Work Text:
You fiddle with the small umbrella adorning the far too sweet drink you’d bought, displeasure furrowing your brows at the sight of the excited bubbles. Noise explodes around you, boisterous yells and painfully drunken slurs emanating from the booths as you sit alone in the small enclave, lost in your thoughts.
Long since abandoned by your best friend, you were stuck in limbo – not wanting to stay in the far too warm bar, but unwilling to go anywhere else. You can’t blame her for leaving, the guy had eyes like diamonds and a jaw line stone, but you’ll allow yourself to be bitter if only for a moment.
And that moment has stretched into an hour, dragging past as the crowd grows steadily louder and brave. You’d turned so many away, refused the number of drinks the waiter had tried to deliver, redirecting them to whoever you could see without a beverage. You didn’t want the empty sugar, but that doesn’t mean it should go to waste.
You don’t even look up when the waiter returns, the refusal already loaded on your tongue – only to stop once the cup of tea is placed before you.
“Courtesy of the tattoos,” smiles the server, motioning to the unassuming man curled over a coffee and book at the bar. He senses your gaze, glancing over and smiling sheepishly, throwing a small wave in your direction.
You pick up the drink and his face falls, lips whispering as he scolds himself into the pages of his book, illustrated fingers rubbing worry into his closed eyes. He peeks through his scrunched expression at the sound of the stool scraping out, the teacup clinking pleasantly as you settle in beside him.
Up close you can see the freckles dusting his cheeks and splattering across his crooked nose, blue eyes waiting for the rejection he feels to be surely coming.
You smile, pouring in a tube of sugar and splash of milk. “True crime or fiction?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “True crime.”
“Charles Manson or JFK conspiracies?”
Another speedy response as the cup presses against your lips, liquid filling you with warmth and relief.
“Oh god, where would I even begin?”
A smile forms as you hold out a hand, his eyes darting from your fingers and back up to your face before taking it in bewilderment. “Y/N.”
“Geoff,” he chuckles nervously, callous fingers incredibly gentle, “thanks for not yelling at me.”
“Thanks for the tea.”
“You looked like you needed it,” he teases, placing his book down and burying his hands between his knees, legs bouncing.
“You have no idea how right you are,” you laugh, his soft nature surprisingly comforting.
“Are you alright?”
The question catches you off guard, the concern unexpected and incredibly genuine. Rather than replying immediately, you sip deeply on your tea. “I’m alright as I can be, just kinda stuck existing you know?”
He sighs, relatability rattling inside, “yeah, I know all too well. That’s why I try and exist in different places, keep things interesting.”
“Does it work?”
“Kind of?”
You laugh into your tea. “I should be existing back home, I just haven’t found the motivation to get up and leave.”
“Well, can I walk you home then?”
You smile, finishing your tea as it cools in the china. “As long as I can make you a coffee.”