Mistletoe

~ 1 ~

Namjoon simply rolls his eyes and shifts his attention to Yoongi, who has a hand pressed against his weak heart. "Oh, come on. I'm not that scary, am I?" He quirks an eyebrow, amused.

Yoongi lets out a strangled snort. "You're not. Just make yourself known before you say something. In case you can't tell, it hasn't been the best start to the day."

Believing his heart has calmed down enough, Yoongi walks over to the counter and takes out his apron and Santa hat. He thinks he looks ridiculous in it but it's part of the uniform. Honestly, what did he expect? He works at a café. And it is almost Christmas. The whole shop is decked out in tinsel and ornaments.

Namjoon gives him a small grin, dimples shyly displayed, before trudging into the back room to do what Yoongi can only guess is stocktaking. Taehyung finishes his table cleaning and moves on to sweeping the floor. There are a few customers currently occupying the booths spread along the wall facing the busy streets. Perfect, a nice, eventless shift. He can hear Christmas songs playing through the radio, creating a cosy atmosphere. It soothes his previous fright. He loves working here – is what he continuously chants whenever he can, essentially motivating him to get through this day.

An hour or so passes by. Few customers appears to be the trend for the day as only two more booths get taken up. It gives Yoongi time to work on his coffee making skills. He would be the first to admit, the art of doing the cute little designs in the froth like on those fancy advertisements on tv isn't exactly his forte but he likes to try. He has improved a lot since when he first started working at The Coffee Lover's Hideout. The first design he had tried had turned out horribly, looking nothing like the elegant leaf Taehyung's cup had boasted as a demonstration.

No time like the present to improve, right? With this mindset, he spends the next twenty minutes playing around with impromptu designs. At one-point Taehyung comes over to scope out his "art". He then proceeds to erupt in a fit of laughter at the "cloud" Yoongi is trying - and failing - to create. It more closely resembles a deformed mess of indistinguishable blobs. His pride only hurts a little bit.

Just as he is about to attempt a star, the bells attached to the door chime. Namjoon is still out back sorting store goods and Taehyung has his hands full, busy handling another customer. I guess it's my turn. He stops his artistry and claps his hands together to dust off any remaining cocoa powder. At this point, the customer has seated themselves at one of the corner booths right next to the large window overlooking the crowded streets.

Yoongi grabs a menu, swiftly taking it over to the awaiting consumer. The young man, boy really, turns his head from the street side view and meets Yoongi's eyes. The contact lasts for mere seconds. A shy smile paints the boy's face as he takes the menu from Yoongi's outstretched hand, offering a small "thank you" that is so startling soft that Yoongi has to consider whether he had heard anything at all.

The youth eyes the menu thoughtfully.He is wearing a red woollen cardigan over top of what Yoongi is assuming to be a long-sleeved white shirt. The customers hair is a rich blueish-grey colour that pleasantly shines in the wintry lighting. There is a cute pout to his plump lips as he scans the menu.

With hair and a distinct face like that, Yoongi is sure he would remember him, even if from merely walking past each other in the streets. He can't be too old, for he looks younger than Yoongi. But by how much? A year? Two? No more than four Yoongi decides. He briefly wonders if the boy perhaps attends a university around these parts. Maybe even the one Yoongi himself resides as a music major. The thought causes a warmth to spread to his cheeks.

Yoongi catches himself staring and quickly excuses himself, telling his customer he will return once he is ready to order. He makes it to the counter safely and hides his embarrassment by busying himself with reorganising the pastries on display.The distraction only works a measly few seconds before thought of the encounter takes up residence in his clouded mind.