Isn't It Obvious? (COMPLETE)

Chapter 2

Kin denies that he has a problem.

Or, more like, he attempts to because, at this point, he's pretty desperate enough to hope that going back to the denial stage might help end his agonizing heartbreak. 

It's been a whole twenty-four hours since he learned that he's one of the participants in a shitty love triangle, and it still hurts like hell.  He really doesn't know what to do to make the pain go away.  He's already tried locking himself in the bathroom and crying his eyes out, but that just threw a throbbing headache onto his ever-growing pile of troubles.

So, as a last resort, Kin decides to try denying that he ever liked Pong in the first place.  If he could convince himself that his heartache is actually based on a misconception, then maybe he could laugh the entire thing off as a dumb mistake and move the fuck on.

"Are you sure about this?" Golf asks him for the billionth time in the past couple of minutes.

Because patience is one of his many virtues, Kin gives Golf another nod instead of snapping back at him like he's a little tempted to.  

"Yeah, P'.  I'm sure." 

"Okay," Golf finally says with a shrug.  "Here's your iced Americano with no sugar."

Kin graciously accepts the cold drink from Golf, who now looks half-worried and half-amused.  Before he could second-guess himself, he immediately brings it up to his mouth and gulps down a third of the coffee.

He gags.

How the fuck does anyone drink this shit?!  

It literally tastes like poison.  Well, okay, to be honest, Kin never had poison before, but he's almost positive that it would taste exactly like the nastiness that just entered his system.

Coughing uncontrollably, Kin desperately reaches out for the stash of napkins that are displayed on the café counter.  He's grateful when Golf promptly helps him grab a few of them, even though he could hear Golf laughing hysterically at him while he does so.  Kin roughly wipes the liquid off of his mouth as well as his tongue, hoping that he can rescue any taste buds that haven't already drowned in the vile bitterness.

At least all his current suffering is (supposed to be) serving an important purpose.  Kin intentionally ordered Pong's favorite drink so that he can definitively prove to himself that he doesn't like Pong.  There's just no way that he would have fallen for someone who drinks something this disgusting on a regular basis...right?!

While clearing his hoarse throat, Kin stares at the drink in his hand, trying to feel triumphant over his foolproof theory.  It's difficult, though, because looking at the coffee makes him think about Pong.  About all the times that Pong stood by his side and ordered his damn Americano.  About how Pong always gave out the most divine dimpled smile whenever he drank the first sip of his coffee, making Kin want to buy Pong as many Americanos as he'd like as long as it meant that he could keep seeing him that beautifully happy.