A Taste of Freedom

Kind's POV

The café was almost empty now.

It was nearly 11 PM, and Kind knew he had already crossed the deadline Peter had set. Every extra second he spent here was another step toward his father's wrath.

But somehow, that wasn't enough to make him leave.

Because across the table, June was still here too.

And Kind had agreed to stay for dinner with him.

What the hell am I doing?

His knee bounced under the table, hands fidgeting. His mind screamed at him to get up, leave, but his body refused to move.

Then—a warm hand covered his own.

The movement startled him, and he looked up.

June was watching him, his fingers lightly pressing against Kind's, anchoring him in place. His expression was calm, but his eyes held something else—something unreadable.

"You okay?" June asked, his voice softer than usual.

Kind swallowed hard. Why did he feel like he was being studied?

"Yeah. I'm fine," he lied.

A pause. June didn't say anything for a few seconds, but Kind had the strange feeling that he saw through him.

Before the moment could stretch longer, Binita walked up to their table.

"Oh? Is he your boyfriend, June?" she teased, pulling out her notepad.

Kind choked on nothing.

"What—boyfriend?!"

Binita smirked at his reaction but then turned to June, eyes gleaming with something more than mischief.

"Well, I guess you're getting comfortable here, huh?" she said, almost too knowingly.

June didn't even flinch. He just smiled, tilting his head slightly. "You could say that."

The exchange sent a weird chill down Kind's spine.

Why does it feel like they're talking about something else?

"He comes here every Saturday to play his songs," Binita added.

Kind stiffened. So he worked here too? That meant he'd see him again this weekend.

"So, what will you two lovebirds be eating?" Binita teased again, this time just to mess with Kind.

"Pizza and water," June answered smoothly.

"Chicken drumsticks," Kind muttered, suddenly feeling like something was off—but he couldn't put his finger on it.

As they waited for their food, the silence between them felt heavier than before.

June was the one to break it. "How was your day?"

Kind almost laughed at how casual that question was.

"Not great," he admitted.

"Why?"

Kind hesitated. He didn't want to talk about it, but the words slipped out anyway. "I guess people just… don't like me."

June's expression barely changed, but Kind could tell that something about his answer had grabbed his attention.

"What makes you think that?"

Kind clenched his fists. "Because I work as a waiter here. Some guests… they mock me. Like I don't belong here. Like I'm beneath them."

Silence.

Then, suddenly—June stood up.

Kind barely had time to react before June walked over and hugged him.

A real hug.

Not some casual, friendly pat on the back—but something genuine. Something warm.

Kind stiffened, completely thrown off.

"You don't have to change yourself," June said, voice low. "The world can change its heart."

Kind's heart skipped a beat.

And then, just as suddenly, June pulled back, casually wiping a tear from Kind's face. Like nothing had just happened.

Like he hadn't just left Kind completely shaken.

As they ate, Kind couldn't stop thinking about the hug.

Or the way June had reacted.

Or the way Binita had looked at June—like she knew something Kind didn't.

"You work here too?" Kind finally asked, watching him carefully.

"Kind of," June said with a half-smile.

"That's not an answer."

June leaned back in his chair, stretching lazily. "You ask too many questions."

"And you avoid too many."

A smirk played at June's lips, but he said nothing else.

Something was off.

Something wasn't adding up.

But before Kind could push further, Binita returned with the bill, ending the conversation.

By the time Kind got home, it was already past 11 PM.

His stomach twisted as he reached for the door, bracing himself for Peter's anger.

But when he stepped inside—nothing happened.

The house was dark.

Confused, he walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and saw a note taped to the door.

"Dear Kind, we are off for a party at your dad's office. We'll be back late. Your sister is with us. Don't wait up. Have dinner. Good night."

Kind let out a slow breath.

Thank God.

He was safe.

For tonight.

But as he collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind wasn't thinking about Peter.

Or his job at the café.

Or even the people who mocked him.

All he could think about was June's arms around him.

And the way Binita had looked at June.

And the way June had avoided every single one of his questions.

Something about June wasn't right.

And for some reason, Kind had the terrible feeling that whatever June was hiding—

It was about him..