baekri (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
baekri) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kkaeppsong2015-02-06 10:17 pm
baekri) wrote in kkaeppsong2015-02-06 10:17 pm
o3.
stolen touches
xiuhan
399 words
luhan tries not to make it obvious.
when it starts, it's easy enough. a brush of fingers when he's clearing the table. his shoulder skimming the stranger's back when he moves from behind the counter to clean the windows or find something else to work on. it's effortless. accidental.
luhan hates cleaning tables, but he turns down the offer for a counter-staff promotion. he isn't a morning person, but he requests the opening shift week after week just to see him, the stranger who comes in more often than not for a cup of coffee and something sweet. when the weather is bad, he orders a smooth cappuccino. when it isn't it's a rich espresso. luhan knows all of this like the back of his own hand even though he isn't the one filling them. some might call it pathetic, but he's sure that he can live on stolen touches forever.
requests can't always be honored. that's what his boss tells him when he doesn't work the opening shift for a solid week, and his stockpile of stolen touches runs out. when he gets the chance to build it up again it doesn't matter that he's running on next to no sleep. he doesn't think about his upcoming deadlines and all of the things that he should be worrying about. it's like a weird magnetic effect, some kind of draw to even the idea of this person that keeps him hopeful. luhan doesn't even know his name.
the first half of his shift passes with no sight of the stranger, no espresso orders and no touches. his energy is low and he comes back from his break early enough to slide into his favorite booth, the one in the back corner near the windows. the one that the stranger always happens to sit in.
ten minutes later there's a tap on his shoulder. luhan blinks himself awake, looks up only to be met with the stranger, espresso in one hand and a quirked eyebrow. he wants to stammer out an apology. he wants to say a million things but the stranger gets there first.
"mind if i join you?"
his voice is just as smooth as everything else about him. luhan makes a bad joke and he smiles, gummy and wide and luhan changes his mind.
he can't live on stolen touches forever, but he can live on minseok.
xiuhan
399 words
luhan tries not to make it obvious.
when it starts, it's easy enough. a brush of fingers when he's clearing the table. his shoulder skimming the stranger's back when he moves from behind the counter to clean the windows or find something else to work on. it's effortless. accidental.
luhan hates cleaning tables, but he turns down the offer for a counter-staff promotion. he isn't a morning person, but he requests the opening shift week after week just to see him, the stranger who comes in more often than not for a cup of coffee and something sweet. when the weather is bad, he orders a smooth cappuccino. when it isn't it's a rich espresso. luhan knows all of this like the back of his own hand even though he isn't the one filling them. some might call it pathetic, but he's sure that he can live on stolen touches forever.
requests can't always be honored. that's what his boss tells him when he doesn't work the opening shift for a solid week, and his stockpile of stolen touches runs out. when he gets the chance to build it up again it doesn't matter that he's running on next to no sleep. he doesn't think about his upcoming deadlines and all of the things that he should be worrying about. it's like a weird magnetic effect, some kind of draw to even the idea of this person that keeps him hopeful. luhan doesn't even know his name.
the first half of his shift passes with no sight of the stranger, no espresso orders and no touches. his energy is low and he comes back from his break early enough to slide into his favorite booth, the one in the back corner near the windows. the one that the stranger always happens to sit in.
ten minutes later there's a tap on his shoulder. luhan blinks himself awake, looks up only to be met with the stranger, espresso in one hand and a quirked eyebrow. he wants to stammer out an apology. he wants to say a million things but the stranger gets there first.
"mind if i join you?"
his voice is just as smooth as everything else about him. luhan makes a bad joke and he smiles, gummy and wide and luhan changes his mind.
he can't live on stolen touches forever, but he can live on minseok.