The work pace is painfully slow today.

Namjoon even able to count how much customers came to the café from the beginning of his shift until now—no more than fourteen persons in three hours—since boredom struck him right in an hour after his shift started.

His shift starts from 8PM since it pays higher and he is a poor college student when it comes to the end of the month.

Seokjin is still in the kitchen, busy with re-supplying the ingredients with Jimin helping him while Hoseok greets a new customer—that counts as fifteen, Namjoon noted to himself—and he staying at cashier—since the manager said he use his brain better than his hands—but there’s nothing he can do; there’s just one customer they had in the moment.

The clock ticks really slow.

Namjoon mentally cursed himself for why the hell I picked this graveyard shift as he playing with an empty cup for keeping his mind sane and halt himself for not dying of boredom, really regretting himself to picked night shift when he actually could use it better for making new tracks for his next mix tapes at his apartment—but the wage is higher in night, that was why he picked that shift. The ideas have been piled in his brain that it suffocates to be verbalized on something but he has nothing to write on.

He left his notes on his locker, again.

Unable to pent up his ideas anymore, his hands work faster than his brain by taking the nearest marker on his arm range and writes it down on the empty cup he has been played for a while. Seokjin actually has reminded him to not taking any properties on the shop without the manager’s consent but Namjoon’s not a type of person who would actually listen to anyone.

The cup might extremely valuable with his artistic handwriting scrabbled all over it, right?

(Hoseok ever commented his writing is crappy and the kitchen counter was unable to read it, however, so he is banned from being waiter.

It’s okay; he doesn’t like to sugar-coating people he doesn’t know so it’s a good news for him.)

It starts with miss right and the marker went down to write y, slim waist, and in jeans, white tee, and red converse high tops shoes before he writes about his ideal type as lyrics. He writes it’s nicer if the white tee is oversized and makes me wanna party on your body as his corner lips rises, rather proud that he actually doesn’t waste his shift by writing lyrics instead of moping in boredom in cashier because it’s not cool and it’s not okay for his salary.

He might actually could make a good song with this lyrics, he thought.

So when he about to write more about a bit erted—Namjoon calls it artistic, whatever—thing about his ideal type, a light tapping finger on the cashier forces him to stop writing and stops his marker who almost went over the he intended.

What a good way to disturb him—

“Excuse me?”

Namjoon’s eyes dilates in awe.

—hey, nice style you got here.

His eyes unable to take his eyes off the customer in front of him; he’s mesmerized that he can’t believe of what he is seeing right now.

An oversized white tee with jeans—

Namjoon’s eyes sneakily going down to check the shoes.

—and a red converse high tops. Nice.

“Excuse me?” The costume repeats and it’s loud enough to snaps Namjoon to reality; no, Namjoon, you’re still in your shift, get a grip of yourself. “I said, excuse me?”

Namjoon immediately puts a smile as he greeted the customer with a warm greeting, “Good evening; what would you like to order?”

“Can I order one grande double shots of cappuccino with caramel on top?”

Namjoon nods as he taps the cashier machine and asks, “Anything else?”

The customer with his tired eyes weakly eyeing the display while his fingers grip the edge of the cashier table, with his blond locks softly swipes as he turns his head around.

The even-if-I-look-tired-I-am-still-dashing-as- customer leisurely spent his time eyeing the display for a couple of minutes before he looks up at Namjoon with a soft frown appears on his forehead, isn’t able to find what he is looking for as he asks, “Do you have anything other than sweets?”

He probably hates sweets, “Yes, we do. We have sandwiches, toasts—”

“Beef sandwiches?”

“—and croissants, yes, we have beef sandwiches.” Namjoon strangely doesn’t feel annoyed when the little cutie in front of him interjects him, unlike those crazy ahjussi(s) who demands him to get his order right away when the menu he ordered was taking ten minutes to prepare. “Would you like to order it?” A small nod replied him. Gosh, how cute. “Anything else?”

