“The Boy Who Saved My Mornings”

Kabir hated mornings.

He hated the way his alarm screeched at 6:30 a.m., the way the sunlight stabbed through his curtains, and the way the city traffic outside sounded like a war zone. Mornings were loud, messy, rude—everything he didn’t like.

Or at least they used to be.

Then came Jay.

The boy who somehow made mornings feel gentle.

The first time Kabir saw him, he was standing behind the tiny café counter near the bus stop, fighting with the espresso machine like it had personally insulted him.

Kabir had stopped out of pity.

Or curiosity.

Or probably because the boy was cute.

Jay’s curly hair was tied in a tiny bun, a pencil tucked behind one ear, and his apron had a big smiley badge that said “Trying my best :)”.

Kabir remembered thinking:

Same, honestly.

When Jay had finally managed to fix the machine, he gave Kabir a triumphant grin that was bright enough to wake an entire city.

“Your usual?” he had asked.

Kabir blinked. “I—I don’t have a usual.”

“Well,” Jay said, tapping the counter confidently,

“Then I’ll make you one.”

And he did.

Every. Single. Morning.

A small cappuccino with just a little more foam, sprinkled with cinnamon—because according to Jay, cinnamon made people kinder.

Kabir wasn’t sure about the science, but he kept coming back.

---

For months, their conversations were small but strangely comforting.

“How’s your day starting?”

“Terribly,” Kabir always replied.

“Perfect,” Jay said, “I’ll fix that.”

Or:

“Rough morning?”

“Not anymore.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jay grinned, handing him his coffee.

Kabir wasn’t good with emotions. He didn’t know how to smile casually or flirt effortlessly, the way Jay seemed to do with half the city. He wasn’t fun or charming or bright.

But Jay—Jay treated him like he mattered. Like his presence wasn’t an inconvenience.

One morning, Kabir arrived late. The café was almost empty, except for Jay, cleaning a table near the window.

“Hey,” Jay said, looking up with that same warm smile. “I kept your coffee aside. Didn’t think you’d skip.”

Kabir froze.

“You made it… before I came?”

Jay shrugged, trying to seem casual. “Well… you always come.”

A simple sentence.

A normal sentence.

But it landed in Kabir’s chest with unexpected weight.

He always came.

Jay expected him.

Jay waited for him.

Nobody else in Kabir’s life did that.

---

Then December rolled in, colder than usual. The café displayed fairy lights, crinkled paper stars, and a tiny Christmas tree at the counter. Jay proudly pointed at it every morning.

“I decorated it,” he said. “Do you like it?”

“It’s crooked,” Kabir noted.

Jay gasped dramatically. “It’s artistically tilted, thank you very much.”

Kabir smirked. “Sure.”

“You wound me, Kabir,” Jay said, clutching his heart.

Kabir always left smiling.

Always.

But one morning, Jay wasn’t there.

The counter was empty.

A different barista handed Kabir a cappuccino that tasted nothing like his usual.

“Where’s… the boy with the bun?” Kabir asked before he could stop himself.

“Oh, Jay?” the barista said. “He’s sick today. Flu, I think.”

Kabir shouldn’t have felt as worried as he did. Jay wasn’t family or a close friend. He was—technically—a stranger who made coffee.

But Kabir spent the entire day checking his phone for a message he didn’t have, feeling restless for reasons he didn’t want to name.

The next morning, Kabir walked to the café earlier than usual.

He didn’t even want coffee.

He just wanted to see if Jay was back.

When he stepped inside, there he was—standing behind the counter with a blanket draped around his shoulders, eyes sleepy, nose pink, hair in an even messier bun than usual.

Kabir exhaled.

He hadn’t realized how tight his chest had been until that moment.

“You’re sick,” Kabir said, frowning.

Jay brightened immediately. “Kabir! You came early today.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I missed making your coffee,” Jay confessed softly.

Kabir’s breath caught.

“You’re ridiculous,” Kabir muttered. “Go home and rest.”

“But—”

“No arguments,” Kabir said, surprising even himself. “I’ll walk you home.”

