coffee stains. | ijb & ksg.

one.

classic meet-cute. where main character one, him, met main character two, the barista, at a cafe. she brewed his order: dark coffee. black. no sweetener, no dairy or dairy substitutes. just caffeine. should have stopped there before the stereotypical meet-cute could become the stereotypical meet-cute, but no.

this barista was cute.

also typical or ordinary in plot for an alternate word.

she greeted customers with grins that reached her eyes; they smiled, too. sparkling, little crescents some lovesick fool would write a millennia worth of poetry about. could have been him. could have been jaebum, but he wasn't that guy anymore. no longer did he hold romance on a pedestal and recite roses are red, violets are blue bullshit. he was a changed man.

for better or worse? the answer was yet to be seen.

continuing off main character two, the friendly barista with her hair messily thrown into a bun, she wrote messages on cups. some would find it adorable. others? not so much. jaebum was in that category; he thought it was stupid and almost tossed out the order out of pure, bitter disgust.

he glowered at the note: be your own kind of beautiful. even mentally reading it next to his name, jaebum gagged. he should have dropped it. should have taken his large, paper cup and stomped for a table to exploit the storm brewing in his head to paper—to google documents on the laptop tucked under his arm. he could at least make a mockery of her misguided inspirational quotes or thundered an angry but silent soliloquy on innocent keys. maybe not so quiet given how loud and rapid he typed.

"don't do this again," he told the barista, eyes narrowed to read whatever name was scribbled on the badge pinned to a bland, brown apron. "seulgi."

somehow, the name matched her face. it tasted cute, felt cute on his tongue, and she was cute with round cheeks. even the vague disappointment in her eyes, mouth descending to a sulk, was too, too cute. he should have been remorseful then, but jaebum was many things, and he wasn't that.

regrettable? yes. he regretted dating his ex for two years. classified it as a waste, even though he wrote best-selling poetry novels about her—about them. damn, son naeun. he never wanted to romanticize sadness, and he wasn't but writing angst in the midst of emotional turmoil, thanks to her dumping him two weeks ago, was one part coping mechanism and one part telling the entire world he hated her—that she was a horrible, hideous person, that she broke him, stomped on his heart and returned it in shattered pieces. he bled trying to fit the shards back in. was still bleeding in clear tears when he had too much too drink and too much to think.

perhaps, if seulgi wrote this three weeks ago when he was blissfully unaware of the break-up, he'd appreciate it. but now, it was honestly a slap in the face as much as it was out of context. took meaning away from the poem if it was going to be tossed recklessly around by a barista who thought she'd do the population a favour by sprinkling forced sunlight onto them.

groaning, he shook his head.

"sorry," she mumbled, expression downcast. her face was hidden under the visor of her work hat. the shadows obscured her well. "it's just that... i saw my favourite author retweet this, and i liked it."

jaebum's free hand fisted by his side, knuckles blanching. "even worse. don't say things you don't mean just because your idol did something, it doesn't mean you have to track their footsteps."

"but i like leaving these notes. it makes the customers smile," she elaborated a little onto her reason for going above and beyond what was expected of her and the protocols.

pointing at his expressionless face, he asked point blank, "am i smiling?" shots fired.

taken a back, seulgi's mouth fell open then smacked back shut, her head shaking shortly afterwards. "i'm sorry!" she bowed.