Work Text:
Coco likes to think she is currently living a very fulfilling life.
She is studying (read: somewhat surviving) Biology at one of the most renowned universities, has a small but genuine circle of friends, and earns enough from her part-time job to cover the interest on her student loan. Even if she has to sacrifice thirty percent of her sleep to keep up with her usual daily routine, she can support herself without relying too much on her mother, and really, that is all she could ever ask for in life.
Speaking of routines, Coco is in charge of opening the coffee shop where she works today. Her employer, a generous man named Qifrey, had admitted that he struggles to open his eyes in the morning—which is precisely why he needed to find someone who could clock in with a smile at 6 a.m, just as the sun is barely up. Well, Coco completely understands the reasoning behind it even if Mr. Qifrey didn't say it to her outright; after all, opening early allowed them to generate more money from early-rising college students.
Coco slides open the back door, shuffling inside with the ease of someone who knows every nook and cranny of the still-dark shop. She hangs up her jacket and moves to the lockers, fumbling around in her pocket for the key. Once unlocked, she slips into her uniform and glances at the calendar on the wall, wondering what will happen on today's shift.
She feels like she will get lucky today. So to lean into the feeling, she clips her hair back with an Owlcat hairpin.
"As a lucky charm," she giggles to herself as she checks her reflection in the hand mirror she keeps inside her locker.
With her hairpin finally clipping her bangs into place, Coco sets to work.
First, she sweeps the wooden floorboards clean of yesterday's lingering mess and dust, aligns the chairs with careful precision, and restocks the fresh pastries. Then, she preps the espresso machine and fills the grinders with freshly roasted beans while humming a faint melody about "what is love?"—a song she remembers Tetia had played several days ago. It is a very good song to stay awake to. The familiar pleasant fragrance of coffee greets her olfactory receptors, and Coco knows that her preparation is almost done.
In less than an hour, she finally finishes fulfilling every standard procedure before opening the shop. Then, she walks to the front glass door and flips the sign from Closed to Open, right as the clock hits six.
Just like usual, after fifteen minutes of idly standing behind the cashier, the floodgates finally open. Situated right at the edge of campus, the cafe quickly fills with sleepy students desperate for an early morning boost. Coco dives into the routine with a bright smile, navigating each customer's peculiar quirks with ease cheerfully.
She supposes it is a given for people who work in the service industry, but Coco has come to appreciate the endless variety of human differences that pass through the glass doors each day. There is the twitchy pre-med student who always orders a quad-shot espresso (a regular; Coco had once asked what was troubling him so much that he loses sleep, and he started a tangent about how his major was going to kill him). Then there is also the soft-spoken girl, Richeh, who always arrives at half-past six and mutters a remarkably complex order that Coco is pretty sure is humanly impossible to remember. Coco remembers fumbling her orders several times during her first week because of nervousness, but Richeh had insisted that it was fine each time Coco apologized wholeheartedly.
Small interactions like these are why Coco loves this job so much. Despite the early morning hours and the tired muscles of having to pull a smile every time a customer arrives, experiencing these routines brings a genuine sense of warmth to her day.
By the time the morning rush finally winds down, it is nearly nine o'clock. Coco exhales a quiet breath of relief, finally given room to relax her shoulders. Her co-worker is bound to arrive any minute now. Humming a sweet, wordless tune—this time a familiar pop song that she knows (still from Tetia's influence, though)—she grabs a damp rag to wipe down the station, carefully gathering the little mounds of spilt coffee beans into her palm before throwing them into the trash bin.
The gentle chime above the front door rings out, signalling another visitor. Reflexively, Coco snaps her face upward, her chest swelling as she readies her usual greeting.
"Welco-"
The rest of the word dies instantly on her tongue.
Standing in the doorway is a strikingly beautiful woman who looks as though she has stepped straight out of a melancholic painting. Not that Coco knows much about art; though, if she had to compare her to something she is intimately familiar with, it would be the beauty of caffeine crystal under a microscope. She looked sharp yet alluring. As ethereal as she looked at first glance, the woman wears the unmistakable air of an exhausted student: rich, dark curls tumble messily around her frame, casting soft shadows over a pale face marked by prominent eye bags from a brutal all-nighter. A massive, heavy-looking roll of drawing paper juts out from her tote bag, visibly weighing down her slightly slouched shoulder. So she is definitely a student, not some random angel who has descended to take Coco's life.
Yet, despite the weariness hanging over her, the elegant curve of her chapped lips possesses something strange, akin to an invitation for Coco's eyes to stare at. And when Coco blinks, she is still there, bathing in the pale sunlight filtering through the glass; then she looks, in Coco's eyes, nothing short of angelic.