Replying with shaking his head, he parts his lips by asking, “How much is it?”

Namjoon carefully taps the cashier machine as he repeats the customer—the dashing customer—with something warm churning in his stomach; his boredom disappears instantly. “One grande double shots of cappuccino with caramel on top and a set of beef sandwich. That would be 19.000₩.” He hums, however, as he takes both a marker and a cup near him before asks, “Can I get the name?”

“Yoongi.”

That name suits him.

A nod replied the customer after he paid his order as Namjoon starts to make the ordered coffee smoothly—he finally learns how to make coffee properly in four months in the hard way since the manager threaten him to cut his wage by 5% every time he either break the coffee maker or using wrong beans to be extracted—while shouts to the kitchen one beef sandwich!. Either two of them talk since right after Namjoon received the payment, the customer—his ideal type named Yoongi—fished his phone out of his pocket and eyes focused on the monitor, seems uninterested with whatever Namjoon is doing.

Well, nothing new.

Right after he finished the coffee and heard the bell from the kitchen, soon Namjoon take the order to Yoongi the Namjoon’s ideal type from 1 to over 1 milion population of South Korea and says, “Here you are; one grande double shots of cappuccino with caramel on top and one beef sandwich.”

The cutie looks up and immediately shoves his phone to his pants pocket to take his order but soon his facial face looks confused as he murmurs while he lifts up the coffee, “Just in jeans, a white tee and converse high tops that makes me wanna party on your body?”

Namjoon’s calm face twisted to shock.

Flustered, he tried to open his mouth to explain although the nervousness suddenly hits him hard that his hands actually trembles in worry—what if I looked bad for him or giving ert vibe to him—before trying to apologize, “Oh! I’m sorry! I used the wrong cup—”

“Is this part of this shop’s service?”

The question that came out of the Yoongi customer sounds convincing Namjoon that he really is think so.

Namjoon immediately shakes his head, but the frown doesn’t come off from the customer’s face as he asks again, “Then what is it?”

The half-barista-and-half-cashier-dimpled man awkwardly grins but answers anyway, “That’s… my ideal type.” One of Yoongi’s eyebrows raises—it translated in Namjoon’s brain as asking his sanity—but he is still silent. “I mean, that was the cup I used to write my lyrics since I left my note on locker and I didn’t mean to use it for your order—”

“Okay.”

Namjoon finally sighs, “I’m sorry. I’ll make a new one for—”

“What’s your number?”

Namjoon’s hand almost hit the cashier machine.

His mind seems doesn’t register what is actually happening—and don’t even realize that the cutie customer take a pen off his pants pocket and write something on the bill he got from Namjoon—even when Yoongi gave him a scrap of paper and says, “Call me in two days or you won’t have a Saturday cinema date with me…” he squints his eyes and stares to Namjoon’s body—or Namjoon’s name tag—before his tongue smoothly rolls the cashier’s name, “Namjoon.”

God, his voice even makes Namjoon’s name sounds sweet.

“… Are you serious?”

“And I’m Yoongi, Min Yoongi, nice to meet you too.” A mischievous smile finally plasters on Yoongi and takes his order on his hand before he walks to have a seat near the window of the coffee shop but stopped when Namjoon shouts “I’ll call you tonight!”

But his answer was really lethal.

“You better be.”

With a wink and a heart-throbbing smirk that ghostly chokes Namjoon.

(Namjoon fulfils his promise to call Yoongi later in the night before he only found that they actually live door-to-door, surprisingly.

Having an ideal type who lives next door and interested in him are enough for Namjoon to not feel bored in his late-night shift because when he got home, he would visit Yoongi with his usual coffee on his hand to recharge his energy as his new habit.

And a new lover after months they knew each other enough and Namjoon finally have the courage to confess but Yoongi just replied took you long enough and shuts the younger male’s thick lips before he even has chance to protest by his thin lips.)