on his hands seems to shift colour: from a pearly white to a light silver. It's made out of cotton, not a type of fabric usually prone to colour-changes, but it's not the weirdest thing he's seen today so he ignores it.

"Is there somewhere I can change?" He asks, looking around for a room helpfully labelled 'changing room'.

Unsurprisingly, he can't see one. "On the left." Junhui says, pointing to a white door mostly hidden by shelves.