"Excuse me… did you catch any of that?"
The soft, raspy voice cuts straight through Coco's trance. She blinks rapidly, the tell-tale feeling of a hot flush instantly creeping up her neck as she snaps back to reality.
Did I just get distracted by a beautiful woman when I am working? She shrieks internally as she stammers out an apology and scrambles behind the cashier counter, hastily grabbing a small notebook and a pen to jot down the order.
The woman watches her every move, her eyes holding a faint curiosity. It is the look of someone observing a rather unusual creature.
Feeling the weight of her gaze, Coco pauses mid-click of her pen and tilts her head slightly. "Is… something wrong?"
The girl adjusts the tote bag on her shoulder and blinks, the amused expression on her face no longer visible. "Not at all. It's just that yesterday's cashier jotted my order down directly on the monitor. But you're using a physical notepad, so…"
Coco glances down at the paper—and her stomach does a nervous flip. The woman is absolutely correct; they don't typically use a notepad for the customers' orders but rather input them directly on the monitor. Coco doesn't know why she grabbed a note either! She panicked, definitely. Besides, the one that she is holding isn't an order pad at all; she had grabbed the supply logbook instead.
"…"
Colour floods her face all over again, but there is no way Coco is going to admit her brain had short-circuited because of a pretty customer walking through the front door. She would get teased! Or worse, the woman wouldn't like the fact that Coco is interested in her.
Keeping her composure, Coco gives a reassuring nod. "I- It is the standard protocol," she tries to lie smoothly (keyword: tries), but ends up stuttering for a bit. Coco prays that her red ears don't betray her.
The woman nods along, taking the answer at face value before repeating her order. Coco readies her pen, fully expecting a dark, brooding request to match her aesthetic—a bitter black roast, probably, or a double espresso to counter her heavy eyebags.
Instead, the order that slips past those pale lips is a pleasant surprise to Coco: an iced caramel macchiato with extra caramel, heavy whipped cream, and three pumps of vanilla syrup.
Coco's pen lingers in the air for a fraction of a second.
It had inadvertently become a habit after having this job for several months now, but Coco usually prides herself on profiling customers' tastes based on their vibe, yet this woman has caught her interest for the second time. A total sugar bomb for someone so… intimidating.
It is actually quite a cute combination.
"What's so funny?" the angel-like woman suddenly asks, resting her chin lightly in her hand from across the counter.
Coco can feel her face heating up from the sudden lessening distance between their faces, and she curses herself internally for failing to hold back a grin. "Nothing! Nothing at all," she blurts out, her hand moving to cover the lower part of her face. "And, um… may I have a name for the order?"
The woman pauses, a momentary flicker of uncertainty washing over her features. For a second, her purple eyes drift upward—as if trying to search the ceiling tiles for an answer—before dropping back down to meet Coco's gaze.
"Owlcat," she says quietly. "Write my order down as Owlcat."
Coco tilts her head again. Her ears perk with curiosity at the strange choice of name, though a faint sting of disappointment tugs at her chest. She had really been hoping to learn the woman's actual name.
Still, Coco quickly brushes the unprofessional feeling aside, letting her natural optimism take over. She can't help but smile, doodling a tiny pair of round owl eyes and cat whiskers next to the word Owlcat on the cup before handing over the receipt.
Based on what the girl had mentioned about buying coffee here yesterday, there is a high chance she is turning into a regular! If she keeps coming back, Coco would have plenty of opportunities to get closer to her. Purely in a friendly, welcoming barista sort of way, of course—though Coco couldn't deny that those striking, yet weary purple eyes make it nearly impossible to look away.
Focusing back on her task, Coco carefully crafts the sweet drink, layering vanilla syrup, cold milk, espresso, and topping it off with a generous swirl of whipped cream and a drizzle of caramel.
From the corner of her eye, Coco watches as the girl trudges over to the closest table by the front window and sinks into the wooden chair with a quiet sigh.
When she finishes, Coco slides the cup into a sleeve before stepping up to the pick-up counter.
"Order for… Owlcat!" she calls out cheerfully.
The woman pushes herself up from the chair and strolls over. Her face remains neutral as she takes the cup, offering only a brief nod. Coco returns the gesture with a smile ten times the usual intensity, watching as the mysterious student pushes open the glass door and melts into the bustling morning crowd.
The very moment the door chime fades, Coco slumps slightly against the counter, pressing a hand tightly over her chest to calm her wildly racing heart.
