The Fallen Ones

In the Aftermath of Fire, There is Ash

[AN]

Oh boy is the fun about to begin :3

P.S. the lil bit down at the end that's in italics, is to emphasize that Jisung is experiencing a memory - the regular text is present day :)

~・✧・~

[72 hours earlier, Earth]

The smell of roasted coffee hung thick in the air, mixing with the decadent whiff of the freshly baked pastries lining the counter shelves; strawberry tarts with golden crust; apple pies oozing sugary filling; and pineapple upside-down cakes that fogged the glass casings.

The sun filtered in through the large glass windows lining almost every wall of the small shop, catching in the crystal wind chime hanging above the door, and decorating the worn floorboards in a patchwork of multicolored specks.

Minho hummed lightly under his breath, a soft and happy tune, as he fastened his navy apron around his waist.

He topped off the three cups in front of him with double shot espresso before hoisting them above his shoulders, careful not to spill the still steaming liquid.

He tread quietly towards a little booth tucked into the corner, farthest from the door, and out of earshot of the usual bustle of the cafe's customers.

His coworker, Jeongin, sat at the head of the table, his apron draped haphazardly across the back of his chair, as he animatedly moved his hands about in a wild display.

Minho knew without looking that the same two gorgeous strangers that Jeongin met with every Wednesday during his break were sitting across from him.

Their heads were bent together, murmuring urgently in voices that were much too low for Minho to pick up more than a few words.

"- going to go through with it. You have to be ready," Jeongin said, louder than he had been before, and with such severity that Minho startled, nearly dropping the tray.

He'd never once heard Jeongin speak in such a dismal and harsh tone, and he felt the hairs along his neck rise in alarm.

As Minho neared, the conversation ceased, and, like meerkats, all three perked up in unison, as if prepared for the first sign of danger.

And just as he did every week, Minho blushed under their intimidating gaze, sure each and every one of them had been shaped by the gods themselves.

Clumsily, Minho set the tray down before them, turning bright pink when he accidentally spilled some coffee on the larger of the two strangers. He fumbled frantically with apologies, eyeing the bulging muscles just barely concealed by the man's tee-shirt.

"It's really alright," The stranger said with a slight rasp. He smiled kindly at Minho, his rather daunting demeanor disappearing instantly, "A little coffee never hurt anybody."

"Still," Minho insisted, gathering the spilled cup back onto the tray and making to leave, "At least let me get you some napkins. And a fresh coffee."

"Wait!" The second of the two strangers called, he sounded almost desperate. "Changbinnie will survive, but if I don't get my hands on that coffee within the next three seconds, I think I'll go crazy, truly."

Jeongin chuckled, turning to Minho with a bright grin and not an ounce of his earlier seriousness.

"Channie hyung is old," The youngest joked, plucking the coffee off Minho's tray and depositing it into Chan's awaiting hands. "You must forgive his codependency. He cannot function without at least 6 cups a day."