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Keith’s head felt like a balloon, vision swirly and messing completely if he moved too fast. The floor also seemed to be moving, avoiding him like the deck of a ship. He stumbled forward, stomach slamming into the bench. He grinned, congratulating himself on getting exactly were he wanted to be. Climbing over the seat, he wiggled into a comfy position on the stark wood. In front of him, the server was collecting cups, snuffing out the candles balanced on the empty tables as he went.
The server. He was a tall man, with tanned skin and unruly brown hair. He swept through the coffeehouse with practiced ease, even when the walls were bowing outwards with the number of patrons. He laughed it off, yelling out opinions and adding titbits to the conversation. He always seemed to know the right thing to say.
“You,” Keith began, throwing an arm across the table to grab his attention. The server jumped, turning to face Keith with the barest hint of amusement. “You m’st be, like. THE most nintelli- inetla-SMARTEST person in this roooom.”
Keith grinned to himself, satisfied with turning out that perfect sentence. The server raised the slightest eyebrow, making a point of shining his gaze across the entire shop before sending it back to Keith. He couldn’t help preening when it did, sitting a little taller.
“Well, there is only you and I here, so I would hasten to agree.”
Keith felt his cheeks warm, and he curled his elbow in to rest his head against it.
“Mnnhow come,” Keith said, stretching in place. He was so very tired today but the reason why seemed to be evading him. “How come, d’you never join in?”
The server shrugged, “I join in plenty.”
Keith frowned, poking at a dip in the wood. “Not mines, you don’t.”
The server smiled, crossing his elbows against the table top and leaning forward. His lips were crooked, eyes sparkling above them. Keith’s heart raced.
“Okay, here’s an idea.” He said, smirk unwavering, “I’ll leave a message in the lion’s head for you to read tomorrow.”
Keith sprang up, nodding eagerly.
“But it’ll be just for you, so no sharing.” He continued with a wink. It made Keith’s stomach swoop. He watched as the server swayed back through the house, grabbing paper and a quill at the desk. His tongue poked between his lips as he wrote, eye flickering back to Keith’s before an undeniable grin pulled onto his cheeks.
Then he was passing Keith once again and tucking the paper under the sharp fangs of the golden lion bust. Keith lunged forward, knee smacking into the bench and stopping him in his tracks.
The server tutted, shaking his head.
“Tomorrow.” He said, wagging a finger at Keith, “it’ll come quicker if you go home and sleep now.”
Keith bit his lip. On the one hand, the letter was here now. On the other, he’d given his word. And Keith was a man of words. So, straightening the thick fabric of his jackets, he got to his feet, standing tall.
“Then I’shall go.” He announced with a nod. The walk across the shop seemed to take longer than usual and someone had clearly moved the tables from their rightful positions as Keith found himself knocking heads with a fair few. But somehow, he’d managed. And the twinkling laughter behind him was a good source of motivation to keep walking.
~*~
Squeezing through the crowd, Keith dodged elbows and narrowly missed smacking his hip into the thick corner or one of the wooden tables. The coffeehouse was always buzzing but mid-morning was when conversation really seemed most rampant. Cups slammed against benches, voices roared. Men threw themselves over tables, so caught up in passionate debate they were. Blacksmiths fresh from the forge, cheeks still red and clothes ashen sat side by side with seasoned travellers, fresh from the oceans, cheeks burned red and clothes adorned with the many jewels of their labour.
Keith felt the familiar buzz in his veins. It was just like that first day. With just one penny he’d found in the gutter he had bought himself into a whole new world. He wasn’t ignored - kicked to the kerb and treated like a dog. He was someone. With an opinion. A view. He could tell people the injustices of their city, the toils of its people and the crimes committed under their very noses. And people listened. And they spoke back. Keith had gained a power that day. And with his long-learned ability to blend into the background, it became legendary. He used his skill to learn more of the world and spread that knowledge like wild fire.
Soon he was not only spreading gossip, but news and political debate. He’d pointed out the number of orphans on the roads and suddenly there were food packages delivered to the children. And not long later, Shiro recruited him to his newspaper team. The man took a young Keith under his wing, taught him to read and write and stake his point so that no-one could ignore it. Now, Keith afforded a small apartment down the back roads of London and a steady income, working alongside Shiro to write the coffeehouse newspaper.
Keith shuffled along the bench, down to his seat alongside the golden lion bust. This was his favourite part of his job. The lion’s mouth was carved open, teeth forming a cage for paper to be slipped in. Anyone in the coffeehouse could give them their stories, could share their thoughts, their news. It was exhilarating.