Then, she realizes something. Wait a second.
"Did she just… choose the name Owlcat because of my hairpin?" she mutters to no one in particular, as her face gradually turns scarlet.
To Coco’s absolute delight, the angel returns to the cafe the very next morning. The second the door chime rings, Coco snaps to attention behind the counter, instantly recognizing the familiar figure. It really is her angel. The same dark curls framing her face, those mesmerizing purple eyes that seem sharp but also soft at the same time, and another effortlessly elegant aura emitting from the way she walks.
Coco immediately tries to offer the warmest, brightest smile she can muster. As the woman walks over, Coco’s nerves get the best of her, anyway—she frantically fluffs her bangs and adjusts the cute Brushbuddy clip holding her hair back, desperately hoping she looks presentable.
"Good morning! How can I help you today?" Coco asks, her voice stepping up a higher octave than usual.
"Iced caramel macchiato with extra caramel, heavy whipped cream, and extra vanilla syrup, please," the woman replies, not batting an eye in Coco's direction.
The excited cashier taps the order into the register with a smile, mentally noting that this captivating student clearly has a massive sweet tooth despite her cool demeanour. But just as Coco reaches for a marker to write on the cup, the woman speaks up.
"Is there something funny about my order?"
Coco freezes mid-reach. She blinks in shock, looking up to find the woman staring back at her with a distinctly annoyed expression—almost as if she suspects Coco is quietly making fun of her taste. Pure internal panic takes over her.
"N-No! Not at all!" Coco stammers, waving her hands in a flurry of movements, desperately trying to find the right word to explain the reason behind her smile. "There's nothing funny. It's just... it's juuust..."
The woman tilts her head, her sharp gaze locking directly onto Coco's flushed face. Coco feels like she might actually combust right on the spot.
"Just?" the woman prompts impatiently.
"It's… It's cute!" Coco squeaks out, her voice barely a whisper but taking all of her energy all the same.
A heavy beat of silence falls over the counter. The woman doesn't say a word, simply raises a single eyebrow in response, leaving Coco to stew in absolute, excruciating embarrassment.
Coco fidgets with the marker in her hands, her brain spinning as she scrambles to salvage the situation. "I-I mean, you have such a cool aura! Like someone who drinks black coffee with extra shots."
The woman listens intently, her expression remaining entirely neutral as her gaze holds Coco's. It doesn't seem like she's buying any of Coco's excuses.
"So when you ordered something so sugary, it just... totally caught me off guard! In a really cute way!" Coco finishes with an exhale, hoping that the angel will accept her explanation.
To her surprise and relief, the sharp edge in the woman's eyes softens, the subtle irritation fading away. She gives Coco a single, deliberate nod.
"You should learn to manage your facial expressions better," she says a moment later. "Otherwise, you'll end up giving other customers the wrong idea."
"Right! Absolutely, I will work on that! Thank you for the advice!" Coco nods fervently, beaming up at her with a smile that practically radiates warmth. She really is glad that the woman in front of her cares about her well-being enough to give her advice.
The woman's eyes widen slightly at the reaction, taken aback by Coco's unbothered enthusiasm. "You really are an odd one," she murmurs.
Coco blinks, a little bit taken aback by the statement, but decides to prioritize her professionalism. She looks up again with hopeful eyes. "May I have a name for today's order?"
The woman pauses for a brief moment before answering flatly. "Today, the drink is for Brushbuddy."
Coco nods, trying very hard not to look up at the hair clip currently pinned to her fringe unless she breaks into another fit of giggles. She carefully jots down Brushbuddy on the paper cup, draws a tiny sketch of the character next to it, and impulsively adds a neat little heart right beside the name.
Satisfied with her work, Coco turns to start making the drink while her angel steps over to wait quietly near the pick-up counter.
Coco moves to the espresso machine, her hands moving through the steps with practiced ease after having gone through the same routine numerous times. She pumps a double shot of sweet vanilla syrup into the bottom of the cup, followed by a handful of ice cubes. Next, she pours cold milk into the cup until it reaches just below the rim, then adds two fresh shots of espresso into a tiny pitcher, watching the dark cream stream out before carefully pouring the espresso over the top of the milk, letting the layers bleed together in a beautiful swirl of colour. To finish it off, she tops the drink with a mountain of heavy whipped cream and drizzles caramel sauce over the top, making sure to add extra as per her angel's request. Once all of that is done, Coco steps back with a proud smile and reaches over to put the lid on the cup.
Stepping over to the pick-up counter, Coco sets the drink down gently. "Order for... Brushbuddy!"
