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The Coffee Smith was a café on the corner of Rose Street. It looked pretty average, as far as coffee shops go. The font used on the sign was suspiciously similar to Starbucks’, which made Jean laugh. He had never been there before, but it wasn’t as if he could’ve gone to his usual place for coffee. It was almost inevitable that he would’ve run into Sasha there, and God knows he wouldn’t be able to face that.
It didn’t seem bad, he thought as he stopped for a moment outside the glass doors of the coffee shop. It wasn’t a huge place, but there were enough people inside to imply that it was fairly popular. Hopefully, that meant the coffee would be good.
Jean pushed the door open and walked inside, toward the counter where a disgustingly cheerful-looking barista waited to serve him. The walls were decorated with tasteless modern paintings, and scattered around the edges of the café were dark wooden tables and chairs.
“You alright, bro?” the barista asked. Great. Now Jean knew his grimace was obvious enough to be a concern to the general public. Normally, he would’ve just brushed it off and ordered his coffee, but the guy looked like he was actually interested in getting an answer. Weird.
“Just trying to figure out why a coffee shop would have such a stupid name,” Jean drawled sarcastically. The barista raised an eyebrow at him.
“If you must know, this place is owned by Erwin Smith. He thinks it’s funny, so take it up with him,” he replied, “He also thinks subtly tweaking the Starbucks font will get him more customers. For real though, are you okay? You look like a wreck.”
“Wow, thanks.” Jean glared at him, but then added, “’M fine. Broke up with my girlfriend, that’s all.” The barista gave him a sympathetic look.
“I’m sorry to hear that…” he said.
Jean sighed, “Don’t worry about it. Could I get a small Americano, please?”
“Sure thing.” Jean slid his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans to find some change.
“Hey, you don’t need to. It’s on the house. You look like you need it,” the barista insisted.
“Seriously?” Jean replied, “Uh, okay. Thanks…?”
“Marco.” he answered.
“Marco.” Jean repeated. He forced a smile for Marco’s benefit, who grinned in return as he handed Jean his table number.
Jean picked up a newspaper on the way to the table in the corner of the café. He liked to do the puzzles sometimes; they helped to take his mind off things. He pulled out his chair, which gave an awful screech, sat down, and got stuck in to a half-completed crossword.
After a little while he saw Marco approaching his table. “Here you are,” he said warmly, putting down Jean’s coffee beside the newspaper. There was a little smiley face drawn on the napkin, along with a note:
‘Hope the coffee cheers you up a bit.
-Marco’
Jean smirked. This guy was ridiculous. Apparently his smirk passed for a genuine smile, because Marco looked satisfied. Jean thanked him, and he went back to the counter to serve another customer.
Jean took a sip from his cup and knew he would be coming back tomorrow. Fuck his usual coffee shop; this shit was the bomb.
*
He did come back tomorrow, and the day after that. He was by no means a regular, but somehow Marco had his coffee order down already. “The usual?” Marco queried when Jean got to the front of the small queue.
“Yeah, thanks.” He paid and took his number over to the table he had claimed as his own the other day. Jean busied himself with one of those absolute-complete-bullshit games on his phone while he waited. Marco brought him his coffee in what seemed like no time.
“Thanks,” Jean said, taking the cup from him.
“No problem,” Marco politely replied before going to clear some other tables.
His cup was about half empty when Jean looked up to see Marco back again. He had another coffee, one that Jean had definitely not ordered. He was about to suggest that perhaps it was for another table when Marco asked, “Can I sit here? I’m on my lunch break.”
“Y-yeah, sure. Go ahead,” Jean replied, slightly confused. There were plenty of free tables around and even if he wanted to sit with someone, there had to have been better options than a grumpy asshole like Jean.
“Cool, thanks,” Marco said, and sat in the chair opposite him. Jean took another sip of his coffee and they sat in silence for a few moments.
“Y’know, you never did tell me your name,” Marco said.
“Didn’t I? Well, I’m Jean.”
“Okay,” he replied, “So, Jean, how are you? After your break up, I mean. Sorry. I totally get it if you don’t want to talk to me about it…”
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. On Tuesday it was just… fresh, I guess. I’m fine now, though.”
“What was your girlfriend like?” he asked. His eyes were fixed on Jean’s, as if he actually cared about what he had to say. It was nice, Jean decided, for a change.
