"If you're done ogling him, maybe clear up table 13?"
You jump at Hongjoong's voice behind you, flustered at being caught. Again.
With a defensive and not entirely convincing 'I wasn't ogling,' you scurry away to do your job, regretfully leaving behind the vantage point you've begun to perch yourself in increasingly often, from where you get a lovely, uninterrupted view from the restaurant into the adjoining lounge.
It's a recent habit. You weren't always inclined to peek through the small gap in the distant curtain from behind the wooden stand with the menus and cutlery, but the entry of a certain black-haired, doe-eyed lounge singer has changed all of that.
Ever since Hongjoong (and San and Yunho and Yeosang) figured out that you keep slowing down at random places of the restaurant while carrying plates or menus, just so you can linger a little bit longer whenever you get a good view, he's stopped sending you to serve at the lounge entirely, preferring to assign you tables that are inside the main dining hall, as far away from the fluttering curtains as possible.
You know it's revenge for that one time you accidentally spilt coffee on his white hoodie that you had borrowed, but really, this seems like a bit of an exaggerated reaction. He already made you apologize while standing outside the apartment door, refusing to unlock it until you promised to do the dishes for a week.
You make sure to aim a scowl at him as you return the plates to the kitchen as you see his smug, knowing grin. Because despite the fact the he, and everybody else, is perfectly aware about your...er, fascination with the new hire, you've always only ever replied to their taunts and teasing with, "No, I don't," and, "You're being delusional," and the ever so common, "I'm not staring."
You've got a big, fat crush on Song Mingi, but you'll die before you say that out loud.
And Hongjoong takes every chance he gets to rub it in.
"Want to swap with Yunho, Y/N? Spend some time manning the lounge so you can breathe the same air as the new kid?"
"We're all already breathing the same air, stupid," you mutter as you collect cutlery to lay table 13 again, trying hard not to look up at the curtains that you know will give you that glorious glimpse and to not let the excitement at the prospect of being in the lounge for a while show in your voice.
"So you don't want to go to the lounge," Joong hums thoughtfully, handing you the napkins. Passing by with a tray full of empty plates, San says with a scoff.
"Of course she wants to go to the lounge. That's where the love of her life is."
"Fuck off, San," you bite out before stalking out onto the floor so you can arrange the table for the next diner. When you're back, Hongjoong continues, now all business.
"I'm serious, though. You have the lounge for the next two hours, until we close up." As haughtily as you can, masking the shy excitement you feel at the prospect, you primly nod before making your way to the curtains, steps measured.
You ignore Yeosang's wink as you cross paths, pushing the fabric back and stepping into the lounge. The air here is always rarefied. Instead of scattered wooden tables and chairs, there are plush couches and low-rise platforms in front of them, all slightly inclined towards the small stage at one end of the room. A stage that you're now looking at, flapping curtain directly behind you.
You stand in position, finally seeing more than half his face or a single arm, finally hearing him sing the way he deserves to be heard for the first time this night. His sweet voice had drawn him to you in the first place. The way he looked had been a bonus.
