A/N: It's been awhile since I last updated this story, apologies for missing in action. So here goes the update. Enjoy!
***
Gulf sat there, waiting eagerly for his ordered cappuccino to cool down while he simply stared at it (having once already burned his tongue on it). His eyes flicked across to simple black coffee cup in front of him, and he made a frown at the bitterness of it. He said, almost in a whisper, "I don't know that you can drink that," loud enough for his friend Saint to hear.
Being too preoccupied with the book in his hand, he deadpanned, "Wakes me up more."
Gulf sighed and sank into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and making a slight pout as he did so. He was so bored out of his mind. The little cafe was rather quiet, but not quiet enough for him to get through the day with his pounding headache. I sincerely believe that my recent work has only caused me to experience daylong headaches, and I'm sick of taking medication to treat them. But my God, I can't stand it anymore! Saint only nodded in agreement as he read on in answer to Gulf's accusations, saying nothing further. Are you even paying attention to me? "whining, the blond scowled at his friends.
"Am I able to choose?" Finally, Saint emerged from the pages to give him a sweet smile and chuckle. The younger person glanced at the cafe's door, which Gulf realized was about the fourth time he had already done so in the thirty minutes that they had been there.
Only a few seconds had passed when the doorbell rung, and Saint immediately turned to see who it was. Gulf thought he heard his friend say, "Finally!" in a low voice, he said to himself. Gulf glanced up while adjusting the hem of his shirt to see Saint beckoning the visitor. Mew Suppasit himself, in flesh.
"What the fuck are you doing, Saint?" Mew was approaching them both with his hands concealed in his coat pockets, and Gulf hissed at him, but his friend just kept grinning at him.
Saint paused there and shifted in his seat to make way for Mew to sit down: "I've gotten extremely weary of you two fighting so much. Gulf let out a grunt of disgust and didn't even spare a glance in Mew's direction; he just wanted to hide away and didn't even bother to hide his contempt for this concept.
But when Mew finally sat down, the two exchanged brief greetings—nothing more than a stilted "hi"—before moving on. Gulf also noted that Mew's bruise from earlier is gone, but given that the model appears to have recently completed a photo session, he undoubtedly had enough makeup on to adequately conceal it.
Even though the night was difficult, he and Mew were able to get through it without becoming angry or fighting, and their method for doing so is to simply avoid speaking to one another. Though he saw Saint forcing Mew to purchase a huge cappuccino rather than a latte, Gulf did laugh with the two of them as he realized how persistent his friend can be. Then he began to speculate as to how Saint and Mew came to be close enough for the model to feel at ease enough to consent to join them. He soon dismissed that though because it wasn't actually that significant.
Everything was so familiar. He and Mew could laugh and smile in each other's company, though back then it was primarily targeted towards each other, and it felt like that was how things were only a few years ago. He felt a little sad and perhaps nostalgic as a result. The thing that most shocked him was when Gulf and Mew really managed to bid farewell to each other after they had all said their goodbyes and had to finally leave for home. And Gulf is adamant that he saw Mew grin tenderly as he turned away. But it's also possible that he was just daydreaming. The likelihood seemed to lie in that.
***
Hope I didn't make it awkward. Lol!
Btw, how are you all? ☺ I just want to check up on you since it has been awhile.
ren 💙
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/317603574-288-k877796.jpg)
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
Dispatch
फैनफिक्शनa MewGulf short story This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or d...