The woman perks up from her position and nods once, stepping forward to claim the cup. Her neutral expression remains unbroken during the entire exchange, but her fingers wrapping around the cold plastic slightly touch Coco's before she turns and walks off to the front door.
Coco watches her go with her face warm, her hand drifting up to touch the Brushbuddy clip holding her bangs back. A faint blush colours her cheeks as the realization fully sets in. The angelic customer had definitely used Coco's hair clip as an inspiration for her order name.
A small plan begins to take shape in her head. Next time, no, soon—she would find a way to finally get the woman's real name.
Later that evening, the hum of a hairdryer fills the quiet dorm room as Coco finishes drying her hair.
"You're oddly quiet tonight, Coco," Tetia's voice suddenly breaks through the noise as the hairdryer powers down. Not a second later, her head pops up from her position on the upper bunk bed with a worried expression painted clearly on her face.
Coco looks up in response with an apologetic smile. "Ah, sorry! I am not sick or anything. I just... have something on my mind."
Tetia instantly perks up, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Wait, what is it?! Tell me, tell me!"
"Well," Coco starts with contemplation evident in her voice, setting the hairdryer on her desk, "there's this mysterious woman who's been coming into the cafe. I'm pretty sure she goes to our university—I mean, ninety percent of our morning customers are students because of how close campus is—but I've never seen her around before."
Tetia leans forward, resting her chin in her hands with a teasing grin, obviously liking what she's hearing. "And why are you so curious about her?"
Coco pauses for a second, her heart doing a nervous little flip. She looks around before whispering, despite the fact that they're the only ones in the room. "Don't tell anyone, okay? It's... because I'm interested in her."
Tetia lets out a loud squeal, clapping her hands together. "Okaaay, my lips are sealed! Tell me more, tell me more!"
She swings her legs over the frame of the upper bunk bed and climbs down, dragging her desk chair across the floor to sit right next to Coco. Coco laughs at her eagerness, grabbing a soft hair tie to gather her greenish-blond hair into a low ponytail, noting just how long it has grown lately.
"You know how my bangs kept falling in my face while I was writing or making coffee, right? And then you suggested I use hair clips?" Coco asks, her face growing warm from the memory resurfacing. "Well... this ridiculously beautiful customer has started using whatever hair clip I'm wearing as her name for the order. Just this morning, she told me her drink was for Brushbuddy!"
Tetia bursts into a fit of laughter, reaching over to poke Coco’s reddening cheek. "That is so cute!" She pauses, catching the slightly strained look on Coco's face. "Wait... what's with that look, then?"
"While it is super cute," Coco sighs, staring down at her desk in defeat, "it means I still don't have a way to learn her actual name."
Tetia blinks, completely incapable of guessing what the problem is. "I mean, can't you just ask her normally? If she only started showing up recently, she's probably a freshman. We're third-years! We're the superior here!" she boasts, puffing out her chest.
Coco laughs, shaking her head. "It's not that simple!"
"Why not?" Tetia whines, leaning closer with a pout.
Coco fidgets with the hair clip on her desk, trying to choose the right word to explain. "Well... she looks a little intimidating. If I just blurt out a question about her real name, I think I'll come off like a creep!" She finishes with an aghast expression. "What if she hates me after that?"
Tetia slouches in her chair, letting out a dramatic groan. "Honestly, Coco, your taste in girls is terrible. Remember back in high school when you had that massive crush on your mortal enemy? What was her name... Ininia?"
"Tetia! Don't remind me of that!" Coco shrieks, her face turning crimson as she snatches a spare, fluffy hair clip off her desk and hurls it towards the other woman.
Tetia ducks with a laugh, catching the clip cleanly in her hand. She looks down at the colourful accessory sitting in her palm, her eyes widening as a slow, devious grin spreads across her face.
"Well, well, well," Tetia says, twirling the clip between her fingers. "Don't worry your pretty little head about this crush of yours. I think I just came up with the ultimate idea for you, young lady."
Coco gulps at her roommate's devious expression and starts praying for her life.
Three days later, Coco is starting to lose hope in humanity, gods, and everything worth believing in life. Her mysterious angel hasn't visited the cafe during her shift at all. It is the third consecutive day she has worn this exact hair clip just for Tetia's master plan to come to fruition, but it seems completely hopeless. She briefly considers resorting to her campus connections to find out the girl's name—a logical step that she definitely could have taken days ago—but stubbornly decides against it.
After all, she wants to hear the name straight from her angel's lips. She already swears on her mother's name!