Grabbing the latest instalment, Keith threw his coat tail out before landing in the seat next to Shiro.
“Alright Keith!” Matthew Holt whooped, rubbing his hands together and leaning in. He was a frequent at the coffee house - a well to-do young man studying at Oxford. Keith thought he wouldn’t like him much - with that kind of background he was destined to live a life of luxury, abusing any common street urchin he saw. But then Keith discovered him sneaking his sister into the male dominated world and he instantly changed his mind. Matt’s intentions were pure, his desire to level the playing field, make knowledge available to anyone who wanted it, was a plight Keith admired. Matt had Keith calling endless defences, angling his shoulders in defiance as he stared down pompous professors who believed knowledge was only for the elite.
“How’s the head?”
Keith rolled his eyes. The whole reason he’d had all that ale was that he was too busy investigating their latest pocket connoisseur to come in for coffee. It was a sore-head or incurable disease from contaminated water.
“Fine.” He said firmly.
“That must mean he’s still drunk!” Matt hooted, falling over the man next to him. Laughter burst out around him and Keith couldn’t help the twinge of a smirk against his lips.
“Let’s hear the latest then.” Shiro said, nudging his ribs with an elbow. He took a swig of his coffee before wincing at the bitter taste. Another secret Keith had learned: Shiro was not a fan of the stuff his life was built around.
Keith unrolled the scroll as Shiro hushed the table. Getting to his feet, Keith cleared his throat, ready to read their latest tip-off. Then his breath fell short.
This wasn’t? He couldn’t? Keith’s cheeks flamed. The quiet around him suddenly became achingly so as he processed what he was supposed to be reading aloud.
Dearest Keith, your words are as fine as that behind you so gracefully hide beneath the tail of your handsome silken coat. From afar, my admiration will eternally shine.
X
“So?” Shiro urged, leaning closer, “what does it say?”
Keith blinked at him. Then around at the entire table. Everyone was staring, fingers squeezing around their full cups. Familiar faces. Unfamiliar ones. Eyes boring into Keith. Matt tilted his head ever so slightly. He stretched, eyes turning down and Keith quickly squished the paper to his chest.
“It’s the Shipping Report.”
A groan erupted. Across the table, people were quick to voice their grievances until the buzz was effervescent once again. Keith quickly sat down hurting his ‘fine behind’ in the process. Blood rushed to his face. What was happening? Was it a mistake? A love letter mis-delivered? But then he was mentioned by name. He quickly drank his coffee, swallowing down the jittering in his stomach.
“Well that was disappointing.” Shiro sighed. All Keith could manage was a nod, gulping more coffee. It slid down a little too fast and then he was choking.
Shiro slammed a hand over his back, probably doing more damage than any good with his brute strength.
“Are you okay?” Matt asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Yep!” Keith squeaked. It was probably just a one-off joke to spite Keith.
~*~
It was not a one off.
The next day, as Keith read off their news clippings there was another stuffing between the mess of paper and ink.
Shipping Report? How romantic. Pray tell me the details of those ships that made your face light up like a lamp. Were their sails at half mast, or dare I say, full? I could return your kindness with a secret of my own.
X
Keith’s face exploded once again, lucky enough to have returned his drink to its place before his choke spilt the coffee everywhere.
“Something funny, my friend?” Shiro asked. Keith fought for words. He couldn’t show him the very personal albeit crass, note. But what could he say? All words were evading him.
“Just, uhh…”
“Top up, anyone?”
Keith jumped at the voice, the server ducking between them to pour drinks. Keith’s whole body sighed in relied. Thank goodness for that interruption. He fell into his seat, nearly panting with the effort of hiding his emotions. Quickly, he slipped the note into his pocket, and moved on with his reports.
~*~
The notes didn’t stop there. They kept coming, thick and fast, and Keith was beginning to get concerned he was being silently mocked.
You are a disaster waiting to occur, sweetest Keith. I shall have to end my letters with a tip-off or I fear you shall combust! O, how I long to caress one of those flaming cheeks in the warmth of my palm.
X
Mr Avery has been smuggling rum on the Thames
My dear Keith, I admire the confidence in which you hold yourself. You accuse with such conviction I fear if I told you a lie it would come true. I could watch you debate for eternity.
X
Mrs Spry sews flowers into the seams of her husband’s coat
O Keith! Your story on the wolves of London made me swoon. It is a wonder how those sharp features of yours can hide such blinding kindness. Run away with me. We’ll take the dogs from the streets and run down the sands of Scarborough, hand in hand. Lead a revolution with me.
