Work Text:
Doyoung is never a sticky note checklist kind of person. He takes pride in relying solely on his amazing memory, no matter how many tasks are required for him to finish in a day. From watering his plants early in the morning to paying a short trip to the post office for a package from his mom, everything is coded in his brain like a system, tasks after tasks.
But of course there are times when he has trouble keeping up with things, like when his cousin visited while he was struggling with a quarter report, which resulted in him almost leaving the poor kid starving because he forgot to buy extra food, or when he completely had no idea about the sweater Johnny asked him to buy three days before Christmas.
Or, times like today.
The dry wind brutally passes by like an uninvited stranger, ruffling his neatly combed hair that Doyoung spent twenty minutes in front of the mirror preparing. The street greets winter with its emptiness on a Friday morning, people barely showing up, only the awkward silence following the swishing sounds of fallen leaves.
Ten minutes and only two people have pushed the Café’s door, welcoming themselves with warmth and comfort a hot morning latte brings and not forgetting to judge a shivering Doyoung on the bench next to the open sign.
The scarf loosely hanging on his shoulder stumbles to his lap, covering the piece of paper tightly gripped in his palm.
Doyoung absentmindedly throws the fabric back, continues staring at the content carefully written with red ink with hesitation. The handwriting looking extra neat reminds him of the importance this note holds.
Big day, do NOT mess up:
- good morning or small talk
- don’t ask for cream like usual
- “you are the cream to my coffee”
- don’t panic
- say it
- JUST FUCKING SAY IT
- ask him out on a date
More important than courage, Doyoung needs a checklist, providing step by step on how to confess to his crush.
Doyoung casts a glance over the decoration plants next to the window, the two (assumed) tired college students with their laptops opened, landing his gaze on the person standing behind the order table. A smile unconsciously blooms on his face when he sees the familiar ash blonde hair tucked behind the ears and the name tag on the black apron.
Despite the distance, Doyoung knows by heart the letters carved on it. The same four characters that have greeted him good morning every day for the past nine months, bringing a sense of hope and calmness to his burned-out heart.
Y, u, t, a.
“Yuta.” Doyoung whispers the name with utmost affection.
He takes a deep, deep breath. Cool air spiking his lungs. Drops of sweat running down his neck. His hands on the door shakes a little.
And, push.
By the way, the door says pull.
Should have added that to his checklist.
***
From afar, Yuta’s chuckles can already be heard. He has witnessed the same mistake every day because apparently Doyoung automatically assumes every door says “push” like the one at the building he works at, yet it never fails to put a smile on his face.
Doyoung enters in embarrassment, avoiding eye contact with any customer that is possibly also laughing at him right now and heads straight to the counter. His steps feel a bit heavier today, carrying the yearning he hides in every single layer of his skin.
There he is, his beloved someone with one hand resting on the counter, waving at him.
“Good morning Doyoung.” Doyoung’s mind automatically plays the first line in their daily conversation when he is three steps away from the other.
“Good morning Doyoung,” Yuta greets, as expected. “Big day today?” he adds.
One side of his lips has already curled up, ready to continue the daily dialogue he familiarized himself with until he realizes the question—wait what?
“You look nervous today, which you never do.” Yuta explains as he presses something on the screen.
Doyoung lets out a nervous laughter before the comment. Is it that obvious? He rehearsed his lines like, two hundred times before he left this morning, making sure there would be no room for mistakes.
Oh well, all the minutes spent in front of the mirror goes meaningless once Doyoung sees the person he adores, he guesses. Nothing prepares for the waves of love flooding his soul, wiping away whatever was previously stored on his mind. It is now completely blank. Which is why he needs the checklist.
“Usual but no cream today?”
“Uhhhh, yeah,” Doyoung mindlessly replies. Apparently he is now past step one in the list and about to enter step two, now he just needs to gather his courage and—
“Because I am sweet like the cream in your coffee?”
“Because you’re sweet like the HUH--”
Doyoung looks up in pure horror. Did he accidentally think too loud or does Yuta possess some kind of dark magic or superpower that allows him to read minds or how the fuck?
In front of him, Yuta is laughing hysterically, to the point Taeil the barista has to turn around and give a worried look.
“The note in your hand. I can see it.”
Oh.
Should have added step one, “put away the note”.
“Uhhhhhh about that—” Doyoung crumples the piece of paper and throws it inside his bag. Yuta laughs even harder at the sight of him freaking out, and Doyoung just wants to dig himself a hole right here right now.
“So when's the date?” Yuta tiptoes and leans over the counter. “I’m free after the morning shift.”
Doyoung asks back for confirmation, he cannot believe what he just heard. “Wait so you agree?”
“Doyoung, I always tell Taeil to put extra cream in your coffee. Of course I would love to go on a date with you.”