Who would've thought he'd become one of those regulars.
A young man with glasses that I doubted he genuinely needed and a jean jacket and a satchel bag hanging over his shoulder.
He came in almost every day, ordering the same drink every time. He always smiled, but it was a little reserved, and for some reason, I appreciated it.
Weeks passed and his face became familiar, always ordering the same black coffee, always shooting small, polite smiles in my direction, always wearing that jacket, always sitting in the booth next to the window at the front of the shop. He would pull out his laptop and type for hours. A new regular.
A different constant.
YOU ARE READING
ᴜɴᴇᴅɪᴛᴇᴅ ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ » ᴄᴏʀʙʏɴ ʙᴇssᴏɴ
Fanfictionᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ, ɪᴛ'ᴅ ʙᴇ ᴇᴀsɪᴇʀ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ ɪs, sᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴏᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇs ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴜʀᴛ ᴍᴇ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ɪ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇ...
