You, being how you are, would rarely go to coffee shops. All you would get when you went with your friends was a simple hot chocolate. You had only gone to this place three times, and yet...

You couldn't help but stare at the barista from across the small, cozy space every time you went. He looked disheveled, but in a way that it was clear he still cared at least a bit about his appearance. Your friends didn't seem to notice your staring. If they did, they didn't say anything.

You swore you knew the guy from somewhere, though. That fact alone was eating at you, something scratching at the back of your mind and telling you to talk to the blonde boy behind the counter.