Chapter Text
It was a normal day for the normal, average guy, Paul Matthews. Except not really, because since Monday, he kept hearing the same goddamn song.
♪ Get your cup of roasted coffee ♪
, he always heard. It was stuck in his head, that goddamned cheerful little ditty. He hated it.
♪ We'll make a jamming cup of java, mocha latte with the froth for you, Jack. ♪
Fuck off.
But there was nothing he could do about it. Except think. And so, think he did. The soulmate myth was real.
Just kidding, no way! Sure, it was Hatchetfield, but that doesn't mean it's real, nor that soulmates themselves are real.
Right?
Paul sat on the side of his bed rubbing his temples. Another day at work, he sighed, standing up to go take a shower. Roughly twenty minutes later, Paul left his apartment, trying to keep his eyes open after another all-nighter, all because of that stupid fucking song. Almost every two minutes, like an alarm, he would hear it, starting from 5:00 AM, up to 10:30 PM. And that wasn't even the end of it! Because that stupid fucking catchy song then would proceed to be stuck in his head! for the rest of the night and morning, until 5:30 hit again, and it began playing periodically once more. A loop of torture and pain, right in his ears.
He sighed, trying his best to remain calm he wasn't even at work yet, and he was already quite agitated, over a fucking song.
Two minutes. It only took two minutes into his walk for him to hear the song again. Had he been cursed? Did someone plant some strange chip in his brain for april fools? I mean, what kind of shitty joke would that even be? 'Oh, he hates musicals, let's force him to listen to this song that sounds like it was pulled straight out of one 24/7!'... That's stupid.
He looks to his right. Beanie's. He walked inside the coffee shop, like always. He usually went on his break, but he was way too tired to wait three hours for some black coffee.
Paul makes his way inside, the door chime ringing once he opened the door. He walked over to the counter, joining the line of people already there. Well, was it a line? It was really just one man with a beige coat, who quickly grabbed his coffee once he received it, and stormed out of the shop.
He froze. In front of him stood a tan barista, with messy, brown hair, a black claw clip barely holding it into a bun. She had a stern look, clearly tired already despite it being pretty early.
The barista looked over her shoulder, before exhaling. She looked back at her customer.
She gave him a slightly calmer look. "Hey, what's your order?"
"Uhm.." He sighed, trying to force himself back to earth. "Just, uh, a black coffee. No sugar, no cream, just black coffee."
"M'kay."
Something about her stare just made Paul feel strange..The smirk that settled onto her lips once she realized none of her co-workers were there was so enticing. He couldn't help but look at her, until she turned around to go make his coffee.
Time seemed to pass faster, without Paul even realizing it. He had his black coffee in hand in what seemed to him like seconds. He reached into his pocket with his empty hand, pulling out five bucks, which he placed inside the tipjar. Oh, he should have checked the sign.
"Look," She started, rolling her eyes. "I'm really fucking tired of singing, just, take your money back. Nora isn't here, neither is Zoey. I'm not going to sing for you right now."
Paul blinked, his eyes widened, before he blinked once more. "Uh... What?" He asked, tilting his head slightly. "No, no no..." He closed his eyes, covering his face with his hands. "Please, don't sing."
"Do you not like music?" She asked, raising one of her eyebrows as she rested her hands on the counter, looking up at Paul, who was noticeably taller than her.
"No, it's just that..." Paul sighed, resting his hands on the counter too, but quickly pulling them away once he felt the barista's hands under his. "Sorry." He muttered nervously. "Something about seeing people singing and dancing," He begins to explain, doing jazz hands as he mentions singing and dancing. "Just....makes me uncomfortable."
The barista chuckles, smiling at him. "Well, thank god. I really hate this new 'tip for a song' policy my boss made. I'm here to serve coffee and cold, shitty pastries, not sing showtunes."
Emma begun another sentence, but she couldn't get the words out of her mouth due to being cut off by two other baristas entering through the front door. One of them had short, curly brown hair, with her nametag reading 'Nora'. The other, seemingly Zoey, had long brown hair and red lipstick.
"Hey, Emma, did he tip?" Nora asked, half yelling as she walked into the 'Staff Only' room.
The barista, who Paul now knew as Emma, let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, Nora." Her annoyance was obvious based on her tone of voice.
"Alright, let's do this." Zoey exclaimed, smiling slightly.
Nora clapped, shooting Paul an overenthusiastic smile, as the three baristas gathered near the tables side by side.
Soon, Paul heard it again. Fuck
♪ Get your cup of roasted coffee ♪...
As soon as that ended, Paul left the store, but not before looking back at Emma, who was now serving another customer. Something about her voice in particular during that number was quite...familiar to him. Now, under Nora's watch, she had been forced to sing once more, this time, as she prepared the customer's order.
♪ Black coffee, I'm your coffee gal ♪...
Paul could hear her voice loudly despite the distance between them as he stood outside Beanie's
But soulmates were fake, right?