Blaine Anderson used to be a firm believer that one could not have too much of a good thing; or, at the very least, too much of a good coffee shop. Three months working at the Lima Bean had proven him wrong. The once delightful smell of roasting beans, the whir of a coffee grinder and the drip of the filters, were all ruined for him. Now his once beloved coffee shop brought thoughts of aching feet and shoulders, hands reddened from scrubbing machines with scalding water, and headaches caused by customers who couldn't understand why seasonal flavors were not available year around or why their no-sugar no-cream triple-espresso dark-roast black coffee was bitter. Worst of all, the shop that once held fond memories of coffee dates and after-school hangouts, filled with long talks of plans and ambition, now only reminded him of broken hearts and dead dreams. And, twice a week, during his Tuesday and Thursday shifts, those wounds would grow ever larger as Kurt Hummel strolled through the door.
Blaine wanted to be friends with Kurt, to say that he had moved on and was happy with Dave, and that he could look back on his relationship with Kurt as a fond but distant memory. He wanted all of that, but instead seeing his former lover only reminded him of everything he wished he had done better, and everything he wished he had or hadn't said.
He was reminded of this all again today, when the bell over the door rang and Kurt drifted through. Blaine had realized ages ago that Kurt did not walk anywhere. He would strut, or drift, or glide, or storm. Walking was too passé a word for the way Kurt so gracefully carried himself. It was the first day of the season that actually felt like spring, and Kurt had chosen to celebrate this by letting his pale muscled arms see the sun for what Blaine was sure was the first time in six months. The slight breeze outside had ruffled Kurt's hair, breaking a few stray locks free of their hairspray prison and allowing them to fall to Kurt's brow. They weren't free long, within seconds of stepping through the door Kurt had flipped the rebellious locks back into place.
The after-school rush was in swing, and Blaine willed the line to go both faster and slower at once. He wished this every time there was a line in front of Kurt, as he would anticipate the joy of seeing and speaking with Kurt and dread seeing him leave. But, the line neither quickened nor slowed to Blaine's will, and within five minutes Kurt was at the counter.
"Medium hot Mocha with almond milk" Blaine rattled off before Kurt had the chance.
"As usual." Kurt smiled; handing over his ready payment, exact change as always. This routine had become second nature, its normalcy made Blaine ache for the days when every aspect of their life was this way. When he could always know what Kurt was about to say and do. He missed the days of regularity, the days of favorite restaurants and clubs, and knowing exactly which song to play to set the right mood. Of going to the market together saying they would only buy what they needed and only healthy food, but leaving with at least one bag of cookies and chips that they just couldn't resist. The days when they thought they could do it all, when dreams knew no bounds and real life was ages away.
Those days were gone, but Blaine had this routine. He would write the order, then hand the register over to the other Barista because "you've been at it a while, let me take over." He would rinse out the milk steamer and fill it with a serving of almond milk, which the Lima Bean didn't serve but he bought and stocked in the fridge on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He wasn't sure if Kurt knew about this, he figured he must because of the days he came in while Blain wasn't working and was given soy instead of almond milk, but he never mentioned it so neither did Blaine. He would steam the milk and mix in the Mocha flavoring, and pour it into a medium-size eco-friendly recycled-cardboard cup, with a sleeve. He would fill it up the rest of the way with medium-roast coffee, but leave two fingers of space at the top because Kurt always added extra Splenda Syrup and would pour perfectly good coffee into the trash to make room if there wasn't any. Three minutes after beginning his routine, Blaine would be handing over a hot coffee to Kurt, made with more love than the other man would ever know, with lid separate because he knew Kurt would end up popping it off and probably spilling anyway. Then he would pretend to pay attention to his next several coffees while he watched Kurt add his syrup and walk out the door. An hour later Blaine would clock off, go home to Dave and pretend to be happy, while secretly waiting for the next time he could go through the routine he had learned to love, in the shop he had grown to hate, for the man he would always miss.