The first time you met him wasn't really a fairytale beginning. You used to go to a different coffee shop every Saturday morning after your art class (because you were not an early riser, and never seemed to be able to get up in time to grab one before your class). However, the barista there kept becoming more and more 'familiar' with you. Not 'familiar' in the way where one would simply know your name, your regular order, and maybe ask how your classes were going. No. He was 'familiar' in the rather uncomfortable sense. As in, staring at your breasts while asking you if you had a boyfriend and looking you up in the phonebook and trying to call you and repeatedly trying to add you on Facebook sort of 'familiar'. This day, being rather fed up, you went searching for a different place to get your caffeine fix, and eventually stumbled upon a quaint little shop surrounded with flowers with a wooden sign out front. It looked warm and inviting.
Upon entering, you were greeted by the glare of the barista behind the counter. He had unruly dark hair, tanned skin, and a glare that could kill lesser men. At the time, you weren't sure if he was having a bad day, or if he was just a very grumpy person.
Now you think it might have been a little bit of both.
It may not have been the politest greeting you ever received, but it was strangely satisfying anyways. It was preferable to your previous treatment, you thought. You sauntered up to the counter and gave him a big smile.
"What the fuck do you want?" he asked, obviously wanting you gone.
After taking a quick scan of the menu you said, "I'll have a large chai latte, soy, with no water. Make it snappy," you gave him your biggest smile.
He rolled his eyes and began making your latte, just a bit of hatred behind every movement. You thought you may have fallen in love. He handed you the coffee, spat out the price, which you happily paid. Not wanting to push your luck, you sauntered out the door with a little wave, which the man returned with but a glare and a certain finger raised in the air. You would definitely be coming back here again.
The second time you saw him he was a little happier. Not that he was smiling and beaming rainbows and kittens or anything; he just didn't look as though he wanted to murder anything that moved. It was exactly a week later, and you returned, just as you promised yourself. As you walked up to the counter he grunted a little "hey", which you happily returned. Perhaps the last time had just been a bad day.
"Same as last time, bub," you smiled.
He gave you a funny look. "Did you seriously just call me bub? And I have no idea what you ordered last time."
You rolled your eyes at him. "Yeesh, what kind of barista can't even remember his customers? Especially ones you were so rude to. I think I deserve a discount," you tease.
"Not in your wildest dreams. Now tell me what you want or get the fuck out."
Okay, so maybe it was just his personality.
You repeated the order. "Large chai latte. Soy. No water."
He nodded and got to work. Soon you had a steaming cup in your hands, and you paused slightly before leaving. "Do you work here every Saturday?" you asked.
He nodded.
"Good, see you in a week." And with that you were out the door.
The tenth time you saw him you were starting to get along fine. You walked in the door, said "Hi Karkat!" in a cheery voice, and he gave a little wave back.
"Hey Meenah."
He didn't even ask your order before getting to work. His quick, able hands made it in no time, and soon you were leaning against the counter, sipping away. The shop was in a quiet area and there were few customers, so you often had lots of time to talk.
You didn't talk about anything too important; right now you were just sort of getting to know each other. You knew his name was Karkat and he was in his last year of high school, saving up in desperate hope to go to med school, while you were in your second year of college, studying business and riding along on your parents' finances. You knew that he couldn't stand the taste of coffee or tea, while you couldn't live without it. You knew that he had a crush on a girl at his school, and you knew that you didn't like that. You listened to his complaining, his swearing, his brash attitude and that kindness that peaked through every once and again. You listened to his hopes and fears, and in turn he listened to all of yours. You'd known each other for ten weeks, and it felt like a lifetime.
As you sipped your latte, listening to his voice rise and fall with his emotions, you had a feeling that it wasn't only the drink making you feel warm inside.
The seventeenth time you saw him you were feeling a little down. You had had a fight with your parents over your schoolwork, you had pissed off your best friend and she wouldn't talk to you (but you knew she would have to forgive you soon, because there are only so many people who can listen to her prattle on for hours), and life had been sucking in general. You entered the shop; he took one look at your face and asked you what was wrong.
"I can't stay and talk. My parents want me home immediately. They'll probably be pissed enough that I stopped by here, but whatever, not that I care. The only reason I'm even listening to them is because I don't want 'em taking away my computer again or any bullshit like that."
He nodded as he made your order, taking a little extra time. "Everything alright, though?"
"Yeah, parents pissed over school. BFF pissed. Life sucks."
"That does suck," he said, unsure what else to say.
"Whatever." You took your coffee and started walking towards the door. "I'll try to be here next week, 'kay? Try not to get run over by a car 'til then."
"And you be careful about those braids of yours. We don't want any decapitations by fan blades."
"Pfffft, that was only once, and it totes didn't even hurt! Besides, my hair sort of jammed it up. I really shouldn't have ever told you that story. Anyways, later!" You left the shop, your heart feeling a little bit lighter just from seeing him briefly. You took a sip of your coffee, and as you were drinking, you noticed a little bit of black on the outside of the cup. You turned the cup around to see a ten digit number written on the back. You smiled, took out your phone, and plopped in the number.
hey shouty buoy 38D
The twenty-sixth time you saw him meant that you'd known him for exactly half a year. Even if you didn't see each other daily, you were also talking via text and pesterchum. On the way to the shop you swiped some fuchsias from some unfortunate person's garden.
"Hey Karkat! Here ya go!" you tossed the flowers at him, which he barely caught.
"Uh, thanks?" He stared them in confusion.
You managed a pout. "Do you mean that you forgot our half a year anniversary?"
Your question was met with a blank look.
"We've known each other for half a year! It's our half a year anniversary! Surely you got me somefin?"