Jay stared at him in stunned silence.

“…oh,” he whispered. “Okay.”

---

Jay’s house was a ten-minute walk, but the morning cold made it feel longer. Jay shivered, and Kabir hesitated for a moment before taking off his scarf and wrapping it around Jay’s neck.

Jay blinked rapidly. “Kabir…”

“Don’t argue,” Kabir said. “You need it more.”

Jay smiled—slow, warm, almost shy. “Thank you.”

When they reached the gate of his apartment building, Jay turned to him.

“Well… this is me.”

Kabir nodded. “Get some sleep.”

Jay didn’t go inside.

He just looked at Kabir, eyes soft and bright.

“You know,” Jay murmured, “you’re not as grumpy as you pretend to be.”

Kabir snorted. “Don’t spread rumors.”

Jay laughed—quiet and sweet.

Then, before Kabir could understand what was happening, Jay stepped forward and hugged him.

Not a quick, polite hug.

A real one.

A warm one.

A hug that said more than words.

Kabir froze for half a second, then slowly wrapped his arms around him.

Jay’s voice was muffled against Kabir’s coat. “Thank you for coming today. It… meant a lot.”

Kabir swallowed. “Of course I’d come.”

Jay pulled back, cheeks pink—not from the cold this time.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked.

Kabir nodded. “Yeah.”

He watched Jay disappear inside, feeling strangely, impossibly warm all the way home.

---

The next week, Jay got better.

Their routine slipped back into place… except something had changed.

Their conversations were longer. Their smiles lingered. Their jokes turned softer around the edges.

And Kabir’s mornings?

For the first time in his life, he woke up before his alarm—with something like excitement in his chest.

One day, Kabir found a small note taped to his cup.

You make mornings nicer.

– J

Kabir kept that note in his wallet like an idiot.

The next day, there was another:

Hope today is kind to you.

And another:

Your smile is underrated.

Kabir wasn’t even aware he smiled that much.

He tried to act normal, but the truth was, Jay was slipping into his heart in ways Kabir didn’t know how to stop.

One chilly morning, Kabir walked into the café with a reckless plan.

“Jay,” he said, stepping up to the counter.

Jay looked up and grinned. “Good morning!”

Kabir didn’t even let him finish.

He placed a small packet on the counter.

“I got you something.”

Jay blinked in confusion. “Me? Why?”

Kabir shrugged awkwardly. “You’re always giving me things. Figured I should… return it. Once.”

Jay opened it slowly.

Inside was a pair of warm mustard-yellow gloves.

Jay gasped. “These are so cute! And soft! And warm! Kabir, I—”

“You don’t have to make a big deal,” Kabir said quickly.

Jay looked up. “But it is a big deal. Nobody brings me gifts.”

His voice softened. “Nobody except you.”

Kabir’s ears burned. “I just didn’t want your hands to freeze when you make coffee.”

Jay stared at him for a long moment.

“Kabir…”

“Yeah?”

Jay leaned forward over the counter slightly.

“Can I do something? If it’s too much, tell me to stop.”

Kabir’s heartbeat thudded in his ears. “What?”

Jay smiled shyly.

“This.”

And he reached across the counter and gently took Kabir’s hand.

Kabir froze.

Jay’s fingers were warm. Soft.

And holding Kabir’s like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I really like you,” Jay said quietly. “I have for months. I know you don’t like big gestures or loud things, so I wasn’t sure how to tell you. But… I had to try.”

Kabir stared at him, stunned.

“You like me?” he whispered.

Jay laughed lightly. “Kabir, I woke up early for seven months just to make you coffee. I like you a lot.”

Kabir blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then, without thinking, he squeezed Jay’s hand.

“I… like you too,” Kabir said, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Probably more than I should.”

Jay’s eyes softened.

“That’s exactly the right amount.”

Kabir stepped closer. “So what now?”

Jay’s grin grew. “Now… you keep coming every morning. But this time, not just for coffee.”

Kabir raised an eyebrow. “For what then?”