X
The Apothecary forgets which herbs are for which treatment
Keith shuddered. Because, as much as he told himself these notes were all a harmless joke, his heart skipped at the words. His very own article mentioned. His stomach spiked with joy. He prided himself in his work, uncovering the down trodden and bringing light to their lives. If another person felt the same as him for those poor abandoned dogs, he wanted to meet them with all his heart. But Keith quickly stamped the thought down with fear. If this really was a joke, then Keith wanted no more part in it. His stomach was doing twists all over the place and he felt as if on a very thin ledge, one breath of wind away from falling. Falling where, he wasn’t sure. And if there was going to be no-one there to catch him, he wanted to know now. So, once his friends had left the shop, Keith ripped off a notelet and scrawled a reply.
Do you mock me, sir?
It was simple and unimaginative. But if this indeed was a joke, he wasn’t about to waste his time on sonnets. Keith’s heart raced. Maybe he could write sonnets? Taking a deep breath Keith shoved the paper under the lion before he could let the floodgates open. He could only hope it would meet its intended recipient.
~*~
Keith felt nervous as he re-entered the coffee house the next day. What if he never received another word again? Obviously, he would be thankful the joke was over. Or at least, should be. So why was his stomach doing turns like a fish slowly being encased by a net?
He lifted out the day’s letters, noticing his own had gone. He flicked through the tips offs, eyes only for that familiar script. His heart soared when he found it.
Heavens no, my Keith! The only desire I harbour is to connect to your heart with the words I dare not speak. My dearest, if uncomfortable my love makes you, burn my quill and spill my ink, for I only write to please you.
X
Mr Lampert carries a knife around town
Keith’s stomach fizzed warmly. And the feeling travelled all the way up his body and into his cheeks. They tightened under his eyes.
“What’s got you so happy?”
Keith jumped at Matt’s words. He quickly angled the paper away from his prying eyes. These were his words now. And he wasn’t about to share them.
“Mr Lampert carries knife.” He said bluntly.
Matt narrowed his eyes, brows tilting in confusion. “And that makes you laugh?”
Keith’s stomach fell into his feet. Maybe he should do more thinking instead of talking? He really always had preferred writing.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said quickly, before redirecting their conversation. “What are your thoughts on the new market stall?”
“The one selling foreign books?” Matt asked, before sighing to himself, “I only wish I could read them.”
The buzz was back and soon the team were all scrawling out their articles with the same reckless abandon as always. Shiro was sent running to the print press and it was quiet once again. So, Keith peeled away another scrap of paper and wrote a letter.
Stranger, tho stranger only to my form, I cherish your words. Burn not your quill, unless your intention is to carve our names into the wood of this very table, for I wish to learn yours.
Your most gracious, Keith
Mr Shirogane has no taste for coffee
~*~
Waiting for reply was like waiting for a storm. It could not be predicted and certainly not prescribed. It was as mysterious as the stranger Keith had found himself unwittingly yearning for. He squeezed through the shop although it seemed easier these days. He was arriving earlier and earlier, too eager to wait for his letters. Sliding into his seat, Keith slipped his fingers into the lion’s mouth and fished out the paper. Leaning into the wall, he was relieved to find one for him.
O my, Keith, a kindly reply after so long! I shall have to keep this paper tucked close to my heart. Your request is noble, tho I shall have to deny. For when you discover who I am, I fear you will cease to write.
X
The daughter of Mrs Cortez is planning a trip to Gretna Green
Keith frowned, rereading the words. Why on Earth would a name put him off? He thought he should write as much. And so, began a back and forth that only made his heart squeeze tighter. Written words simply were not enough anymore. He wanted to meet this ridiculous man.
Keith started spending longer in the Coffeehouse, watching the passers-by as he dreamed of his golden-quilled admirer. Even after their paper was published and Shiro was long gone, Keith remained. Who was he? The stranger behind the letters. Did he frequent this very table? He certainly knew of Keith’s work. And he was well-learned of the gossip crossing the streets.
“Oi! Server!”
Keith jolted. Behind him a patron was standing on his table. Pot-bellied and pig-faced, his words sent spit flying across the shop.
“My drink is empty!”
“Good sir,” The server called back, calm as ever, even as his eyes shot danger to the man, “I’ll be right with you!”
The man groaned loudly, landing back in his chair with a huff. Keith glared at him.
“Do you have reason as to being so rude?”
