You walk into the coffee shop, the one where you swear the air always smells like heaven and cinnamon had a lovechild, and of course, Tyler Galpin is behind the counter, looking stupidly good in that apron.

You slide up to the counter and order your usual without even glancing at the menu—because, duh, you’re a regular, and you don’t need instructions for life. Tyler gives this small, knowing smirk like he already had your drink halfway made in his head, but when he turns toward the espresso machine, he stops, puts his hands on the counter for a second, and just… sighs.

“ugh, work sucks”

sigh—this was a tragic, cinematic,

“I’m about to ruin your day”

sigh. He glances back at you with that guilty-boy look, running his hand through his hair in defeat.

“Uh… so, bad news,”

he says, voice low and almost apologetic.

“The espresso machine’s… broken. Like, completely dead. Flatline.”

And it’s said so dramatically you almost expect a tiny funeral for it, but he’s just standing there, waiting for your reaction, already looking like he’d offer to handcraft a new machine himself if it meant you’d still get your coffee.