Coffee Cake

Chapter 1

   Business was slow, that fateful day. In fact, I was alone whenever the other took a step into Sugar Cubes for the first time. My fingers drummed on the counter, as I patiently wait for someone to come and make an order. We had a new barista, a quirkless boy with fluffy, soft dark green hair, pale skin, and cadmium green eyes. He was fifteen, going to the same high school I went to when I was his age. I do believe this kid is going places, though, I'm not entirely sure if he's going to good places or not. He's wearing an awkward, soft smile on his face, staring at the door. He gives out a friendly, reassuring aura, and I have always been told I am quite intimidating. I let out a soft sigh, my eyes moving from the door to the window. Sunbeams stream through it, lighting up the cozy, small coffee shop that doubles as a bakery. Outside is an almost empty street, but a few people are milling about in my view. I see, in the distance, a parent, or older sibling, with their child or younger sibling sitting on their shoulders, holding a big teddy bear, looking all around at the shops excitedly. A soft smile crawls its way onto my face, as I watch them for a moment. I take in a soft breath, the sweet smell of the cookies and cake filling my nose, as it mixes with the slightly nutty smell of the freshly brewed coffee. I take my phone out of my pocket, and put my earphones in. I scroll through Tiktok for a moment, before I hear the doorbell above the door that goes off whenever someone opens the door go off. My eyes flicker upwards, and catch theirs.

My breath stops short in my throat, as I stare. They're beautiful, breathtakingly so. They look like an Aphrodite among humans- a god. Their hair is as white as clouds at the tips, and the light blue of the sky at the roots. Their skin is the color of caramel, and their eyes are Vancouver blue. They're tall- they had to duck to get into the shop without bonking the head of the child on their shoulders on the door frame. I manage to tear my eyes away from them after what feels like years, but it is really only a few milliseconds. My mouth is dry. I swallow around the lump in my throat a few times, before taking a breath. This is fine. I turn my head back to them, and study the child. They had long, light blue hair tied back in pigtails, and eyes the same color of rubies. They were clutching a stuffed unicorn close to their chest. Concerningly, the child has bandages winding up their arms. I wonder if it's just a fashion statement, or if they had gotten hurt. They were wearing a white shirt under pink overalls, and generally just looked adorable. Oh, wait- ironically, they're the people I saw through the window earlier. Maybe I summoned them with my watchful gaze- or maybe its fate. I do not know, and I do not claim to. The other opens their mouth to speak.

"Hello!" They say. Their voice is high, and very excitable. But at the same time, it's deep and rich, in a way that vibrates through my bones. They hold themselves in a way that oozes confidence and power. My eyes track every miniscule movement the taller person makes- watching carefully, trying to puzzle out their personality and their relations to those around them through every move, every microexpression they manage to catch. "I would like a..." they pause, their eyes scanning over the menu, written clearly on the wall "sweet iced latte with cream!" The smile they're wearing reaches their eyes, as they twinkle and sparkle in the light from both outside and the light hanging overhead. Midoriya nods quickly, his fingers darting over the buttons to implant the tall person's order. The child clutches the taller person's hair and tugs on it, prompting the elder person to blink and turn their head in the child's direction. The child leaned down to their ear, whispering and pointing out a cake on display- one I helped one of the cooks make this morning, as it was a slow day. The older one nods, and turns back towards us. "And Eri would like apple juice, a caramel apple, and a small strawberry cake." Midoriya nodded again, and typed the order into the register, pressing a button to send it back to the kitchen that handles making the food, other than the coffee. Usually, the barista makes the coffee, but he's still in training, so I help him. Once he's out of training, I will not be helping anymore, unless he asks for help.