Beginning
" Will You Be My Prince? "
The aroma of coffee wafts in the air, along with the collection of hushed voices and banters of young people, mostly university students.
This place isn’t bad, Wu Yifan thinks.
It’s a bit far from their dorms near Yonsei. But a little adventure away from that place, towards the stylish streets of Gangnam, can be healthy sometimes. If not for Luhan’s prodding, he won’t even bother being cramped up in his room.
“This place is designed for students who love books but would love a little noise. Unlike the strict silence we get by staying at the library,” Luhan’s friend and resident barista, Minseok, states as if he is introducing the place to tourists. Which is exactly what is happening, minus the walking around part. “But usually, the students just want a cheap place to hang out and study. Since most of them are broke.”
One of the frames on the wall has a quote: Talking is not prohibited but silence is encouraged. Another frame says: Listen to the books as they tell you their story.
Classy, conducive to learning, comfortable. Fresh flowers planted on small pots on the wood-furnished tables, cozy seats and adequate lighting.
The coffee ain’t bad, either. Yifan decides, while sipping on his cup of green tea latte, that this is going to be his favorite place in Seoul. After his bedroom, of course.
Meanwhile, Luhan continues to take photos of the venue, occasionally stealing a candid photo of Minseok talking to Yifan. But mostly of Minseok being... Minseok.
“Do you have books on relationship advice?” Yifan asks.
Minseok hums, tapping his fingers on the table. “I’m not the bookish type, but I believe Joonmyun will be able to help you. He owns half of the books in this café, says he gets sad when they’re all gathering cobwebs in his house.” He preens over to check the counter. “Sorry, I got customers. Try looking for Joonmyun at the books section, he should be there.” He then rushes over to entertain the ladies at the counter.
There is a short flight of stairs at one side of the café, which Yifan assumes to be the books section. He ascends and discovers rows of shelves with books of varying thickness sitting upon them. Some books, he finds as he walks through the aisles, are relatively new. Their pages sparkling white. A few books though, have acid eating away at the edges of the pages, time dyeing them pale yellow.
But what garners his attention is the soft voice of a young man tucked away in a far corner of the café. He is drawn to it, like a sailor being enticed by singing mermaids at the rocky shores.
And he spots the person he has been looking for by the shelves. Auburn hair kissed by the sun coming from the small windows above the taller shelves. Lips as pink as they are healthy. And eyelashes capturing dusts that seem to glitter like stars in the air.
Beside the young man is a little girl who is earnestly paying attention to the story that the former is narrating. Yifan listens intently behind one of the shelves but with space enough to watch the two people. The voice of the storyteller is nothing but melodious.
“Then, if a little man appears who laughs, who has golden hair and who refuses to answer questions, you will know who he is. If this should happen, please comfort me. Send me word that he has come back,” the storyteller narrates.
“Thank you, Joonmyun oppa!” the little girl says, kissing the older teen’s cheek and earning a chuckle from him.
“You’re welcome, little princess,” the boy replies. “Come back again so we can read the other story books together, alright?”
The little girl blushes at the title that the teen had given her and diligently rushes away towards a lady who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. The little girl waves one last time at the storyteller, and the lady, Yifan assumes as the girl’s mother, gives him a bow before exiting the café.
“Hello,” the storyteller draws his attention again. “How may I help you?
Instead of answering that he was looking for a book, Yifan saunters towards the storyteller, and gazes at him for a full minute.
“Please go out with me,” Yifan says without reprieve, voice almost blurting out, garnering a few heads from the customers by the pantry.
He catches Luhan covering his face with a book, and Minseok mouthing an ‘idiot’ at him. When he shifts his attention back, the smaller male blinks, confusion glistening in his eyes, and an unuttered oh smudging his lips.
Yifan suddenly realizes what he has done, and wants to melt into goo right then and there.
There’s no turning back now, Wu.
Yifan toughens himself, mentally punching his own face, then scrunching his eyebrows together to shield the tint of embarrassment pooling on his cheeks.
“But you don't even know me, mister,” the teen answers. “You don’t know a single thing about me. You don't even know my name, what my personality is, what I like and what I don’t. You don’t even know if I like tall people with thick eyebrows and blond hair. Or if I’m straight or gay.”
