Work Text:
Shit.
This was supposed to be over.
Remy had told himself that he'd take the time at college to get over his crush. The time away from Emile would get rid of his feelings, right? He'd even thought that he had succeeded, by now.
But as soon as he suddenly saw Emile, again, the feelings all came rushing back.
(He specifically hadn't gotten Emile's number for this very reason. Feelings wouldn't die if they had room to grow.)
All of his progress had been erased in a single moment, and he would've been upset by it, but he was too focused on the fact that Emile's freckles made it look like his face had been flecked with gold. His eyes were a gorgeous green, like leaves haloed by sunlight. Remy rarely got to see them this up close.
Emile smiled into his half-finished mug of hot chocolate, completely oblivious to Remy's feelings.
"So, how are your classes going, Remy?"
"They're good. They're- they're going good," Remy answered awkwardly.
(Why was he this awkward? He was never this awkward on dates, and this wasn't even a date! It was like he was tripping over his own tongue.)
Emile tilted his head, letting out a confused giggle that made Remy's heart skip a beat.
"How are yours?" Remy asked.
Emile's eyes lit up.
"Oh, they're amazing!"
He began rambling on about his classes, professors and classmates. Usually, listening to other people talking about themselves was a chore, but, with Emile, Remy hung onto every word.
But it ended far too soon, as Emile's eyes landed on his watch, and then they widened, and he looked up at Remy in surprise.
"I'm going to be late for work!" He exclaimed, placing his mug on the table and standing up suddenly. "I'm so so so so sorry, Remy."
Remy hid his disappointment, and just nodded.
"It's alright, babe."
Emile gave him a grateful smile, and then paused for a moment, thinking about something, and then he fished a scrap of paper and a pen out of his pocket. He bent down, quickly writing down his number, and then he passed it to Remy.
"Text me?"
Remy nodded, and Emile gave him one last smile and a nod, before picking up his bag and rushing out of the café.
Remy looked down at the paper in his hands, and the number, and, for a moment, he considered throwing it away. If he continued talking to Emile - texting him - he would never get over him.
But... he'd never been so happy to receive a phone number in his life.
(And he'd received a lot of phone numbers, especially in these last few months)
Was he in love?