Chapter Text
‘Fuck.’
Cherry cursed under her breath when she saw the “CLOSED” sign on the Dunkin’ Donuts on her street. It was her daily coffee stop that she hit every morning before work. She groaned loudly, drawing a glance from a passerby. She moved out of the way of foot traffic and pulled out her phone.
‘Beau’
‘Beau’
‘Beau’
Before she could text her friends name again, her phone vibrated shortly.
‘christ almighty WHAT’
She smirked at his agitated response.
‘u guys open yet’
‘u blew my phone up for this’
‘DUNKIN IS CLOSED ASSHAT’
‘oooooh so now you wanna visit me’
‘beau i swear to god’
‘yes we’re open’
‘THANK U’
Cherry rolled her eyes and put her phone away, hitting shuffle on her music before she did so. She pulled her headphones over her knit hat and started walking towards the café where Beau worked.
It wasn’t far, but she didn’t like to bother Beau at work. She felt a little guilty when she realized that was probably why he didn’t respond.
Cherry used her fingers to mock-drum along with the song, earning some glances from passerby.
She was a drummer in a band, a rather good one at that. She worked at a recording studio during the day and usually did a gig at night. Their band was getting quite a bit of attention as of late, even getting contacted by several record labels.
But all wasn’t going well within the tight-knit group. At least not for Cherry.
After seemingly every gig now, the rest of the band had started experimenting with harder drugs. Cherry herself wasn’t opposed to marijuana, as her and Beau had done it recreationally before. But when the lead guitarist brought cocaine to a gig, Cherry became uneasy.
She had confided in Beau about it, who immediately encouraged her to ditch the band for her own safety. She had felt guilty at first, not wanting to duck out and leave them without a drummer, and possibly losing her chances of becoming a famous musician.
Yet the more addicted her band members became the more she considered it.
An ambulance whizzed by her, casting red and blue lights on to her now frowning face.
She was so lost in thought she almost missed the café, stumbling slightly as she nearly walked by it.
It was a smaller building with ivy climbing up the sides. The outside looked minimalistic and modern, but when she peered through the window it appeared to have a warm, jazz club style. She smirked when she saw the matte gray window flower boxes filled with eucalyptus, lavender, lemon verbena, and other floral herbs. Beau had bragged to her for weeks that he had done the arrangement.
Cherry pushed open the door, a short ringing bell signifying her entrance. Beau waved when he saw the drummer, his thick, almost dreadlock-like hair bouncing in its ponytail. She took a moment to take in the interior. There was a small raised stage in the back, presumably for small jazz bands or singers. She couldn’t imagine her hardcore metal band playing in a place like this.
A young androgynous person, who looked about in their twenties, was waiting tables. On a evergreen apron, the apparent uniform for the staff, a name tag read ‘Chévre’. They appeared to be the only wait staff in the small coffee shop.
Cherry took a seat on a bar stool in front of the counter where Beau was standing.
“Nice place,” she commented, looking up at the vintage lightbulbs that cast a warm glow on the room. She took off her leather jacket and tied it around her waist. Beau smiled goofily.
“Thank you, I made it myself.”
Cherry snorted.
“You couldn’t design a place like this in Minecraft. You just make the scones,” she replied playfully.
“You’re lucky there’s security cameras and I can’t beat you up,” he responded.
They laughed in unison, causing another staff member to glance at them.
“You two know each other?” she asked sweetly, mostly to Beau.
She had short black hair that reached her chin and two buns like ears on top of her head. Her bangs ended just above her thick black eyebrows. She was Asian, and her eyes were lined with deep maroon eyeliner. Her name tag read ‘Pekoe’ in ornate calligraphy.
“This is Cherry,” Beau responded, “She’s a drummer.”
Pekoe’s eyes grew wide and excited, her mouth forming an ‘o’.
“You should play here!”
Cherry smiled, noting how bubbly and expressive she was.
“Eh, I dunno if I’d fit in. I’m mostly a metal head.”
Pekoe turned to the empty stage thoughtfully, then shrugged and turned back to the pair.
“I’m more of a classical music fan myself. Most people think its boring, but there’s so many exciting moments and styles...”
Her cheeks flushed suddenly.
“Sorry, I’m rambling on.” She smiled nervously.
Cherry shrugged.
“Nah, I was a music major. I get it,” she smiled warmly at the short barista, “I played the english horn in college.”
Her eyes almost sparkled.
“Really?! I played the oboe!”
She clapped her hands excitedly. Cherry couldn’t help but laugh at how excitable she was.
“Jeez, you’ve been here 10 minutes and you’re already better friends with Pekoe than I am,” Beau frowned playfully, “You want coffee or a wingman?”
Pekoe flushed again.
“I mean I wouldn’t say no, you seem very nice,” she babbled nervously to Cherry, who laughed.
“I’m sorry, Beau.” She made puppy eyes at him.
He put his hand on his heart.
“You are... forgiven,” he said dramatically.
Pekoe giggled.
“Whatcha want, anyway?”
“You got a chai latte?”
When the younger girl gasped excitedly, Cherry jumped.
“Oh my gosh of course! I’m the latte artist!”
She practically skipped to the coffee machine. When she disappeared behind the flavored syrups and cinnamon, the one waiter sat at a bar stool and sighed heavily.
They adjusted their apron exasperatedly, running a hand through their pastel pink dyed hair. They jumped and adjusted their glasses when they noticed someone else was there.
“Goodness, forgive me,” she spoke with a thick french accent, “I slept terribly last night.”
Cherry admired their flawless makeup, the soft colors making their eyes almost sparkle.
“Doesn’t look like it,” she joked, “If I could do makeup like that, you wouldn’t see me drummin’.”
Chèvre laughed, a warm sound, like warm milk Pekoe was pouring into the mug. They held their hand in front of their mouth politely when they laughed.
“You are a musician, are you? Have you thought of performing here?”
He rolled his “r”’s subtly.
Cherry tilted her head curiously.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what are your pronouns?”
“He, she, they, it doesn’t matter to me,” she replied nonchalantly, waving her hand as she did so, “The joys of gender fluidity.”
Pekoe walked back over to the counter, placing the mug down. Cherry chuckled when she saw a cherry in the froth.
“Thanks, I kinda feel bad drinking it now.”
Pekoe waved her hand.
“Plenty more where that came from.”
As Cherry was about to take a sip, she nearly dropped it.
A pale girl with long black ringlets stepped into the café, a ukulele case in her hand. She was heavier set, and an ornate gothic dress hugged her body. Her emerald green eyes almost glowed in the soft lighting.
“Hiya, Muffy.”