“Her name’s Sasha. She was nice. I mean, we fought a lot, so I really should’ve seen it coming, but I didn’t. It was kind of a shock when she told me she had found someone else.” Jean answered.
“That’s awful,” Marco said sympathetically, “I’m really sorry, Jean.”
Jean laughed, “Don’t be. Really, I’m making it out as a lot worse than it really was. We were on-again, off-again, anyway. It was only a matter of time. Besides, she’s a lot happier with her new boyfriend. He’s a cool guy.”
“In any case, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Yeah, I am. Thanks, Marco.” Jean mumbled in reply. He took a big gulp of his coffee before adding, “So, uh, what about you? Anything exciting happening?” Marco was nice enough to try and make conversation with Jean, so the least he could do was keep it going.
“Not really. I’ve been doing the same thing for a while. Work, college, that’s about it,” Marco smiled, “I’m not all that interesting.”
“What college are you at?” Jean asked, planting his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hands.
“Trost University,” Marco replied.
Jean raised his eyebrows. “Really? Me too. How come I’ve never seen you around campus?”
“I do night classes,” Marco explained, “It seemed more convenient at the time.”
“And now?”
“Now it’s just exhausting,” he joked, “But, I manage.”
They chatted for what seemed a long while more. The conversation came naturally, which was weird for Jean. Usually he found he never knew what to say next. Honestly, he was enjoying himself. Maybe, just maybe, Jean had found a friend in Marco.
Marco looked over at the clock on the opposite wall, and downed the rest his coffee in one gulp. “Sorry, man, I’ve got to get back to work,” he said, getting up from his seat and pushing it back into the table.
“That’s cool,” Jean said, “I should get going too, actually.”
“See you around, Jean.”
“Yeah, see you.”
*
“Hey, Marco,” Jean said when he got to the counter at the Coffee Smith the next day. He went earlier than normal, simply because he didn’t have anything better to do (and maybe because he wanted to see Marco again).
“Jean!” the barista exclaimed happily when he looked up from the coffee machine.
“Okay, I’m not that great,” Jean replied drily but cracking a smile nonetheless.
Marco returned his smile and asked, “The usual?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Marco brought two drinks over to Jean’s table shortly after. “Lunch break,” he said. Jean looked at him with a puzzled expression.
“Dude, yesterday your lunch break was like two hours later.”
“Was it?” Marco feigned ignorance.
Jean raised an eyebrow at him. He wasn’t convinced. “Well maybe I just like talking to you,” Marco conceded. Jean gave him a smug grin, to which he rolled his eyes.
They ended up doing a crossword together but gave up after getting stuck on one of the ‘across’ clues. Jean banished the offending newspaper to the far end of the table, frowning at it. This elicited a giggle from Marco.
“Hey, Jean?” he asked.
“Yeah?”
“I really do like hanging out with you.”
“Me too,” Jean replied, “But, like, with you. Not me.”
Marco laughed. He had a wonderful laugh, Jean noticed. Kind of sing-songish, infectious, and just plain… happy. Like the kind of laugh you’d expect to belong to some sort of magical being or something. Not really, but it was a nice laugh, anyway. To be completely honest, Jean didn’t think there was anything about Marco that wasn’t nice. What an asshole.
Jean stayed until Marco’s break was over, then he skulled the rest of his now-lukewarm coffee and got up from the table. “Bye, Jean. Enjoy the rest of your day,” Marco said.
“You too,” Jean replied, then turned to leave.
*
For the few weeks, Jean went to the Coffee Smith every day. It was becoming routine for him. Same time as usual, same coffee as usual, same table as usual, same Marco as usual. He loved it. Some people say routine is boring, yet for Jean it was, in a way, comforting.
Sunday, he went later than usual, since he had stuff to do earlier. He sat with a newspaper, taking occasional sips of his coffee. He didn’t even read the paper, or do the puzzles. He didn’t know why he had taken it in the first place. Habit, he guessed.
Jean’s eyes wandered around the decorated walls of the café, eventually coming to the door. Shit. Sasha. And Connie. Shit. Jean whipped his eyes back to his table. The newspaper! He grabbed it and pretended to read, shielding his face from them.
Wow, this article was really interesting. So engrossing. Enough to practically bury his nose in the page. Yeah, you can bet Jean loved a good story about… dolphins? Okay, Jean thought, this’ll be easy. While Sasha and Connie were distracted by ordering their stuff, Jean would get up and carefully sneak out the door. It was genius. “Jean?” came Sasha’s familiar voice. Correction: Almost genius. The only flaw was the fact that he had been coming up with the plan during the time he was supposed to be getting the fuck out of there.
