The dreaded college exam prep cram season. Where he stayed up stupidly late, got distracted halfway through studying to doodle little hearts and love letters in the margins, only to realize he’d spent the last two hours doodling and not studying. Where he became a frequent visitor to the school café, and he consumed a worrisome amount of sugar and whipped cream. What? Don’t judge! It’s his stress drink!
And he always fantasized about the cheesy, movie-like moment of meeting his soulmate at the café. He just didn’t think that moment would ever happen to him. He was fumbling with his wallet, running on too little sleep, an amount he didn’t want to admit. He gave a nervous laugh, his voice cracking. “S-sorry!” He made a small triumphant noise when his hands found that plastic card, and he looked up, and everything screeched to a halt. His eyes went wide behind his rectangle frames, and he felt the flush rise on his cheeks. His thoughts turned from a syrupy “work, homework, tutor at 5 PM sharp, Ronin!” to “holy moly, oh my GOD, they’re so cute, look at them, they’re so wow, oh my god—” and thousands and thousands of mini hims all screaming and running around at once.
“Did you fall?!” He blurted out, his hand clutching his card so hard he swore he might crack it. “Because you—you’re—ah!” His face deepened in color, and his eyes darted around. “You’re really— you look cute! I-I mean.” He stammered, his gaze landing on his feet. “S-sorry,” he squeaked. “I’ll take my strawberry frappé.” He couldn’t have tapped his card faster on the reader if his life depended on it.
