Chapter Text
A young ginger man continued to scroll through the pages on his computer as someone else rushed in. The coffee shop doors rattled as the person struggled to close the umbrella that had been shielding them from the brutal storm outside.
The ginger raised an eyebrow, but just watched the man walk in and flash him a quick smile on his way to the counter to order whatever it is that people like him ordered.
The next time he looked up from his laptop, the younger man was on the table right beside him, despite there being nobody else other than them in the whole shop.
The older man looked over, "You do know there are more fucking tables in this shop, right?"
The other boy looked shocked, "Well, there was no need to swear about it," he said with a thick British accent.
"What the hell is your name, kid?" He tried hard not to look surprised, the accent catching him off guard.
"Gavin Free. Yours?"
"I don't need the full thing. And it's Michael."
"Nice to meet you, Michael."
"Shut up. Change seats. You and your stupid accent are annoying me."
"Well, Michael. That's rude. I'm staying here," Gavin said proudly, taking a sip of his drink.
Michael felt his rage build up, but he just looked back to his computer screen, "I hate you and I've been talking to you for one minute."
Gavin just shook his head, muttering, "Michael, there's no need to hate me. I haven't even done anything."
Gavin proceeded to manage to get the other man to talk to him again, and they discussed normal things like where they lived and worked. Gavin learned that Michael lived just across the street from the coffee shop, worked in the fruits shop around the corner, and that he once ate a five pound gummy bear (which Gavin didn't believe for a while). Michael learned that Gavin was from Oxfordshire in England, he was unemployed (he wanted a job, but didn't have much time to look, with him moving house by himself to the block over), and that his family was from Italy.
The two talked- even though Michael was still angry and reluctant- for an hour or so until the sunlight through the window turned pink and orange.
The ginger checked the time on his computer screen, "Shit. I gotta go. Bye, Gav. I'll be back tomorrow, same time." Gavin just waved goodbye, watching him as he packed up and left.
Michael hurried to his car- an average, inexpensive vehicle-, threw his laptop in the passenger seat and slid the key into the ignition.
As he drove, he thought about the strange conversation the two men had had. Gavin Free seemed like a nice guy, with his charming British accent and his peculiar way of speaking. He somehow got the feeling that Gavin would meet him again tomorrow.