He slowly brought the newspaper down from in front of his face. “Oh, hi, Sasha. Hey, Connie,” he said, willing a surprised expression onto his face.
“Mind if we join you?” she asked, grinning and glancing at Connie, who was looking only half as uncomfortable as Jean felt.
“Whatever,” Jean answered, still avoiding eye contact. Apparently Sasha took this as a go ahead, because she pulled out a chair for herself and yanked Connie into the one next to her.
“So, um… how have you guys been?” Jean asked, for lack of anything better to say. Big mistake. He ended up drinking his coffee and nodding every so often as Sasha went on about how happy she and Connie were, about the great dates they’ve been on together. A restaurant serving a variety of potato-only dishes didn’t seem very fun to Jean, but she had apparently enjoyed it.
Jean was brought back to reality when Sasha’s tone changed slightly. “I hope you’re still okay with me and Connie being together so soon after us breaking up, Jean. Really,” she said, “How have you been?” He’s been fine. Why wouldn’t he be? It’s not as if he spent the last three weeks actively avoiding them at all costs. Obviously, he didn’t say that. He said, “Yeah, we’re cool. I’ve totally moved on. Completely and utterly. I’m in a new relationship now too, college is going well, things are really-”
“Oooh, who is it?” Sasha grinned.
“Hm?” Oh no. He was kidding. Well, no, not really. It was an outright lie, but he didn’t mean for her to want to know more, just to know he was over her, that was all. Fuck.
“Who are you dating?” she repeated, leaning forward intently.
“Oh, um…” Jean quickly scanned the café, looking for the most attractive person he could find. Of course. “He’s over there,” he said, waving his hand vaguely in Marco’s direction. He was immediately regretting it, but he’d had no choice. Sasha was never going to drop it. He’d tell Marco later, and they’d laugh about it.
Sasha’s eyes lit up and her smile broadened. “You’re with the barista?!” she exclaimed way too loudly. Jean shot up and glanced back at Marco, silently praying that he didn’t hear her. Yeah, right. Anyone in a two mile radius could’ve heard Sasha. Marco was looking at Jean, raising an eyebrow. Shit.
Not for long, though. His expression was replaced by something that Jean could only describe as a sly grin, and he started to walk towards their table. Oh no. Oh no.
“Yeah, we’re super in love, aren’t we Jean?” Marco said, taking the seat beside Jean and putting his arm around him. Jean caught Marco’s eye and tried to mouth an apology, and Marco fucking winked, the piece of shit. Kill me, Jean thought. He felt his face grow hot. Like, surface-of-the-fucking-sun level hot.
“Aw, you guys make a cute couple,” Sasha remarked, “How long have you been together?”
“Just over a week,” Marco replied. Jean couldn’t fathom why Marco was helping him, but thank god he was because there was no way in hell Jean could keep this up. Even without saying anything, he would much rather fling himself into a tank full of hungry sharks.
Marco indulged Sasha for some time longer, making small talk with her and Connie, all the while Jean was dying inside. After what seemed like an eternity, Sasha announced that they had better get going. “It was great seeing you guys!” she said, getting up from the table and waving goodbye.
“It was nice meeting you,” Marco replied.
“Yeah, see you,” Connie added.
“Bye,” Jean said awkwardly. As soon as they were out the door, Jean looked at Marco in utter horror.
“So, we’re a couple now?” Marco grinned.
“Ughhhhhhh,” Jean groaned, putting his head in his hands and dragging them down his face, “I’m so fucking sorry, oh my god. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. It just sort of slipped out. I swear, I don’t- I mean, it’s not like-”
Marco shushed him and laughed, “Don’t worry about it. That was hilarious.” A wave of relief swept over Jean. He found himself laughing, too.
“Not that I would mind, though,” he mumbled quietly.
“What?” Marco’s eyes widened. Oh shit.
“Uh… Never mind.” Jean had barely gotten his words out when Marco had leaned forward and tentatively pressed his lips to Jean’s. Oh shit. When he kissed back, Jean felt the corners of Marco’s mouth curl into a smile. Goosebumps rose on his skin as he felt a hand come up to cup his jaw and deepen the kiss, though Marco’s touch was warm.
