The Way You Stayed | MinSung FF

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The bell above the café door chimed again, pulling Minho from the swirl of thoughts that had been spinning in his head for the last hour.

He dropped the latte cup he had just finished steaming onto the tray, hands trembling slightly, and nearly sent it skidding off the counter. Catching it at the last moment, he muttered a curse under his breath.

The café was busier than usual for a weekday afternoon. A steady hum of conversation mixed with the hiss of the espresso machine filled the air. Customers filtered in and out, the sharp scent of roasted coffee beans blending with the faint sweetness of pastries.

Minho forced a smile as he wiped down the counter, trying not to let the fatigue and swirling guilt show.

Because he couldn't let it show. Not here. Not where anyone could judge him for being tired, for being stressed, for being... soft.

The call with his sister replayed in his mind again.

He should've been happy. She was improving. She was getting her life together. That was everything Minho had wanted for her and Jeongin.

And yet the ache in his chest refused to fade.

Every time he thought about it, guilt clawed at him. How could he feel upset? He had been chosen to take care of Jeongin. He had made sacrifices no other nineteen-year-old should have to make. And still, the thought of losing the boy he'd come to love like his own tore him apart.

⸻

He tried to focus on the line of customers, taking orders and steaming milk, balancing trays like he always did. But each time he heard someone call "Latte!" or "Espresso!" he felt like his mind wandered, imagining the life he had with Jeongin, imagining the life he could never fully have.

A group of students came in, chatting loudly about homework and lectures. Minho forced a laugh at a joke one of them made, handing over the drinks with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Another one?" one of the baristas asked, noting his distracted movements.

"Uh... yeah, thanks," Minho said softly, nodding, brushing imaginary crumbs off the counter.

Even the familiar rhythm of work — the whir of the grinder, the hiss of steam, the clatter of cups — couldn't drown out the thoughts that had lodged themselves in his brain.

Minho was halfway through taking another customer's order when his name was called from the counter in that unmistakable tone — his boss's. He quickly wrapped up the order, offering a polite smile to the customer before ducking into the staff room.

The moment he stepped inside, he froze. His boss was there, arms crossed with her usual air of authority... but she wasn't alone.

Standing beside her was a stranger — or rather, someone who didn't feel like a stranger even though Minho was sure they'd never met.

The man's chestnut hair caught the glow of the overhead bulb, faintly shimmering with each small movement. His posture was relaxed, confident, and there was something so effortlessly warm about him. That smile — sweet, dimpled, and just wide enough to make Minho feel the friendliness radiating from the man.

"This is Chris," his boss began, her tone firm yet softened by something almost fond. "I hired him last Tuesday. He's starting today, so I'd like you to show him around the café, Minho. You're the best one for the job."

Minho blinked, caught off guard but quick to nod. "Oh, okay," he replied, voice a little hesitant as his gaze flicked back to Chris.

Minho reached for an apron, handing it over in silent invitation before leading the friendly man toward the front.