The man scoffed. “He’s just a server.”
“A human none the less.” Keith corrected with venom.
“A human with a job-”
“Is still a human.” Keith corrected, swinging his feet around the bench.
“Quit starting arguments, street urchin.” The man sneered with satisfaction. Clearly, he believed it to be the last word. Keith had other ideas.
“If you didn’t want an argument, you shouldn’t have come to a coffeehouse.”
The man growled. “Know your place boy.”
“My place is wherever I put myself.” Keith said with defiance, raising to his feet. The man followed suit, throwing his chest at Keith’s.
“You wanna put your face under my fist.”
“Sirs,” came a level next to them, ice cold. “This is a coffeehouse not an inn.”
The server stood beside them, full jug of coffee in his hands and head raised high. “Keep your debate civilised or take it elsewhere.”
Keith nodded, but the server wasn’t watching. His glare was holding the other man down until he slunk back into his seat. Then he curtly poured his drink before leaning over Keith.
“Thank you.” He whispered, before leaning back and sending him a wink. It burned through Keith like a torch being lit. And there was something about it. It was almost as if the expression was familiar. But that would be impossible. Keith had never spoken to the server before. No matter how many times he saw the man speak with the rest of their patrons, he avoided Keith like he was diseased. Keith had given up catching his eye long ago. But now his heart was galloping against his will. And as quickly as the server had appeared, he was waltzing away. Keith helpless to just watch.
~*~
Keith had mastered the art of blending into the background and thus had learned that once someone noticed, they didn't stop noticing. And now, he'd broken the spell, Keith couldn't stop noticing the man serving the drinks.
The feeling was only amplified as he read his daily letter.
My only Keith, your passion is a burning fire that ignites me. But I am unafraid. Any fire you set is one I wish to join, courageous and determined. You light the way to a life I long to be a part of. And perhaps, I may. See, I have caught one of your sparks and I am fostering it to become my very own.
X
The server’s name is Lance
The information. It was so different. Not a piece of gossip from the corner of a napkin but a solid fact. It felt like a clue. The flickering orange light beckoning one towards the last candle in a dark home. It made Keith’s nerves stand on end.
“You seem distracted.” Shiro stated. Keith hadn’t meant to drift off again. His articles were usually written in half this time. But he just couldn’t stop thinking about the letter. And the clue. Eyes continually wondering to the tanned skin server.
“Something on your mind?” Shiro asked, nudging his arm.
Keith stopped himself before he could nod. How much could he reveal without ruining their whole secret exchange? He didn’t want to share the letter. It was too personal. But he was so stuck. Keith feared he was missing something important. That the letter contained an intended cue that could lead him down a diamond encrusted path, but without it he’d just end up at a dead-end. Keith decided on a roundabout question to satisfy both problems. “If someone tells you somebody else’s name, what do they mean?”
Shiro frowned, looking at Keith a second longer. Keith said no more and Shiro sighed, before mulling over the question.
“I’d say they’d want you to talk to them.”
Keith nodded, eyes flickering over to the server. He was dodging stray elbows, effortlessly hopping over legs kicked out between benches and laughing along to another conversation. He was so at home here. Part of the furnishings. Maybe Keith could give talking to him a go? He frequented the coffeehouse so often, it really seemed strange that they hadn’t spoken before.
~*~
As the coffeehouse filtered out, Keith stayed put. And soon, the streetlamps were lit, and the bustle of the street markets was giving way to coats pulled tight and heads ducked low.
“Lance!” Keith called before he could chicken out. The server jolted, eyes wide as he turned around. Keith hadn’t meant to scare him and guilt immediately tumbled through his stomach. He bowed his head shyly. “Sorry. It’s just, you must gain a lot of knowledge here right?”
The man nodded, unwrapping his cleaning cloth and twisting the fabric between his fingers.
“And you see lots of people.”
Again, the man nodded, “sure.”
Keith felt the action a little awkward. He’d seen the server many times before. He was a happy person, loud and unrestricted. Keith liked watching him. He had a lightness to his feet, an air of dignity despite being treated like a rat by some of the patrons. He was strong. Confident. He had an innate ability to brush off the worst of comments, moving along like water. Ever the professional he wouldn’t yell like Keith, and yet still found a way to put people in their place. Keith admired that. So, he couldn’t help noticing that this particular behaviour was strange. Even so, Keith had a mission and powered on.
“Have you seen who leaves the messages in the lion’s head?”
Lance’s eyes briefly washed with shock before he quickly swept it away under a smirk, leaning up on the counter.
