Textbooks & Tea [Bokuaka Oneshot]

Textbooks & Tea

I notice that he comes in here every week, now.

Bokuto was late for work this morning, having dashed out of his home with his shoes just about on and his barista jacket halfway around his body as it blew in the wind. The sun was just peeping over the tall buildings, clusters of homes and streets. However, even though the sun seemed to be shining with warmth at it's brightest, the air felt cold and thick. His breath was icy, making clouds with every huff and puff. As he ran along the pavement, vehicles at greater speed flew past him in truimph. The pitter patter and heavy breath gave signals for business workers on their commute to leave him some room as he dashed. His feet trod against the ground, eventually turning a corner and swinging a back door made of rusted metal wide open. It creaked ever so slightly, and Bokuto hauled himself inside, immediately greeted with a strong, strong odour of coffee beans.

His part time job wasn't a tough one, after all, making drinks at a small coffee shop wasn't supposed to be all that challenging. It was quite a dainty place, decorated nicely with potted plants, cute menus and long glass windows the covered entire walls from top to bottom at the front of the store. Working on weekends when he wasn't at school or playing volleyball, Bokuto found his work tiring when his job clashed with his school work or volleyball activities. All were important to him, though Bokuto never really liked his job, it paid well for just his part-time work on weekends.

Starting his shift at 9:00 AM, Bokuto was thankful he had made it just in time before risking being scolded yet again by his manager. At the moment, he was sliding on his apron, it was a green colour that matched with his white shirt, the long sleeves unconventionally rolled upwards, and black jeans that were held up by a belt of the same colour. Stepping from tiled floors to the wooden surface behind the counter, his hands ran tiredly through his mismatch of silver, white and black streaks of hair. Brewing the first couple batches of coffee to pour, partly for himself, the young man couldn't help but yawn. Boy, was he exhuasted.

Today, Bokuto was working on his own, the entire shop entrusted to him. His boss was upstairs, but the woman hardly ever came down unless she had something important to mention, or a shady comment to make. And if Bokuto ever happened to be summoned to her office it was usually piled with large stacks upon stacks of paper to be signed, sent off and archived- that lady would not be coming downstairs for a while. So, in his mind, the shop was his for the day.

As time often did, the world seemed to skip an empty first hour in the cafe, with only one or two customers sitting in the shop before leaving. It was now 10:30 AM, and because it was an early Saturday morning things were beginning to pick up, Bokuto found himself being slightly over-worked. There seemed to be no end to the queue, and the coffee he was making was probably not his best due to having to plow through orders quickly. Though customers kept coming with their smiles and requests included, and this encouraged Bokuto.

After about thirty minutes of non-stop brewing and serving, Bokuto had a flannel over his shoulders and just a few trickles of sweat from the heat of moving so quickly and the brewing machinery. He had pulled up a stool from one of the empty tables and sat, defeated, behind the wooden counter. Having taken a cookie from the small basket of pre-made biscuits, he was chewing absentmindedly. This break was much, much needed. "Honestly, why doesn't that woman give me a raise or a good day off? What is this, under-payment? If only she could see me working so hard, Geez.." He whined, scratching the back of his neck as leaning back in defeat. The male stood up with a heave and a sigh, preparing some cups for the next round of customers before they arrived. The sink was full of glasses, bowls, plates and the like; because it was only Bokuto today, he was only left to wash them, too. The glass door was pushed open, and the bell jingled, or at least that's what Bokuto could tell from the corner of his eyes. A figure walked up to the counter, and waited patiently, drumming his fingers on the table gently. Still concentrating on the metallic spoon in his hands that he was scrubbing, Bokuto hadn't looked up at the customer just yet, saying, "Hey, hey, hey, what can I get you?"