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The smell of bittersweet cocoa and freshly baked gingerbread cookies filled the air as you entered the coffee shop of not your choice. This wasn’t your usual, but it is the most accessible one as it has very few customers compared to your favorite coffee shop just a block away across the street.
“One hot chocolate,” you said as you reached for your coin purse looking for the right amount of cash to pay.
The man in front of you leaned in as he looked at you with the corner of his lips slight upturned, smirking. His pupils moving up and down, meticulously memorizing every speckle on your skin. Eyebrows laxed, as if mesmerized by the figure standing right across him.
“You’re not from here, aren’t you?” his tone a tad bit pitchy enough to tick you.
“I live here.”
He crossed his arms pretending not to be embarrassed by his sudden assumption while you reached your hand giving him the money for the payment.
He looked at your hand and chuckled grabbing it instead of just taking the money, he took the opportunity to pull you closer. Both of you, face close enough proximity to assume both invading each other’s personal bubble.
You can’t help but stare at his eyes, as he reached for the lock of your hair that had fell out of place, pushing it at the back of your ear.
“We don’t pay money here; we pay with kisses as this cafe’s currency.” He said as a matter of fact still looking at you intently.
You can’t help but smile as you finally had the courage to push his fucking arrogant face away, “you read too many romance novels for you to be this fucking cliché hitting on people you find attractive.” You retorted mockingly placed the money on the countertop as the other barista handed your order.
You mouthed a thank you to the barista as you sat in the barstool, a seat apart from another person, hoping to satiate your curiosity about a certain hopeless romantic. Not even five minutes had passed before his face showed up in front of you once again.
“Who said I find you attractive?” He remarked trying to sound confident that he didn’t.
Cute. That he is.
“Well, don’t you? Bummer, you piqued my interest though.” You stated purposefully sounding sad which earned you a snicker from him.
You raised your hand gesturing him to come closer, as you whispered in his ear, “for someone who didn’t find me attractive, you went your way to entertain me here even with the long complaining line of people awaiting you.” You saw how heat rushed to his ears making your heart flutter for the nth time with this short interaction of his.
You got up from your seat as you tapped a folded tissue paper on the countertops catching his attention, unconsciously smiled seeing it. For your age, never thought you’d feel butterflies in your stomach like a petty teenager.
The train of chimes were heard as they dangled hanging from the glass door as you left the cafe with only one thing in mind, or rather someone.
It was that day of the week once again, to think that you would change your usual café for a place as cheap as this just because of a certain barista. It has only been less than a minute since you entered the establishment, when you’ve reached the first in line, “the usual?” he asked cheekily; not waiting for your answer as he already started making your drink.
“Yeah, one hot chocolate.” You whispered for the sake of it.
There was nothing special to this guy. Yes, he is dang attractive, but for you to be drawn to someone at this extent is something you don’t understand why.
Once again sitting on the fourth to the last barstool on the far right of the countertops, a seat apart from someone who seems like a regular in this café, waiting for him to finish making this basic of a concoction to your delight.
Seeing him smile to every customer, cranky or not, making each of their own desired beverages, as he tediously mixes everything by hand. The way he gives everyone their drinks with his pinky raised up, as if serving the royal family in their very own Buckingham palace.
The way he pranced around the café, only to catch you looking at him earning yourself a presumptuous wink, making you gag.
Finally sipping the last drop of your once hot but now lukewarm chocolate in your cup, you stood up and left with his scandalous of a wink embedded in your mind, mindlessly making you look like an embarrassed teenager walking along the sidewalk of the streets.
Each and every week, you spared a day or two just to emboss his figure into your mind, not letting a bit of his noticeable and unnoticeable feature fade away.
This day or two of yours gradually became three, then four, until the whole damn working days were spared for him and only him.
You weren’t drawn to him, you were obsessed.
It was as if, you couldn’t live another week of not seeing him do his usual thing, eventually made seeing him a usual to you.
There were times where the café would be packed with people, where this would usually occur during Monday mornings and Friday afternoons.
“A bit busy today, aren’t you?” You initiated.
“Obviously…” He retorted earning him a glare which made him chuckle, “I’m guessing, one hot chocolate?” he asked as he starts brewing the crushed cocoa beans.
You rolled eyes, “Obviously.” Mimicking the tone, he used on you.
Ridiculous, being able to memorize the timeframes of when crowds of people would swarm the place, making him look ragged by the continuous order of various people waiting for their own drinks to be served.
There were also times where only two or three other people other than yourself was to be seen in the premises of the café.
Seeing him stand up a little excited than he anticipated made you laugh, “guessing you already know.”
He smiled as he handed you an already made hot chocolate, “knew you would come by this time.” Leaving you alone to drink it all by yourself on your usual spot.
Encouraging yourself to stand up from that damn barstool just to get closer to him, wanting him all for yourself. It was until that month; the first fall of snow fell upon your nose making you scrunch.
You were just a few steps away when you witnessed first-hand—him opening up the café, he looked up noticing a presence before him.
“You’re early.” He muttered.
“Is that so?” you mocked, “then, should I go ahead? Seems like there aren’t any drinks to be served at this early winter morning.”
He laughed, along with the mist of his breath visible through the cold breeze.
“How about you wait here as I take my leave from the shop today, as you free up your own schedule, what you think ye?” You hear him snicker.
You crossed your arms as one side of your lips upturned smirking at him, “and why is that?” He shrugged his shoulders as he unwrapped his own scarf from his neck just to wrap around yours, making you step back from the sudden gesture.
You were both walking beside each other through the piles of snow, not uttering a word.
