yoongi the type of book cafe owner to open late and stay open even later
the man can’t deal with mornings to save his cute tush life
he’d open shop an hour or so after the morning rush of busy bee workers and hurried civilians on their way to go places and do things
but his book cafe wouldn’t be a commercial cafe like starbucks
it’d be calm, a place to get away, to leisurely sift through the rows and rows of books and curl up on one of the sofas to temporarily escape to another world
not for the ones in a hurry, but for the ones who need life to slow down just a bit
he’d spend the opening hour nursing his own cup’a joe, silently staring off into space, not really thinking of much (gotta give his mind some time to wake up and get movin)
when he’s more awake he’d quietly people watch from his place from behind the coffee bar
he’d have his regulars, some cute old folk who spend every morning grumbling at their newspapers or at the weather
a few college kids who decided to be productive with their mornings by cramming studying for their afternoon exams
but he’d never seen you before
you’d walk in with sleepy eyes and messy hair, but also with an innate excitement to have found such a cute, quaint book cafe right around the corner
he’d train his eyes on you as you walked in through the front door, your eyes immediately trailing over the numerous shelves in wonder
he wouldn’t say anything, no chirpy “good morning, welcome to cafe agust!”
he’d be too mystified by your presence, the vibe you give off, utterly confounded by this weird, uncharacteristic desire to approach you
he’d snap out of it quickly though, upon hearing your voice requesting one hot vanilla latte, those sleepy doe eyes now staring right straight at him
he’d nod curtly and whip around to start your order, but more so to avoid blushing for you to clearly see
everything he’d do would be a bit on the slow side, from measuring out and grinding the beans to tapping off the excess to stirring in the steamed milk, all at an unhurried pace
you’d secretly giggle at the way he cursed under his breath when accidentally spilling a drop of hot steamed milk on his hand
“dammit, why is this so damn hot- i need to hire a real barista…”
you’d discover that his coffee has a pleasant bite to it, for those who needed an extra punch to the tongue to help them wake up (like yourself)
as you roam up and down the aisles with a warm mug in hand, he’d languidly wipe off some glasses
without you knowing his eyes would still be focused on you, watching your every move
how you’d trail your fingers along the spines of books, how you’d mouth the titles quietly to yourself, and cock your head to the side when debating if you’re interested in the read or not, how you’d cutely attempt to reach for the top shelf with little hops and tippy toeing
he wouldn’t even realize that he had left the bar and somehow made his way towards your aisle
and, to his shock, even ask “need some help with that?” with a small chuckle
he’d have to bite his lip to fight the urge to break out into a huge gummy grin at your flustered appearance, the shyness and embarrassment evident in the crimson apples of your cheeks
he’d secretly relish in the way his body would slightly brush up against yours while reaching for that one book that’s just a bit too far away
he’d memorize your voice from the little “thank you” you’d give him after being handed the book
from then on he’d watch you day in and day out, paying attention to what genres and authors you seemed to gravitate towards, memorizing your usual order of a hot vanilla latte with skim milk and an extra half pump of vanilla, or the comical and very animated facial expressions you’d make when you were immersed in a particular story
one day it’d be 5 minutes til closing, with just the two of you left in the shop late at night
after weeks of brief interactions and subtle observing from afar, he’d finally get the guts to engage in an actual conversation with you
except who knew you’d beat him to the chase
“wait, is that sheet music? you write music? that’s so cool! what inspires you the most?”
he’d be so caught off guard by your question, wholly expecting more of a small talk type of conversation and not your genuine interest in his inspiration and dreams
“well, i’ve just loved music since i was a kid, i guess…”
“…you really wanna know more?”
*nods so eagerly and adorably he can’t hide the gummy smile that spreads across his cheeks*
“ok, you asked for it. good luck trying to look attentive and not fall asleep”
“i’m ready to be absolutely dazzled”
he’d close the shop with the two of you remaining, more cups of hot coffee cradled between your hands, the both of you curled up comfortably on either side of a small sofa, the conversation flowing so naturally and effortlessly late into the night
and after numerous nights like these, the both of you would have the same thought cross your minds
it was a very good thing you walked into cafe agust when you did
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