What was possibly the best kiss of Jean’s life lasted all of a few seconds, thanks to Marco’s co-worker calling obnoxiously from behind the counter, “Marco, get your ass back to work! You’re not getting paid to socialise.”
Marco gave Jean one last peck, then pulled away reluctantly and answered, “Coming! Sorry, Levi!” Levi is a major douche, Jean thought sourly, I mean, come on, there weren’t even any customers to serve at this time anyway.
“Sorry, Jean. We can talk later. Would you mind waiting ‘til closing? It’s only another hour and a bit,” Marco said, getting up from his chair, “I can get you another coffee, if you want?”
“Sure.”
He waited like he said he would, until eventually the last few people had left and Marco was stacking the chairs on top of the tables. He looked like he was purposefully taking his time. When he finally got around to Jean’s table, he took the seat opposite him. After a moment of neither of them speaking, Jean broke the silence, “So, uh… that happened.”
“Yeah,” Marco replied sheepishly, “… What now?”
Jean looked down at his fidgeting hands before clearing his throat and asking, “Do you want to maybe go out some time?”
“I’d love to.”
Jean felt himself blushing again, but this time he saw that Marco was too. The pinkish glow enveloped the abundance of freckles splattered over Marco’s cheeks in the most gorgeous way. He found himself wondering what it would be like to trace over each and every one of those freckles with tender kisses.
He noticed Marco moving closer to him, leaning across the table. Jean knew what Marco was doing, so he helped by bridging the gap between them. His eyes fluttered shut and he tilted his head just before their lips brushed together. They moved with each other slowly, building up confidence.
Jean’s hand seemed to raise on its own, fingers threading themselves delicately through the soft hair on the back of Marco’s head, pulling him in even closer. Marco responded by kissing him harder, more assertively, causing Jean to let out a faint sigh.
They broke apart eventually only for lack of air, but kept their foreheads pressed together while they got their breath back. “You want to go get dinner?” Marco asked softly.
“Take-out?” Jean suggested.
“Deal.”
They walked to the nearest place and got some pizza to bring back to Marco’s. His apartment wasn’t far away, only a few blocks away from the Coffee Smith.
“Nice place,” Jean said when they got inside. It was a one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment with a small kitchen and living room, but it was well kept and it had a warm, inviting vibe.
“Thanks.” Marco smiled and put down the food on the coffee table. “Want to watch a movie?”
“Yeah, sure. What have you got?”
“Pick your favourite,” Marco replied, holding up a selection of DVDs.
They ending up settling on a comedy that Jean hadn’t seen before. Marco put it in the DVD player and turned on the TV before returning to the sofa. He patted the spot next to him and Jean sat down. They ate while watching the movie, and when it got cooler, Marco found a blanket for them to share.
They had abandoned the movie half way through in favour of cuddles and kisses. Jean was nestled beside Marco, with Marco’s arm around him and the blanket over them both. Marco kissed his forehead when he thought Jean was asleep, and Jean let him, nuzzling the crook of his neck. Jean was thankful the sofa was comfortable, because he didn’t think either of them planned to move for the night.
Jean’s eyelids grew heavy around 11pm, or at least that’s what he thought the time was. He didn’t want to turn around to look at the clock and possibly wake up Marco. He ended up falling asleep not long after with his head on Marco’s shoulder, listening to the calming rhythm of his even breaths.
He woke up to Marco trying to untangle himself the next morning and failing spectacularly. He managed to pull himself out from under Jean, but he tripped ungracefully on the blanket. Jean snickered involuntarily and Marco looked back at him. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up this early,” he apologised.
“You can always make me breakfast to make up for it.” Jean murmured groggily.
“Pushing it,” Marco warned jokingly. He shot a smile at Jean, who gave a smug grin in return. Marco did make breakfast for them, though. He rummaged through the fridge for whatever he could find to put in an omelette, and made a big one for them to split.
“This is fucking delicious,” Jean said after finishing his first bite.
“You’re welcome,” Marco replied. He wolfed down his own omelette before Jean had even eaten half of his, and was soon ready to leave for work.
They walked down the building stairs together, but had to go in opposite directions once they reached the street. Marco gave Jean a kiss on the cheek goodbye and they went their separate ways; Marco to the Coffee Smith, and Jean back to his own apartment.
Jean visited later on, after he had gotten himself looking at least slightly presentable. Of course, he went to the Coffee Smith every day, but from then on, Jean’s coffees were always on the house, and now they even came with little hearts drawn on the saucer.