At some point, you had made it to the secluded café that you loved. It was a bit on the smaller side, but the cozy interior and the smell of coffee beans made it better. You were actually looking forward to reading your book and enjoying a cup of coffee.
God I feel old.
You opened the door and the bell chimed, announcing your arrival to the barista that you had known for a while now.
Dark eyes looked at you and thin lips broke into a smile, "Y/N!"
It was refreshing seeing him and it seemed like he thought the same.
"Where've you been? I've missed my favorite customer," he pouted, crossing his arms and looking away with a "hmph."
You chuckled, "Just been busy with work and school."
He frowned a little, now looking at you with concerned eyes, "You okay?"
"Yeah, just needed a little break today so now I'm here."
No matter how kind this barista was, you weren't going to trauma dump on him for no reason. It would be really fucking weird to do that to someone you don't know at all, instead, you gave him a tight lipped smile and went to the most hidden sofa in the place.
It was late, so there wasn't any other customers other than you and for this you were thankful. You weren't up for a bustling atmosphere today, you just wanted a nice and peaceful evening to regain a little bit of control of your feelings.
Putting on your glasses, you opened A Little Life, which was probably not the best book to read in your current mental state but you honestly just wanted to see whether Jude dumps Caleb's ableist ass.
You were completely immersed in Hanya Yanahigara's work that you didn't notice the iced americano in front of you, slender fingers decorated with rings wrapped around the beverage.
Pretty hands.
"Coffee? It's on the house," his voice snapped you out of your trance and you nodded, replying with a soft "thank you."
"Y/N, are you sure everything is okay?" he asked again and at this point you really just wanted to be left alone.
You hated people prying into your business, hated the vulnerability that came with opening up. If it wasn't already so obvious, emotions definitely wasn't one of your strong points.
"Don't you have work to do, Geto?" you huffed, readjusting your glasses and diving back into your book.
It was silent, but you could sense that he was still standing in front of you.
Geto could say many appropriate things like: "I'm sorry" or "I care about you." But the way your glasses sat on the bridge of your nose, and how your eyebrows furrowed at his presence made all rationality fly out the window.
"Are you going to punish me," he paused, "mistress?"
Your head jerked up and you were greeted with beady eyes, filled to the brim with mischief. Geto's face brightened, not the way he usually would when you'd walk through the door and acknowledged him, this one was different.
What the fuck.
"Wha-what are you talking about?"
It was safer to play dumb. You had never fooled around with him so you really had no clue how exactly he found out about your nightly activities. You were stunned, rendered into a stuttering mess and it was embarrassing.
