( ˙ ˖ ✶ @myungaji· )
service with a smile has slowly became his mantra for living––he’ll recycle the same face for different faces in front of him just to secure his bag. these faces don’t particularly rouse anything else out of him; he engages in pleasant conversation while brewing orders down to the last person in line for the rush. the voice perks his… well, everything about him, and somehow black flower cafe’s flower boy sprouted into something more animate. finally, someone that makes him hate the world a little less.
it first starts with a pause where he makes sure he’s recognizing the right person based off of his voice, and then the smile comes in full bloom. “iced this time,” myungjun recites, tapping the order into the register. he sounds impressed, but it’s all in playful banter. “a change in routine. i’m impressed with you, daeil.”
before he can finish punching in the order, he glances up from the register. “and what size would you like your iced americano in? are you taking it to go?”
to be entirely honest, daeil is grateful for the sense of familiarity, the greeting that acknowledges the times that they’ve met and spoken before. he’s aware that it’s mostly apart of his show, the smile that myungjun offers him, but he mirrors the expression with a tinge of thanks creeping into the depths of his eyes and the ever expanding curve of his lips. the wallet is pulled from his pocket, and he’s soon pulling his card and preparing to insert it into the chip reader.
thanks for the coffee, mom.
“large? the largest?” he tips his head, peering at the cups they use. he probably doesn’t need so much caffeine, but he wants it and can afford it and he’s still sleepy enough to disregard health consequences. daeil returns his gaze to the barista, brows raising and head shaking, “and ah, no— i’m here to stay.” in the far corner of the shop, with his near dreadful mountain of notes and textbooks.














