No one had told you that working at the small coffee shop would be the perfect place for customers to harass you.
Between the soccer moms who insisted that their non-fat, soy latte be paired with the non-existent gluten-free scone, and the rich, angry for no reason business men demanding their coffees be made in less than fifteen seconds, you were sure you were going to be bald by the end of winter.
It was not a rare occurrence to be yelled at for something that, quite frankly, wasn't your fault. In fact, it was a relief if it only happened once a day. You, of course, weren't naïve enough to believe that you never made a mistake on an order, but when you did they were harmless, and only affected someone kind enough (thank god) to dismiss it as nothing.
"How on earth could anyone expect me to eat this garbage-"
You didn't entirely know what you had done this time.
Something about a cappuccino with not enough foam, and a scone that was too crumbly; really people came up with the oddest of things to complain about. You don't think you would have been so particularly disturbed by this customer's outburst on any other day, but today had been especially draining and stressful; with exams and angry customers around every corner.
You couldn't help it when tears sprung to your eyes, or when your hands began to shake. You knew your face was flushed and you tried your best to nod and smile and assure the customer that you had no idea that their food was such poor quality.
The little shop was empty aside from you, this customer, and a young man waiting to give his own order; he actually was quite scary looking with his looming height and annoyed expression.
This only made you more upset, thinking he was annoyed with you.
You swallowed thickly, your nose stinging. "Sir, please-" your attempt was cut off by his raising voice, "Don't you know how to do your job?" he snapped angrily, "Where's your manager?" he demanded.
You cringed; "She-uhm, she's out on br-break right now, maybe I can-?" the customer's angry scoff made you flinch and you were sure your tears were going to spill over any second now.
"Back off already."
The voice was new, and both you and the older man looked over to the only other person occupying the coffee shop. His dark hair was messy in an attractive 'bed-head' style, fringe falling close to his right eye. He had a tall build, maybe six-foot, one, and he was sturdy looking, obvious muscles under his school uniform. His eyes were narrowed, his pupils looking menacing and cat-like. Thankfully, this annoyed gaze was not pinned on you, but your antagonist and you were wondering for a second if he was a gift from god himself.
"Excuse me?" the man was obviously offended, and the large teenager obviously didn't care, "I said back the hell off." He drawled, his hands in his pockets and his figure slouching, "You going to order something or stand here complaining all day? Leave her the hell alone."
He was a gift from god, you decided.
The man sputtered, hissed something about the 'disrespectful generation', and stormed out-with his scone and coffee you couldn't help but notice.
You took a shuddering breath, your nerves calming and the teenager let out a scoff, "Prick." He muttered. He stepped up, looking at you with kinder eyes, "You alright?" He didn't really seem like the type of guy that would care about the well being of a stranger, and you couldn't help but feel extremely grateful. You nodded, "Thank you so much." You told him sincerely.
He shrugged, "He was an asshole." He said simply. You looked up at him, a smile curling at your lips, "Yeah." You agreed, "He was." He hesitated for a second, his cheeks gaining a small flush, "I-ah, I'm Kuroo." He offered. You grinned, "It's nice to meet you Kuroo, I'm y/n."