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andimoon · 1 year ago

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Small edit was made for the prologue! Mister Barista was given a name! It'll be useful for context later in the story!

Unknown Thoughts (Prologue)

Genre: Angst / Fluff / Romance / Eventual Smut

Part 1

The rich smell of coffee filled the morning air, overlapping chatter and bustling as people prepared for their own lives. Some late and rushed, others taking their time and enjoying the chilling breeze that blew between the open windows of the small coffee shop. This was the way she liked to spend the early hours after sunrise. Her fingertips dancing over the keys of her laptop between sips of the sweetly bitter drink at her side.

A sudden presence at her left drew her attention and the girl pushed the headphones back to rest on her shoulders. A tall man with warm brown eyes, peered down at her. His uniform hugged his body in the most delightful ways, accenting the bulk of his arms under the rolled up sleeves of his button up, and the name ‘Thomas’ written neatly on the tag pressed to his chest. “What’re you writing today?” The friendly barista smiled and took a seat in front of the writer, a mug settled warmly in between his palms as his eyes glistened with interest.

“Oh,” the author looked at the screen briefly to skim over what she had absentmindedly written, “I’m still coming up with ideas for my new work. Writing doesn’t come easily to me, unfortunately.” She hummed in mild embarrassment, a pit of nervousness in her stomach at the thought of the sweet barista asking her to read the unthought words as he usually did.

“Read it to me? Maybe I can help you come up with something.”

“I don’t know. It’s not very good.”

“Oh come on, your writing is always good, Gin.”

A small defeated sigh left the girl’s lips, “Fine, just don’t be too harsh.” She hesitated before scrolling to the top of the page and reading the half hearted love story she conjured up in her head. As someone who had never felt the kind of love she wanted to write about, it was bound to fail. But when she glanced up, she saw Thomas’ expression turn into one of serious thought. Not a word was spoken as she read the few paragraphs she managed to jot down and at the end of it, an even longer moment of silence was shared. “I told you, it’s not very good.”

“No,” a small sip from his coffee and a comfortable lean back into his seat, “It’s just not very realistic. Have you ever thought about somebody like that? It sounds more like what you see in movies or read in books. A bit cliche.”

“I told you not to be harsh.” she sighed heavily and leaned back, taking a moment to appreciate her own drink, “To answer your question, no, I haven’t. Maybe I should choose a different topic..” That wasn’t entirely a lie. She’d been in love before, but it was nothing like what was glorified, nothing like what she wanted to write about. Her experience was painful, and draining.

“Do you have a deadline?”

She laughed abruptly, this man who she’d talked to every morning for the last three months still thought she was a professional of some kind. As much as Ginger wished to publish her own book, it was never going to happen and she knew that. Of course she didn’t have a deadline, no one was anticipating anything from her. “Nah, but I would like to actually finish something.”

“What about your other stuff? Why don’t you finish one of those?”

“You read them, they’re going nowhere.”

“Not if you don’t work on them. Not everything has to be perfect, Ginger,” with a quick glance at his watch, the barista finished his drink and stood, “Sorry, I gotta get back. Think about it. You have a lot of potential to come up with something great, but you’ll never know how great it could be without letting it out into the world.” and just like that he was gone.

He always said the same thing, but none of that was actually helpful to Ginger’s writing. No constructive criticism or advice, just “keep working on it.” With a disgruntled huff, she fixed her attention out the window, hoping to find some kind of inspiration but with the morning busyness dying down, the empty street served as a reminder of how boring her life truly was. There was nothing worth writing about. Nothing remotely interesting for people to tune into. Pulling her headphones back on, she shut the godforsaken laptop and slipped it back into her bag. Obviously this little coffee shop wasn’t giving her the motivation she so desperately craved, but where could she go? What could she do?

As she walked down the street in the direction of her home, she pondered on the stories she’s heard of how people motivated themselves. The idea of painting in a park could be the spark of inspiration she needed. But just the thought of sitting in wet grass, or the weird looks she’d receive. The regular little ball of anxiousness burned familiarly in her stomach and it made her hesitate. Maybe she should do something else, go get a good book or go watch a random film. But the image of doing it alone… Would people think she was weird for it? What if it was just a waste of time and money. Maybe she should just go home.

Deep in thought and with music playing loudly in her ears, Ginger didn’t realize that the sweet barista had followed her until she felt the warm touch on her shoulder and met the familiar brown eyes of the only person who had given a second thought to her childish writings. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, he must’ve run after her. Her curiosity peaked and suddenly her full attention was on him, but he visibly hesitated. “Did I forget something? I thought I grabbed everything.”

“No, no,” he started and scratched the back of his neck, “It’s just, I was thinking. My buddy got himself a gig with a pretty big artist and gave me some tickets to their show this weekend. I don’t have anyone to go with me and I feel like we’re pretty good friends after the last few months,” He rambled nervously and while her stomach churned apprehensively, her heart raced, “Anyway. Do you want to go with me?”

How should she respond? A concert? She’d never been to one, what if he didn’t enjoy her company? What if she fucked up what little relationship they had? Would she have to find a new coffee shop?

