You have been going to Harry's café for days now, it was like a new routine for you: wake up, drop by at Harry's café, go to work, text Harry and repeat for every morning, every day. And you have to admit, you're starting to like this new routine where every morning is a new chapter added to both you and Harry's story.
But then, unfortunately, your gay best friend slash roommate found out about him. And you were dreading for this day to arrive. You expect him to flip his shit on you pulling out all the cards and chips he got, but that wasn't what happened.
"Who's this 'Dream Man' you've been texting with?" he had ask the other day.
"You went through my phone?" You frowned at him with you lips pouted.
"You're hiding your man from me?"
"He's not my man, yet." A burden of sadness and disappointment hid under the flat and soft voice of yours. You and Harry are at that stage where you are completely lost in a freaking corn maze, no ups or downs, no front or back, no left or right, it's just pointless flirting and chattering and gently touching each other's skin.
He sat down next to you on the bed and hook his arm over your shoulder, "you're not telling me because . . . I'm gay?"
"I – yeah, maybe. I mean his really cute, like, boys-and-girls-swooning-over-him kind of cute. He is a real charm with this really nice hair and laugh and good sense of humour, he might be my one last ticket to wherever people goes to when they're in love. . . ," you paused for a while, taking in a deep breath while looking him in the eyes, "I'm sorry."
"It's fine, it's alright, I get it," he sighed, retreating his arm that's draping across your shoulder, but you grab on it tight like a cat clawed to its owner.
You are still staring into his eyes, trying to reach his soul and apologize to it a million times, "it's not fine, I am such a bitch."
"Hey, you're not, okay. I get it. But, I still need you to know in advance because we might still be roommates until the day you have little kids running around, I may be gay, but I won't go for a man who belongs to you." He leaned in and kiss you on the forehead gently, pulling you into a side-way hug as you snuggle in closer to his chest.
You rest your head on his chest peacefully as he kiss you again on top of your head, "remind me to cuddle with you more often," you said, grinning like an idiot.
"It depends, 10 bucks for an hour," he laughed when you swat him on his chest lightly, "just kidding! You won't be needing my snuggles anymore when you got your hands laid on that man."
"We'll see," you whispered breathily. Your eyes drifting slowly into sleep and everything was dark soon, and there was Harry, waiting for you with his smile spread across his beautiful face broadly, waiting for you to land in between his arms that you called home, listening to his steady rhythm heartbeat that speeds up when you snuggle in closer, mumbling the word 'bunny' into your hair as you both drove off to sleep together, not caring where you are or what time it is. For all you know, the world in your dreams could be on fire or cast in a drastic spell, but with him beside you telling you everything is okay, it didn't matter anymore because it felt like heaven on earth, it felt like home.
❀
After thousands of begging and pleasing and threatening coming from your roommate's mouth, you decided that you did owed him one by hiding Harry from him and took him to the café.
"No funny business, I mean it," you said in a stern voice, eyes still glued on the crossroad scanning for any oncoming drivers that shouldn't be awarded a driving license because they just simply don't know how to drive a goddamn car.
By the corner of your eyes, you could see him rolling his eyes while resting his head on the window. "I said I won't . . . ," he said, "but I don't genuinely mean it." And he starts laughing this laugh that is in between giggling and cackling.
"Jesus, I can fucking drop you here and you can walk your ass back home, I am not kidding."
"I wouldn't! I promise! Do not drop me here!"
"Good God, it's like talking to my parents."
He laughed again, and start singing to some lame pop-song that is on the radio, your radio, and on full volume. (Okay, maybe not full but definitely enough to blast your ears off, dramatically.)
You opened the doors to the café and was soon greeted with a grinning-arms-wide Harry, just like the one in your dreams. "Harry!"
"Bunny!" He hugged you so tight that it was a bit of trouble to breathe normally, but the sweet cinnamon smell of his and a mix bit of his dull scent of musk was travelling up your nose and slowly soaking into your blood.
You would've hugged him forever, and hopefully he would to. And as you close your eyes while still clutching onto him like a koala bear, you could practically see the image of the both of you hugging. Standing in the middle of nowhere, but just as beautiful as this man in front of you can be, hugging like it's the first time you've met for ages yet the last time you'll meet. And you get this sudden feeling of recognition, as if you had known him for a long time. That maybe both of you had met, in a intersecting road where both of your shoulders slightly brushed over each other's as you both went different ways. Or that maybe the bread store you used to go to everyday and if you had just stayed for a second or so longer, you would have met earlier. All the possibilities of recognition rushing into you like a sudden adrenaline. But then when you opened your eyes, everything was back to normal, with the chatters of daily customers and the sound of the coffee machine and the bell that rings every time the door was opened.
