My First Everything

Will You Sip From My Coffee?

Every relationship comes with its own little fantasies.

Some are physical.

Some are emotional.

Similarly, I have my own list too. And this one has always been the most emotional.

From the very beginning, I'd had this tiny fantasy.

I wanted to drink from Teron's cup.

Or rather, I wanted to drink after him. Whether it was his cup or mine didn't really matter.

What really mattered was placing my lips exactly where his had just been. It felt unbelievably intimate. It was my own quiet way of feeling closer to him.

Actually, what I wanted wasn't difficult at all. It was something couples did all the time.

But considering the two of us, it wasn't as simple as it sounded.

I'd never been comfortable drinking from someone else's cup, nor had I ever let anyone drink from mine. I still remember instinctively flinching whenever someone asked if they could try what I was drinking, and I'd always refuse. Most people thought I was a weirdo because of it, but that's just how I'd always been.

Teron wasn't any different. He didn't share his food or his drinks either. Everything stayed separate. In fact, we'd never even eaten from the same plate. He'd serve me first, then himself.

Yet somehow, this was the one exception I wanted to make.

The only problem was...

How was I supposed to ask him without sounding completely silly?

So I started thinking about the right moment. Then it hit me—if I was ever going to ask him, it would be over coffee.

Coffee had always been our thing. Every day, we'd share conversations over caffeine—whether at home or in a café. It had simply become a part of our everyday life.

And that's when my little mission began.

Operation: My Coffee, His Lips.

_____

My first attempt happened at a café.

I had ordered a café mocha while he ordered a café latte. Mine arrived a couple of minutes earlier, so I quietly nudged my mug toward him.

He smiled.

"You've been waiting for this. You even skipped your morning coffee. Have it. Mine will be here in a minute."

Attempt failed.

The second time, we happened to order the same coffee.

As soon as our coffees arrived, I quietly inched mine toward him again.

He glanced from mine to his and chuckled.

"We literally ordered the same thing."

Then, with the fondest smile, he gently ruffled my hair as if I'd just done the cutest thing.

Attempt failed.

The third attempt happened at home.

One evening, he made cold coffee for both of us.

I quietly slid my mug toward him again.

He frowned.

"What happened? Too strong?"

Before I could answer, he tasted his own coffee, took my mug into the kitchen, adjusted it with a little more coffee and cream, and brought it back.

"Check," he smiled. "Is it better now?"