As if reading her anxieties on her face, the man smiled and his body relaxed, “It’s nothing serious, Gin. I thought it could be helpful to relax a bit. It could give you ideas for your stories. And I noticed how you’re always listening to music so I thought it could be fun. If you want, that is. And if you don’t want to go at all, I completely understand, it was super last minute any–”

“Who’s the artist?”

His lips curled back into the brightest smile Ginger had ever seen, this man, this sweet barista who had never demanded anything of her in exchange for his unconditional kindness. Now he nervously invited her out for her own benefit. “He’s an Australian artist, Irvin Iris. Have you heard of him?” Had she heard of him? Was he serious? Irvin was the artist she listened to most often, hell, she was listening to his music up until this very moment. She didn’t even realize she had frozen from the shock until she saw the large hand of the barista swinging in front of her eyes, “Ginger?”

“I’ll go.” His doe-like eyes glistened as his entire face lit up, obviously happy that she had agreed, “I’ll have you know that he’s god sent.” the man laughed with a playful eye-roll. “I’m not joking. God sent.”

“I should get back but tell me more about it tomorrow?” She was left with butterflies as she watched the man run back to the coffee shop, a feeling she didn’t know if she liked or not. Only time would tell. For now she should just focus on her writings and inspiration, or lack thereof. She intended to go home, but she held too much excitement to be cooped up behind a desk the rest of the afternoon, so she decided to go find herself a book to devote herself to. Something that would give ideas to her own work. Finally making her way through the library doors was much less scary than her mind had told her. There weren’t eyes on her and the quiet bustle inside the building reminded her of her mornings at the coffee shop, filling her with warmth and ease. Now all she had to do was find something to read.

The isles of the literature failed to draw her attention, skimming from cover to cover, nothing stood out. Until, “Rise of Bliss.” The words written caught her eye and Ginger took the hefty novel to a quiet corner. While she didn’t intend it, this book occupied her thoughts for the rest of the week, she was hooked. It inspired some of her writing as the love story was one of passion and drama, things she wanted desperately to write about. Though she found her own writing to be a cheap knock off despite the gentle barista’s insistence that it was good. Still, she found herself addicted to this story, reading and rereading it until she felt like she was the protagonist herself and it gave to her own story.

Ginger found herself bewitched the story, gushing about every little detail to the sweet barista. So much so, she assumed that he was tired of it after the fifth conversation. She couldn’t help it, everytime she reread the story she found little details or completely new meanings to the characters. Her perspectives on character’s and their actions changed drastically the more she read the art between the hard covers of that book.

The weekend came unexpectedly as Ginger had completely forgotten about the concert somehow, Irvin had been a staple in her life for as long as she could remember and seeing him in front of her, in the flesh. Singing for her. Her stomach churned and she felt the sudden need to vomit now that she pictured it, but in the best of ways. Even as she prepared for the event, dancing along as she dried off after a shower, singing into her hairbrush, and as she slipped on her shoes. She used Irvn’s music to feed into her fantasy and pictured him as the male lead in Rise of Bliss. He was what she pictured when she read it and she was terrifyingly excited to see him perform. Her phone screen lit up with a small text from her date and she knew it was time to leave. Ginger had told herself not to worry. She wasn’t the main character in the novel, there was no need to put so much expectation onto her idol. He was there to perform for his fans, she’d be another face in the crowd, and that thought brought her enough comfort to leave her house with anticipation instead of dread.

From across the street she could see the crowd forming around the venue and while it was overwhelming, it made her happy to know she wasn’t alone in her love for the artist. She fidgeted waiting for the crossing to change in her favor and she allowed the music in her headphones to sooth her anxiousness for the time being. The night air was refreshing and it made her feel like she was in a movie, it made it easier for her to breathe. Another text, ‘I see you!’ and a picture of Ginger with her attention fixed on her phone. She looked shabby in the photo and being surrounded by fans dressed up for Irvin made her self conscious of her attire. Maybe she should have dressed nicer. But the instant she met the sweet barista’s eyes, he just looked happy to see her. It made her heart flutter as he waved in excitement across the road. Even now, under the city lights and surrounded by crowds of people, his beautiful brown eyes immersed in her. He only saw her. The light changed and she finally felt her mind fall silent as she fixated on him and, with a bracing breath, crossed the pavement.

The lights were blinding, her body ached and burned. Ginger was sure she could see people above her but she couldn’t hear anything aside from the horrendous high pitched ringing in her ears. She tried to speak but she felt liquid flooding her throat. What happened? Those brown eyes, once so excited to see her. The one’s she’d grown accustomed to seeing in warmth with a smile, they looked so panicked now. He looked afraid. Of her? For her? She tried to make any sound, any movement to show her barista that she was okay. She hated seeing him so afraid, she wanted nothing more than to see that sweet smile he always gave her. Ginger’s body felt heavy, every touch she managed stung as shards of glass imbedded themselves into her skin. Was she run over? She never saw a car. But today was her first concert, her first date, her book. Terror filled her chest as the realization hit her, she would die without accomplishing a single thing.

||A/N:

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this prolog to my new story, please consider giving me some feedback or support! Please be kind and constructive!

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