Your roommate walked up to you, "is this after the world war or before?"
Harry frowned at him, with disappointment fogged in his eyes, as if this man next to you – who is definitely not straight – was threaten to his and yours relationship's existence. But it was gone, just as quick as it came, when you stared through his eyes searching for the source of this fog.
"Go take a sit, I'll order us some coffee." You nodded at the tables that are perfectly arranged to gesture him to take a hint.
He nodded and waved himself through one of the empty seats. You weren't sure if it was just you but you could tell by the way he walks, that he is not interested in woman of any kind, but maybe that was just because you had this setting that he is gay in your mind ever since the day you found out and that leads to the consequences of everything-he-does-is-gay.
Harry walked back to the bar to make you your daily Caramel Macchiato and another cup of just plain coffee for your roommate. You could see the sadness and disappointment by the look of his back: shoulders slouched, arms dragging, legs not energized enough to walk properly.
"Hey, handsome, what's the slouch for?" You tried to lighten up the mood but it wasn't working.
"Your boyfriend," he muttered over the sound of coffee machine, making it even challenging to hear with his soft flat tone.
You laughed and grinned, making him turning his head to look at you over his shoulders. "He is gay, Harry."
The disappointment fade off a little when his eyebrows arched up but then came down in a frown again, "what about the dude, Danny?"
"He is my co-worker. Is that why you have been slouchy ever since that day on?"
His lips pursed into a line, eyes looking anywhere but you to avoid the awkward tension. But then you started to laugh again.
"My God, Harry," you sounded breathy with all the laughter interrupting your words, "I am not interested in him," you said, voice so low, trying to seduce him as he comes closer to you. His hands laid on the counter, fingers on full display with rings hung onto almost all of it, "because I find you," touching, "more," grazing, "intriguing."
You could hear his breath hitched in his throat, and his eyes were wide with a tad glint hidden behind, like a teenager on Christmas morning, who acts like they don't care but secretly is pleased with all the gifts they receive. The gift to him was you. It was like the universe has been waiting long enough to bring you both to meet at a restaurant on a lonely Valentine's Day. As if both of your hearts only respond to each other using the rhythm that best describe as home. And it was the final collision that makes everything feel brand new again: new fresh air, new land, new surroundings; and all you were left for was each other in this new world.
He cleared his throat after the both of you have been staring at each other for what seems eternity, with your mind wandering to places of how the universe does its magic on the love department, and his mind describing you in every possible way with beautiful words. "It's funny how we just met a few days ago –"
"Almost a week now," you said.
"Yes," he grinned, "and it feels like I have known you all along."
"Like telepathic," you laughed.
"Like telepathic."
You walked back to where your roommate sits and hands him the coffee. "The Macchiato is insanely good."
"What did you order for me?" He reached out to take his cup of coffee, quickly taking a sip, not even caring if it's burning hot.
"Plain coffee."
"Plain coffee? Come on, you love me." He took another sip, this time with gentle blows too cool it down, "but it tastes so good." He rolled his eyes back in pleasing manner, as you stared at his ridiculous reaction. But then you remembered your reaction right after the first sip of Caramel Macchiato, handmade by the one and only Harry Styles, maybe that boy's hands got magic.
He sat down the cup on the saucer that came along with it, "cute man and makes good coffee? Definitely a keeper."
"He bakes too. And cooks." You looked over from your cup and the sight of him came in view. He was smiling at a lady who just laid her order, hopefully not Caramel Macchiato, and you know it was ridiculous to be getting jealous over something like this. He works in the service industry, it is his job to wear that smile, to please the customers and wishing them a nice day. You know that, clearly in your mind and heart but you hate how he is giving his smile and warmth away like it doesn't cost him anything. A part of you love him for this kindness, but deep down, you hope that the world would be as kind to him as he does every day.
You didn't realize your roommate has been chattering off about something that includes 'bitch's and 'buzz-kill's, you wanted to listen, you wanted to focus on him but your mind was too full of thoughts of Harry's that it isn't possible to fit another bitch or buzz-kill. It was as if the café had went dark, even under a broad daylight, and like the kind of spotlight they used at circuses or concerts, yours was focused on Harry, saturated in sunshine.