Glancing at the watch on her wrist, Coco notes she only has fifteen minutes left before it's time for her shift change. With a heavy sigh, she rises from her crouched position behind the counter, only to be met with a faint, surprised "Eep!"
Coco whips around on reflex. And then, there she is. Her angel that has been occupying her mind all day.
Coco almost screams, "Where have you been?!" and risks losing her job on the spot, but she somehow manages to hold herself together. Her sudden appearance from the floor has clearly startled the woman, who is now frantically trying to compose herself. A faint, rosy hue dusts her cheeks, and Coco has to fight the overwhelming urge to reach across the register and poke them.
It gets her thinking, though. Scientifically speaking, isn't blushing just an involuntary biological response? The brain perceives an emotional trigger (in this case, her angel's surprise), sending a rush of adrenaline through the nervous system that causes the blood vessels in the cheeks to dilate and flood with blood. Really, everything just boils down to Biology if you overthink it enough.
So how on earth can a bodily reaction like that produce something so ridiculously cute on someone who looks so intimidating?
Coco simply doesn't get it.
"Ahem, I wanted to order—" the woman says, smoothly slipping her cool, neutral mask back into place while clearing her throat once. The sound snaps Coco out of her own daydream.
But just as she opens her mouth to continue speaking, Coco beats her to the punch, excitedly rattling off the same overly sweet caramel macchiato order from days ago. Coco beams with a proud smile, and the woman raises a surprised eyebrow in response, but gives a small nod of confirmation anyway.
Triumphant, Coco punches the order into the monitor, grabs a fresh cup and a marker, and asks the golden question of the week. "And may I have a name for the order?"
This is the moment of truth.
The woman pauses. Her mesmerizing purple gaze drifts upward, and this time, Coco knows exactly what she is looking at.
"Mark," the woman answers smoothly a second later. "Today's order is for Mark."
Coco blinks in absolute shock. She can't believe this girl would go to such absurd lengths just to avoid giving out her real name.
The truth is, Tetia's genius plan involved Coco wearing a bright red clip shaped like two bold question marks on her fringe. It has already earned Coco dozens of teasing remarks and quizzical glances from customers over the past three days, giving off the funny impression that she is perpetually confused. Coco had been so sure that without a character-themed clip to reference her order name with, the woman would finally cave.
She never expected her to just completely ignore the "question" part of "question mark"!
"O-okay," Coco stammers, jotting down the name Mark on the side of the cup.
She peeks up at the woman through her bangs with a slight, defeated pout. But as she does, she catches something that makes her breath hitch—the very edge of the woman's lips is curved upward. She is lightly smiling, clearly amused by whatever inner joke she is playing. Coco blinks, and just like that, the smile vanishes. The woman is back to her usual stoic expression, staring blankly as if silently telling Coco to hurry up with her order.
Flustered, Coco does exactly that.
After once again finishing the overly sweet macchiato order, Coco dejectedly walks over to the pick-up counter. While the blatant evasion had slightly dampened her determination, her head is already spinning with new strategies, eager to get this order over with so she can map out her next master scheme to extract the angel's actual name.
She takes a breath and opens her mouth to call out for the damned "Mark," but the words instantly die in her throat.
The woman in front of her is surprisingly dozing off... while standing straight up.
Coco immediately pauses in her tracks. While watching this captivating scene—a scene where the woman of her dreams is sleeping on her feet—is an oddly endearing sight, it is also deeply sad to witness. It suddenly dawns on Coco that the reason her angel went MIA for three whole days might not be because she was dodging her, but because she was dealing with something urgent. Looking at her now, the poor woman is looking distinctly worse for wear. The dark circles beneath her eyes are even more prominent than before, and soft smudges of charcoal stains on her fingers and palms are more visible now. Did she, by any chance, just finish a massive project?
Fortunately, the cafe is practically empty right now, saving the girl from any unwanted attention. But as Coco leans in a fraction closer, she spots a stray streak of black stain right on the woman’s cheek, and just like that, a strong urge to wipe it clean takes over her.
Stepping as quietly as possible so she doesn't startle the sleeping beauty, Coco rummages behind the counter until her fingers wrap around a pack of wet wipes. She pulls one out, carefully steps up to the counter, and gently taps the angel on her shoulder.
Coco instinctively holds her breath.
Slowly, those heavy eyelids flutter open, and Coco finds herself locked in eye contact with those captivating purple eyes once again. Thankfully, rather than jumping out of her skin from Coco's sudden interference, the woman awakens in a soft, hazy daze. She blinks once, twice, before the reality of the situation hits her.
