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Michael huffed as he pushed open the door, ringing the bell above it. He stepped into the small coffee shop and tugged off his hood. He had just been going on a walk when the weather decided to ruin it. Trying to ignore the loud patter of the rain against the glass, he slumped down into a booth and took out his phone.
He didn't know how long he was going to stay, but he didn't have an umbrella and certainly didn't want to go back out in that storm. He slouched in his seat, feeling defeated by mother nature. GG, I guess you got me . He thought with a sigh.
He stared at his phone blankly, trying to find an up-side to his situation until he heard the ding of the bell above the door. The vivid sound of the rain beating down on the pavement before being muffled again as the door closed. He looked up, not sure what he was expecting, only to have his breath hitch at the sight of the newcomer.
He looked so cold. Not personality wise, but this boy looked like he must've been soaked straight to the bone. He had obviously become trapped by the rain without even a jacket as his long sleeved shirt clung to his pale skin. His hair was matted and looked like a dark shade of brown, but it could just be darker from the water.
Maybe he had found that up-side.
He watched as the boy shook his hands in a poor attempt to rid himself of the rainwater coating his skin. His face held a clear expression of disgust as he huffed in annoyance, and his chest rose and fell dramatically as he took a deep breath. He fished out his wallet and checked the contents before walking to the front counter, the water squishing loudly in his shoes.
Michael left himself impulsively rush to the counter, pulling out a ten dollar bill as he walked as briskly as he could. He barely reached the counter before the boy, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Seriously?" He heard the boy snap under his breath, and Michael’s face contorted at the threatening tone. He stumbled over his order before handing the barista the extra ten dollars.
"If you could... use this to pay for the person behind me? You can keep the change," he whispered. The barista smiled at him, taking the dollar bill.
"Alright. Your drink will be ready in one moment." He nodded at her and stood to the side.
He saw the boy step up the counter, drumming his fingers somewhat angrily against it as he placed his order. He reached to pull something from his wallet when the barista stopped him. Michael couldn't hear what they were saying, but he saw the boy's cheeks and nose quickly brighten as though they were dusted with a soft red. Whether it was from embarrassment or anger, he would probably never know.
The barista handed the boy his receipt, and Michael quickly studied his shoes. He felt his own face heat up, noting his lack of anger. He was in the middle of praying his drink would be out before the boy walked over when heard the paper cup being set next to him. He doubled checked the name as quickly as he could manage before attempting to walk slowly back to his table. He ended up getting there with more of a speed walk, exhaling shakingly.
Why did I do that? Michael wasn't usually one to make such impulsive decisions. But something about the boy's soft features contrasted with his discontented expression made him want to brighten his day - even a little.
Thunk! Michael jerked his head up from his tea to find the boy had haphazardly dropped his coffee cup on his table. Feeling his chest tighten, he saw the boy’s stern yet shy expression. His unhappy face was painted red, and his pale fingers were lightly lingering on the table. Michael must have looked pitiful since the boy slowly softened his eyes and began to speak quietly.
“Is… this seat taken?”
Michael was not expecting that. Now would usually be a good time to crack out a joke about a ghost or something - anything, but he was only able to croak out a broken denial. The boy pressed his hand on the table and sat down in the booth across from Michael. They hadn’t broken eye contact, and the boy no longer looked so angry. But Michael felt as though he was braced for a lecture from his mother.
“My name is Jeremy. You don’t have to, um, look so scared?” Jeremy curled his fingers around his cup, and Michael worried that if he didn’t get out of his daze soon, Jeremy would begin to regret coming over.
“Sorry,” he muttered. He cleared his throat and spoke up. “I’m Michael. Sorry for our terrible interactions this far.”
Jeremy smiled. It was a small smile, but Michael thought he had briefly achieved world peace or something equally as spectacular. “No, it’s fine. I appreciate the coffee, thank you. I didn’t mean to get so upset. The rain just spoiled my mood a little.”
Michael accidentally sighed in relief. “Sorry- I mean you’re welcome! No, I mean - well you’re still welcome, of course - but i meant that’s great because I really thought I ruined your coffee run!” Oh my god I just ran every train of thought over a cliff. Michael silently cursed himself and put his head in his hands.
That is, until he heard Jeremy begin to laugh. It started as a light, breathy giggle, but it quickly developed into a deeper, hearty laugh. “You didn’t ruin anything! I only came here to get out of the rain! But I think it might have actually been a stroke of luck.”
Michael felt like he was floating above his booth. Did his tea really exist? Is Jeremy’s coffee even real? He heard the door to the shop open once again, but he didn't look up.
Let the wind blow. He thought. Let it sing.