Requested by Mila.

Ha Yi-chan thought you were unreal.

That was the first thought that crossed his mind every time you pushed open the glass door of the ice cream shop, bell chiming softly above your head. You always looked put together in a way that made the place feel smaller---like the pastel walls and sticky tables weren’t worthy of you. Everyone knew your name. Everyone waved. Even the middle schoolers whispered when you walked by.

Yi-chan wiped his hands on his apron and pretended not to stare.

“You want the usual?” He asked one afternoon, already reaching for the scoop.

You smiled at him, the kind that made his chest tighten. “If you mess it up this time, I’m suing.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re cruel.”

You leaned against the counter, watching him like it mattered. Like he mattered. Yi-chan didn’t notice the way your eyes followed his hands, or how you hummed under your breath---a melody he’d written weeks ago in a cramped practice room. He just thought girls like you didn’t listen to garage bands that barely filled half a café on weekends.

What he didn’t know was that you still had the first flyer his band ever made, folded and creased in your drawer. That you’d been there on day one, standing in the back, heart pounding while he sang with his eyes closed and his voice too big for the room. That you knew every lyric, every failed chord progression, every version of him he never showed anyone.

You took your cone and thanked him, fingers brushing his for half a second. Yi-chan froze.

“See you tomorrow,” You said casually, like it didn’t matter.

It mattered to him more than he’d ever admit.

Later that week, Yi-chan saw you somewhere he didn’t expect.

He was cutting through the park with his guitar slung over his shoulder, head still buzzing from practice, when he heard it---his song. Not the new one. Not the one the band played now. An old melody, rough around the edges, written back when they barely knew what they were doing.

He slowed.

You sat on a bench near the fountain, knees pulled up, earphones in. Your foot tapped softly against the pavement, perfectly on beat. You mouthed the words without sound, familiar and effortless, like you’d done it a hundred times before. Fingers wrapped around a pen as you completed homeworks, probably too busy during weekends.

Yi-chan stopped walking.

There was no mistaking it. No one listened to that song anymore. It wasn’t online. It wasn’t popular. It was a memory he’d almost forgotten himself.

His chest tightened, something warm and dizzy spreading through him. He turned away before you could notice him staring, heart racing like he’d been caught doing something wrong.

The next day, you came into the ice cream shop like always.

The bell chimed. Yi-chan looked up too quickly this time. You smiled when you saw him, the same easy smile, like yesterday hadn’t changed anything. Like you hadn’t been sitting in the park with his music playing.

“The usual?” He asked, voice steadier than he felt.

“Please,” You said.

He scooped carefully, hands shaking just a little. He kept stealing glances at you, searching your face for something---proof that what he saw yesterday had been real, maybe.

When he handed you the cone, he hesitated.

"You like that old song?" He suddently spoke, making you tense.

Outside, the bell chimed again as someone else walked in, but neither of you moved, and Yi-chan realized that some things, once seen, could never be unseen again.

"I'm writing a new one," He feigned casualness he'd never have. "...About strawberry ice cream" He completed, holding out the cone to you while clearing his throat.

"The usual." He murmured, looking down at the strawberry flavored ice cream in his hand, waiting for you to take it, or understand the meaning behind the title of the song. Maybe both.