Roger couldn't help himself. He couldn't always be the rough an' tough guy the gang expected him to be. He needed to relax. And Taka's was the perfect place to do it. He loved that little wooden shack. He liked to think that he was their best customer (and sole source of revenue). The place was was pretty much deserted most of the time. There was absolutely no one to ruin his reputation. The only other person there was that Rouge girl. He didn't have to worry about her. She was in his grade, but he hadn't even noticed her until he discovered Taka's. The studious girl always had her nose in the books, only looking up from her well-worn novels to correct her homework from the black board. She was the sole employee, being the owner. Her outfit usually consisted of a large sweatshirt, skinny jeans, her wide glasses, and a flower barrette in her hair. Plain and simple. He never really noticed these things about her before coming to Taka's. He thought about the charming little barrette, and how it seemed so detailed and dainty. Very much unlike the loud and noisy bandanas he saw at school. There was something different about her, but he just couldn't pin-point it.
When he had first discovered Taka's, he thought it would last for a few days; just a place to get away. But days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. He had even developed a schedule. He would catch Bus 98 down to the shop at 7:55, enter the shop at 8:11, leave at 8:45, and transfer to Bus 67 to get to school by 9:00. He worked like clock work. It was weird. He hated to plan things out beforehand. But his time here felt special. Like he needed to enjoy every last minute.
oooooooooo
On this particular day, he had entered the shop as usual, and headed to his favourite spot, a spinny chair right in front of the wooden countertop, otherwise known as 'the bar'. He loved the smooth oak surface, and the way the varnish felt under his rough hands. He had practically memorized every groove and crack in the wood, and he was working on creating a new mark of his own, slowly picking away at the wood when Rouge wasn't looking. The graffiti read 'GDR'. Well, it would anyways, but so far he had only completed the curve of the 'G'. He wondered how much longer it would take to finally carve out his entire name. He had only been coming here for around 6 months, and graduation would be coming in 3. He wondered if he would ever come back to Taka's after that.
He was watching how Rouge make his coffee. He had bought the exact same machine, but somehow, it never turned out like hers. He didn't dare ask her how she did it, for fear of intruding on her world in which she looked at with glazed eyes. Eyes that shone, but more like mirrors than rivers. 'A daydreamer' Roger thought, recognizing the eyes that his friends' so often told him were his own. 'What is she thinking about?' he wondered, as he watched her mess with the machine. He noticed that as she worked, she would constantly have to tuck her long hair behind her ears. 'I wonder why she doesn't just tie it up?' Roger thought to himself. He started to toss a coffee bean he found on the counter back and forth between his hands as he speculated the reasoning behind her leaving her hair down. 'Surely it must get in the way?' he thought, as he imagined her going about a usual day with that long, strawberry blonde hair in her face. He was snapped out of his daydream when she set down his mug in front of him with a thud. "Thanks" was his response, as he used both hands to taste the steaming brew.
The rich, smooth flavours danced on his tongue. It was so, so bitter. But it was laced with a certain… sweetness. Is that what she used? Sugar? Usually he hated sugar, but this seemed to contrast so well with the darkness of the coffee. He dropped one hand to the counter, and held his mug by the handle, taking care not to spill a single drop of the beverage. He couldn't get over the flavour. The sweetness was so tantalizing. It was fleeting, appearing for a mere second before disappearing back into the bitterness, and it left him wanting more.
He had finished his coffee and was tossing his bean again, attempting to know make it spin head over heel. He glanced at the ancient clock that hung above the doorway and noticed it was almost 8:45. He left a tip weighted under his mug, and threw his coat back on before strolling towards the door. Just as he was standing at the worn 'Welcome!' mat, he tossed the bean into the air before letting it land in his mouth and crunching down on it. As he exited the shop, he chewed a while on the bean before thinking to himself 'Bourbon'.