#baitsabee

The second time was not so much of an accident, but oh well, not-accidents happen all the time, don’t they?

The annoying door ringing speaker thing once again announced Baitsakhan’s appearance at Endgame.  A very pissed Baitsakhan.  A very pissed Baitsakhan who had not had coffee in the last three days and was currently dying of lack of caffeine in his bloodstream.  Red Bull was a poor substitute; he needed freaking coffee.  The darker, the better.  The scene from last week flashed back in his face, and Baitsakhan cringed a little on the inside.  He was not willing to make a fool of himself again.

He had surprised both his sister and An by staying away from coffee for four days, and then couldn’t help but get some coffee from The Starbucks.  At least he had figured out the barista’s name.  Hilal Ibn Isa Al-Salt.  He was awful proud of his memory; who on earth had long-ass names like that?  For once, he was appreciative of his unique, surname-less name.

But the Al-Salt guy’s infuriating niceness had gotten the better of him, and he had once again scared Baitsakhan away with a honey-bee-pesticide-banning petition.  Who cares whether bees died?  Screw them.

The absence of a sufficient amount of caffeine, however, was not his only problem.  The Phone Guy (as baitsakhan had deemed him) had texted him back, albeit the dire-sounding warning, with a outrageous reply of, omg so sry got the wrong # D: rlly rlly sry :(.  And then, of all the emojis he could have typed, he chose the freaking <3.

Needless to say, Baitsakhan was pissed.  No one, no one the whole damn world, was allowed to send him a heart emoji (save Sarangerel and An’s incredibly sweet girlfriend Chiyoko, but that as different), and yet this complete stranger had taken it upon himself (or herself, he added as an afterthought) to send him one.  This was an outrage.  He would not dignify this text with an answer, he thought to himself.

So, naturally, he just had to go to that nice coffee shop to calm himself down.  Just had to.  And it had nothing to do with wanting to the hot barista.  Absolutely nothing.

Seating himself at the table closest to the window, he took out his phone, absent-mindedly scrolling through his playlist.  

An indefinite amount of time passes.  

And then, out of the blue, a hand suddenly tapped him shoulder, and, startled, he whipped around, teeth bared, hands out in front of him in an offensive position, ready to gouge the offenders eyeballs out ––

The cute barista (Maccabee, his mind supplied) is, apparently, said offender.

Great, there’s another person who thinks he’s a psychopathic weirdo (not that he isn’t, but still).

But instead of freaking out at his overreaction, the guy laughs.  Who even does that after a near-death experience? (Okay, maybe he’s exaggerating, but there’s no denying this guy was weird.)

“Chill dude, just here to take your order.”

Met with Baitsakhan’s blank look, the guy raises a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“Look, I love having you here, but if you don’t order something, like, right now, I’m going to have to kick you out, ’cause I just got this job and I really don’t want to lose it.  You know, you’ve been sitting here for like half an hour doing nothing.”

Holy hell, he’s been wasting thirty minutes doing nothing?!  Scrambling up (in a very dignified way, of course), he says, in a voice he hopes is impassive,

“Sure, I’ll have an espresso or something, like that thing you made last time.  If you don’t remember, I’ll just have the thing with the most caffeine.”

Maccabee (again, this is all his brain’s doing, there is no way Baitsakhan would consciously remember people’s names, even super hot guys) laughs at that, shaking his head.

“Of course I remember, who would be able to forget the order of the cutest guy we’ve had here since I started working?”

The blond is nice to enough not show any visible reaction to the way Baitsakhan’s face burns a deep red color at his comment, and instead smiles a bit lopsidedly and turns to go.  Suddenly he pauses, turns back to face the noirette, and before Baitsakhan can do anything the older teen quickly winks, so fast it was almost missed, and continues on towards the counter.

For the next five minutes, until Maccabee comes back with his drink, Baitsakhan just sits there, eyes wide, mouth gaping like a fish, shell-shocked.  Even then all he can do is close his mouth and nod his head politely.

A buzz from his phone catches his attention, finally rousing him from his stupor.  For a moment, he thinks that it’s the Phone Guy again, but when he see’s "Asian Hacker Lovebird”, he smiles to himself and swipes the screen sideways to reply.  Though he would never admit it, An crashing into his life nine years ago really made his life better a thousand-fold.  He remembered first arriving in North America, a bitter, parent-less seven year-old, small for his age but savage and aggressive, despite the language barrier.  Oh, he learned English in his due time, but back then, really all he could say were a few basic swear words that immediately earned him half a dozen enemies.  The one person he gravitated towards was a kid in the year above him, a Chinese boy who was all glares and rule-breaking and rebellious behaviour.  Looking at his slim frame and lanky form, people would be led to falsely believe that An was all bark and no bite.  

They couldn’t be more wrong.  

Professional in at least ten different types of martial arts and an expert at (illegal) poisons and (illegal) hacking, An was definitely a formidable opponent.  Baitsakhan’s type of guy.  They were the perfect pair, both cold and haughty at school and in public.  No one needed to know they played video games together well into the night and had weird movie marathons on a regular basis and smiled until their face’s hurt and laughed until they couldn’t breathe.

He was a good friend, cynical, with a dry sense of humor.

