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The cool morning breezes were beginning to be a common occurrence through the days, and the young photography student - commonly known as Al - could not be happier. It was finally happening, because as much as he loved to dead frozen land of winter, he was sick of wearing layer after layer of semi-warm clothes just to find out that his efforts to both look stylish and warm was just a lost cause. His other reason was the fact that longer days with sunshine and warm breezes meant better lightning and opportunities to practice what he loves outside, in the bright summer-lit world. All that, and also wearing a ripped up band shirt designed by his brother and best friend, Matt, and his favorite faded jeans. A lazy smile made its way to the youth’s lips, his eyes hidden by brownish shades that slightly resembled the same kind that one old actor almost no one remembers used in that one movie. But the glasses do and it gives him an air of someone untouchable, but cool and approachable - a mysterious one, which was a reputation he loved and wore everyday. Matt would always comment on how ridiculous he looked, but it didn’t matter in the end, because Al knew he looked fine as hell and it was all he needed in the world. That, and enough memory in his Nikon D5300. With lazy steps, the man in his early twenties made his way to the familiar place, the ringing of a small doorbell reaching his ears and unconsciously making his mind relax. At the same time, the aromas of freshly brewed coffee imported from South America and baked goods surrounded his senses, transporting him to a delightful, warm welcome on a Thursday morning, when the air was chilly enough to need a jacket. His first class started at 10:45am but his natural alarm decided to wake him up two hours earlier.
The small cafe right outside the Arts & Theatre building (where he usually received his first classes) is his usual spot in the mornings while being half-awake, barking out his usual order in what seemed to be gibberish, but in reality was his tired-as-fuck voice. Of course, his morning attitude was attributed to forcibly waking up so goddamn early and his brain not being able to connect to his other senses quick enough.
Basically everything and everyone is a blur to Al in the morning. That is, until the taste of the strong Colombian imported coffee invades his taste buds, zips through his blood stream and leaves a lingering bitter taste on his lips. Today was different from those days, mostly due to the fact that he was awake enough to notice his surroundings. Even though hidden behind dark shades, his eyes could not mistaken the beautiful sight of a god-like face (and body as he could tell by the tight white shirt covering it) behind the familiar grey counter. A face so pristine that it gave off the illusion of glistening whenever the light hit it just right; it was such rare that Al felt the need to move in closer, close enough to reach up and trace his fingers over such sculpted cheekbones in order to prove to himself that, yes, the face was real.
It wasn’t as if Al had not noticed the pretty petite blonde that usually took his orders every morning, but Al was completely sure that the blond hair, bright blue eyes, and god-like face behind that counter had not been there last week and damn did he wish it had - because if such a face was there all the time to greet him, he would make sure to be fully awake to enjoy every precious second spent in the presence of it.
It didn’t matter in the end though, because now he had the privilege of seeing it close and almost personal in the one miraculous morning where he’d woken up too early. And maybe it was because of his staring or the fact that he’d been awake for an hour without having any sort of nutrient to awaken his physical body, but somehow his brain-to-mouth filter decided to not work at the moment, and after the god-like barista greeted him and asked him for his order, all Al could say was “A double-double with a side of you letting me take a picture of you”.
Of course, after he said this, he clamped his lips shut and stared at the guy behind the counter, his cheeks slowly growing warmer and the faint train of thought of how ridiculous he must look running at the edge of his mind. Meanwhile, the barista only gave him a puzzled look before shrugging off what Al had said, and though grateful that the other didn’t comment on his odd words, he wished that the earth would kindly open beneath him so he did not have to face the guy again. Unfortunately this did not happen, so a few short minutes later, the student had to face the guy again, his eyes now uncovered but avoiding looking directly at such face and softly mumbled a ‘thank you’ before grabbing the cup and trying to move away. What he did not expect was the tug at his hand, as if calling back for his attention, to which Al turned to respond, but a few seconds later processed it as the stupidest idea he could have had, because now he was directly facing the barista without any protection from his beauty and without a warning, the barista gave him the widest smile and a playful wink that send butterflies down Al’s throat and to his stomach, causing yet another blush to erupt on top of the already reddened cheeks and a noise, too soft to be noticed, involuntary escaped him.
The guy either did not notice them or feigned to not be able to see his cheeks, but he leaned in a bit and wished Al to have a great day, while also requesting for the student to get his good side (which he said happen to be his right, but Al would beg to differ on that opinion). So it was like that how Al found himself placing his cup of Colombian coffee on a table near the counter and taking his camera in notably shaky hands, aiming his lense towards the guy who had gone back to taking orders.
There is a big reason why Al enjoys taking picture and it had everything to do with the lense. At first glance, one sees the perfect picture of a beautiful day, but with the lens, one can see the details that make each single aspect of the day simply the definition of perfection and beauty. Taking pictures of people were no exception to Al, and seeing the godly barista through his magical lenses made his heart flutter - and maybe (just maybe) fall for him, just a little more than his beating heart already had. The shutter moved automatically, snapping picture after picture of the man at the end of his lense while Al tuned out the rest of the world and concentrated on different angles from which he could capture the subject of his attention and capture it forever to be his in both photography and his heart.
