Work Text:
What an unfortunate life I must live to be caught up in this, well, unfortunate situation. I flip the book on my desk closed delicately while I scan the lifeless store around me. Lifeless doesn’t describe it very well because there are plenty of happy customers sitting and reading quietly in the soft, golden afternoon sun, but to me, it was the most boring thing I’d ever done.
Two weeks ago, I decided to apply for a part-time job at Farms & Noble, a moderately-sized, cozy bookstore near my family’s house. Making some extra money on the weekends or after school would be nice, I thought; a place like that may accommodate the combative temperament that other people tend to say I have…
Little did I know that the customers wouldn’t be my greatest worry. Bookstores are too calm. There’s nothing to do but read these stupid books, or try to talk with my absent-minded coworker who is always on their phone.
Why is it that the last hour of the shift feels twice as long as all the others? I let out a sigh while I looked down and read the name tag pinned to my forest-green apron, which reads “Ena, she/her” and toy with my short brown hair like a cat with a ball of yarn. Ever since I started working here, I’ve been trying to experiment with new hairstyles, but they never satisfy me. The worst part is that I can’t figure out why.
“Order number 23, hazelnut mocha!” A voice calls out loudly to my right, from the cafe corner of the store. Silky pink hair, a pretty face, red ribbons that do not at all match the store uniform, and an obnoxious enthusiasm. That’s the coworker that goes to my school, and more or less works the same hours as me, always wearing their name tag that reads “Mizuki, they/them”.
The customer comes up and takes the drink off the counter when Mizuki speaks again. “Oh you look great, and you have such good taste in drinks too! I made it with love, so enjoy♪” They then snap on the pristine white lid, sealing in the steam. My body writhes with jealousy. That barista job looks so much more interesting than mine, and I’m sure all those customers don’t appreciate the way Mizuki acts toward them.
The anger gets me up onto my feet, and away from my desk. There are no customers coming anyways, and my shift ends in a few minutes so I can grab a coffee before I head out.
“A-Ahem, I’d like a hazelnut mocha as well. With love.” I put a sarcastic edge onto my mocking request, with a slightly judgemental gaze and crossed arms to go with it.
Mizuki looks up from the display case of baked goods and flashes me an apologetic smile. The warm lights of the rounded glass container reflect just perfectly off of Mizuki’s face like they're a photoshoot-ready model. My scowl thickens.
“I actually just ran out of the ingredients, I’m sorry.” A dark cloud of disappointment draws in over my head. I can’t tell if I’m angry, sad, or tired. I’m not even a big fan of hazelnut, but I wanted Mizuki to make me that drink. Mizuki clearly takes my silence as me being upset, and makes an attempt to cheer me up. “But there are so many great drinks on the menu! Is there anything else I can get you?”
My eyes scan the elegantly written words on the board overhead, but nothing really sticks out to me. I don’t even know why I’m here, I don’t even really want coffee, but something tempts me to stay here. “I don’t know,” I answer with an exaggerated sigh. “You pick something for me.”
“Alright then, how about a chai latte? It’s my favorite♪”
“Chai latte…?” I’d never even heard of that before. It sounds like it’s made with beans or something. Oh well, it’ll be more genuine when I tell them how mediocre it is. “Sure, I’ll have that.”
Mizuki shakes their head with an enthusiastic nod and begins working on the drink, moving back and forth from drink to machine to dispenser. There is almost something artful about it, a spirited dance of expressive operation. A brilliant pillar of steam escapes from one part of the kitchen while a spiced scent emanates from another, pleasantly tickling my nose. The wait goes by quickly, and a white cup with a brown sleeve is presented to me.
I can smell it from here, but I don’t just smell it, Mizuki gives me ample time to observe the beautiful white heart blooming from the center of the drink before sealing it with a lid.
“Made with love, as you asked~” Mizuki chimes. I stare at the beverage momentarily, only breaking my gaze when they slide it across the counter. “A latte for you.”
“Thanks.” While I’m paying for my drink, I speak for the first time since ordering anything, and more softly than before. I don’t say much, but I really can’t think of anything else to say.
Mizuki gives a small bow while I walk away, “Thank you for stopping by! Oh, and, that’s a new hairstyle, isn’t it? It looks cute on you~”
I had been in the process of trying to taste my order, but my heart skipped a beat and I end up splashing a few drops on my face. Despite it being literally steaming, the latte doesn't feel all that hot against my skin. “Oh, t-thanks.”
Finally, I take a proper sip of the latte, and the strong flavor instantly washes over my mouth. It’s calm yet powerful, creamy yet it tingles against my tongue. The only specific flavor I can make out is cinnamon, but even so, I love each and every blissful sip.
I am loath to admit - even to myself - that this is pretty damn good. It’s so strange because coffee stands like that don’t usually sell anything I can enjoy, but this one specific drink soothes my very soul. Sitting near a candescent flame in a dark room with a pair of warm arms wrapped around me is the feeling it gives me. Is… is this Mizuki’s flavor?
