Hello hello hello! It’s me, Froggi, back at it again with the requests I should have gotten to a million years ago. This is like the best thing I’ve written since I made my blog though so hopefully that’ll make up for me being late.
Genre: idk fluff i guess Word count: 1,000+ Feedback is always appreciated, thank u and goodnight
Cozy, inviting, and seemingly set in past decades, there’s something indiscernible that draws you to the cafe that lies on the busiest street corner in Chicago. It’s a place you’ve visited countless times; the employees now know you by name and vice versa. On a particularly rainy day, you find yourself padding into the building, the warmth inside soothing your chilled skin. It’s rather empty, which is out of the ordinary given its reputation, but it’s not at all surprising to see the lack of patrons. It is only Tuesday, and with the downpour outside, it’s no wonder you can count the number of guests on one hand. The chime that sounds throughout the cafe alerts one of the waiters, and he bounds out from the kitchen to offer you a greeting. He’s tall, with chocolatey brown eyes and lips that curve up at the corners naturally, perpetuating an enticingly cat like expression. A few strands of soft dark hair fall into his eyes, and he lazily blows them aside with a harsh puff of air before throwing a welcoming smile in your direction. “Hey, sexy,” says the waiter, poking fun at your perhaps overly casual attire. “Do you not have an umbrella? You’re soaked.” You breathe out a sigh, climbing onto one of the large and rustic mahogany barstools that line the counter. “No, I lent mine to a friend.” Is your response.
Johnny looks you up and down, pursing his lips in thought, before scurrying away. Out of sight, you can hear the whirring of machines and the clinking of glass and it’s not long before he returns, a drink in hand. It’s a tradition, so to speak, for you to leave your order up to Johnny every time you visit. He’s good at what he does, and he’s always thinking of new combinations of ingredients to put together just the right beverage to suit your mood. On days like this, your drinks are usually served hot, varying between overly sweet flavors with heaps of cream or something more simple, usually a hot tea with only a dash of sugar.
Today, you guess the drink is going to be on the sugary side, judging by the mountain of whipped cream and chocolate shavings that dust the top. When you take a sip, though, you’re pleasantly surprised. It’s sweet, but not overbearing and there’s a faint hint of citrus. Your eyes widen, and you throw an excited thumbs up to Johnny as you gulp it down, the liquid heating your throat and warming you down to your toes. “It’s my newest concoction.” Johnny muses, bowing as if he’s in front of a relentlessly cheering audience. “I’m impressed. I’d say this is your best work to date.” You say, “What’s in it?” “That, my friend, is top secret information. I’m afraid I can’t tell you, though you know I hate to turn down a pretty face.”
You haul your bag into your lap, pull out your laptop and boot it up. “That’s fine; I’ll just ask Nathan.” You counter, and Johnny’s eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Try me.” You taunt, taking another sip of the drink.
Johnny, one of your 3 roommates, works and makes a living as a waiter and residential pretty face. There’s a handful of people that attribute the cafe’s popularity to Johnny’s devilishly good looks, and you can’t say you blame them; the days Johnny works are usually the cafe’s busiest. Girls practically line up to see him, no matter where he goes. Of course, it’s an unspoken rule that absolutely no one, under any circumstance, is allowed to flirt with him, unless they enjoy being gently but brutally rejected.To most, it’s painfully obvious that he already has eyes for only one girl. ‘Most’ meaning everyone except for you, the girl in question. It’s routine for Johnny to constantly be flirtatiously throwing quips in your general direction, which you reflect back at him with ease. Everything about him, from the way he dresses to the way he acts, screams “ladies man”, so you suppose you’ve sort of embedded that idea into your brain, projecting his flirty behavior onto everyone he interacts with. “Just ask her out already.” Is a phrase that’s commonplace among Johnny and your two other roommates. Among the four of you, it seems that the only one out of the loop is you. Of course, Johnny isn’t one to push. While it kills him to be so close to you without actually being able to call you his, he’ll take what he can get. He’s a man who’s all about subtlety; he’d rather drop hints for decades before he finally grabs you by the shoulders and scream to the heavens that he wants to go out with you. Which, unfortunately for him, is something he probably needs to do. You don’t consider yourself ditzy and clueless by any means; in fact, you’re at the top of your class in the university’s art program, but that’s another story. Point being, you can’t exactly take a hint, no matter how obvious Johnny might make it. Presently, Johnny’s leaning against the bar, asking you, “What brings you here, by the way? The weather outside is total shits; I didn’t expect to see you walking through it.” You’re in the middle of gulping down more of your drink when he continues. “Don’t tell me it’s because you wanted to come see me? I’m flattered, Y/N, I really am.” You click your tongue. “Wow, you’ve got me figured out,” you deadpan, “I actually just came to study, since it’s so loud back at the apartment.” “You couldn’t study at the library?” He asks. “Nope. Power went out, so the school’s got it closed off.” Is your response. Taking one last sip of your drink, you beckon him over, “Come help me.” He shoots you a, “I’m going to get in trouble for slacking off.” though he doesn’t make any move to decline your request. “No, you won’t. Everyone here loves you.” You say as he climbs into the seat beside you.
