Work Text:
FRIDAY, May 28
We met at a coffee shop.
Before that morning, I'd had a long night. A bunch of revisions were staring me in the face, and I woke up knowing I'd definitely need a pick-me-up to get me through the day. I came into the café early, intending to grab a chair and relax a little with my morning coffee — no cream, no sugar, just black — the way I like it.
The minute I walked into the shop, I knew I'd made a mistake.
Where mornings were usually slow in the store, this one was a bit out of sorts. People were bustling in and out the doors and tables were full of mugs, donuts, and forgotten receipts. Scanning the room, I felt my hope for a quiet breakfast slowly slip away.
I don't know what compelled me to weather through it that day. I could've chosen another place, even turned around and gone straight back to bed to get a bit more shuteye.
But I didn't.
Maybe, on some level, I knew I was going to meet you?
Anyway, I decided to stick around and try to get some work done instead.
So, there I was: sleep-deprived and burnt out. Exactly how you want to look when you're about to meet the love of your life, I know.
I lined up, ordered some coffee, and then sat at the communal table (the only free spot) with a few other strangers who looked like they'd had to cross mountains just to get out of bed— people who were in similar states as I was, basically. After settling down, I took out my papers and started organizing some of the files I hadn't finished the night before while waiting for my order... or so I thought.
I got so carried away with my work that I didn't even realize half an hour had passed until I felt someone tapping my shoulder to get my attention.
"Excuse me."
I turned around in my chair to meet their eyes. It was one of the managers, I recognized them! I visited the place enough to know most of the people there, although they probably didn't know me. I usually kept to myself. But why were they talking to me?
"Uh, yes?"
I was confused. Did I win a free drink?
"I'm terribly sorry, but you can't really stay here without buying anything. It's not a food court."
I had to blink a couple times before their words sunk in. I looked back to the table behind me, ready to show my coffee and dispute their claim, just to end up panicking at the distinct lack of a drink around all the papers I had strewn around.
I felt myself freeze. Where the fuck was my coffee?
After about a minute of pityingly watching my internal turmoil, the manager opened their mouth to speak again, "If you'd like to buy someth—"
"Oh, no worries! They're with me!"
That was the first time I heard your voice.
I turned to my left to see you, a complete stranger back then, grinning at me. To be honest, it was even a little more jarring than the arrival of the manager.
"Did you forget we were sharing a cup? You know I can't finish these things on my own," you said, offering me a half-finished drink.
I stared at you, a little bewildered (and a little terrified, if I'm being honest) as you threw a wink my way when the manager wasn't looking.
Caught up in the haste of the moment, I took the mug and sipped a bit. "Ah, right! Thanks!" My thoughts were running a mile a minute, I didn't even have time to wonder if this complete stranger had roofied this coffee. Specifically, it seemed to be a half-finished café mocha.
Glad to know my mind could process the taste of a drink even if it couldn't warn me of possibly getting poisoned. You know, the important things!
Slapping your hand onto my arm, you turned to the manager, smiled, and said softly, "Excuse my friend. They've had a pretty long night. I'm sure you know how it is," they said, gesturing to all the stuff I had spread out on the table.
The employee was looking back and forth between the two of us, seeming very confused, mildly embarrassed, and weirdly relieved. I couldn't blame them. I was feeling the exact same way.
I spared you a glance and saw your eyes shining with mirth, but felt your hand trembling a bit on my elbow. Realizing that this wasn't as easy for you as you were making it seem, I forced a smile (that I hoped against hope would be believable) and said to the manager, "I'm so sorry for the confusion. I really have been a bit out of it lately. I don't mind buying another drink if that'll make things better...?"
That shook them out of their little reverie as well. "Oh, no! That won't be necessary. It was our mistake. I'll tell the guards to be more careful next time before bringing these kinds of things to our attention again. Please, enjoy your coffee!" They gave us one last thin smile and then left to return to the back room. Your grip on my elbow tightened until they were finally out of sight.
The awkward air settled in about thirty seconds later.
Coming back to my senses, I started spluttering, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry you had to deal with that, you don't even know me and you had to save my flustered ass from fucking café management, like what the—"
Your giggling stopped my rambling.
Letting go of my elbow, you dragged your hands across your face to calm yourself, and then heaved a breath of relief.
"Thank God it all worked out so fast! I thought they were going to ask how I knew you, and then I'd have to make up a whole backstory of how we used to be neighbors in our old town and then even ended up at the same school together years later or something!"
Now, keep in mind that I was running on only a few hours of sleep and just one sip of a watered-down café mocha. My mind was definitely not at its best at that moment.
Eloquently, I replied, "Hold on, I'm sorry, but what the fuck just happened here?"
You straightened up a bit in your chair and smugly exclaimed, "I just saved your ass, that's what happened here! I think you should be thanking me, actually."
With me dumbfounded and still not quite processing everything that was going on, you took a glimpse at my face, let out a sigh, and said, "Honestly, I was wondering when you were gonna get up and order your food, too. It slipped my mind after a bit, but it hit me again when the manager came up to us. I saw all your files, the bags under your eyes, your comfortable hoodie— that I can tell you slept in, by the way..."
At that, I sheepishly ran my hand through my hair. Man, was it really that obvious?
"...then kind of just connected the rest of the dots and acted on impulse. I know what it's like to not really be in the mood to be a fully functioning person after an all-nighter. I'm sorry if I overstepped."
Shaking my head in disbelief, I said, "But you don't even know me! We have literally never met before!"
At that, you just seemed pretty amused. You smiled, put out your hand, and replied, "Well, hi! This is me. Nice to meet you. Do you still want to share this coffee? I know it's watered down a bit, but I wasn't lying about not really being able to finish these things."
I remember thinking back then, "Jesus. This person is way too trusting for their own good," before shaking your hand. You had quite a firm grip. I was impressed.
It's one of the many things I came to love about you.
"Aren't you scared of stranger danger? Or do you just go around saving disheveled people in cafés in your free time?" I asked.
You shrugged, and said, "No, I don't usually do this. You're the first. Not entirely sure why I did it either, I'm lacking a bit of sleep myself. Though I think the more pressing question for me here is, are you an asshole that's going to make me regret what I did, or are you going to have some coffee?"
You were looking me right in the eyes then. Your voice had a challenging lilt to it that made the air feel like it was crackling a bit.
Or maybe I was just sleep deprived. But still.
I broke the stare to pick up your mug — actually, at that point, I guess it was ours? — and swallowed a few gulps. Putting it down, I said, "You know, you're really fucking lucky that I'm not. An asshole, that is." Looking back at your face, I said, "Nice to meet you. Thanks for saving my ass. Really."
You laughed (that hearty, warm laugh of yours) and said, "Well, you're fucking welcome! So, what's your name?"
And that was the start of us.
—
Looking back now, so many things could have gone differently in that scenario.
I could've decided to stay at home instead of going out. I could've walked right back through the door when I saw the place was full. I could've actually remembered to buy my coffee! Or you could've chosen to stay silent and let me deal with my own stupidity. You could've gone to work and told your friends, "You won't believe this! There was this really dumb guy in the café this morning..."
But I guess there's a reason why things worked out the way they did...
And a reason why we didn't work out the way we thought we would, either.
One thing's for sure, though.
My coffee — no cream, no sugar, just black — tastes awfully bitter after getting so used to sharing sweet mochas with you.