“Please swipe it again,” I ask the barista.

 

I nervously tap my foot on the ground as I try to hold back my tears. My card cannot be declined. If I can’t afford coffee I can’t afford anything.

 

“Sorry, it’s not going through,” he says, handing me back the card with that sad expression on his face that is a blend of “I am truly sorry you’re in this” and “wow you are really broke,” and I am biting my lip so hard I’m scared I’ll draw blood.

 

I try to turn around and run away, hoping no one I know is nearby and I can avoid the public embarrassment, but the place is crowded and in my attempt to turn on my heels I bump into the person behind me.

 

“I’m sorry,” I apologize.

 

“Use this,” he says, holding out a gift card.

 

“What?”

 

“Use this gift card. I got it ages ago and never used it,” he pushes it towards me.

 

I face the barista again, order my latte, and hand over the gift card. He swipes it, it rings through, and I get handed my receipt. Just the way it should be.

 

“Thanks,” I say to the barista, and step aside to let my unknown savior near the counter.`

 

“Americano, please? And 2 of the banana muffins.” His order is plain but with an appetite, considering how skinny he looks.

 

I wait for my order hiding my face behind my thick woolen scarf, my head quickly running through all my expenses, all my income (actually none, but actually my parents’ loans to me), and how on earth I could manage to survive until the end of the week when the next “installment” comes in. An imaginary voice inside my head is optimistically saying “but maybe your card is demagnetized and that’s why it doesn’t work!” - good try, but not the truth. For a second I consider checking my balance, but I stop short, knowing it would confirm I’m broke and I’m not ready to face that reality. Not just yet, and definitely not with an empty stomach.

 

My latte comes up, and they call the americano at the same time, so the patron saint of my food is standing next to me as we both grab our drinks.

 

I look up at him, his eyes quite far up from mine. “Thank you for your gift card, I…I don’t know what to say,” I really couldn’t thank him enough, and my tears are now clouding my eyes.

 

“It’s not a problem, you seem to be having a tough day. Want a muffin? Come sit over there and eat with me, unless you’re in a rush?”

 

“Thanks but I think you’ve done enough for me today,” I hate charity, it makes me feel so desperate.

 

“Come on, let me do a good action today,” he says, holding the muffin out for me as a tempting treat.

 

“Ok… but I will have to pay you back sometime. I don’t know when, but I will.” I take the muffin and we motion to a table where I drop my book bag and take my big coat and scarf off.

 

He sits down after placing his coffee and muffin on the table, opens his coat to rest on the back of his chair and stares out of the window.

 

“I know it feels awful when the card won’t go through. You don’t need to pay me back,” he says, as if it is no big deal and doesn’t want to dive any further into it, “just enjoy your breakfast, ok?”

 

He looks back at me and nods towards my untouched coffee.

 

“Thank you… I have been having the worst of times and I can’t even tell you how much this kind gesture means to me,” I try hard to look at him in the eye and battle my tears to prove my sincerity, even if it’s killing me inside to know I just had to accept free stuff from a stranger.

 

“You’re welcome. I’m Sehun. You?”

 

I tell him my name, and I tip my muffin towards him as a “cheers!,” before I continue.

 

“I woke up late, and I just rushed through getting dressed,” I mention acknowledging my mismatched outfit, “I also left the house without breakfast and all that to end up knowing the class had been cancelled only once I got there and found an empty lecture room”

 

He smiles, “to be honest it happens to me more often than not. Time management is not something I’m good at! I should try and wear a watch but I always think oh I have my phone, but I never look at it, so we’re back at square one. And what class were you headed to?”

 

“Financial Mathematics. Fascinating texts as you can imagine… What about you, what’s your major? What are you studying?,” I ask him.

 

“English Lit department, I love reading and not having to work too hard,” he replies with a crooked smile. 

 

We sit silently for a couple of minutes and I get to have a good look at him as he eats his muffin. He has a long nicely shaped face - high and delicately wind-brushed cheekbones with a mid-length nose, a sharp jawline leading to a pointed chin, and a small lipped mouth concentrated in a strawberry shade. His eyebrows are expressive over his brown eyes, and his dark brown hair is short, standing up with just enough product to look good and not greasy. His profile is beautiful as if designed for perfection, and as if I’m hypnotized I wonder if he’s taken.

 

Because I don’t have enough troubles, I have to think of a boy to add into the mix.

 

“So what brings you to this side of campus, English is all the way on the other side,” I ask.

 

“Your libraries are quieter on this side,” he looks around at the people in the coffee house, “although you’d have a hard time believing it when you see how loud this place is.”

 

“Fewer of us use the libraries. Lots of online stuff for us, we leave actual books to you nerds,” I joke lightly, “so you don’t have class either?”

 

“I don't go to class. I’m a second year PhD student. I’ve got to chec