⤡ ăDIFFERENT TYPE OF CRUSHING ËËË
ęŠ .á there was just always something about that guy by the window..
It wasnât really a busy day today. Your co-worker was at the back doing god knows what. You couldnât really be bothered. What kept you entertained, though, was staring at the cute guy sitting by the window.
The cafe smelled faintly of burnt espresso and sweet vanilla syrup, the scent clinging to your clothes after every shift. Outside, rain tapped softly against the glass, blurring the city lights into streaks of gold and red.
The way his smooth, pale hand brushed through his indigo hair made you blush. The silver rings on his fingers clicked lightly against the ceramic mug whenever he picked it up. You shouldâve felt ashamed for staring, but you couldnât exactly look away.
He always came at night, two hours before closing, ordering the same cup of black coffee before settling into his usual spot. The soft clacking of his keyboard mixed with the low hum of the espresso machine, somehow louder whenever the cafe went quiet.
Just as you were about to make yourself comfortable, you heard a crash from the back. At first, you thought something had simply fallen and that your co-worker had it covered, but then you heard the faintest call for help. Without thinking, you rushed to the back door.
"Janis? Are you okay?!" you called out in concern. Looking down, you found your co-worker sprawled on the floor with a chair toppled over her.
Janis only groaned in response before letting her eyes fall shut again. The dark circles under her eyes looked worse than usual, probably from another late-night shift. You stood there for a moment, baffled by the whole thing, before letting out an annoyed sigh yourself.
After helping your co-worker back into her seat so she could continue sleeping, you returned to the counter, rubbing tiredly at your eyes.
The soft tapping of keys was gone. The cafe had fallen silent. Then you turned toward the window seat.
The guy was gone. But his laptop wasnât.
You figured he mightâve just gone to the restroom. Youâd only been gone for a few minutes, so you took the time to wipe down the counter while occasionally glancing toward the hallway.
Except nobody returned for the laptop.
The old laptopâs screen light blasted into your face every few seconds as you switched between tabs looking for dates, names, and anything remotely useful for your history essay due at 10:45 PM.
For the past 30 minutes, nothing filled your room except frantic typing and the occasional tired sip from the half-empty energy drink beside your desk.
Each switch left your eyes stinging. The brief darkness before the brightness returned was never enough to ease the strain. All efforts would have been worth it if it werenât for the constant stream of ads appearing every 4 minutes.
At first, you couldnât really complain. The thing had been sitting untouched in the cafeâs lost and found for two weeks now. No calls. No messages. No mysterious guy showing up to claim it.
So eventually, you took it for yourself.
You did feel bad. It did belong to that guy (who you definitely hadnât been staring at ever since he first walked in). But now, you figured this was probably why he never came back for it.
The pop-ups seemed to show more frequent as time passed. It drove you insane having to close each one in the middle of typing, and waiting for tabs to load was already a nightmare thanks to your terrible WiFi.
You never bothered to fully look at the ads, always quick to close them before going back to work. Until one appeared, larger than the rest, sitting dead center on the screen.
"What the fuck?" you muttered after reading the whole thing. You felt slightly sick to your stomach as you moved your mouse to close the pop-up, but instead of your essay, a new tab opened, redirecting you to it immediately.
YOU: who the hell are you?!
YOU: how are you doing this to my laptop?????
YOU: and more importantly, YOU CAN SEE ME?
BALLADEER: youâre spiraling over a laptop. impressive.
BALLADEER: iâm here because youâre wasting time. that essay shouldâve been done hours ago. Watching you was⌠painfully inefficient.
YOU: nobody really told you to watch me do my work...
YOU: anyways, why are you even trying to help me? What a weird way to scam someone.
BALLADEER: not a scam. youâre just easy to distract. just focus on getting the essay done and go to bed.
YOU: what makes you think i'll trust you? Do you seriously think you can just hijack my laptop and I'll magically cooperate??
YOU: listen man.. i barely have any money for groceries, i won't be able to give you anything.
YOU: i mean like.. do you want pictures? Weird but whatever makes you go away.
BALLADEER: hijack is such a dramatic word. You make it sound like i had to try.
BALLADEER: that's not even your laptop anyways. Look, open the document. Copy whatâs inside, close it, then go to bed.
BALLADEER: donât make this harder than it needs to be. https://docs,google.com/document/d/1x9QThisIsNotRealdonotclickme/edit?usp=sharing
YOU: i can do ass pictures.
It seemed as though BALLADEER didnât like what you said, because 8 minutes had passed and there was still no reply.
You eventually stopped waiting. You only had 17 minutes left before the essay was due. With no time to waste, you opened the document.
Clean paragraphs, correct citations, Exactly on topic. Far better than anything you had managed to write earlier.
You stared at it for a moment longer than you probably should have. Then, still running out of time, you copied it and submitted the essay just a few minutes before the deadline.
It had been a few days since then. You worked tirelessly at the cafe, making drinks and serving food to customers as the hours blurred together.
You were glad when the last customer finally got up and left. Your co-worker Janis flipped the open sign to closed before heading to the back.
As you wiped down the counter, your mind drifted back to the strange internet person who never replied again, or at least, thatâs what you think.
When you woke up and tried to check, the chatroom wasnât accessible anymore, even when you searched for it.
You wondered if theyâd ever appear again, or if that had been a one-time thing. You supposed you hoped not, considering youâd somehow gotten an 89/100 on your history essay and, strangely enough, wanted to thank them.
As you were about to wipe down the tables, the bell above the door rang.
Instantly, you turned around.
"Iâm sorry, weâ" You watched as a familiar man stumbled in, heavily out of breath, like he had run all the way here. He looked a bit dusty, sweat clinging to his skin.
He ran a hand through his indigo hair, silver rings clicking faintly as they shifted. His eyebrows were pulled tight, like he was annoyed at himself more than anything else.
"Sorryâ" he started, exhaling through his nose. "I didnât mean to show up this late. Black coffee, if youâre still serving. Iâll pay double."
You stood there in silence for a moment, considering him. Then you set the rag down on the table beside you and walked over to the counter to ring him in.
Who were you to deny a customer paying double, anyway?
âOf course. Is that all?â you asked, slightly tired. Thankfully, there was still some coffee brewing.
The guy hummed in response, but it barely registered as an answer. His gaze kept drifting away, from the door to the windows, never your face. His fingers tapped the counter once, then stilled, then started again. He looked a bit frantic, like he was running on a timer only he could see.
Still, you poured the black coffee into its cup, the steady stream filling the silence between you. Once it was done, you set it down on the counter and extended your free hand for the cash.
He gently took the cup, and for a brief moment, some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to settle, as if this was exactly what he had been waiting for. He studied it for a moment before placing his hand with the money on top of yours. "See you later at 10."
Confused by what he meant, you barely registered the faint grin on his face as he walked away. Then you looked down at your palm. Something white was tucked beneath the bills.
Quickly, you set everything down on the counter and pulled out the piece of paper.