The pleasant chime of the bell that reached your ears signified a customer entering the café, and guarding your eyes against the bright sunshine of the morning that managed to infiltrate the quaint little shop, you were graced with the sight of Lukas' familiar, stoic face.
"Let me guess," you mused as he approached the counter, "A black coffee with a dash of sugar and cream along with a slice of lemon bread?"
"Hm." As usual, Lukas only made a small hum that could only mean yes before turning around, making his way towards his usual seat in the corner of the café.
Biting back a smile, you turned, quickly grabbing the proper ingredients to prepare his coffee.
Lukas was a usual customer at the café you worked at; he first arrived a few weeks after you'd gotten the job, and ever since then, he arrived every single morning at 8 o'clock sharp with the same order.
A black coffee with a dash of sugar and cream along with a slice of lemon bread.
You'd be a liar to say you weren't curious as to why he kept ordering the same thing over and over again; after all, wouldn't it get boring after a while? Surely he'd like some variety, but then again, everyone had their own preferences just like you had your own.
It didn't take long for you to whip up Lukas' order, as he'd ordered it so many times that preparing his coffee became second nature to you. Adding the dash of sugar and cream into the drink before cutting off a clean slice of lemon bread from the loaf, you placed it neatly onto a plate and stuck it onto the counter, his steaming cup of coffee right next to it.
"Sir," you called, "Your order's ready."
"Hm." As always, Lukas made a small hum sound to let you know that he'd heard you before getting up from his table, taking his things and withdrawing his wallet. You didn't even have to tell him the price, because after coming here for so long, Lukas had pretty much memorized it as he fished out three dollars and twenty seven cents.
"Thank you," you said with a grin, accepting the money he held out and earning a nod of acknowledgement from him. He silently made his way back to his seat, taking periodic sips from the bitter drink and small nibbles of the lemon bread before him.
As you placed the money into the cash register, you couldn't help but stare. Watching him, no matter how creepy it sounded, actually proved to be rather fascinating. There was something about him that just struck your interest; could it be the fact that he always came here every morning? Or the mysterious, cool aura that hung around him? Maybe the funny curl that floated around his hair? Whatever it was, you couldn't help but like it.
"Man, _____," you mumbled beneath your breath as you buried your face into your hands, "What are you even doing with your life?"
You had to admit, you were being a bit creepy, considering the fact that you were just a café worker who'd taken interest in one of the customers. Heck, you shouldn't even know his name - the only reason you knew it was because one of his friends had accompanied him once, calling him Lukas.
Lukas.
A nice name, you thought.
On several occasions you found yourself almost saying his name, which would be a bad thing since he'd never mentioned it to you before and he'd think of you as a stalker for knowing it - however, you luckily caught yourself every time before the smooth syllables would slip past your lips, replacing it instead with the formal-sounding 'sir.'
Exhaling a long, drawn-out sigh, you ran a hand through your hair and busied yourself by grabbing a cloth to wipe down some tables. The longer Lukas invaded your thoughts, the more spaced out you became, and it was preferable that you never went down that road again after Lukas had caught you staring blankly at him while he was drinking his coffee.