He scoots closer, brazenly leaning against you with his chin propped on your shoulder. You don’t question the action, but rather the sensation is sends shooting down your spine. It’s not uncommon for him to have his hands on you; often times he’d have you in his lap or an arm slung securely around your shoulder, and it was never considered more than a mindless action between friends. After all, that’s the dynamic your friendship is built on. So why, you ask yourself, does it send your heart into overdrive? Of course. It’s because you’ve got a hopeless crush on the boy. It’s an idea you’ve only nurtured a small number of times, afraid that the blossoming adoration you have for the waiter would cause you to do something stupid, like telling him how you feel, should you entertain the notion that yes, you do like Johnny.His eyes are trained on the brightness of your laptop, and he’s silent as you pull up a number of windows, ranging from PDF files to a random playlist you found on Youtube. Johnny does wonders in helping you study. Physics, your weakest and his strongest subject, is the monster that you try to tackle as you sit tucked away into your own little world inside the cafe. Occasionally, he’ll reach a hand up and point to something you might have missed in your equations, and he’ll murmur answers to your questions. It’s when a sudden change in your playlist has you switching over to Youtube that Johnny lifts his head from your shoulder, prompted by a man seemingly in his 40s entering the cafe. The music that plays through your headphones isn’t something you could see yourself listening to, but when paired with the bright colors of the accompanying music video on screen, it serves to almost hypnotize you. Nine men dance with powerful movements on screen, and the song fluidly moves from hook to bridge to chorus, and it’s during the second verse of the song that something catches your eye. One of the boys, dressed in a candy red jacket with gold chains and auburn colored hair, moves to the front of the group, and your jaw drops. That guy looks just like Johnny! When he moves back to your side, you point to the screen in astonishment. “Check this out. That dude looks exactly like you!” Johnny’s eyes widen a slight bit, and he furrows his brows in confusion before his features relax and he cocks a goofy smirk. “Dude, maybe he’s your long lost twin. You know like that movie The Parent Trap!” You joke. A breathless laugh pulls its way from Johnny’s lips, and he slaps a hand to your back, between your shoulder blades. “Pretty sure I’d know if I had a twin, Y/N. That dude in the video? That’s me.” He casually throws out. “Eat it, Johnny. I don’t believe you.” You say, but upon giving it more though you realize that the idea is entirely plausible. Plus, it doesn’t take much convincing on Johnny’s part to have your jaw dropping in disbelief. “Wait, so you’re telling me that you, Johnny, the Johnny that works making just above minimum wage as a barista, the Johnny that does a shitty impersonation of parrots 24/7, are the same Johnny who’s a famous Korean pop star?” Johnny nods, as if it’s something as simple as 1,2,3. You blink a few times, and it only takes you a few moments to fully come to terms with the knowledge. After all, it doesn’t seem far fetched for Johnny to do something so… Extra. “Is that why you have so many girls up your ass?” You question, jokingly. Johnny leans back in his chair. “Maybe. It didn’t work on the girl I want, though, so what’s it really matter?” As he speaks, he fixes you with a gaze that’s perhaps a bit too serious given the lighthearted nature of the situation, but it nonetheless has your throat going dry. “Bummer.” Is all you manage to mumble out. “Yeah. I guess she didn’t really know about it until just now. I bet if she knew I was so famous, she’d already be falling at my feet.” Muses Johnny, casually despite the rapid beating of his heart. “Maybe now that she knows I can use that as leverage to get her to go on a date with me.” “Why don’t you ask her, then?” You counter. At this, Johnny leans forward, face entirely way too close to yours as he searches your expression for anything that could hint at deception, to give away the idea that you’re playing him like a fiddle, serving as a warning for him to back away because he doesn’t want to deal with the embarrassment of being rejected by the one girl he’s head over heels for. Finding nothing, he takes the opportunity to speak, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he asks, tentatively, “Will you go out with me?” Your lips quirk up in a little grin, and you can see the tension leaving Johnny’s frame when you nonchalantly reply with, “I’d love to.” The waiter has a smile stretching from ear to ear throughout the rest of his work day.
On Saturday, when he texts you, telling you that he’ll be picking you up once he gets off of work, you find yourself smiling stupidly at your phone. You shoot a quick ok text, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth before typing out another message. “Oh and by the way, you don’t have to be famous to take me on a date.” Followed by another text, “I’d have said yes any day.”