the night shift (l.s)

one

Who even needs coffee at one in the morning?
Surely you'd want to be going to sleep. Not intaking a stimulant sure to keep you up for an unwanted amount of hours.

That's what Harry thinks about a 24- hour coffee shop.

Utterly ridiculous. The amount of customers past eight in the evening must be close to zero- so what's the point?

Not that it affects him. Harry works the day shift, a classic 9 to 5.
Well, sometimes.

9 to 5 on occasions. Busy days. Need for extra help. Usually he works an easy maximum of just around five or four hours a day. This coffee shop job does not consume his life at all- he's a student, at the end of the day. Work comes second to academics in his world right now. He just needs the extra money in order to, y'know, live. Personally, Harry believes the world revolves too much around currency and expenses- but he can't really do anything about that.

It's November, the air is icy and sharp, a piercing whiplash of frozen wind nips at Harry's pale skin as he walks to work. It's a Saturday and the town is fairly occupied, but not as bustling as usual, probably due to the heinously cold weather. If it was up to him, Harry would be tucked in his flat right now with a fresh, hot cup of tea and his many blankets in front of the TV. But, alas, he's got
to rake in the dough. How else will he afford his abhorrent amount of rent? Coffee shop it is.

Orange leaves incrusted with ice and haloed in snow fall upon the pavement and the wind whistles petulantly through the silver air. Harry escapes the draining cold as he steps through the door of the coffee shop, the bell ringing sharply as it swings limply open.

"We need to oil the door hinges." A statement from the checkout at the back of the store. Zayn.

"Good morning to you, too, Zayn." Harry responds as he strides to the back of the shop, throwing down his bag without a second glance and shrugging off his jacket. Tying the worn uniformal company apron around his waist, Harry takes his place at the bar.

Ready to make coffee for four hours straight.

Exciting.

"On bar duty today?" Zayn saunters over to him, abandoning his allocated spot at the till.

"Fortunately. Don't think I could handle another day of the drive-thru." Harry rubs a hand over his face- flushed in cold and mildly sore from the force of the winter wind.

Zayn smirks cooly in response. "Niall's stuck there today. All day. Worried he might kill someone."

"All day? God, I would." Harry widens his eyes and looks down to the expectant coffee mugs laying before him. They're barley going to get touched today, no one comes in when it's this cold, all customers just opting for the drive-thru. This is proven by the sad sight of the only person in the store right now being a student clearly having done an all-nighter with her laptop here, a discard of cups and mugs surrounding her like a ritualistic circle.

"Tell me about it- almost throttled a woman through the drive-thru window once because she was holding up the line so much. Says we didn't put the right volume of caramel in her drink and made us remake it around fifty times or else she wouldn't pay for it." Zayn explains, tiredness eclipsing him as he leans his side against the surface.

Harry forces an equally tired smile in response. "People are cunts. You just gotta get over it, there's nothing else you can really do." He shrugs.

"Wise words, Harry." Zayn slaps him in the shoulder before going back to his station at the checkout, immediately absorbing himself in his phone, no anticipation of customers overcoming him at all.

Harry makes a single cup of coffee for himself, drinking it in a tiredly desperate amount of seconds before resuming the dull activity of standing and waiting for anything to happen.