☆ Stray Kids One Shots ☆

Love At First Sign ☆ Bang Chan

Music is beautiful.

That's what I've been told.

He always came in with a pair of headphones around his neck, ordered a coffee, and seated himself at the very back of the cafe, whipping out a laptop and typing away, occasionally pausing to situate the headphones over his ears and review what he had created. 

From there, he would either scrunch up his face, his brows furrowed with a slight smirk as he nodded to the beat, his dimples showing as he smiled in approval and sat up straight to continue working with renewed motivation. 

Or, he would press his lips together, crossing his arms and sliding down in his chair with a dissatisfied frown, running a hand through his chocolate hair and heaving a sigh.

I always studied his face from my place at the front of the Cafe, leaning forward with my elbows on the counter and my head in my hands. His expressions, his smiles and small frowns, how his full lips moved as they mouthed the words of the lyrics he had written — his body language told me everything I wanted to know about the kind man who came to my workplace so often.

But it was when he was in the latter, more adorably grumpy mood — which had settled onto him accompanying the writer's block — that I first actually talked to him, and found out his name.

"Chan?" I repeated for confirmation.  He nodded, his dimples deepening as his smile took over his masculine but soft-featured face, pressing the beautifully deep eyes, which I had stared into for so long from a distance, into thin crescents.

I told him my name when he asked for it, my eyes staying on his lips as they moved to form words, full of nothing but somehow holding everything, his voice, his emotions.

Smiling back, I left him to his work and returned to the counter that I manned in case a customer should come up to order.

He had left and come again the next week, the headphones still dangling around his neck and his laptop clutched so tightly in his hands, as if he slept with them by his side— If he'd slept at all the past few days, if the darkness under his eyes and his pale skin were anything to go by.

I waved as I recognized the man opening the door, his confident stride barely affected by his apparent exhaustion. "Hi, Chan!"

His eyes, darting to look up at me, brightened. "Hi, Y/N!" A tired but genuine smile showcased his dimples once again.

"Having a good day?" He had asked, tilting his head to watch me as he approached the counter.

I nodded, idly restocking some paper coffee cups. "Not too busy."

"Being busy can be good, it helps to keep your mind off of things." He tiredly ran a hand over his face, covering his mouth and causing me to miss his last few words. I brushed off the disappointment that I hadn't caught his remark.

"Overworking yourself isn't good, either," I glanced up at him from the cup tower I was stacking out of slight boredom, which had just silently toppled over.

He nodded slowly, closing his eyes to take a deep breath and flash a grateful smile. "I'll remember that, Y/N."

I fixed his usual coffee, adding a free muffin on the side that he profusely thanked me for before taking the seat at the back. Flipping open his laptop, he began his work and I watched him with nothing else to do, as he was the only customer for now.

Whatever he was working on had my full curiosity as he tapped his pen on the open notebook in front of him, then against his cheek as his brows furrowed in thought.