She swallows hard, clearing her throat a few times in a seemingly desperate bid to contain the creeping embarrassment, before offering a remarkably composed, "Is my order ready?"
Coco nods at the question, pushing the iced drink across the counter. "Here you go! And..." She hesitates for a second before letting her curiosity win. "Did you skip coming to the cafe these past few days because you were busy?"
The woman pauses, her fingers lingering lightly on the cold plastic cup. She seems to weigh her words carefully, a pensive look crossing her features before she finally lets out a soft, tired sigh. "Yesterday was the final submission deadline," she murmurs. "If I wanted my pieces to be considered for the upcoming gallery exhibition, I had to finish them."
Coco’s eyes suddenly light up like fireworks, and she lets out a loud, delighted gasp. "Wait, really? That is absolutely incredible! Having your art displayed in a real gallery is such a huge accomplishment, no? You must be incredibly talented!"
A faint shade of pink instantly blooms across the woman's pale cheeks. She looks visibly flustered by Coco's sheer, unfiltered enthusiasm, quickly averting her gaze to the floor.
"It’s... it’s nothing special," she mutters, suddenly looking very shy. "It's normal. Anyone in my family would—" She snaps her mouth shut, abruptly cutting herself off.
Coco tilts her head, her curiosity piqued by the sudden halt. She wonders what exactly that meant, but sensing the sudden tension, she decides it is best not to dig any further. After all, rather than dwelling on the topics her angel probably doesn't want to talk about, something else has already occupied Coco's mind right now. And it is actually a very distracting thought.
Trying to recover her usual unbothered demeanour, the woman crosses her arms defensively—though the lingering blush totally gives her away. "A-Anyway, that's that. I am going to take the drink now since I am bus—"
Her words are completely cut off as a cool, damp, and floral-smelling tissue presses directly against her cheek.
The woman’s head snaps forward, and she freezes. There they are, once again, locked in intense, breath-stealing eye contact.
Coco blinks. Her hand is still suspended mid-air, pressing the wet wipe against the soft skin of the angel's face (she didn't think that touching it would feel this warm, though). It takes a full three seconds for her brain to catch up with her impulsive body and realize just how insanely bold—and horribly impolite—she just acted.
She yanks her hand back like she’s touched a hot stove, letting out a high-pitched, nervous laugh.
"I'm so sorry!" Coco squeaks, frantically fidgeting with the hem of her apron to make her hands seem busy. "I just... I saw a black stain right there on your cheek! I just wanted to clean it off before you went outside and..." She trails off, her own face burning hot.
The woman says absolutely nothing in response. She just stands there, staring at Coco in stunned silence.
Desperate to salvage the sudden, painfully awkward air due to her own action, Coco tries to flash a cheerful smile, tilting her head. "Well, now it’s all clean!" she chirps, her voice overly bright. "You look even more beautiful this way!"
The woman’s purple eyes widen to the size of saucers, completely disarmed by the out-of-nowhere compliment. Without another word, she snatches her drink off the counter and spins around, her dark curls whipping through the air. She takes one hurried step, then another, and then suddenly stops.
She glances back over her shoulder, her face flushed an endearing shade of scarlet all the way to the tips of her ears.
"Thank you, by the way," she mutters softly.
And with that, she pushes through the glass door and practically flees into the morning rush.
Left alone behind the counter, Coco immediately slumps forward, clutching both hands tightly against her chest just to stop her racing heart from leaping right out of her ribcage.
…?!
This…
This angel is going to kill her!
That night in their dorm, Tetia aggressively scratches her head in frustration.
"Just give up!" Tetia groans from the top bunk, hanging her head upside down to look at her friend. "Just ask for her name outright, Coco. This is getting ridiculous!"
"I told you already that I can't!" Coco says stubbornly, crossing her arms. "I don't want to be labelled a harasser!"
"But that's not harassme—"
"Anyway, did you know that she thanked me this morning?"
"Coco... That's basic human decency."
Invigorated by their full-of-tension exchange the day before, Coco tries a similar yet new tactic for the next morning. She clips a blue teardrop to her fringe, which makes her look sad all morning. The plan is to make her look dejected, so that the woman would feel bad and give out her true name. True to form, the woman stares at it for two seconds and names her order Droplet.
The day after that, Coco uses a red, four-pointed manga symbol—the kind of symbol used to show a character's popping anger vein. The woman doesn't even bat an eye for a second longer before naming her order Mad.