By the time he was done, the student had move closer to the counter and the line of customers had gone away. His last picture had happened to be right when the barista turned completely to face him, and gave him the wide grin that had stopped his ability to speak at the beginning. Looking at it through the lens, it did exactly the same thing, but in a grander perspective. Not only did his throat close up, but his heartbeat skyrocketed and Al knew he’d lost a battle he could have easily avoided if he had not gotten so damn close to the counter.
“Satisfied with your side dish?” The godly barista playfully asked, and Al, still being unable think of any coherent words to reply back with, just stared a little longer than necessary before shaking his head, looking away from the face that made it impossible for him to speak.
“I guess you could say that, erm, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name..?” Al explained, a small shrug and side glance at the man beside him before looking down at his camera and softly playing with it.
“It’s Alfred, and you are? I don’t think calling you ‘cute dude who wanted to take photos of me’ counts as a name.”
Did he just call him cute?
Al couldn’t help but blush at that and look away before giving his reply. “I’m Al, thank you for agreeing to the sudden request… I mean, the light was just so right and you’re so handsome and beautiful that I couldn’t let such an opportunity pass and my teacher is always saying to never miss the opportunity to picture something you otherwise would regret later and I think I’m starting to regret giving such a long and embarrassing explanation so please forget more than half of what I just said…”
Truthfully, Al wanted nothing more than to bury himself under piles of dirt and never have to face Alfred again, because once again his brain-to-mouth filter was not functioning - he just confessed liking the barista he just met, and was that not the most embarrassing way to confess to someone? God, he was a giant idiot. As the photography student kept on killing himself over the now two embarrassing ordeals, the young barista started to softly laugh.
“Hey, it’s okay! It’s not the first time I’ve had someone confess to me. I do have to say your way is a lot more original than the others, so props to you!” Alfred said, throwing a lopsided smile at the other in hopes that it would reassure him. Of course all that it did was send the poor heart of the student into frenetic beating, why did he had to have such a beautiful smile?
But this time Al decided to say nothing and just nod at the statement while also looking anywhere but at Alfred’s face, because now he knew he couldn’t bring himself to look at it and expect to not make a fool of himself.
It didn’t matter in the end if he looked at it or not, the bell of the door chimed again and a group of students entered and took up Alfred’s time, allowing Al to make his way back to his table and sip of the lukewarm drink while waiting for the hour to pass (and maybe he spent it looking at the blond barista work since there was nothing else better to do than stare, just maybe).
Surprisingly, the hour went by quicker than Al expected and by the time he reached the bottom of the cup, he was going to be at least five minutes late to his Philosophy class. Al scrambled to gather his stuff and messily pushed them down his bag, his hands stumbling as he reached for other things and he knew he wasn’t at his best, and he could probably blame himself for waking up so early, but he knew that it was because the place was empty now and Alfred had been looking at him offhandedly every now and then.
At last when he was ready to leave, Alfred had somehow moved closer to him to the point that when Al turned around, he ran face first into a well toned chest and the sweet smell of oranges mixed with freshly brewed coffee. God, did the other smell wonderful or what? Of course, being him, Al jumped back into the table and stuttered a half-hearted apology while at the same time willing the blush creeping up his cheeks to go away, because he was not ready to look as ridiculous as he probably was in front of Alfred again. But what‘s done is done, and Al lost the battle against his cheeks again, so he stubbornly decided that the floor was the most interesting thing around and waited patiently for Alfred to move so he could walk by. Yet, nothing like that happened, and instead, he felt the presence of the blond closer. A few seconds later a firm hand was touching his shoulder, asking silently to look up at the godly face and Al found himself not being able to say no.
He gave in and slowly looked back up, because Alfred happen to to be annoyingly taller than him by a few inches and it irked him a little. Another bad thing about having to stare up at Alfred was that he found out looking at the barista from this angle had quickly become his favorite thing to do, because there was just something about looking at Alfred from this view that made Al’s heart beat just a little faster than it already was beating and a shy blush to settle itself in his cheeks.
Alfred had been looking down at him now, a gentle smile in place while his arms hovered at his side. For a long time (or what Al felt like the longest time of his life) they just stood there, unmoving, and very close to each other, while Al memorised the way Alfred’s eyelashes curled up in just the perfect way. The moment was suddenly broken by the movement from the barista’s arm, which had been moved closer to the student’s face and had lightly touched the red-dusted cheek. They moved down to the jacket that loosely hung over the bony shoulders, then moved just a little lower and inserted something in the small pocket of his jacket before Alfred was stepping back and wishing Al to have a good day.
By the time Al had reply and left the building, his head was still spinning with the scent of the barista and the beautiful smile he’d been given before leaving. Once he arrived to his class, the student finally took out the paper placed in his pocket and for the first few minutes just stared at it, because that paper had a name and numbers scribbled in them and Al could not bring himself to believe that Alfred, the godly barista, had just handed him his phone number and an unspoken invitation to call him whenever Al got the courage to do so.
Al proceeded to bury his head between his arms to hide his huge blush and smile, and maybe try to hide the stupid sign that hang over his head announcing to the world that he had the hots for the barista at the cafe near the Arts & Theatre building.