He looked down and slowly nodded. "Yeah, I did. Here, I got you some fuchsias." He handed the fuchsias back to you.
You let out the highest pitched squeal you could muster "Fuchsias! My favourite! Why, how did you ever know?" You bent forward and planted a big kiss on his cheek, causing him, and you, to blush.
You started trying to braid the fuchsias into your hair as Karkat worked on your drink. He placed the drink in front of you and helped to weave the fuchsias in.
"Hey, you doin' anything next Saturday evening'?" you ask him.
He paused for a moment to think about it before answering, "No."
"Wanna catch a movie" Your heart pounds a bit while waiting for his response.
He finishes weaving in the flower, looks up at you, and actually smiles, a very rare sight. "Yeah, I'd love to."
"Great! Pick me up at 9!" You grab your cup, and practically prance out the door, hurrying so that he can't see how nervous you were. Perhaps it was not the most elegant exit you've ever made, but at that moment you just didn't care. You were a nineteen year old girl who just found herself a date, and there was no way you weren't going to act at least a little foolish.
The first time you went on a date you weren't sure what to expect. You were a little nervous, and a little excited, but with two people as cool as you, you knew it wouldn't be anything short of awesome. He pulled up in front of your house in a junky old car, nine o'clock, just as planned. You let him in the gate and after driving in, he popped out and opened the door for you like a true gentleman. You smiled and entered the vehicle.
When you reached the theatre, and both of you had exited the car, you slung your arms over his neck and jumped into his arms, forcing him to hold you bridal style.
"ACK! What are you doing?" he yelled, almost dropping you.
"Carry me! I'm the princess, and you're my knight, so you'd better not drop me."
"What if I do drop you? Because you're heavy and I think you're slipping. Yeah, I think I'm going to put you down now…"
"If you drop me or put me down then I will assume that you think I'm fat an' therefore ugly and that you don't love me. I will feel insulted. Do you wanna insult me on our first date?"
Karkat rolled his eyes at you. "No, I guess not. Fine, I'll carry you, princess. You're lucky you have such a suave, charming knight."
"I most certainly am," you said, smiling up at him. You could have sworn you saw a ghost of a smile brush his lips.
When you reached the ticket counter, he tried to put you down. "Nuh-uh! We're not at our seats yet. You wanna make your princess walk?"
"How the fuck am I supposed to pay for the tickets when my arms are full of your fishy ass?" he retorted.
"Hey, don't use that tuna voice with me, mister! Besides, I got this. Hold on tight."
Karkat gripped you harder, trying desperately not to drop you as you fish around in your pockets for some money.
"Stop moving so much! And besides, I can pay, if you'll just let me put you down!"
"Nope, I'm doing this, it's already happenin'. Girls can pay for shit too. See this? Twenty bucks. Here ya go, ticket lady!"
Karkat rolled his eyes but let you hand the money to the woman behind the ticket booth, who was watching you two with obvious amusement. You accepted the tickets and your change and directed Karkat towards the concession stand. You hopped out of his arms so you could better see what they had.
"Oh, so now you want to be let down? I thought princesses didn't walk," Karkat snarked.
"Well, this princess wants only the best of the best. So hush up and let me look. You can buy me food if your masculinity was too wounded by me paying for the tickets," you said, looking everything over. Eventually you both had arms full of popcorn, drink, and sugary treats.
The movie in itself wasn't bad; you decided to pick the first horror film you saw. You had enough clichéd "cling to your date because you're scared" moments. You were pleased that he even clung to you a few times.
After the movie he drove you home, and you paused before getting out of his car.
"Hey, just so you know, the knight has permission to kiss the princess," you said to him. "If the knight wants."
"Well, since you're the princess, I think you have the power to order the knight to kiss you," he replied.
"Then I order the knight to kiss his princess."
"The knight will never disobey."
The first time he kissed you was a moment you would never forget. No matter how many years passed, no matter how many kisses happened since then, no matter how old you got with your memory failing: that was the moment you would never forget. The moment he stole your heart, and you had no intention of taking it back.
The last time he told you "I love you" was the day you truly cried. Not crying because you skinned your knee or failed a test or felt you weren't good enough. Crying because you lost the light of your life, the vessel of your love. Crying because of the end.
Many years had passed- decades even. You had grown from two teenagers bickering in a coffee shop to an old married couple, still bickering, but with a bit of love behind every word. You were there with each other for every step of your lives. Even if it got a little hard you always had a hand to hold and help you back up. Even if you felt weak, you had him to lean on and keep you from falling.
And he, in turn, had you.
You knew he wouldn't live forever, and neither would you. But when you stood beside the hospital bed, holding his weak hand, you couldn't help but cry, because you weren't ready for this. You were only fifty-five and you weren't ready to let go.
He must have known he was almost at the end. He told you, "I love you, Meenah. I'm glad I got to be your knight, and you got to be my princess. Stay happy."
I love you.
You are sitting in a coffee shop, just like the one you entered for the first time exactly seventy years ago. No one pays any mind to you as you slowly sip your large chai latte. Soy, with no water. No one pays attention to a lonely old lady. You turn a fuchsia around in your thin, shaky hands, thinking of him. Thinking of the man who changed your life. It has been thirty-four years since he died, and it still isn't much easier. You miss him, without a doubt, but still you keep going, hanging on to the memories you made while he was still alive. Waiting until nightfall, when you can see him again.
In your dreams you're still two teenagers laughing in a coffee shop, wondering just where life will take you. And for now you'll wait to see him every night, until the day comes when you can truly join him and be with him again.
Forever.
You may not have had a fairytale beginning, nor will you have a fairytale ending; but you feel as though your story unfolded just fine. And you wouldn't have changed one day of it.