Chapter Text
Seung-gil Lee feels like he’s going to die today.
First, he oversleeps. Then, he remembers that he’s just run out of coffee beans. After going through his morning routine, he realizes that he has a problem set due later this afternoon and that he hasn’t finished the last three items.
To make matters worse, JJ declares through text that they’re going clubbing tonight, which is one of the many things Seung-gil hates about the world. He knows he can’t avoid the Canadian no matter how hard he tries, and he silently surrenders to his classmate’s agenda.
He goes out of his dorm, following the way to the coffee shop near campus. It’s just open, only two or three people in line. Stepping inside, he looks over at the assortment of today’s selected sandwiches and pastries. He contemplates getting one, and if ever, how many calories it might contain. Of course, having a slice of cake for breakfast is impractical. A sandwich, on the other hand, is something he can eat on the way to class, and would have relatively less empty calories than a cake. He weighs his options on beef pastrami on focaccia, or Canadian bacon and egg white on whole wheat. Knowing the composition of the breads, whole wheat has more fiber, which is something he looks out for in his carbs. While the egg white is a good protein source, the presence of bacon cancels it out a bit. It looks good, though. Should he take it at face-value and indulge for today, or should he play it sa-
“Seung-gil!”
He sighs. Of course the hyperactive barista, the one who holds the line up every few people, would remember him even after not coming by for almost two months.
Seung-gil diverts his attention from the food on display to the barista in question, his smile as blinding as ever. It seems to have gotten infectious now, and Seung-gil stops himself from smiling back.
“Hi,” he says. “I’ll get a me-”
“Medium no-water Americano, iced, with a splash of Irish cream syrup,” the barista- Phichit, his nametag reminds him- recites. He gets a paper cup and starts writing down the specifics of the drink. “Coming right up!”
He stares, mouth still open in mid-sentence.
“Oh,” Phichit says. He stops writing, but continues to look at the cup in his hand. “Did I get it wrong? It’s just, I remember you always used to get this when you’re stressed out. And… you look pretty stressed to me,” he explains as he looks to Seung-gil again, gesturing to the space between his eyebrows. “Did you want something different today?”
“I was just surprised,” Seung-gil replies, “that you remembered.” He decides not to comment on the stress, though.
“Oh!” Phichit exhales, relief seeming to flood through him. “Well, with an order like that, how could I forget? No one’s ever asked me to make that before, and I guess I thought it crazy at first, but I tried it for myself a few days later and it was really good! Now I have it every time I have to pull an all-nighter,” he explains, eyes shining, a stark contrast to the depth of his charcoal eyes.
Seung-gil blinks. No one’s ever praised him for his choice of caffeine before. At a situation like this, the safest option would be to thank Phichit for saying that. But knowing the barista in front of him, he might take it as a signal to talk some more. Would Phichit talk about more unique drinks that people have ordered, or would he shift the topic to the weather forecast for the week? As much as Seung-gil, reluctantly, would want to listen to the boy speak, the line of people behind him is getting longer, and he wouldn’t want to be the cause of their irritation at seven in the morning.
“Uhh.” Words are a bit harder to get out now for some reason, but he manages to croak out, “How much do I pay you?”
“Right,” Phichit says. He presses a few times on the screen in front of him. “$2.49, please.”
Wordlessly, he hands the money to Phichit. As he gets his receipt in return, their fingers brush together just slightly. Seung-gil flinches, and Phichit, judging by his expression, notices.
“S-Sorry!!” he exclaims. “I didn’t mean to. I mean, I can tell you’re not really a physical person, so I should have been more careful!”
“It’s alright,” Seung-gil assures him, pulse quickening and hands sweating. He gives the barista a slight nod, something he hopes conveys goodbye, and as his order is called he makes his way to the pick-up counter where his drink is waiting.
He picks it up, stabs the top with a straw, and walks out the cafe.
good morning, Seung-gil! :), the scribble on the paper cup reads in bubbly, cursive handwriting. God, he thinks, even the message seems to be glowing with sunshine.
He takes a sip, and is immediately grateful for the burst of caffeine and slight alcohol-flavored sweetness on his tongue. He feels his lips twitch into a smile, and tells himself it’s the coffee and not the boy whose eyes seem to twinkle despite their deep charcoal hue. He tells himself it’s just the coffee kicking in, making him forget about this morning’s misfortunes, and not the boy whose grin is as radiant as his handwriting and his smileys.
His first class today, he almost forgets, is organic chemistry. With the way his day started, he was anticipating it to just go downhill from there, but this time, he feels that he’ll make it through without feeling frustrated for the rest of the morning.
He reminds himself that, yes, of course it’s because he had coffee.
It’s not because of the Thai boy who looked at him as if he handed him a deep, dark secret the world wanted to know.
It’s not, because Seung-gil knows it’s physically impossible at this point for him to develop feelings for someone he’s only seen for a few minutes today.
It’s not, because Seung-gil knows that feelings are a nuisance and completely irrelevant to his academic life.
With that, he quashes the thoughts of Phichit on his mind, downs the last few milliliters of his drink, and throws both the paper cup and his unnecessary feelings into the trash.
It’s only after he gets to his classroom that he realizes he forgot to buy that sandwich, but it doesn’t bother him. At the back of his mind, he wonders why that is.