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The first time they met Stephen had enough caffeine in his blood to give a small elephant a heart attack, the fact it didn’t was a miracle in itself. Nonetheless, he found himself at the door of the nearest Starbucks just off campus banging fruitlessly on the door and pointedly ignoring the ‘Closed for Maintenance’ sign taped to the glass, mocking him.
A string of colorful curses and threats found their way past his lips, different conglomerations of ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ aimed at the dark interior of the popular coffeehouse chain. A disbelieving gasp reminded him he was still in public, dressed in rumpled clothes and shaking a spasmic fist at a locked door. All the prime qualities of insanity, and although college has given him more than enough breakdowns, he wasn’t crazy just yet.
Mumbling a sorry apology to the elderly lady glaring at him, he hurried away, running a hand through the tangled purple mess on top of his head before shoving them in the pockets of his wrinkled jeans.
The expensive espresso machine Dan had invested half a paycheck in broke that morning after making it’s twelfth cup of the day, bless its soul, and Jay stole their standard coffee maker weeks before during finals, muttering something about ‘boiling agony’ and ‘revenge’.
Walking down the street, the bitter aftertaste of defeat on the back of his tongue (which could have easily come from the last cup of espresso Dan’s machine sputtered out before smoking), Stephen refused to give. He’d left the dorm room before Dan got off his shift to avoid the inevitable confrontation to find solace in the nearest Starbucks and another dozen shots of espresso. Except the universe had decided to finally punish him for some crime in his past life and he was left with no caffeine to keep him awake through the rest of the night as he finished the next 20 pages of his 30 page research paper on child development.
He walked down a few blocks, reluctant to return to their dorm room to face Dan’s wrath, and empty-handed nonetheless. His hands were fidgeting in his pocket around keys and wallet and lint as he walked. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but the movement did ease the rushing in his ears and the perception that he could hear colors.
A bright cream and red sign caught his attention, the tipped white cartoon cup on it was filled with a rich brown liquid topped with white foam in the outline of a small bird. And even better—
The windows were flooded with light.
Stephen’s heart soared in his chest, or maybe the heart palpitations have finally set in from caffeine overdose, as he raced for the door.
A bell jingled overhead as he entered and he decided to ignore the weird looks of the other patrons seated at booths and tables. He probably looked like a junkie, clothing rumpled and hair tousled, but the air smelled of ground coffee beans and vanilla and he could only breathe a sigh of relief.
Walking to the counter and scanning the menu items, his wallet cringed at the price of artisan coffees. But given the closed Starbucks he’d usually frequent on the dime when not taking advantage of Dan’s generosity and the fact that this location was only a couple more blocks away—he would gladly sacrifice the last couple of bills in his wallet. (He’d later admit to being a little dramatic, but only to himself.)
The menu was written on a blackboard with different colors of chalk, the corners decorated with cute hearts and perched birds amongst all manners of other adorable things.
“Welcome to BlueJay’s Coffeehouse, how can I help you?”
When Stephen looked away from the menu to order, his breath caught in his throat.
The barista looked like heaven incarnate, all easy smile, steel blue eyes, and bleached silver hair tied in a low ponytail. A red sweater drowned his form, the sleeves rolled up around his elbows in a way that made him look cuter than was permissible by law. The little enameled pin on his blue apron read ‘Hosuh’, the golden letters looping in cursive before ending with an outline of a bird.
“Uh,” His brain short-circuited as he ran a hand through the tangled locks of his mohawk, trying to comb it into something that looked presentable, “Which drink do you recommend?”
“Well, to accommodate the flux of college students during finals week, our current house special is the double-shot macchiato.” Hosuh said with a conspiratorial wink, and the things it did to Stephen’s heart should have been illegal. He was going to have a heart attack, but if he died in the arms of this boy he’d just met, he’d die a happy man.
“You’re perfect,” he couldn’t catch the words before they flew out of his mouth. Eyes wide and mouth gaping, he tried to retract the statement (not that it wasn’t true).
“I didn’t mean that—but you are really cute—but it wasn’t like—” he groaned, burying his face in his hand, a flush already creeping down his neck. His face felt like it was on fire and there was no doubt it was as red as the cashmere sweater the current bane of his existence was wearing like a model.