This little game of theirs goes on and on for an entire week, escalating into a daily battle of wits. Coco cycles through her most hidden hair clips and scrolls through e-marketplaces for cute hair clip ideas, but her angel turns out to be the most perfect person ever because she is also infuriatingly smart. She just never misses a beat.
When Coco wears a bright yellow lightbulb clip, the woman names her order for Watt.
When she uses a tiny comic-style speech bubble containing three little dots, the woman smoothly asks for her drink under Chat. (Coco can still hear Tetia's cackle through her eardrums because apparently, "who in their right mind would name a coffee order as Chat?")
Even when Coco wears a glittering gold star, hoping to finally stump her into saying her actual name, the woman only looks at her and says, Star.
No matter what Coco tries, the mysterious woman always manages to find a loophole through her finely crafted ideas.
It's really frustrating!
Tetia looks at Coco with growing worry before letting out a heavy sigh from her position on the bottom bunk bed. After all, it is clear that her roommate isn't even a little bit concerned about her own upcoming quiz tomorrow evening, but rather totally invested in trying to choose what hair clip she would wear for tomorrow's shift. "Are you still doing this? It's been like a week and a half, Coco..."
"I am fine, Tetia," Coco replies softly, yet her eyes are blazing with absolute determination as she picks up and drops another pair of hair clips in her collection. "I'm going to make her say her name to my face first."
"Then, what reaction is it called when it involves the breakdown of a disaccharide like sucrose into glucose and fructose using an enzyme and a molecule of water?"
Coco pauses while adjusting her bangs, then she turns her head towards Tetia and smiles widely. "Hmm… is this your way of asking me the answer to question number 6? It's a hydrolysis reaction, Tetia."
Tetia blinks, staring at her in disbelief. She is starting to doubt that she was the only one procrastinating this whole time. "Fine. But you are clearly forgetting your main objective here... If you want to know someone's name, isn't it polite to give yours first? Maybe you can just tell her your name! Be straightforward like hydrolysi—"
"Oh stars, Tetia!" Coco cuts her off, slapping her hands together with a bright smile, as if there's a literal light bulb appearing on top of her head. "That is a brilliant idea!"
Caught completely off guard, Tetia smiles awkwardly. "Oh, yeah? So uhh… are you finally going to formally introduce yourself and get her name?"
Coco turns her head towards Tetia and blinks in confusion. "No? I'm going to wear a hair clip with my name on it."
Tetia sits there, once again utterly awed by her friend's sheer stupidity, before shaking her head. "That's also a good idea. Good luck with that."
"Thank you!"
True to her word, Coco opens up the coffee shop the next morning wearing a custom Coco hair clip pinned to her fringe.
A few of her regular older customers giggle and praise her cute hair accessories, and Richeh even mentions how adorable the new clip looks on her hair (She only said that it looks good on Coco and nothing else). Coco beams with confidence. She can feel it—today is going to be a massive success. After all, besides her custom name clip, she has already prepared a secret trump card to finally force her angel to reveal her identity.
Right on schedule, the front door chime rings. The beautiful woman walks into the cafe at her usual time, and Coco immediately steps up to the register with a radiant smile. The woman raises a single eyebrow, clearly puzzled by Coco's unusually triumphant mood, but she could never guess that today is the day her secret will be revealed to the world (read: Coco).
"An iced caramel macchiato with extra caramel, heavy whipped cream, and three pumps of vanilla syrup, please," the woman orders with her usual stoic tone.
And just like usual, Coco happily inputs the order into the monitor.
Then comes the moment of truth.
However, whether it's the sheer intensity of the moment or because of her fried nerves, Coco slips up completely. Instead of asking her usual scripted line of "May I have a name for your order," she blurts out a completely different sentence instead.
"What's your name?"
The woman blinks in silence, looking genuinely stumped.
It takes Coco a full two seconds to realize what just came out of her mouth. Her face instantly flashes a blinding shade of scarlet, panic surging through her veins.
But bless her heart, her angel seems to take pity on her, and her eyes drift upward to check the hairclip like she always does. But as her purple eyes catch sight of the accessory, she catches the word Coco spelt out in glittery letters.
She realizes it instantly.
It's Coco's own name—she can't possibly use it as an order alias this time. Her name is spelt out clearly in the nametag pinned to her uniform after all.
Still, Coco knows her angel is maddeningly clever, and the fear that she will somehow improvise another dodge takes over. Panicking, Coco quickly pulls a small piece of paper and a pen from her apron pocket, slamming them onto the counter in front of the woman.
"A-Ah! It seems like I'm being called into the back! Could you please write down the name for your order here?" Coco squeaks out in a rush and immediately bolts into the back room.
