Work Text:
Oh, Michael Clifford — the school’s bad boy, the most popular guy everyone knew and loved… everyone except Awsten Knight.
To Awsten, Michael was his one true enemy. The person he hated most in the entire world. The forever unbearable, insufferable Michael Clifford.
Awsten worked shifts at the coffee shop next to the school every Wednesday and Friday. And well, today was Friday — which meant a full afternoon of dealing with hormonal teenagers in love with the idea of caffeine and drama.
The mint-haired boy was busy behind the counter, focused on getting orders out, when a group of students walked in. Not just any group — Michael’s group. And just realizing that was enough to make Awsten’s patience drain out of his body like cold coffee.
Michael was laughing with his friends when he noticed the green-haired boy behind the counter. Still grinning from some joke Calum had made, he strolled over, unbothered. He knew Awsten hated him — which made it even more fun to mess with him.
“Yo,” Michael greeted. “Work day, huh? I’ll have a double cappuccino, please.”
“Okay,” Awsten replied flatly. “Anything else?”
“Nope, thanks,” Michael answered with a smile, winking playfully as Awsten rolled his eyes.
Awsten scribbled Michael’s name on the cup and got back to work, pretending the whole interaction hadn’t irritated him to the core.
~ A few minutes later ~
“Michael!” Awsten called out.
Michael got up from the table he shared with his fans — as Awsten liked to call them — and walked over to pick up his drink.
He grabbed the cup and frowned at the name written on it in bold, ugly letters: Myquel.
“You do this on purpose, don’t you?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
Awsten blinked. “Do what?”
“This.” Michael held up the cup. “You hate me so much you can’t even spell my name right.”
“Sorry, I don’t speak fluent ego,” Awsten shot back dryly.
Michael laughed. He always laughed. Like life was some big joke and the universe existed to entertain Michael Clifford.
“You should laugh more,” Michael said casually. “You look kinda cute when you do.”
Awsten blinked. As if he needed to reboot.
Cute?
Was that a tease? Or… a compliment?
He shook his head like he could physically shake the thought away. But it was too late.
~
That night, Awsten couldn’t stop thinking. About Myquel. About the smile. The wink. The “cute.”
He hated it. Hated the way Michael laughed. Hated how he always had something to say. Hated… hated the way his heart sped up whenever Michael was around.
And secretly wondered: when did hating and liking start to feel the same?
~
The next Friday, the same group walked into the coffee shop. Awsten could feel the chaos before the door chime even rang. He was already pretending not to care, already watching from the corner of his eye.
But this time, Michael didn’t come right up. He sat down, checked his phone, then stood and walked over to the counter alone.
“Hey,” he said with a grin. “You look even worse than last week. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. You just walked in,” Awsten replied without missing a beat — but his tone was lighter. He knew it.
Michael smiled, but didn’t answer right away. He just stared for a second too long.
“I want a coffee,” he finally said. “But only if it comes with a little of your bad attitude.”
“Perfect. That’s our house specialty.”
Awsten wrote down the order. But this time, on the cup, he wrote:
Michael. Cute.
With a tiny heart over the i.
When he handed over the drink, Michael looked at the cup — then at Awsten.
“You finally got my name right.”
“Yeah, I… practiced at home,” Awsten said, trying to sound sarcastic, but blushing anyway.
Michael bit his lip to keep from laughing, and Awsten pretended to be busy.
~
When Michael left, he left a folded napkin on the table.
Awsten was cleaning up like usual when he saw it, a scribble in black ink:
Do you really hate me?
Because I think I like you.
He read it. Read it again.
And felt his chest twist. Break. Pause.
He looked toward the door — but Michael was already gone.
~
Michael didn’t show up on Monday. Or Wednesday.
On Friday, the coffee shop felt emptier somehow, even with a full crowd.
When Michael finally walked in, he was alone. No friends. No loud laugh. Just him.
Awsten was behind the counter, pretending he hadn’t been waiting.
“Getting your usual dramatic cappuccino?” he asked.
Michael smiled, softer this time. “Depends. Does it still come with a bit of you in it?”
Awsten took a deep breath. Grabbed a cup.
“Today it comes with something new.”
He wrote without letting Michael see, then handed over the drink, leaning across the counter just a bit too close.
Michael looked down.
Yes.
But only if you stop being annoying for five minutes.
Michael laughed. “I can try. But you’ll have to teach me.”
“I’m down,” Awsten said.
Michael looked at him for a second longer than necessary. The tension shifted — no longer just playful. Something real hovered between them, nervous and inevitable.
Then Michael leaned in — fast enough to feel spontaneous, slow enough to give Awsten a chance to back away.
But Awsten didn’t.
Their lips met — brief, messy, charged. A kiss between an order and a coffee.
When they pulled apart, Michael smiled.
“So… that really just happened?”
“Unfortunately,” Awsten replied.
But he was smiling too.
~
The End