Bloody hands

23- A cup of coffee for the soul

The (h/c) haired female inhaled deeply, savouring the scent of fresh coffee and pastries tangled up to form a delicious aroma. Her eyes scanned the tables of Miguel's coffee shop. 

The place hadn't changed much and every corner still carried familiar memories. A sweet tingle ran up her spine as tokens of her childhood flooded her mind. The same leather arm chairs, the same wooden floor creaking under her feet, the same big welcoming windows with a view on the streets. Same menu and same table arrangement. The only thing, or rather person, missing in the picture being the infamous Miguel. 

For a moment (Y/n) paused, wondering if she'd ever see his kind features again. She couldn't help but feel slightly jealous, she wanted for him to taste her hot cocoa too. After all Miguel was the person who introduced her to baking in the first place, had always supported her dream. He had taught her everything a child could possibly learn about baking, and for this she'd be forever grateful. 

Her (e/c) eyes halted on a familiar silhouette. The man sat, legs crossed and newspaper in hand, in one of the numerous arm chairs, in a far corner of the room. He brought a fuming cup of coffee to his lips and sipped quietly, sharp eyes never leaving the journal. 

The female observed him from afar, taking in the picture of him so relaxed and natural. 

Ren had always been beautiful, dangerously so. And (Y/n) couldn't deny the fact he had grown to become even more stunning of a man, charismatic and enthralling. His dark locks gently framed his features, a few strands grazing his long black eyelashes which enhanced the intensity of his penetrating gaze. No wonder girls and boys alike fawned over him at school. 

After a few seconds looking over her old crush the girl walked over to the table, a polite smile curving her lips as she sat down. The leg chairs scraped across the floor, catching the male's attention. 

He tore his eyes from the news, glare softening at the sight of his student. He folded the piece of paper and placed it down on the wooden table, straightening his posture. 

"Good morning, (Y/n)." His voice greeted her kindly, her name tasting deliciously sweet on his lips. How he craved to say it more, to repeat it and shout it from the rooftops. 

"Good morning. Sorry, I'm a bit late." The girl apologised as she sat down in front of him, taking out her essay, ready to get her lesson over with. 

"No need to apologise. I arrived early, you're actually on time." He gazed down at his watch, a light chuckle falling from his lips, "Or one would say fashionably late." 

His eyes then fell on the fuming cup of hot cocoa beside him. He passed it over to her, admiring how her eyes lit up at the sight.

"I took the liberty of ordering a drink for you. I hope you still love this as much as you used to." Of course he knew she did. A kind smile graced his features as she frowned.

"This is really kind but you shouldn't have-"

"I wanted to. It's fine. Just enjoy and let's get on with the lesson, okay ?" The male concluded, leaving no place for argument. And to his relief, she nodded, accepting his gift and bringing the cup to her lips. 

"Okay. Thank you." (Y/n) complied reluctantly, eyes locked with his as she slowly sipped on her beverage. The male's heart thudded in his chest at the sight, his breath catching in his throat. 

How could she do that ? How could such a simple action bring him to his knees ? 

He averted his eyes to the papers in her hands, the one he had graded so harshly just for them to meet here. Just to approach her and spend time with her, a delicacy his profession as her teacher didn't grant. He folded his hands on the table.