I shake my head and resist the urge to slap myself for having such a stupid thought. On the way out, there is a display by the wooden cashier desk where I work. There are some odds and ends here, probably to grab the attention of children and loose spenders, but one side of a shelf holds a small selection of beauty products. It’s a pretty sad selection and the products are nowhere near first-rate, but it makes me smile anyways.
It was the standalone cause of the few and fleeting conversations I had with Mizuki, since I rarely see them at school. Though Mizuki is far more knowledgeable than me, it was common ground for conversation, and the only way I could possibly find to chat with them… While I think about this, my gaze crosses a mirror on the shelf.
I see myself. Two dainty pigtails hanging down from behind my ears, my collarbone half-obscured by my desaturated blue shirt, and my wide-eyed face. Unlike when I left this morning, I don’t hate this look.
Actually, I think I might wear it again tomorrow.
School was pretty uneventful in the following week, except for the day that I actually saw Mizuki there. I thought maybe, just maybe, my new confidence would help me talk with them and establish some acquaintanceship I could work with. Of course, I froze up in the moment and completely botched it.
The only reason I didn’t care too much is that I knew I’d see them again, 30 minutes or so after the start of my shift. That moment was right now.
I raise my hand slightly and give a half-hearted wave to Mizuki as they brush past the rustic double doors and into the warm atmosphere of the bookstore, after which they turn to me and grin. The greeting wasn’t planned, but I still find myself disappointed when they go straight to the cafe instead of coming to talk with me. Well, that is to be expected, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling crestfallen.
The inventory behind me needs sorting, so I finally get up off my seat and start to do my job, especially since my lackluster coworker isn’t here today. It seems like some books are out of order, while others are just falling over due to a lack of stock.
At least it gives me something to do. I already feel like I've been here for over an hour, yet the clock tells me otherwise. I can’t even trick myself into thinking that it is lying to me. Just kneel down and put the red books here… Albums go here.
“Ena!” I jump in shock and nearly drop what I’m holding onto the grain-patterned carpet. It’s quite apparent who just called my name: a voice that I couldn’t possibly mistake. A voice that I listened to so carefully whenever possible.
From my crouched position in the crevice between the desk and the wall, I crane my head around and peer up at Mizuki in surprise. “Oh… Um, Shinonome-senpai?” they say following my extended silence.
Stop! Don’t call me that! I want to tell them, but I’m not sure if I’m able to tell them anything right now, so I take a moment to regain my composure by standing up at the desk. Being called by my last name by Mizuki of all people is embarrassing, but how… how do they even know it? We’re in different grades at school, and imposing formalities isn’t really my thing.
I glance up at Mizuki, just to nearly be knocked off my feet once more. For the first time I have ever seen, their hair is down. It isn’t tied up, it isn’t in some weird style, it just cascades so casually down their neck, stopping just inches past their shoulders. It’s still a little wavy and fairly thin, but most importantly, they look so damn cute. I really hate that I feel like this, but I just can’t tear my eyes away.
“Ah… What’s up?”
“Well,” Mizuki’s eyes dart around as if they are looking for something. “Do you have any book recommendations?”
I’m not the most well-read person, despite working at a bookstore, but I at least know some of the popular ones. That being said… I don’t want to give Mizuki the impression that I’m blowing them off by saying something basic. While I’m thinking about what to do, I suddenly catch a thick, sweet scent. I’d be inclined to think it’s Mizuki, but it smells a little too strong for that…
“I like poetry books, or just fiction that focuses a lot on the character’s feelings. I could show you some?” My heart ups its pace at the thought of touring the store with Mizuki. I might actually be getting the chance that I’ve yearned for, the chance to entertain what I think may be an emerging crush…
“Sure, that sounds fun♪ After work though.” They pick their right hand up from behind the counter and point to the cafe. I nod back while staring blankly, still winded from everything.
Then, Mizuki takes a breath and their eyes drop to the counter. “By the way… I brought you this.” They bring their left arm up, which holds a cup from the cafe that they set on the table. “You wanted one the other day right? So I made you one. A hazelnut mocha, for you.”
It smells delightfully of chocolate, paired with another, more relaxing scent. I’m touched by the thoughtful coffee, but Mizuki’s apprehensive delivery has my mind absolutely racing with questions. Never have I seen them speak so softly or with so little eye contact, but why?
“Thank you,” I say to Mizuki as they slowly turn to leave. My hands wrap around the drink that gently warms my hands while I watch them leave, hair bobbing around their shoulders. Before they get too far, I call out to them. “Wait!”
Mizuki stops and looks back with a neutral, almost shy expression. When I called out, I had no idea what I was going to say, but the words find me anyways. “Make sure not to go straight home, ok? And thanks… for the latte yesterday, it was delicious.”
For once, Mizuki is the speechless one. Just the way they looked at me was enough to make me purse my lips while my heart fluttered. Even when they walk away, I still wonder what will happen next. Whatever does, I have a feeling it’ll be great.