Chapter Text
“...got that, newbie?”
Coy stares at the plethora of coffee ‘essentials’ – apparently one is an obvious espresso machine he'd seen everywhere, one is just a tube-thing, he thinks one of them is something to press the coffee grounds? At the back, something out of a chemistry lab sits innocently, and to his shock, it is also used to make coffee.
Coy just nods dumbly.
She sighs. “Okay. Just leave the coffee business to me. You can handle the cash register, right?”
“‘Course I do.”
“Great. We'll do more practice once morning rush ends. Good luck, kid.”
Once his superior pats his back to prepare the cups, Coy finds his place near the cash register. He is honestly surprised at the level of patience she has. For a second there, he was sure he'll be fired on his first day. Not the first time it happened.
The little cafe he works at now is inside a university. Right in their lobby, in a little nook right before the garden that leads to the C building elevators, the main classes building. It's open to all students and staff, and even outsiders if they randomly stumble upon the campus. It's cozy, Coy thinks. The college has an open-air design that lets the fresh breeze inside, yet somehow keeps all the rain out. The pay is… manageable. The uniform is cute. The only caveat, at least as of right now, was that his shift started at 6 am. Even though most of their classes start at 9. Carol said to ‘not worry’, morning rush still comes by to professors and staff of the building, and the really dedicated students.
Coy is carefully putting out the pastries while writing out their price cards when his first customer comes by. “Oh, hi. What can I get you?”
He wipes his hands on his apron and finally gets a good look at the man. For some reason, he cannot take his eyes off of him. Probably because his eyes are so blue, it's almost unnatural. His black hair is a mess and he's messing it up even further when he habitually scratches it. The piercings in his ears make him look more like a band-member, but his dorky clothes makes Coy second guess himself, especially seeing as the guy came to campus at 6 am. Probably one of those really dedicated students. He carries a camera bag at his side, a tote-bag which looks like it contains his laptop, and a very messy and thick stack of papers in his arms. He has his sweater sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms, and Coy bets underneath that, he'd see lean muscles.
–no. No, Coy. Focus.
“Uh, our menu is up there. We have teas, coffees, with milk or substitutes. We have pastries. Our specialty is–”
“Aren't you too young to work here?”
All sense of admiration for that man quickly snuffs out.
“Shit, sorry. Sorry. I haven't slept since, like, Monday.”
To be fair, he does look terrible. Terrible, as in, Coy hadn't even noticed the heavy eyebags until now. It looks like he sprinted here even through the rain, now that Coy noticed his muddy shoes and specks of water on his shoulders.
Coy just sighs. He can't get angry over his first ever customer with Carol standing right behind him. “I get that all the time. I'm guessing, black coffee?”
The man smiles for the first time at that. Coy tries to ignore the skip of his heartbeat. “Yes, that'd be great.”
After that, Carol was right, the morning rush does start. Students haphazardly memorizing things from their binder while ordering a matcha latte, professors walking with ease to order americanos, staff buying sandwiches with high clicking heels trailing to the printer shop next door.
He hears Carol shout out the name for ‘Anthony’, the name Coy wrote himself for the handsome yet rude stranger, and Coy couldn't help but to look up from his current customer.
Maybe I should ask for his number.
No, Coy, what are you thinking?
It's too late for that anyway because Coy had customers to serve. As nice and patient Carol seemed to be, she will definitely draw the line if Coy is slacking.
He can only get glimpses of Anthony power walking towards the library as Coy works his way through the rush. He distinctly remembers to always mention to students that the library has a no food and drink policy, or else the cafe might get in trouble. But he feigned ignorance instead. He's not the perfect rule-follower anyway.
After that encounter, Coy has something to look forward to – well, aside from the paycheck he's getting.
He's there again.
Power walking, eyebags heavier than yesterday, this time with a USB drive twirling around his finger and his trusty camera hung on his neck. It's no surprise Anthony must be a film student. He might wear colorful sweaters, an abnormality inside every film student's unofficial uniform of all black, but he definitely has the sleep deprivation of one. Judging by his repeated goings to the library at 6 am everyday, Coy bets good money that he's a nerd.
“Black coffee again?”
“Yes. With little sugar, like before.”
Coy says the price and accepts his money. Their hands brushed.
Okay, here's your second chance, Coy. Don't waste it.
What do you mean? He might not be gay.
Coy pauses as he writes his name on the cup.
Too late for that anyway. People usually write their phone numbers on their receipts to be discreet. And Coy already gave him the receipt.
He shakes his head. He really needs to stop getting distracted on random strangers he may not see often.
It's the third day and Anthony's there again. Always on the dot at 6:30 am, always going to the library with hot coffee, and somehow not getting kicked out for bringing in drinks there.
“You know food and drinks are not allowed at the library, right?” Coy finally recites the rule as protocol.
Despite still looking exhausted as ever, Anthony smirks, reaching to his eyes. “What'cha gonna do? Not serve me the coffee? Report it to the dean?”
Coy smiles back. “Just following protocol. It's honestly a stupid rule, but don't tell anyone I said that. Even I sneaked in some candy bars before. They never notice.”
“Wait,” Anthony catches on. “You've been to the library?”
