It's early. The sun peeped over the skyline and drew golden lines where it fitted between the high-rise offices and apartments, allowing thick beams to spill onto the streets, streaking through the cafe's window and across the furniture and floor. The light suggested warmth, but it wasn’t so; there was a chill to the air that the light wouldn’t, or couldn't, expel. The cafe hummed with the gentle thrum of people on their way to work. Takeaways for the majority as well as cups for the fortunate ones who can spend some time at a table. 

At a corner table, with his back to the window and light, Hyun-woo stirred his Americano, composed as ever, his movements measured and precise. He placed his spoon into his saucer, smoothed the edge of the paper napkin, he paused for a second to draw the obvious parallel with the previous night’s observation.  

Across from him, Soo-hyun leant forward, hiding in the shadow of Hyun-woo against the morning light, his forward position made Hyun-woo awkward. Soo-hyun took advantage of the closeness, it allowed him to watch him. He wore his persistent smirk that dared Hyun-woo to break his composure.

"You’re quiet," Soo-hyun words are a gentle prod.

Hyun-woo rised his cup and took a slow sip of coffee, offering no reply.

"Not even a tiny debrief?" Soo-hyun continued, an amused glint in his eyes. "After all that?"

Hyun-woo set his cup down carefully, the ceramic touching the saucer with a soft click. "You were there the whole time. What’s left to say?"

Soo-hyun laughed, a low, knowing sound. He offered no defence to his blown cover. "Right. Because a front-row seat means I magically understand the tragedy unfolding in your head."

Hyun-woo finally met his gaze, his eyes steady, unreadable, betraying nothing. "You always think you know everything."

"And you always think you can dodge everything," Soo-hyun countered instantly.

A beat of tension lingered between them, a silent challenge, but Hyun-woo remained perfectly composed, an unyielding wall.

"At least tell me this," his voice dropping slightly, "When you walked out, was it because you were pissed off? Or was it because..."

"I don’t need to tell you anything," Hyun-woo cut him off, his voice flat, definitive.

Soo-hyun chuckled, shaking his head slowly. "Jesus. You really don’t want me to get answers."

Hyun-woo picked up his knife, and split his muffin down its centre into two pieces, ignoring the barb.

"Ask Do-yeon," he said, his voice casual, almost a throwaway line. "She seemed very invested in the details."

Soo-hyun paused, mid-smirk, his eyes blinking in surprise. Then, he let out a soft laugh, genuinely entertained by the unexpected deflection. "Wow. So that’s how it is? Throw her under the bus just to misdirect me?"

Hyun-woo didn’t react, didn’t even glance up, just continued eating his muffin. Soo-hyun shifted in his seat to keep in the shadow of Hyun-woo as he leant forwards and backwards to take bites from his muffin.

"You know that’s not true," Soo-hyun said, his amusement fading slightly, a hint of seriousness entering his tone.

Hyun-woo finally looked at him again, calm, unruffled, his gaze was precise, dissecting. "Is it?"

A long silence stretched. Soo-hyun watched him, studying the deflection. He knew Hyun-woo wasn't giving him anything, not what he truly wanted.

"You really don’t crack, do you?" Soo-hyun finally murmured, a hint of grudging admiration in his voice.

"Not for you," Hyun-woo replied, his voice devoid of emotion, a statement of fact. He lifted his cup, took another slow sip of his americano, utterly unaffected.

Soo-hyun exhaled, shaking his head, but a faint grin lingered, a silent acknowledgement of Hyun-woo’s impenetrable facade.

Hyun-woo looked down at his paper napkin again. Ran his hand over its edge, ensuring it was flat. No tears.