2 May 2018. Tuesday.

It was seven in the morning when he arrived at the cafe on his bold red Kawasaki Ninja, parking them at the empty lot next to the cafe. Stepping off his bike carefully with a heavy sigh escaping his lips, he holds onto his backpack's strap, tugging his white furry winter coat he wore over his baby blue dress shirt.

Walking in the direction of the back door, he got his keys in his hands. Standing in front of the door, he unlocked them hastily, strutting in quickly as he yawned annoyingly loud.

The morning was breezy yet warm much to everyone's expectations but with him still feeling feverish due to the severe cold he was handling, he was looking like someone who had gone through a snow blizzard in the middle of Spring with his outfit.

You can't necessarily blame him. The weather was torturing every second of his existence, adding one to his misery of the week after a high fever causes him to be admitted to the hospital at one in the morning by an ambulance.

None of the incident he could recall aside him blacking out as soon as he stepped into his apartment and waking up later in the ER with a needle under his skin, an empty drip bag by his pillow. 

Luck was on his side when apparently his niece was the one who saw him and brought him instantly to the hospital or else, who knows what could've happened to him by now.

The scent of freshly made pastries and coffee were lingering in the space. It was a scent he had shirt almost every single day and somehow he never gets sick of it, no matter how sickening-ly strong the coffee scent was or how nice and sweet the pastries smelled constantly.

He grabbed a wet tablecloth hanging on the edge of the counter before walking around the café, wiping each booth despite his sore muscles all over. The hot, long shower he takes surely helped much in lessening the pain.

He had woken up this morning, feeling as if a truck had ran over him on repeat last night. His eyelids barely managed to keep themselves open and moving even the slightest while lying on the bed without the pain all over his body had him groaning in pure agony. 

And he was not exaggerating any of it.

The café was packed all day, all week long and he wasn't sure if he had stopped, even for a minute, to catch his breath. His hands were full at tending his customers' orders and with Ryo's being absence for three days, he was just lucky that he isn't dead yet.

A good rest was hardly obtained for the past few months specifically after TWICE came to the café and managed to get them featured in an article within seconds they walked out.

Business hours at the café extended, being from nine a.m until nine p.m before to eight thirty in the morning until midnight as the number of customers doubled and their number of productions multiplied. His employee's salary was also raised. How generous they were to them.

He guessed that he should thank them for the immersing increase of their monthly profits if they comes to the café for the second time. If, he says.

The bells of the entrance chimed loudly. He was quick to greet the first customer of the day with a lazy good morning despite being startled by their early arrival. Heck, he didn't realise if he had turned the "Closed" sign on the entrance or not. Or he never did.

"Hey.. Is the cafe opened yet?"

A soft, nasally female voice sounding a bit too familiar echoed inside the small café, making him stop what he was doing immediately.

The question was dumb, so dumb that he came to the point of just wanting to point it out and tell the interrogator right in the face if he had no manner. He decided to ignore them, keeping himself quiet. 

He spun on his heels the other way around in a leisure motion, was ready to tend his very first order of the day. Perhaps she was one busy woman on the way to work or someone in need of an immediate cup of espresso to kick off her engine or he was just being stereotypical once again.

He himself knows what it fe