Sighs and Fire (Phan AU) (INCOMPLETE)

(1.14)

I'd be the first to admit that settling in was proving to be a bit harder than I originally anticipated.

For one, waking up next to Phil every morning was a still slight shock (but in a good way), and usually even more so when we were both naked.

Secondly, I wasn't used to cooking for myself or anyone else for that matter, and so Phil and I took it in turns to make dinner and shared the responsibility for breakfast in the morning.

Thirdly, planning meals and shopping trips in advance was the worst thing I had ever discovered adults had to do by far.

Otherwise, I loved living with Phil to the extent of asking him why didn't decide to do it earlier.

It had been two weeks since I moved away from my bleak room and into Phil's bright, colourful airy apartment. Our apartment. (It was still weird saying that.)

By now, my photos that were on my bedroom wall were now in the lounge above the sofa, where a cushion of mine lay and where I spent most of my time gazing up at Phil with my head on his lap who loved watching all kinds of documentaries that held his interest. I still wasn't used to being with him as much I liked without worrying about getting home before curfew and I still wasn't used to being to go out and back whenever I wanted without a million questions, apart from Phil asking where I was going and could you bring some milk back with you? I used up what was left for cereal earlier.

I would laugh and before I knew it I would be kissing him just one last time before I left, promising to be back soon. I loved him, but it was also nice to do my own thing and go on walks by myself like I always used to and get to know the area and the streets, still trying to get bearing of my surroundings.

And for once, it was nice to look forward to coming back home, and nine times out of ten there would be a soft aroma of food coming down the hallway when I left the lift for our floor. And usually it would be Phil in the kitchen, tongue sticking out while he was slicing vegetables or humming loudly to the radio he listened to so often.

I'd put my arms around his waist and put my head on his shoulder when he worked. I'd sway him from side to side when I felt romantic and Phil would laugh and try to protest but in the end would put his arms on top of mine and lean into me, slipping into the slow rhythm with me.

I loved those little moments. The cute ones where it was honest love and nothing else. They were the moments I cherished and wanted to photograph or film or hoped that someone somewhere was looking through our window and seeing it all happen. I wanted to show Phil off, show us off, to brag about what a good match we were together.

I loved him. I loved him so much it hurt to do so, but I treasured the feeling with my heart and soul and everything I had.

Nothing would ever take Phil away from me.

-

Tying my apron around my waist, I try and repress a sigh with the fakest smile I could possibly bring myself to do. I breathe in the smell of coffee and look around the café - small but bright, quiet yet busy - I ignore how drowsy I am and try to kid myself I woke up chirpy instead.

I'm a barista - and honestly, I'm one of the best at our store which is ironic considering I don't like coffee. It's too bitter for me and no amount of caramel syrup or hot milk could change that as I once found out, but other than that, I loved my job. I loved being a barista and it was way more than what other people thought it was.

Being a barista is about making people feel like they're home after they've had a bad start. It's about making them feel welcome, giving them a smile to set them off for the morning, for the day ahead, for the journey home. Being a barista is about connecting with the lonely regular about the similar tastes in music you have and jokingly arguing about which band is the best. It's about making a snide comment to the rude businessman who comes in every morning and passing it off with a grin and a laugh, because you swear you're joking, (even though secretly, you're not). It's about asking someone with red puffy eyes how their is day is going and giving them a free drink to try and make them feel better, then wishing a good day before sending them off on their way with that extra bit of cream they wanted. It's about talking to the teenage girl with the band t-shirt on about who her favourite member is (even though you secretly can't stand their music) and seeing her eyes brighten after only seeing her smile shyly makes you feel on top of the world. It's about being passionate about people and going the extra mile for them. It's about loving what you do.