It wasn't the best job; not the most exciting nor did it give the best pay, but it paid the bills and that was good enough.
Gilbert had worked at the coffeehouse for almost a year now and at first, it was enjoyable. The aroma, the interesting people who walked through that stained glass door day in day out, and of course, the discounts. But by about the 5 month mark, the novelty had worn off. The customers all looked the same, blended into one mass. The smell was now almost sickening and the price cuts were now useless considering he'd drunk enough coffee for a lifetime in those initial months and had no intention of doing so again.
He was bored, oh so very horribly bored and as he stood there, behind the coffee machine, brewing a cup of frothy mocha, Gilbert realised that he was yearning for something. He didn't know what exactly, but there was this ache resonating from deep inside his chest and that was enough to know.
The tinkle of the door sounded in the Prussian's ears. Nothing new. He remained stoic, leaning casually behind the counter, awaiting the customer to state their order.
About a minute passed. What the hell was taking so long? He looked up and was met with wide violet eyes. The customer was a man around the same age as him, maybe slightly younger? He could even pass for a teenager. He had wavy blond hair and a stray lock that reached down and curled in front of the boys face that intrigued Gilbert so. Said customer was currently staring at him with bewilderment.
Gilbert knew why, straight away.
"You hair... Your eyes...they're the colour"
A soft, soothing voice proclaimed in aw, a defined Canadian accent audible.
"Yes, I know. This dude here,"
He pointed at himself extravegantly.
"Is an albino. Now, what's your order?"
The boy continued to stare a while longer but eventually ordered a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.
Gilbert silently scoffed. Hot chocolate at a coffeeshop, pft. But nonetheless, went to prepare this beverage.
While it was brewing he allowed himself some space for thought. The guy was pretty cute and Gilbert had no friends at the moment. College had drained him of a social life. It was worth a shot.
He finished making the drink and placed it onto the counter in front of the Canadian, along with the receipt. The customer looked at it, stunned for a moment but then flashed a cheeky smile before leaving.
'Yes', Gilbert thought to himself as he watched the stranger walk away, the back of the receipt visible from in his hand. On it, was written "04998877 - friends?"
He'd made the right decision.
I'm sorry, please don't kill me. I know i should be working on my usuk story but this kept nagging at me until i wrote it down, ugh. sorry ;A;
Thank you XStrawberryDuckFeathersX for reviewing and giving some tips c: the story's edited a bit now
