or say we're only dreaming;

[melocoton]

O P E N P O S T
❝ don't you dare close your eyes❞
♥ comment to this post with a prompt of any kind--song lyrics, pictures, music, or even just an idea for a plot.
♥ request one of my muses from my desperately needing an update muselist
♥ i'll respond to it and we can thread some stuff and things.
♥ post is NOT nsfw sorry ;A;

Comments

[identified]

[ Thomas is not preening at the prospect of being called both hot and pretty by the object of his desires. ( He's also not planning on adding this cup to the small collection he has of other ones Minho has decorated. ) And also also not trailing his eyes over the taunt muscles on Minho's arm, looking at how stretched and beautiful they are with how the man leans - he is not wrapping his two hands around the latte, in fear that he might reach forward and squeeze Minho's bicep, to see if it really is as firm as it looks.

You know. All things that are definitely not not happening.

He sighs a bit to himself, admitting an internal defeat that he's just never going to get over Minho - rest in peace whatever love life Thomas might have had, because it's all pointless now. He's never going to get the warm bubbly feeling from anyone else - is never going to spend hours dreaming of another person, wondering where they are or what they're doing. Or if they think about him, you know, sometimes. Maybe, even just once would make Thomas' heart aflutter.

He relents to admitting that he's about as in love with a person as he can be, without ever actually going on a date.

You've always got my attention, a braver Thomas would say. ]

Yeah? Maybe I'm too old for you guys. [ Even though he's positive he's younger than Minho. Just flirting, this and that. ] I hope you don't call them pretty, though. I wouldn't feel special.

[survivingly]

Ain't nobody prettier than you, shuck. [ he says it simperingly sweet, batting his eyelashes, but it is kind of...okay, well, it's really true. seriously, thomas is pretty for a dude, like. minho is completely into it, it's kind of bad. his stupid mouth is the prettiest thing he's ever seen in his life, and minho wants to kiss it, and maybe do other inappropriate things with it, and often. his gaze flicks up and down thomas pretty shamelessly as he leans against the side counter, taking advantage of the fact that no one seems to be around to spend some quality time talking to thomas. score.

and, you know? he's seen thomas come in with other girls every now and then but he looked just as disinterested in them as he was in minho, so, you know what, he can work with that. maybe the dude just isn't into romance or something. minho's not really a super romantic guy, but he could be for thomas. if he liked roses and candelight? then bring on the marvin gaye. he is that bad. he is pining that hard.

his grin gets a little wider, and he tilts his head, like he's considering it. ] Nah, doubt it. You just act like an old man with all the studying you do in here. College students just the same as you, just ones that're less concerned with their future, probably.

[identified]

[ Tommy just shakes his head at the compliment - a tease and nothing more, probably the same as what's scrawled on the cup. But if he's hopeful, if he's wishing for more, then no one needs to know about it except him and his dumb little cup collection - it's sad when you think about it, so he tries not to.

Instead, he blows on the hot liquid, wrapping his lips over the edge of the cup, and hoping he doesn't look too stupid when he inevitably burns his tongue, because there's no way it's cool enough yet. He manages with the smallest of offended squints, tongue beating red hot under the heat, but he plays it off. Super cool.

Nodding his head, he clucks his tongue, being mindful of the door for any customers walking in. ]

Have you paid attention to all the studying I do?

[survivingly]

[ minho knows he's in deep when he finds that kind of adorable. stupid attractive shuck, jesus. he rocks back and forth on his heels, still propped up on the counter, one hundred percent purposefully trying to show off his arm muscles. it's seriously a good thing that minho isn't the easily discouraged type, or else he'd be screwed. ]

A little, yeah. That's all you ever do every time you're in here. I get it, you're a brilliant dude. [ he shrugs his shoulders, going right ahead and casually admitting that he watches thomas all the time. well, he does, and minho's not the kind of guy who beats around the bush about anything. ]

Besides, I pay more attention than you. You know you leave stuff here a lot, right? [ i.e: the sweater that minho's got currently folded (after being washed, shut up) behind the counter. ]

[identified]

[ At the very least, Tommy tries to be sneaky while he gazes at Minho's arm - clamping his mouth over the cup again, and peering through heavy eyelashes at the flexed muscles. Subtle? Probably not. But he can't really be expected to be subtle when Minho, in all his muscly and gorgeous glory, is showing off in front of him.

Thomas, unfortunately, blocks out some of what Minho says - too distracted by those damn unreal arms. When he comes to, he only blinks in confusion, tilting his head curiously to one side. ]

I leave stuff? [ That answers the question right away, and Tommy furrows his eyebrows, thinking about what he could be missing. ] I leave stuff and... you notice?

[survivingly]

[ minho stares at him for a second, is this shank serious, then he can't help it--he snorts, a grin stretching across his face big enough to make his eyes crinkle. ] Pfft--oh, man, Thomas, it's my job, dude, I have to clean up around here when the hipsters get tired of their coffee fix and go out to, I dunno, draw pictures of owls or something.

But, I mean, we keep everything in the back. Or, well, I do. We're supposed to throw stuff away, but, eh. [ but he's so not throwing away thomas' stuff. he is hopelessly, hopelessly endeared (especially at that stupid headtilt, seriously, you shouldn't be allowed to be that cute, thomas) and minho holds up a finger in a "wait a second", then ducks in the back.

he returns a couple minutes letter wearing a brown cardigan that obviously doesn't fit or belong to him; it stretches over his arm muscles and broad shoulders, and minho figures if he flexed, it'd probably rip to shreds. for now, he just grins at him, holding his arms out and making jazz hands. ] Look familiar?

[ he might have washed it, shut up ]

[identified]

[ Thomas can only stare curiously at the gap that previously inhabited Minho, waiting patiently for the surprise - and really, he can't stop himself from feeling just the smallest bit giddy in anticipation. It is a bit strange, though, just standing around and waiting. Tommy fumbles with his cup, pulling the top off to blow on it while he looks at everyone else in the Starbucks dutifully typing on their keyboards, sipping their drinks. The place seems cozy, nice.

When Minho comes back out, Thomas can't help the smile stretching across his face - bringing up a free hand to cover the laugh that escapes, like he could pull if from the air before it reaches Minho's ears. ]

I've been looking for that.

[ And Minho looks hilarious in it, because he's such a big guy. It hugs all his muscles in exactly the right ways, and Tommy finds his hand lifting up automatically and without thought, like he wants to go feel one muscular arm. ]

You're so - [ But he catches himself before he actually touches Minho, wrapping his hand back around his drink and cringing awkwardly. ] - it, uh. It looks good on you. You should wear my clothes more often.