Even lets out a sigh of exasperation and rests his head against the espresso machine. He doesn't know if he can take any more of the boy's rejection. What's worse is that he doesn't even know that he's doing it. Every Saturday for the last two months, the boy comes in, mumbles his way through a different order and sits by the window. Even, thinking he's the cutest boy he's ever seen, tries to make conversation and puts his heart and soul into making the boy's drinks. Every time he does the latte art, he makes sure it's a heart-shaped. If that doesn't tell him he wants him, Even isn't sure what will.
And then there's the whole not liking the drink thing. Even knows for a fact that his drinks are made to perfection, and they absolutely do not deserve the reaction they get. Those pretty bow shaped lips curling downwards in a grimace. Who the hell hates hot chocolate?
"You know; you could just talk to him." He looks down at Sonja and groans into his palms. She's the strangest person he knows. Maybe other than the pretty boy sitting by the window. An ex-girlfriend that helps him woo other people. They have a weird relationship.
"It's not that simple, Son. I can't just go there." He's gesturing wildly, as if the more he moves his hands, the better she'll understand just how desperate he is.
"That's exactly what you do. What's the worst that can happen? He says no?" Yes. That is the worst thing that can happen. It's not like he's been pining over the sweet boy for two months. He's pretty sure he's done everything but paint the walls, professing his…not love, but whatever he's feeling, and it's incredibly powerful.
"Whatever, I'm off now anyway." He takes a quick peek but the cute boy is gone. "Think you're going to make it to that Nissen party tonight?" Sonja gives him a look that he doesn't quite want to decipher.
"You want me there?"
"Yeah. You're still my best friend. Even if you think you're too old for a high school party." He teases, because he doesn't need to get into this thing. It's Saturday and he's going to have a damn good time with his friends. Cute boys who hate his coffee can just suck his dick. Well. Not like that. Even if he really does want it like that. He's not going to think about it.
"Fuck you, we're the same age."
He grins and throws his apron at her.
Maybe this wasn't the best idea. And as much as he loves her, Even is reminded of exactly why their relationship didn't work out. She manages to stop him from drinking twice and follows him everywhere he goes, just to make sure he's not sneaking anything in. So he's not having the greatest time. But it feels good to dance and hold her close. She's beautiful, and if he wasn't sober, they'd be doing a lot more than just dancing. And of course, because he has the worst luck, he happens to look up and see him. The object of his near obsession. And fuck it makes Even's mouth go dry. He's wearing the snapback from earlier, a joint loosely dangling from one hand and glass of beer in the other.
And then he does the thing.
He grimaces into the cup, just like at the café. Even isn't sure how or when, but he's suddenly standing in front of him.
"So, do you have some kind of aversion to liquid in general, or is it just my coffee?" He smirks down at the bewildered face, but mentally berates himself, because Even you can't just say stupid shit. You need to be smooth. Get it together, man.
"You're in high school?" Holy shit. Holy fuck. He's got gaps in his teeth and Even's certain he's going to combust. How is he this cute? It should be illegal.
"Third year. Bakka." The boy nods and shifts slightly. Even is not one to look a gift horse in the mouth so he pushes himself into the space between him and the arm of the couch. The boy holds up the joint, silently offering it to Even. He takes it gladly, grateful for both the distraction and the calm that settles over them.
They both open their mouths quickly, and Even can barely hold back his amused grin. "Go ahead."
"I don't. Like, I don't not like your coffee." He looks up at Even, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "But, uh, this beer kinda tastes like ass, though." Even's won the lottery. He's pretty sure he's died and gone to heaven. The boy's shyly grinning back at him and it's perfect.
"I'm Even, by the way." The boy takes a drag and bobs his head a little.
"I know." How? What? "I heard your, um, girlfriend say your name in the café."
Girlfriend? "I don't, oh shit. No. Sonja's not my girlfriend. Anymore. We're just really good friends. But, um, you still haven't told me your name." Even's angled toward him, arm resting behind the boy's head. They're almost cuddling at this point and Even wants more.
"Even, we gotta go now." Sonja drunkenly stumbles over to them. "Sorry to take him away, but we really need to go." She's pulling them apart and heading for the door. Even looks back, disappointment clear on his face.
"It's Isak, by the way." Isak. His name is Isak.
Even officially hates his job. No one ever comes in at 8 in the morning. Especially on a Saturday. So he doesn't get why he should be here at this godforsaken hour. It's legal torture.
He's halfway through a rant on his movie blog when the door opens. He quickly pockets his phone and looks up to Isak. Snapback, scarf, and grumpy expression. He looks so good, Even just wants to kiss him.
"Halla." He makes sure his voice is soft, the boy doesn't look like he's functioning very well right now. Isak ignored his greeting and blinks a couple times. Straightening, he walks to the counter with more purpose than he's ever seen Isak move.
When soft lips smash against his, he thinks, holy shit I love my job. Even grabs on to the sides of his face, thumbs tracing sharp cheekbones. He leaves short pecks against the curvy lips, occasionally catching the bottom one between his teeth.
Isak runs a hand up his arm and rests it on the back of his neck, playing with the hair that's grown out there. They lean their foreheads against each other, nuzzling their noses together.
"Best drink you've ever made me." Even laughs, moving to drop a kiss on Isak's nose.
"Did you practice that?" Isak flushes, and Even just chuckles some more.
"You're so sweet. I like it. I like you." He's got a hand in Isak's hair (the snapback fell off at some point, he's not too sure when). "But I still don't have your number."
"Even, I'm not paying you to make out with the grumpy drink boy. Congratulations, though." They jump apart, and his manager gives them a look before heading into the storeroom.
Isak sits at a table facing the counter and smiles shyly at Even.
"Can you make me a hot chocolate?"
It's not love. Not yet. But Even's certain it will be.