Right now, however, not so much.

asian hacker lovebird: where r u????

asian hacker lovebird: baits

asian hacker lovebird: answer me child

asian hacker lovebird: ANSWER ME CHILD

im-not-smol: Piss off.

asian hacker lovebird: THE CHILD IS HERE

im-not-smol: Don’t call me a child.

asian hacker lovebird: i repeat where r u

im-not-smol: A cafe.

asian hacker lovebird: specify

im-not-smol: Endgame Cafe.

asian hacker lovebird: U MEAN!!!

asian hacker lovebird: LIKE DA 1 W/ DA HOT BARISTA U RANT ABT 24/7??!!!!

asian hacker lovebird: OMG STAY RIGHT THERE DONT MOVE IMMA JOIN U

im-not-smol: Don’t you dare.

im-not-smol: 傻逼

asian hacker lovebird: oh no u did NOT just call me that

asian hacker lovebird: now i need 2 come 2 beat u up

asian hacker lovebird: it is a MUST

asian hacker lovebird: see ya in 2 min

im-not-smol: 王八蛋

asian hacker lovebird: SHUT UP JUST SHUT UP IMMA COME OVER RN 2 BEAT UP UR STUPID ASS

im-not-smol: You can try. ;)

asian hacker lovebird: challenge accepted ur goin DOWN boi

im-not-smol: We’ll see about that.

asian hacker lovebird: ur “impecable grammar” rlly pisses me off

asian hacker lovebird: *imppecable

asian hacker lovebird: ugh

asian hacker lovebird: smthn watevr i kant spel

im-not-smol: It’s not my fault you turned autocorrect off.

asian hacker lovebird: when will u eva learn 2 txt like a normal person???

asian hacker lovebird: 好落后

asian hacker lovebird: just sayin

im-not-smol: Shut up.

asian hacker lovebird: look up

Baitsakhan raised his head, only to be met with the sight of a very distorted face right next to his head.  And of course he didn’t scream Jesus Christ and shriek like a little girl, what are you talking about?

The weird twisted face outside morphed into a wicked grin and the doorbell rang once again as another customer entered, tears of mirth still apparent in his eyes.  This new comer looked quite out of the ordinary, tall and dressed in nothing but black and silver, a face that was all harsh angles and sharp corners and pale skin.  A contrasting red teardrop tattoo stood out, leaking out of his right eye, and his strange hair style earned him quite a few looks from the other customers.

“You’re so stupid.”

“Shut up, you will speak of this to no one, understand?”

Most people would quake with fear at the aggressive tone, but An just rolls his eyes,

“Normal people don’t speak like ancient three-hundred year-old vampires, Baits.”

He drops down on the chair opposing Baitsakhan’s, leaning back and crossing his legs, stretching them out in front of him, a picture of complete ease.

“So, where’s the hot shot?” An says in a mock-whisper tone.  Baitsakhan glares at him before subtly motioning towards the counter, where Maccabee is leaning against it, his phone one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.  For a moment, An just stares, a small smirk on his face (not that the smirk ever disappears), whistling appreciatively.  And then, out of the blue, he shouts, so loud that he attracts probably the attention of everyone else in the mile radius,

“Hey there, aren’t employees not supposed to serve themselves?”

Startled, Maccabee looks up.  He sees An’s triumphant expression and Baitsakhan’s kill-me-now-please-just-shoot-me-and-save-me-from-the-torture one, and kind of gathers what happened.  A lazy smile slips onto his face.  He walks over, leisurely, still holding the half-finished drink.

“You’re right.  But… ”  He pauses for effect, and in that short amount of time An actually gets around to rolling his eyes again.  The boy really gets a lot of practice.

“I’m off duty.  Ais over there took over for me.”

He gestures at a red-headed girl who has somehow managed to escape their notice until then.  For a moment, a strange look flits across Baitsakhan’s face, but as quickly as it got materialises, it disappears.

An shrugs.

“Oh.  Good for you.”  He says awkwardly.

There’s an uncomfortable silence, like the type when someone ought to say something but nobody does, before Baitsakhan finally interjects,

“Thanks for the coffee, but I think my friend and I should get going.” Here he pointedly glares at An, who stares innocently at the ceiling.  

“How much is it again?”

Maccabee shrugs,

“Don’t worry about it, as long as you come again, it’s on the house.”

He winks suggestively.

Baitsakhan, of course, agrees.  After all, who could say no to a free cup of coffee, right?  And obviously, obviously it had no correlation to the fact that he actually wanted to come back to ogle the baristas.  Duh, no.

When he first visited the coffee shop, Baitsakhan never imagined he would meet someone like this who flirted blatantly and paid for his drinks.  When he first exited the coffee shop, he never thought he would come back again.  When he came back the second time, he never thought that this place would impact his previously non-existent love life.

Only when they are outside the door, Baitsakhan for the second time, An the first, and An is laughing at his lovestruck (Baitsakhan would deny this) expression that Baitsakhan realises that maybe, maybe a tiny part of him has fallen in love with Maccabee.

(Just a tiny part.)

CHAPTER INDEX (for your convenience)

1 | 2

so. how’d you guys like it?

here are the translations:

傻逼 = dumbass/idiot

王八蛋 = its like f    er (sry, i rlly dont like swearing in english in writing, i feel like ppl will track me down and yell at me)

好落后 = so behind (as in trends, like in the context of not caught up on the latest trends)

hope that cleared things up a bit, if not feel free to send me a quick message, and i’ll explain to you in detail.