After rounds of walking with nothing in mind, but the intimidating presence from your side, you found a bench just around the corner near the coffee shop you both came from thirty minutes ago.
He was starting to speak up about something that must’ve been an interest of his, but you can not help but stare at him all through out the time spent with each other.
It was then when you both got up getting ready to go to each destination you both were needed to be, when you saw a person on the café on the very same barstool you were supposedly sitting on.
Until that day, it was the same as the other days you went to the café but today was a tad bit different than the previous ones, you brought a gift, a small token of appreciation for him as it was the 24th of December.
Inside the gift was a letter.
As you were marching yourself to the coffee shop in which its path became a muscle memory, with beads of sweat forming on your neck and forehead despite the shivering cold.
You aggressively opened the glass door wide getting attention by most of the people inside.
You coughed as you gently closed the door and made your way to the average length of the line, each step closer to the registration making your heartbeat loudly that can make one deaf.
Nothing to hear but the earsplitting murmurs of the varied individuals inside the café, each ‘next!’ shouted before you making you want to vomit all your guts out.
This was the usual for you, yet why is very heart-wrenching?
“Next!”
You felt shivers down your spine as you realized you were next in line, and as you grew closer and closer. There, you realized, he was not there.
“What should I get for you?”
You looked down gripping the letter in your hand as you feel a lump in your throat grow larger, “Do-do you know…” you paused for a moment thinking of whether to ask or just leave and stop embarrassing yourself further.
“Do you know where the male barista is today?”
She looked at you with one eyebrow raised, “More distinction would be more informative.” She scowled.
You were about to talk when he came rushing in, laughing with another person, as he stopped when he noticed you.
He said some things your mind couldn’t comprehend as of the moment, hence why he snapped a finger in front of you—getting your attention, “Hey, you seem a bit off.” He breathed as you noticed him wearing a ring on one of his fingers.
“Do you want your usual?” He asked.
“No!” You said a little too fast, as you coughed, “I’d like to try one hot chocolate, please.”
He looked at you bewildered, yet still obliged.
You smiled as you went to the same old barstool, observing all the people working, eating, and laughing. It’s what you love, people watching.
Every gesture, tone, movement, and expression show so much about a person, it’s bound to tell a story other than yours—until one peculiar day, you wanted to live the story of another other than your own.
Someone unfamiliar walked inside the coffee shop with eyebrows closely knit together, along with a small pout formed into their lips, as if they didn’t plan to go to this specific café.
“One hot chocolate,” they sighed rummaging through their wallet, as this one barista leaned in smirking at them
“You’re not from here, aren’t you?” he teased.
“I live here.”
It was the first time you saw him blush, and honestly you thought it was hella cute. The two kept on flirting not minding the stares of other people including yours, with the barista disregarding the lengthy line piled up before him.
They whispered something to him, making him redder than before, as they got up leaving a folded tissue paper, which you assume would be how to contact them, and you were right.
From then on, you see them often than not, obviously for the purpose of being with the barista.
Unfortunately for you, just like in watching movies, and reading books, you can’t help but fall in love with the leading man as well.
Just then, you entered the café rather late than usual, no barista, nor their love interest of a customer is here.
You sat quietly in your usual spot the second to the last barstool, eventually drifting into daydreaming of what might’ve been if you were the main character in their story.
Would it be the same?
Would he smile the same?
Would he fall in love with you the same way he did with them?
It was then, you spot them sitting on a bench just right outside the corner of the café, with him enthusiastically telling stories you wish you could hear yourself.
Coincidentally catching the person he’s with, looking at you too.
“Excuse me,” you looked up hearing a voice well known to you.
He gave you the drink you ordered, and from the looks of it, you know damn well you wouldn’t like it.
You tried one sip, just one tiny one, immediately earning a laugh from him.
“You don’t like it do you?” He chuckled.
You laughed timidly as you rubbed the back of your neck in sheer embarrassment, “Not really a fan of sweets.” You uttered softly.
“Then why the change of order?”
You looked outside the window seeing the continuous snow falling, “figured to…”
You looked at him and forced a smile, “Just wanted to try something.”
He nodded in contentment of your answer, “Well, feel free to go back the registry to order your usual. It’s your usual for a reason.” He smiled as he went to entertain other customers.
You feel the familiar presence of another, one seat apart from yours, hesitant you tapped their shoulder, “congrats.” You blurted.
They looked at you confused, following your gaze to the direction of their hand with the same ring on the barista’s hand.
“Oh, uhm. Thank you?”
You smiled to each other as you watch them happily drinking their hot chocolate.
Oh, how you wish you had the courage to do all those thoughts you had in your head, but you don’t. You sighed as you got up in your usual barstool for the last time, walking once again to the registry.
Him seeing you brought a smile to his face, “Now, let’s get this right, shall we?” You both laugh.
He coughed as if reenacting the same scenario earlier, “what should I get you?”
“One coffee, please.”
“For a while,” he smiled.
“Wait!” You exclaimed catching his attention, you looked at the name tag pinned at the left side of his apron, “One coffee, please, Issei.”
Never thought it would be painful to be in love with a story that was not yours to begin with, giving him one last glance with your usual order in hand, a cup of coffee.
Throwing away the gift in hand to the trashcan along the way, finally leaving behind the café.
This is a story you wish was yours, but it doesn’t mean it was not your story to tell.
Where the train of chimes dangling from the glass door were heard—signaling the end of a love story with no other witnesses than you.
You, who foolishly fell in love with the story, you were only meant to tell.
Fin.