“Uh—sorry, I’m a mess, I have a paper to finish tonight,” He said sheepishly, expecting hard judgement but it was clear Hosuh was just trying to hold back a laugh, his lips pressed in a thin line as his shoulders trembled. “I only meant the drink, sounds, um, perfect.”
By some miracle, he managed to stop digging the hole bigger, but the boy fucking giggled and Stephen wanted to sink into the hardwood floor and never resurface.
“I’ll take two to go.” He might as well get Dan one as a makeshift apology until he could scrape together enough cash to pay for half the machine’s cost. Although he had a reputation to uphold, he was a decent person who can admit his mistakes behind closed doors.
“Excellent.” Hosuh said, a small chuckle escaping as he drew two disposable cups from a stack.
“And your name?”
“Stephen.” Finally, one question he could answer without the fear of fucking up somehow.
“Okay, terrific!”
The silver haired angel set to making his coffee and the quaint shop filled with the quiet hiss and puff of machinery.
Stephen stepped aside and whipped out his phone for a distraction. His cheeks were still flaming and his bruised reputation had taken enough of a hit so that he couldn’t afford to be caught accidentally oogling the barista on top of everything.
No matter how cute he looked with his tongue trapped between rosy lips as he bustled around operating one of the many sleek black machines, occasionally blowing long silver bangs away from his face.
Of course the universe couldn’t be persuaded to be on his side as Stephen’s phone was dead and none of the bird centered paintings and tasteful designs on the cream patterned wallpaper could steal his attention away from the beacon that was Hosuh’s silver hair.
His hands were tactful and his movements flowed with an elegant grace as he poured and mixed the macchiatos. He looked at home amongst the cream and royal blue interior of the coffee shop and Stephen could see himself coming back again and again, just to see the silver halo of his hair. His wallet might complain after the first couple rounds, but it’ll be well worth it. His cheeks have cooled down slightly watching the barista at work and he didn’t need a mirror to tell him he was sporting a dopey smile.
Just as Hosuh finished emptying the drinks into their cups and was in the movement of capping them, Stephen jerked his gaze away and tried to focus on the pitch black screen on his phone, pretending for the life of him to be occupied.
“Stephen?” Hosuh called, and Stephen tried not to relish the sound of his name on his lips, the syllables softened slightly by his accent.
“Careful, you might want to get a cup holder.” Hosuh said as he delicately handed the two cups over, their fingertips brushing briefly through the transaction. It might’ve been Stephen’s overstimulated brain, but he could’ve sworn Hosuh intentionally let their fingers drag against each other. Not that he was complaining, quite the opposite, in fact.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He muffled a hiss at the heat and quickly set them down in the cardboard cup holder Hosuh had procured.
“Wow, that’s hot.” Stephen laughed lightly, shaking his hands out as the burning sensation subsided.
“Well, not as hot as you.” Hosuh replied smoothly, the cheesy pick-up line that somehow seemed overtly appealing accompanied with a sly wink.
As Stephen gaped with bulging eyes, hands frozen mid-shake in the air, Hosuh giggled. His heart had stopped. He was convinced. He finally had that heart attack and somehow God let him walk straight into heaven. That was the only explanation.
“I work Tuesdays and Thursdays after my morning classes.” Hosuh said easily, and when Stephen convinced his hands to unfreeze, he pressed the cup holder gently into Stephen’s hands.
“Call me.” Hosuh said, tapping the side of one of the cream coffee cups printed with the shop’s logo and a pattern of royal blue jays. Under the neat scrawl of ‘Stephen’ was a set of numbers followed by an impromptu heart, and Stephen knew he was firmly in the afterlife.
Before he could reply, the bell on the top of the door frame rang and Hosuh was gone, back to the till to take the next set of orders from a small group of haggard college students no doubt desperate for caffeine after visiting the closed Starbucks.
Stephen watched Hosuh take their orders with the same easy smile, and when he was caught staring, he didn’t try to hide it. Hosuh’s easy customer service smile widened into something more genuine and the bastard winked, again.
And Stephen knew he was firmly fucked.