Once inside, she hadn't expected that there would be someone accompanying her.
"Coco, what are you doing back here? There is a customer out there."
Coco squeaks for the second time, clearly just realizing there was another person in the back of the shop. It was Mr. Qifrey—the owner of the cafe.
"I- I am so sorry, Mr. Qifrey," she immediately apologizes, her face burning. Then, in a blink of an eye, Coco's attitude changes, and she frantically asks him, "Actually, can you tell me if the woman out front is writing something down?"
"Oh—sure. Yes, she is currently writing something," Mr. Qifrey confirms.
Coco exhales a massive sigh of relief and smiles awkwardly. "Is that so? Great!" she says, and bolts straight back to the front.
Instead of stepping toward the woman right away, she makes a beeline for the espresso machine to craft the drink. She moves quickly, pumping the vanilla syrup, scooping the ice, and pouring the milk before pulling the espresso shots. Once the dark coffee spilt over the milk, she adds a generous mountain of heavy whipped cream, drizzles an excessive amount of caramel sauce, and finally snaps a plastic lid on top. But since she doesn't actually have a name written on the cup yet, she brings it directly to the pick-up counter, offering a slightly nervous smile to the woman standing in front of her beyond the counter.
"This is your drink, uhh..."
"Agott," her angel unexpectedly says after clearing her throat.
Coco blinks in confusion, her hands freezing on the cup.
"I- I am telling you that my name is Agott," the woman repeats, with a stammer this time. It sounds three times cuter in Coco's ears. "You asked me earlier, right?"
Coco immediately blushes all the way down to her neck. She scratches her nape awkwardly, completely flustered. "Yes... yes, I did say that! Well, I'm Coco!"
Agott gives a brief nod, mirroring her gesture of scratching her own nape. "Yeah, I know that already. From your hair clip… and your name tag."
Coco giggles in embarrassment, sliding the drink closer across the counter. "Well then, Agott, this is your drink! Thank you for telling me your name."
Agott pauses for a moment, looking at Coco's brightly flushed face, before a genuine, breathtaking laugh slips past her lips.
For Coco, the entire bustling coffee shop seems to instantly melt away into complete silence, the world narrowing down to the beautiful, airy sound that rings like a silver wedding bell. The stoic, uninterested mask her angel always wore completely shatters, replaced by a radiant warmth that makes her rich purple eyes crinkle at the corners. The morning sunlight filtering through the cafe windows seems to catch perfectly on her dark curls, illuminating her in an ethereal glow not unlike the first time that she saw her—leaving Coco completely stunned, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard she is sure the entire room can hear it as she stares, enchanted by the sight of her angel laughing.
Oh no…
Her angel's cheeks have dimples when she laughs.
Coco is going to die, literally.
The moment passes, and her laugh dies down figuratively after three seconds. Yet it feels like a lifetime for Coco. Agott slides the folded piece of paper back across the counter in Coco's direction while grabbing her iced macchiato with her other hand. "Thank you, Coco," she says, her eyes containing a hint of fluster. "I'll see you later."
Coco blinks in surprise, watching her walk out the door, her mind completely short-circuiting as she wonders what she meant by later.
Hands trembling slightly, she hurriedly opens the folded paper. Turns out, not only had her angel written down her name (her full name!! It says, Agott Arklaum), but right beneath it was a phone number.
"Agott Arklaum," Coco sighs blissfully, clutching the small piece of paper tightly to her heart. "Sounds like my future wife."
Taking a deep, shaky breath to steady her racing pulse, Coco turns around to get back to work and finish up the rest of her shift. After all, life doesn't end when you finally get to know the love of your life's name, right?
She reaches down, her fingers sliding toward her apron pocket to safely tuck away the precious slip of paper holding Agott’s full name and phone number.
That’s when a soft clack echoes against the surface of the counter.
Coco freezes and turns her gaze down to check if she had dropped something fragile.
But rather than something fragile—sitting right beside the register is a sleek piece of card that definitely wasn't there ten minutes ago.
Coco slowly reaches out and picks it up, her eyes scanning the elegant typography pressed onto the card. Apparently, it's an exclusive invitation ticket to an art gallery exhibition.
… What?
After trying to make sense of what the content of the invitation had been, Coco's heart drops all the way to her knees, her brain instantly short-circuiting as she finally understands what this means for their future relationship.
A wild, dizzying thought blooms in Coco's mind, making her cheeks ignite all over again.
Was... was Agott asking her out on a date?!
And so, Coco learns a valuable lesson that life does end when you finally get to know the love of your life's name.