"And why does that concern me?"
Qi WeiWei possesses the looks of a Disney villain and the heart of one too, except that she doesn't have a princess to torment. She's beautiful every alternate day when she uses face wash, and the smell of roasted coffee and strawberry buttercream lingers around her like a permanent identity. They met about a year ago when Xiaochen started working in the cafe, and stuck together ever since. Now they are neighbours in a tiny apartment building, and are each other's support system.
WeiWei reminds him to sleep every night when the lights of his room disturb her from across the balcony, and he reminds her to eat on time. Even a single slice of orange would do. She leaves sarcastic notes on the back of his uniform as he trails around the cafe serving orders, and he draws bunny features on her face when she takes afternoon naps.
Xiaochen rolls his eyes. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot you were antisocial."
"I'm not antisocial. That's a disorder. I'm just an introvert with a lot of sass."
WeiWei doesn't have dark eyeliner, or dark eyeshadow or chains hanging around her hips, no, nothing of that. She's too lazy to wear that aesthetic. And the boss doesn't allow anything out of ordinary inside the cafe. Many customers are middle aged women who get offended at the sight of something which they don't deem normal.
"So…" WeiWei drawls, "wanna have chicken and beer tonight? Rooftop?"
Xiaochen groans and stretches his hands over his head, straight upright until he hears a little pop. In his pocket, his phone buzzes, but he ignores the little vibration. "Sure. Just us?"
"Yeah." She nods slowly, lips puckered and fingers drumming on top of the coffee maker. His phone buzzes once again before dying out. "Yeah, I mean, it's just the two of us. Who else would be there?"
"Okay. I'll get chicken. You get the beer."
Before WeiWei can answer, there's a tap on the counter. Xiaochen turns sharply, and comes face to face with the most arrogant pair of eyes he has come across. Before he can scan the man's profile for behavioural traits, he says in a cheerful voice, "Good morning sir, how may I help you?"
"One americano, seven shots espresso." He raises his gaze, twice, as if he hasn't seen enough of something at first glance. But the intrigue dims away to toneless fatigue and he goes back to scrolling on his phone.
Xiaochen clears his throat. "Sir, five is the maximum."
The man rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath, the sound of which Xiaochen's ears can't catch. Then he slumps, slightly, until he is Xiaochen's height and face to face with him. "The one cute person I see this month is like this. Why can't you just make my drink?"
"Five shots is the most I can do —"
"Seven." The man may be beautiful, with his defined jaw and obsidian eyes that guard the windows to his soul fiercely. But now, he looks shattered and in need of a sleep. Just for a moment, Xius leans in to whiff the reek of alcohol, but the man emanates none. Then his eyes settle on the man's fingers — long, thick, gigantic hands for someone only so taller than Xius.
The grey suit with black shirt and a grey tie gives nothing away. Everyone wears that – corporate salarymen, stock brokers, lawyers, cram school faculties (however those aren't out twelve in the noon) – and all of them are equally stressed. He looks somewhere in his early thirties, and Xius is starting to speculate his backstory when he clears his throat loudly.
"Don't you guys have a form or something? If I die, you're not responsible?"
Xiaochen snorts. "No Sir, I am sorry. Americano with five shots —"
"Alright." The man runs his hand through his hair and groans loudly. "Americano with five shots, a cup of espresso, three shots and…" he pauses briefly to skim over the glass counter for cakes, then the shelf beside Xiaochen that has sugar glazed citrus candies. He rubs his chin in thought, before pulling out a lemon shaped lollipop; green and yellow and white. "This."
Xiaochen smiles. "That would be twenty, thank you." Then he turns away, the smile growing into something akin to a villain, but with an added hint of regret and pity. The man was cute, must he die a death by caffeine?
"You know what they say." Weiwei shuffles closer to him, their shoulders touching. "You can’t stop someone who's decided to leave." He gives her a pointed look but she shrugs the moment their eyes meet, and they both burst into a fit of stifled giggles.
Behind the counter, the man is busy scrolling his phone. Every once a while, he either groans or slaps his forehead, and now Xiaochen is curious to see what's in his phone. He turns around, balancing both the drinks in a takeaway container – the store serves them in cardboard glasses with a cardboard lid for sipping, unfortunately there is no straw – and places them on the counter beside the candy.
"Ah, thanks," says the man and flicks the lid of the shorter espresso cup, pours it into his Americano, shuts the lid in place and takes a swig of that scalding hot drink.
Xiaochen watches, too stunned to squeak. Beside him, Weiwei snorts.
Then the man passes two crisp tens, takes the candy and pushes it a little forward. "For you, cutie," he winks, and then walks away.
Xiaochen places the candy back on the shelf.
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