Shit. “Uh, yes?”
“You're a student?”
Coy starts to lie, but it comes out of his mouth the opposite. “No.”
His customer just stands there, a budding chuckle starts inside him. Coy thrusts the receipt into his hands without looking.
“Don't worry, kid,” he says with a grin on his face. “Your secret's safe with me.”
On the third day, Anthony is nowhere to be seen.
On the fourth, still no sign of him.
Coy didn't pay it no mind, it is the weekend, after all. He's just wondering because the library is open everyday, 24 hours. An idea in his head is that Anthony must have come after Coy's shift has ended.
But then, he hasn't shown up on Monday or Tuesday.
On the seventh day, Anthony comes to the cafe at noon, near Coy's end of shift. Behind him trails two more students, a girl with hoop earrings and a boy that wears socks with crocs.
“Hi,” Coy tries to keep his excitement down. “Your usual?”
“Yes. But make it a cold one today.” The man airs out the neck of his sweater. Sweat slicks down Anthony's neck and Coy immediately averts his gaze. The man turns to his two friends, “You guys want anything?”
The girl gasps, “You're paying, right?”
Anthony seems like he's about to answer when his other friend pipes up. “Uh, you guys have tea? Chamomile?”
“We do, sir. Would you like it hot or cold?”
The girl starts humming the Katy Perry song. Something that sends a grin to Coy's face as he quietly joins in.
“Uhh, hot? Yeah. Yeah, hot,” his friend says. Now that Coy takes a second look at him, he looks like he's sick.
“One matcha latte, please!” The girl exclaims.
Anthony seems to be paying for both of them. As his friends leave though, the girl tipped him 10 dollars with a “I like your vibe!”
Coy utters a thank you and moves to motion Carol about the orders. That's when he realises she's not there. Fuck, she said she's out to retrieve something from storage. That means Coy needs to prepare it himself.
Anthony notices his unease as he puts away the change to his wallet. “What's wrong?”
“Uh, nothing! Just, ah.” His customer's friend is sick. And his other friend just gave him a tip out of the kindness of her heart. He will not fuck up this order, goddamnit.
The man stands on his tiptoes in curiosity. “Is the other employee not here?”
Coy has knowledge on how to make it. Carol even helpfully puts notes in his notebook on a step-by-step guide. It's been a week of re-reading the notes and seeing her making the drinks, Coy can definitely make them now, but hasn't done so in practice.
He worries his lip, “Do you, ah, mind if it takes a bit longer? I'm kinda new here…”
The student gives him that genuine reassuring smile again, despite the sleep deprivation, despite knowing that there's a 50% chance of his coffee tasting like shit. “No worries, man.”
Coy opens his notebook. The neat notes by Carol mirroring the things he'd seen her do effortlessly. Even with having the steps memorized by now, Coy kept glancing back and forth between the notes and the machine to see if he got the measurements correct. He managed to remember how many pumps of sugar there are in a matcha latte, and does not even fumble between the many options of tea leaves in the rack.
He carries the last cup of Anthony's order to the waiting area only to find Anthony already standing there, taking a sip of his cold americano. Coy feels like his lungs are shriveled up. He studies his expression for any small hint of disappointment there is.
“Oh! You nailed it,” he suddenly moves his striking blue eyes to Coy. Still that earnest smile. “For your first time making it, I'm surprised.”
Coy can actually feel his cheeks heating up. “Y-yeah. Well, it's all written down, so.”
“Still,” he shrugs, slowly lifting the tray of beverages with him. “Good job, kid.”
Automatically, “I'm not a kid.”
“Really?”
“I'm 19,” Coy deadpans. Almost used to it by now. “Do I need to show you my ID too?”
“Dude, all this time, I thought you're 13.”
“You really think your campus is letting an unsupervised 13 year old run a coffee shop?”
“You somehow sneaked into the library with no library card, and you think security here is tight?”
He got him there. Anthony turns to leave when Coy remembers something. “Wait!”
He runs to his bag hidden inside one of the cabinet doors to ruffle inside it. Then rushes back to Anthony, still waiting. Coy puts a couple of ginger candies on the tray. “Here. For your friend.”
Anthony studies the candy for a moment, then looks back at Coy again.
“I swear to you it's not drugs. Look at me, you really think someone could sell drugs to me?”
Anthony laughs. A loud melodious laugh at Coy's stupid joke. The sound caught him by surprise, too.
He realised later that he became addicted to that sound.
“Thanks a lot, ki– I mean.” The man steps back to squint at his name tag. “Coy.”
And if Coy was already flustered over the guy's laugh, he's on cloud nine when he hears his name come out of the customer's mouth.
He stands there on the empty counter, blank faced, disassociating, as he sees the three students pick up their beverages to go. Sees them chatting at ease exchanging banter Coy couldn't hear. Anthony eventually gives the ginger candy to his friend and Coy can see him pointing at him, gesturing where he got it from. The friend gives him a nod in thank you. Before they leave the building, Anthony glances back one more time to wave at Coy.
Something lodges at his chest.
It's a pressure, stuck right at the middle, not letting go. And it's making him feel jittery, and floating, but at the same time fills him with panic, as if something is crushing–
Oh.
He has a crush.