Yifan swallows. “I can tell you’re a kind-hearted person. If not, then that little girl won’t even bother talking to you. And I can tell that you like reading. You read as if you’re speaking for the books, or the stories that come alive with the words in those pages.” Fumbling on the belt hoops of his jeans, he continues, “And if you don’t want to go out with me, then we have a lot of time to get to know each other!”
The auburn-haired male chuckles, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re an interesting person,” he says, closing the book in his hands and slipping it onto the gap between the other books on the shelf. Yifan manages to read the title; it’s in Korean but he knows enough to understand: The Little Prince.
“My name is Kim Joonmyun,” the boy beams at him, and Yifan had to blink because the luster of his smile is just too much for his eyes. “Pick a book, and let’s talk about it over coffee, shall we?”
“Actually, I'm... looking for a book on relationship advice?” he says, scratching the back of his neck while feeling the warmth creeping up his cheeks.
Joonmyun smiles, and the way his eyes curve into smooth crescents sends Yifan’s heart dancing alight. “I know just the right book for that.”
ʚɞ
Yifan didn’t expect to get a self-help book on how to date. What he gets, however, is not a book about how to date, but a book made of poems.
I Wrote This for You is the title of the book. Such a strange reference book for relationships, Yifan mentally comments as he leafs through the pages. Maybe Joonmyun speaks in riddles, he supposes.
But how can he bring himself to speak up when the lilt in Joonmyun's voice, as has been described by the poems, sends his heart dancing inside his chest?
How can he refuse when his ears amplify Joonmyun’s lovely peal of laughter?
ʚɞ
The thing with book cafés is that some of them don’t allow borrowing of books outside the café. And it so happens that Minseok’s café is one of those few.
Yifan is not complaining though, because that way he could get to read some books for free. And undeniably, see Joonmyun and get to talk to him. Luhan thinks Yifan is being ridiculous. But in reality, he is more than happy because it won’t be difficult to convince him when he feels like visiting Minseok.
ʚɞ
The next time he visits, he continues the book that Joonmyun has recommended.
Joonmyun helps out in the café frequently. His job often involves organizing books that have been shelved wrongly, assisting Minseok in making coffee, and delivering them to the rightful customers. Sometimes even chatting with them. Most of the discussions are about the books in the café.
Yifan finds him endearing, likens him to be the prince of books. When Joonmyun catches him looking, he pretends to read, covering his gummy grin behind the book.
“So how do you find the book so far?” Joonmyun asks as he casually takes the seat in front of Yifan. No permission, no hesitation.
“It’s very interesting,” Yifan answers. “But there are a few words I can’t seem to understand. Care to help me out?”
Joonmyun moves closer to glance at the words Yifan has written down on a small notebook. In one corner of the page, though, Yifan has purposely written down his number. It’s impossible for Joonmyun to miss it.
Yifan catches Joonmyun squint. And instead of fishing out his phone, the latter pretends not to notice his number and proceeds to give definitions to the words he has written at the center.
ʚɞ
The second book he reads is titled Like Water for Chocolate. He has personally hand-picked this one. Joonmyun smiles widely, like he has won something valuable, when he sees Yifan reading it in the café.
In between the time Yifan writes down his number on the notebook and when he finishes the first book, Joonmyun still hasn’t called or texted him.
ʚɞ
“Hey,” Joonmyun greets him. Yifan accidentally elbows his cup of Iced Choco. A hiss resounds, then follows a clang of the cup on the floor. The blond immediately stands up, fetching the precious book out of the puddle on the table. Good thing he’s wearing black denim pants, else he’d be in really big trouble.
Yifan doesn’t even notice when Joonmyun runs to retrieve some rags. The next thing he knows, the brunet is already offering him a small towel.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay,” Yifan assures, taking the towel from Joonmyun’s hands and wiping himself dry. Unbeknownst to Joonmyun, Yifan slips a post-it note in between the folds of the towel when he returns it: You had me at Preface.
ʚɞ
The third book is entitled You Slay Me.
