Coffee Talk // B.A.D
Another 10 minute drabble, so excuse the low quality ;;
Coffee Talk
Junta/Akito
G, 457 words
"Thanks, I prefer my coffee black," said Junta, smiling politely - and a little curiously - at the black-haired stranger who'd just offered him cream and sugar from the next table.
"Ehh, but why? It's so bitter."
Junta shrugged. "I've always had it this way though. You get used to the taste, I suppose."
Rather than be rebuffed by Junta's continued refusal of cream and sugar, the stranger instead got up and scooted himself to Junta's table, disregarding the loud scraping noise his chair made against the floor and all the other customers' turned heads. He shoved his own drink towards Junta, smiling engagingly. There was a hint of a dimple on his cheek, Junta noticed.
"Do you see the foam?" he said, pointing out the thick layer of white froth on top of his own cup. "My grandfather always said that a cup of cappuccino was like love. A cappuccino is made of the perfect union of milk and coffee beans, he'd say. He was a professional barista, opened the first coffee shop in the city, you know."
Junta looked down at the proffered cup, raising his eyebrows. "Coffee beans and milk, huh? But what about the hot water that it takes to turn the beans into actual coffee?"
The boy frowned (and Junta noticed that, even while frowning, his dark eyes sparkled with a joie de vivre that he'd never found in anyone else). He opened his mouth to counter Junta's question, then closed it again. "Hmph. I thought you looked like a nice guy, but I guess not. Taking all the romance out of my story..."
"I think the metaphor is more about the taste than the composition," Junta said, and then smiled to himself as he watched the boy's eyes light up again in interest.
"Oh? How so?"
"Because black coffee, in all its bitterness, is like the loneliness of being single. Some people like it, you know; it doesn't have to be a bad flavor, especially if the rest of the drink is fragrant and made well. But when you add the cream, then the drink becomes a partnership, and the hidden sweetness of the coffee is brought out by the milk's companionship." Junta brought his coffee up to his face for a sip, and smiled at the stranger over the rim of the cup with his eyes. "And some people prefer that."
The black-haired boy let his dimple show again, slow and subtle this time, intriguing Junta. "And you're one of the ones who prefer black coffee, are you?"
Junta shrugged. "I suppose I could be convinced otherwise. By the right person."
Again, the dimple. "I'm Kiriyama," introduced the boy, putting out a hand, "You can call me Akito."
"Nakama Junta."
Coffee Talk
Junta/Akito
G, 457 words
"Thanks, I prefer my coffee black," said Junta, smiling politely - and a little curiously - at the black-haired stranger who'd just offered him cream and sugar from the next table.
"Ehh, but why? It's so bitter."
Junta shrugged. "I've always had it this way though. You get used to the taste, I suppose."
Rather than be rebuffed by Junta's continued refusal of cream and sugar, the stranger instead got up and scooted himself to Junta's table, disregarding the loud scraping noise his chair made against the floor and all the other customers' turned heads. He shoved his own drink towards Junta, smiling engagingly. There was a hint of a dimple on his cheek, Junta noticed.
"Do you see the foam?" he said, pointing out the thick layer of white froth on top of his own cup. "My grandfather always said that a cup of cappuccino was like love. A cappuccino is made of the perfect union of milk and coffee beans, he'd say. He was a professional barista, opened the first coffee shop in the city, you know."
Junta looked down at the proffered cup, raising his eyebrows. "Coffee beans and milk, huh? But what about the hot water that it takes to turn the beans into actual coffee?"
The boy frowned (and Junta noticed that, even while frowning, his dark eyes sparkled with a joie de vivre that he'd never found in anyone else). He opened his mouth to counter Junta's question, then closed it again. "Hmph. I thought you looked like a nice guy, but I guess not. Taking all the romance out of my story..."
"I think the metaphor is more about the taste than the composition," Junta said, and then smiled to himself as he watched the boy's eyes light up again in interest.
"Oh? How so?"
"Because black coffee, in all its bitterness, is like the loneliness of being single. Some people like it, you know; it doesn't have to be a bad flavor, especially if the rest of the drink is fragrant and made well. But when you add the cream, then the drink becomes a partnership, and the hidden sweetness of the coffee is brought out by the milk's companionship." Junta brought his coffee up to his face for a sip, and smiled at the stranger over the rim of the cup with his eyes. "And some people prefer that."
The black-haired boy let his dimple show again, slow and subtle this time, intriguing Junta. "And you're one of the ones who prefer black coffee, are you?"
Junta shrugged. "I suppose I could be convinced otherwise. By the right person."
Again, the dimple. "I'm Kiriyama," introduced the boy, putting out a hand, "You can call me Akito."
"Nakama Junta."