cherry club 🍒 minsung

eight

[ red rum ]

"Hi, welcome to Starbucks. What can I get for you today?" 

A hammer, Jisung thought as he eyed the preppy brunette ringing him up, so I can bash your fucking skull in. 

"A venti caramel macchiato, please."

He didn't need to go to jail before 8 am on a Saturday, or ever if he could avoid it. Chan laughed by his side, and Jisung elbowed him in the ribs. He hated when Chan read his mind, and it was too damn early to deal with a hyper Chan relying on Monsters and expensive Starbucks coffee to live. Jisung swore up and down that if Chan bled it would be black coffee, no sugar, with a double shot of espresso. 

"That'll be $5.27." 

Jisung handed her his card, gagging quietly when her acrylics scraped across the back of his hand. She swiped it, click-clacked on the screen, and passed it back. 

"If you take a seat, I'll have your drink out to you shortly." 

Jisung nodded and sat at the first empty table he saw. Starbucks was shockingly dead for 7:56 am, but Jisung assumed the drive-thru line was miles long. Only two of the twenty-three tables (he counted while Chan ordered) were occupied, both with people looking at their laptops. Usually that was Chan, sound-proof headphones on his ears and music software open. Today, however, he called Jisung for a different reason. 

"Great. So, why did you desperately need me to drive here and ruin my Saturday morning with Minho?" Jisung cocked an eyebrow and tapped his foot against the linoleum. Minho wasn't awake when Jisung left (not surprising), but he wanted to get back before the dancer woke up. He knew of Minho's fear of abandonment, and he could only imagine how upset he would be if he woke up and Jisung was gone.

The tips of Chan's ears turned bright red and hot at the question.

"Holy shit, is this about a boy?" Jisung gasped, kicking Chan's feet teasingly under the table. The older stuttered and kicked back harder, making Jisung pout. "Does Channie have a crush?" He cooed. Another kick, right to the shin. "You do! Who is it?" Harder kick, straight to the dick. "Ow, you bitch! Its Felix, I know it." 

"How can you tell?" 

Jisung scoffed and slammed his hands on the table. "How can you tell? Really, Chan? Felix was gonna stay the night at your house, you never let me do that."

Chan nodded. "I don't trust you in my house, simple as that."

"What?" Jisung squeaked, grabbing Chan's hand and leaning across the small table. "Why not?"

"Ji, you're a walking disaster. Do you remember that time you tripped over the microphone cord in the recording booth and knocked it over?" 

"Well, yes, but that was a safety hazard to anyone." 

Chan patted Jisung's hands sympathetically. "Sung, you broke the glass." 

"I did not! The microphone stand did that." 

The lady called their names, and Chan sighed fondly. "Just go get our drinks, stupid." 

Jisung spluttered, thinking of an insult, but gave up. "This isn't over, Mr. Bang," he spat, walking to the counter. The barista gave him his drink with a smile, and Jisung could only manage a grimace in return, especially when he noticed the smudged ink on his palm. The girl was pretty, no doubt, and any straight man would be on his knees for her. Unfortunately, Jisung was hopelessly crushing on a certain male and exclusively gay.