“So, you like dragons?” Joonmyun queries, eyes wide with expectancy as if the one he is talking to is a person about to embark on an adventure. Yifan finds it impossible not to answer.
“Yes, I do. Especially when they’re enormous and tamed. Gentle, flying giants.”
It’s been months since Yifan has asked Joonmyun out. Months after he has given the storyteller his number. Months after he has embarrassed himself over spilled chocolate.
At this point, Yifan has learned a lot about Joonmyun, that the latter likes Café Americano, shivers when the air conditioner blows too-cold, is talkative, gets easily excited over anime and manhwa, and is not short...tempered.
Height difference has never bothered Yifan, since most people are shorter than him anyway. But he finds it endearing when Joonmyun huffs his cheeks when Yifan beats him to a book at the topmost level of a shelf. And he finds Joonmyun cute when he suddenly stops talking when Yifan mentions his height during their occasional bantering.
Many months have passed, and although Yifan has only seen the tip of Joonmyun’s iceberg, he has come to a conclusion.
Joonmyun is nothing but unparalleled.
The afternoon sunlight filters through floor-to-ceiling glass walls, its attenuated light striking his coppery strands.
Joonmyun chuckles, “Just like you.”
And Yifan tries not to melt when the other male’s eyes narrow into happy crescents. Cute, too cute.
“Hey, Joonmyun! Help me out here!” Minseok shouts from the counter.
“Coming, hyung!” Joonmyun answers, smiling weakly at Yifan, signalling him that he needs to go.
It is just the perfect timing for Yifan to carry out his next plan. Taking out a Sharpie from his pocket, he neatly scribbles on the ceramic surface of the mug of his almost-done green tea latte:
I Wrote This for You
Like Water for Chocolate
You Slay Me
(Can I call you mine?)
Carefully, he places the mug in front of him such that when Joonmyun returns, he won’t be able to miss it.
Joonmyun comes back all cheery. And Yifan has to remind himself to breathe and pray for Lady Luck to bless him.
The moment Joonmyun slumps his back against the chair and sets his eyes on Yifan’s mug, his joyous face warps into plain indifference. He clenches his hand, and abruptly stands up. And in long, quick strides, leaves the table, an askewed chair and a bewildered Yifan behind.
It is all too fast and unaccounted for. Yifan hastily gets on his feet, and is about to chase Joonmyun when Minseok grabs his hand.
“Sit down, give him some space. He’ll talk to you when he’s calmed down,” Minseok tells him, voice laced with warning, hand pressing heavily on his shoulder.
Puffing his cheeks, he deflates back to his seat, and attempts a distraction by reading the remaining pages of the third book. His eyes dart back and forth on one line, not making any progress at all.
ʚɞ
One hour later, his phone rings. It’s a text message from an unknown number, but Yifan assumes to be Joonmyun’s.
Book section. Same corner when we first met.
The blond straightens up, takes a deep breath, and strolls towards the stairs. He may be muttering prayers under his nose with every step he takes as he ascends.
ʚɞ
“You think I didn’t notice, did you?” Joonmyun says, sternly, with his hands folded in front of his chest. “The number on your notebook. The post-it note on the towel. The title of the books. The words on that mug.”
“Did I cross a line this time?” Yifan asks sheepishly, rubbing his forearm. “If I did, I’m sorry. I… will try to be more patient and—”
“I like you too.”
The unwarranted response earns a blink from the blond. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re one unique guy,” Joonmyun drops his arms and saunters to Yifan, “just a bit clumsy with those limbs, too cheesy with those lips and hands, and too grumpy with that face.” Grabbing Yifan’s wrists, he tiptoes, perching his chin on the blond’s shoulder, such that his lips are close to the taller guy’s ear. “But I like you.”
This isn’t the confession Yifan had in mind. But it’s better than what he has expected. His chest is about to burst, but it’s good that Joonmyun’s embrace is keeping him from breaking apart. He has little control on the grin stretching on his face, so he just burrows his nose onto Joonmyun’s hair.
Joonmyun smells like fresh apples amidst the sea of acid-washed papers tucked on the shelves.
And as he stares at the sight before him, he sees the spine of The Little Prince sparkling amidst the light of the sun.