Barista | y.m

II

The next day, I woke up craving coffee.

So, with my freshly-dyed hair, I headed for the nearest coffee shop.

Not a crappy Starbucks.

A proper coffee shop.

One with quirky light fittings and cosy booths and a peaceful atmosphere.

It was the one place I felt content.

Not happy, but content.

It was cold, so I wore a coat and a hat as I walked down the street.

It was early, so there was no one else around as I entered the coffee shop.

I blissfully sighed as I stepped through the door.

"Welcome. How can I help you?" asked a deep voice.

That was unusual.

The morning shift was always taken by Yerim, a girl that went to the same school as me, but was a few years below me.

Over my many early mornings at the empty coffee shop, we had become friends.

I just hadn't realised how close we were until she was gone.

Normally I'd just tell her to make 'my usual', but this man didn't know what that was, which bugged me.

I didn't know why.

Maybe I'd try something new today.

New hair, new barista, new coffee.

"I'll have a regular latte, please."

"That'll be..." he looked up as I approached the till and trailed off.

The first thing I noticed was his blue hair.

It looked so soft.

I wondered wether it was as soft as it looked.

Then my eyes landed on his pretty ones, cute nose scattered with freckles, parted lips and pink-dusted cheeks.

He cleared his throat and continued, staring down at the till like his life depended on it,

"Two ninety-five please."

I completed the card transaction and the barista set to work on my latte.

I glanced up to meet his eyes again.

His mouth opened into a shy gummy smile, showing his gums.

Cute.

I sat in a booth and scrolled through my Instagram feed.

Just as the barista came over with two mugs, I saw a picture of Namjoon and Jin on their date.

Jin was kissing the other on the cheek, and Namjoon had his eyes squeezed shut, a huge smile on his face.

It was posted by the latter, with a caption of 'i love you' and nothing else.

I felt myself begin to gag, and pulled a handkerchief out of my pocket, holding it to my mouth.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" said an alarmed voice.

Then there was a hand on my back, rubbing in circles as I coughed up four blood-splattered peonies.

Only four.

That was new.

I stared into the concerned eyes of the barista, who sat down opposite me and pushed one of the mugs towards me.

I gulped the warm coffee down in an attempt to rid my throat of the awful aftertaste of fragrant petals mixed with metallic blood.

"Love is hard," he stated, tilting his head towards my handkerchief as I folded it up and stuffed it back in my pocket.

"Harder than all the names of coffee," he laughed.

I found myself chuckling with him.

Wow.

I hadn't genuinely laughed in a while.