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Today, an outright determined Falco Grice tells himself internally— today is the day that it finally ends.
It’s been a long time coming; honestly, he’s been a total saint up until this point. It’s an objective fact that not many people would have endured this sort of consistent humiliation for weeks on end without some sort of retaliation.
When his brother’s best friend had haphazardly dared to point out that he’s been enduring it a little too well, Colt Grice had been quick to respond with a direct elbow to the ribs— and while Falco may not advocate violence personally, he’s never felt quite so smug watching his brother do bodily harm to someone.
“Seriously, though,” Porco Galliard wheezes, doubled over in pain and clutching his ribcage with both of his broad arms wrapped around himself as a consequence of Colt’s forceful blow. “What the hell is stopping you from just standing up for yourself?”
“It’s not always that easy for everyone to be assertive, Porco,” Colt begins in what comes out as a warning tone, and his friend reflexively shields his sides once again as a result.
“Assertive? For god’s sake, he’s just telling her how to correctly write and pronounce his goddamn name.”
The tone of Porco’s voice during his response is laden with a mixture of distaste and pity, and the look that he shoots in Falco’s direction is unmistakably meant to be taken as some sort of a challenge.
“It’s a common thing that happens,” Falco finds himself mumbling sheepishly, though he’s ultimately unable to make eye contact with his sibling’s somewhat intimidating friend. “Lots of people have the baristas at coffee shops get their names wrong.”
“Bro,” the exasperation is beyond evident in Porco’s voice now, both of his brows elevated to their absolute maximum height.
“Let me get this straight: you really think a person who sees you at least once a day, every day, is gonna fuck your name up a million different ways over the course of a month while knowing the entire time that it’s definitely you and that’s just… normal?”
“It’s possible,” Falco insists in an admittedly feeble manner, and Porco releases a dramatic noise of disgust in response.
“Colt, come on— back me up here.”
“Well…” his brother, smart and oh-so-handsome and honestly totally innocent in this situation aside from the curse of his current plus one, hesitates briefly before assuming a somewhat guilty look. “It is pretty unlikely.”
“By which he actually means that it’s fucking impossible, but he’s way too nice to say— OW! MOTHERFUCKER!”
Another well-aimed elbow to the ribs had served spectacularly to bring about the end of that particular debate at the time—
But now here he is, standing next in line before the cash register with his wallet in his hand and his mind racing a million miles per second. Despite his spastic thoughts being pulled in a myriad of different directions, Falco tries to keep his focus, reminding himself internally of what it is that he’s already decided:
Today is the day that it finally ends.
The taciturn black-haired female standing in front of him finally finishes with giving the employee her order and pays for her drink; after she shuffles off to the side while adjusting a scarf around her neck, he nervously steps forward at last.
She’s always on the register in the morning, and it’s not exactly a mystery as to why— the huge, infectious grin that’s plastered upon her face despite the fact that it’s 6:30 AM is evidence enough in itself.
Her brown hair is only halfway pulled back, as per usual; her bangs are carefully swept out of her face, and the very bottom fringe of the strands that aren’t tied together barely reaches her shoulders. It seems that she’s deigned to redo the image on her nametag yet again— this time, it’s a design of a cute cat alongside her name in large bubble letters.
“What can I get started for you this morning?” she chirps with a radiant grin, and to him it’s like staring into the actual sun.
“Uh,” winds up being the whopping extent of his eloquent response until Porco smacks him on the back just a little bit harder than necessary, briefly winding him. After casting a sharp glare back at his brother’s friend, Falco turns his head back to face the barista and inhales deeply before speaking.
“Just a large black coffee. Name’s Falco.”
Every word that comes out of his mouth sounds dumb for no real reason at all, but he figures that it must all be in his head because the girl at the register merely makes a standard noise of acknowledgment and scribbles something down on his cup with a black marker.
“Gotcha,” she says with another blinding smile casually aimed in his direction, and he can feel heat rushing to his face at record speed. “We’ll call you when it’s ready.”
And that will be the moment of truth— but of course, she has no way of knowing that.
Falco pays for his drink before moving away so he can allow his companions the space to order their own beverages, all the while playing back what he personally considers to have been a downright disastrous encounter between the two of them on repeat inside of his head until he’s at last joined once again by his friends.
The three of them choose to linger nearby the order pickup area, leaning against the closest wall and making shallow small talk while waiting for their drinks. And then it happens:
The worst possible butchering of his name in the history of the universe.
“Large black coffee for FUCKO!”
The cute female barista’s cheery and loud voice easily cuts through the din that fills the coffee shop, and the entire room immediately falls dead silent after she calls out the name.
The name she thinks is his name— or rather, the random name that she’s decided to use on a whim today, because somehow she literally never gets his name correct and fuck it, Colt and Porco are definitely right, she’s doing this shit on purpose and it finally ends today.
“IT’S FALCO!” He yells out abruptly, and the sheer volume of his voice visibly startles even his own brother. “MY NAME IS FUCKING FALCO!”
He’s one hundred percent sure that he looks like an absolute madman in that moment, both of his fists clenched tightly by his sides and his entire face burning a bright red hue that could rival any sunset; nevertheless, Falco stares down the barista with wild blue eyes, desperately willing himself not to falter.
It’s completely pointless, of course, because the split second that the girl’s face morphs into a grin it hits him like a bag of bricks that he’s just screamed his lungs out in the middle of the campus coffee shop— and even used an expletive while doing so, to boot.
Colt very much looks like he wants to melt into the ground and disappear, Porco actually appears to be mildly impressed, and the barista (god bless her) maintains that stupidly adorable smile on her face as she then proceeds to address him once more.
“Falco,” she echoes in a semi-contemplative tone of voice, handing him the hot coffee with a protective cardboard sleeve wrapped around it. “It took you long enough, honestly.”
As his fingers curl reflexively around the warm cup, he takes in her words and his mind goes blank.
“What?” He blurts out unthinkingly, and instantly hates how dumb it sounds.
The roguish grin on her face merely widens in a way that just shouldn’t be that attractive for a girl, and she crosses both of her arms over her chest before adopting a confident stance.
“I’ve been intentionally screwing up your name for weeks,” she says almost conversationally, as if they aren’t talking about her butchering his name for the entire campus to hear for a month straight.
“Why?” He asks immediately, once again unable to restrain himself.
“Got you talking to me, didn’t it?” She counters with a vivacious laugh, and the sound makes his heart skip a beat.
After a few moments of lingering stillness between the two of them, Falco merely lets out a long sigh and shakes his head back and forth.
“There was a much, much easier way for you to go about doing that, Gabi.”
The brunette visibly perks up upon hearing the sound of her name leaving his mouth for the very first time, Falco feels his face flush in turn, and the entire moment is honestly pretty damn perfect until Porco starts making overtly suggestive sounds in the background.
Thankfully Colt’s elbow is as swift as ever, and while Gabi writes her number down on his coffee cup with her black marker, Falco thinks to himself that today certainly wound up being some sort of a day after all.