“Now that would be telling.”
“So you know?”
Lance hummed, sending a sly eye over to the lion.
“The lion’s there for anonymity. It would be unethical to divulge that information.”
Keith sunk back in his seat. Lance was right. Secrecy was how this system worked. If they broke that even just once, the whole system would lose its integrity.
“You seem disappointed? Why’s that?”
Keith blinked back at the server, lips parted. Why? Because he was so close to finding his mysterious admirer. The wordsmith who made his stomach warm with just a few sentences. He shook his head. The man’s secrecy should be respected.
“No reason.” Keith said quietly, removing himself from the bench. Stuffing his hands in his pockets he left the shop.
~*~
Keith hadn’t planned to leave for the Coffeehouse so early. He’d just had a rough night sleep and as a result had given up trying. Cutting some bread and cheese for breakfast, he’d watched the sunrise by the dock before heading up. A cloaked figure headed up to the door ahead of him, pressing a key into the lock. Keith hung back. It would be rude to enter during set up. So, he slunk across the street to watch the window inconspicuously. That’s when he noticed the figure remove some paper from behind the front desk. He watched as they grabbed one of the candlesticks and headed straight to Keith’s seat. They bent down, orange flickering over the gleaming golden lion. Keith chest tightened. His paper lover.
Keith raced across the street before he could stop himself. Throwing the door open, he came to an abrupt stop as the figure turned around. Cloak falling free, the man gaped at Keith. Tan skin, a mess of brown hair and perfect pink lips. Keith recognised him instantly.
“Lance.” He stammered. “You’re my-?”
And then the shock dissipated. Warmth spread through Keith’s veins, face softening with the flow. Lance was his secret admirer. Wonderful, radiant Lance. Keith was only too happy to give him his heart along with his words. His whole being. He ventured across the room.
“Why did you write letters?” Keith asked, stepping into his space. “You could have spoken to me.”
Lance glanced away, then back again, before staring at the floor and sucking on his lips.
“You don’t remember do you?”
Remember what? Keith bent down to catch his eye, shaking his head. Lance sighed, cheeks turning the faintest bit red.
“You asked me to.”
Keith blinked. When? He was pretty sure he’d recall such a bold act.
“When you were drunk.” Lance elaborated. “I wrote it to tease you, thinking you’d remember. But you didn’t.”
Keith’s memory of the day was blurry at best. He remembered the morning after much more clearly, though the details of his vomit could have gone a miss. But the drunken mess beforehand? It slowly formed in his brain, but it was swirly, like he was watching from underwater.
“And you looked so funny when you read it, all red-faced and flustered! I had to send more.”
Lance bowed his head in shame. “And when I realised you had no recollection of the event, I took advantage of being just an ink stain on paper. It was just so liberating. I was always too scared to speak to you in person. This way I could tell you how I felt and all those embarrassing things…”
He trailed off and now his whole face was red. Keith’s fingers twitched at his sides. He understood that second letter now. There was nothing more enticing than the red of shy skin. He wanted to touch it, taste it, kiss it. His stomach suddenly filled with overwhelming longing.
“Look.” Lance said sharply, raising his head with those steel eyes Keith couldn’t stop watching from across the room. Now they were on him and his heart raced. “It was inappropriate and I am sorry. I will not disturb your patronage any longer with my unwanted feelings.”
Keith shook his head, fighting a smile. If there was anything Keith wanted more, it was for his patronage to be disturbed. Lance’s feelings weren’t just wanted, Keith needed them. He had a face for the words now and the two collected together in his heart, pushing it forward with desire. He wanted all of Lance’s words, written and spoken. He wanted to flirt between drinks, support his arguments and have his icy demeanour by his side when he was about to lose control.
Stepping forward, Keith reached out and cupped Lance’s cheek. It was warm and soft and leaning into him.
“I’ll forgive your inappropriateness.” Keith said softly, “If you’ll forgive mine.”
Then he leaned forward, close enough to feel Lance’s hot breath across his lips. He met his eye, awaiting response and Lance’s turning to sparkling curves. Then lips were on his and Keith gave himself to them. The kiss was soft but raw. Passion growing like the warmth unfurling in his chest. When they parted, Keith felt a little giddy - tipsy from their touch. Lance smiled widely, every inch of his face soft and Keith melted all over again. He giggled, pressing in another peck for good measure.
“Let’s go for a walk. After your shift.” He said, bringing his hand down to clutch Lance’s. The other nodded, squeezing back.
“Sure.”