Chapter Text
People tend to get away from the city running to the mountains, waking up early for hikings, smelling the grass and touching it, but Yoongi only needs a good cup of the best coffee from the city to be happy. And, lucky him, he was the best barista in the small town he was living in now.
All his friends complained a lot about his choices, but after a week in this new place, everyone could agree that the best for him is to live in this cute small town where nothing happens and people have fights about the sidewalk being painted yellow to celebrate the golden era they were living in.
He was walking to his work, another incredible thing because in the big city you could only walk around by car, subway or bus, but traffic was always a huge thing that happened and made him lose a lot of time just to get from one place to another. When he discovered an underground poet who was always talking about the goodness in riding bikes instead of all of these other means of transportation was looking for a barista for his new coffee shop/ book shop, he knew that was his chance to shine.
There was a tall man with really short black hair sitting in some place reading about the newest theory about society from this new philosopher that everyone was talking about. Sometimes, Yoongi finds himself reading some of the author’s previous work after one talk with Namjoon, but it’s been a while since he read something deep like that. In the last few days he was reading a lot of contemporary essays.
“Morning!”
A little dimple showed at Namjoon’s face, and this only means it’s time to start our days here, at Indigo’s Coffee Shop.
But, as it was a small city, they could start counting how many coffee beans was necessary to get the 18 grams that he normally uses to make some nice espresso. One by one, they would put back on a little plastic bag so that coffee beans could be used as decoration for some tables, or some smell tryout for some adventurous person who would like to change the bitterness for the sweetness from that coffee bean roast.
“I can’t believe,” the taller man was almost stomping his foot,” We need at least a hundred and seven coffee beans to grind and make the best espresso in the world.”
A happy sound echoed inside the shop, both of them only, as the world was something so far away, never letting them in. A happy place, with happy people. What are the odds of finding it so easily?
“Don’t talk like that. Italian people will be mad at me.” you could see the gummy smile the long haired man had. His mouth fully open, making noises while continuously making some jokes about making americanos for people.
They were so into one another that the bell from the door wasn’t enough to notify them that someone barged in. Only with the slam of the door, closing it, leaving the world behind whoever was inside, Namjoon and Yoongi realized that someone was inside.Kids nowadays tend to only get out in groups. They were together talking about something that no one could understand. Namjoon always says that teens from this generation tend to have their own dialect, as if he and Yoongi didn’t have theirs.
They were in five, a nightmare to Namjoon. They wouldn’t make silence, would scream a lot and talk gibberish while the adults were looking for a quiet place to be. But this time things went a little bit different.Two of them went different ways through the book session, which, alone, was strange to Namjoon. “Kids still read?” he would ask inside his mind, not a single word going out of his mouth. Just eyes, following them.The other three went in Yoongi's direction, smiling and telling (unfunny) jokes.
“Hi!” the tallest one said, smiling back at him. “I think we’d like to order.” They were looking at Yoongi’s eyes with attention, while he explained each one of the beverages and coffee drinks he could make. Eyes shining while he shyly answered their questions without a trace.
The boys decided to get five different types of coffee, because they could all taste eachother’s and actually choose something on their next visit. One of them went too happy on “make your own latte” and his cup was half filled with ingredients that were on the coffee menu, so Yoongi started with the easiest ones. A mocha, a latte, a frappuccino, an espresso, and, finally, a Frankeinstein made out of coffee, milk, ice and chantilly.
By the time he was finally facing his new nemesis, the door made a noise again, and that was the second time he was shocked by the day.
Through the door a man was smiling at Namjoon, as he already knew him. His hair was pure black, neatly done on the sides but perfectly falling on his forehead. His face was different, maybe the mouth format that was so nicely done, or maybe it was his attitude towards them that made it impossible to think that that man wasn’t an artist.
Yoongi forgot what he was doing, still impressed with that man who was walking there as he was a regular customer. As he could close his eyes and say which shelves were from which artists and how Namjoon organized that book part.
His hands were working alone, while his eyes couldn’t run away from this image in front of him. His skin was glowing, as he had the perfect tone, not too white, not too sunburned. Maybe that eye format, a little too dark at the ends, but perfectly measured and treated, was getting Yoongi crazy. Was that an eye of someone who didn’t sleep very well or was that just a little bit of makeup to make that man look normal?
Yoongi felt strange because he was feeling hot. It started on his right hand but suddenly also his feet were hot and kinda wet but he couldn’t stop staring as some type of magical spell was casted and like a mermaid and a pirate, he was almost drowning.
Actually, he was drowning out of coffee.
As a burst of energy, trying to fake for everyone that he wasn’t only looking around, he adds cinnamon and some gingerbread spice into the Frankenstein Latte™ and more than a second later he realizes that he did something wrong.
Yoongi started the process again and after going to the teens table, he put a little blackboard after the sweets and cakes part of the display. And in front of that, the coffee that no one would like to drink because it was too strange.
“Hey, now you have an experimental coffee sensation?” was the part of the conversation that the barista could hear. “I think I’ll try it.”
He was too astonished to speak and forgot for a second that he was supposed to be making some iced macchiato. The guy first in line was already stressed out about it, so he just put the cup aside and made a new one, now correct.
While the first customer was getting away with his coffee, blasting on the phone nonsense about something that no one could understand, even if it was testified that he was speaking korean, Yoongi just grabbed a chalkboard and wrote “why not try something different?” and placed the wrong beverage in front of it.
That’s when Seokjin’s attention was caught.
That man talking to Namjoon started coming into his direction, his eyes were on fire, almost literally, while his feet were stomping on the floor, making this waltz sound that Yoongi couldn’t think about anything else. Anymore. Forever in his life the sound of that man’s shoes coming in his direction would scare him at night. “Remember that gay panic you had?” the memory would ask him while he was almost falling asleep.
While the cup was touching his mouth, the man extended his arm until his hand was with one pointy finger to the ceiling, as he wished the barista to wait. First he smelled the vapor that was coming from the cup, and one second after, he started drinking it. His eyebrows started to arch, his feet were one step behind now, and he then turned to the poet.
“This is amazing!” he now pointed to the cup, “is this a new menu?”
“Actually, it's just something new I was trying.” his voice was low, almost as if it didn't want to come out and make a fuzz. His voice should be there only to fill in the void that that man’s voice had.
“Well, it should be on the menu. How much is it?”
“Oh, it’s free.”
Right behind him Namjoon was looking at him with some judgement in his eyes. Maybe Yoongi lost some points with his boss friend, but maybe it was totally worth it.
“Woaaa, Namjoonie! I love your new barista”, the words danced in the air, happiness everywhere. “That’s what I call customer treatment!”
Namjoon stepped at his side, touching the other with his elbow, softly, as he was just giving him some tips and not starting a fight.
“This is Yoongi, my friend from Daegu,” he pointed to the small one between them. “And this is Seokjin, my friend from Seoul.”
“You have a lot of friends for some introverted poet.” Seokjin laughed again.
“That’s the price from selling your art in person to people,” his shoulders moved up and down, his arms awkwardly beside his body.
“Well, it was nice to see you,” he pointed to Namjoon, “and truly a pleasure to meet you.” he said to Yoongi, smiling.
As he closed the main door from the store, a glimpse of eyes met, never knowing what to expect from the other pair on the opposite side of the room. Nobody would ever understand how that day was turning Yoongi’s life upside down.