Chapter Text
Alex didn’t typically leave the house on Saturdays. Nowadays, his weekends seemed to be preoccupied with plans of productivity, which tended to start off positively with the whirring of the coffee machine and the determined opening of textbooks on a morning with no distraction. Later, around midday, he would migrate to the couch, perhaps with another cuppa and the telly turned on at a low volume for the comforting background noise.
‘Productive’ didn’t really describe his situation much after around mid-afternoon, as he’d soon find himself enthralled by whatever episode of friends he’d already seen around five times over already on channel 4, curled up in bed seeking slumber for his much-needed afternoon nap, or fridge-raiding, only to be reminded each time that they were running low on food, due to a crisis regarding the cost of living. Study had been forgotten by then.
It wasn’t until he became acutely aware he’d been basking in his laziness for a few weekends now, at a loss of schedule. Matt, his roommate, had suggested he’d get a hobby, a job, meet new people, go out drinking. Much to Matt’s dismay, Alex wasn’t your average extrovert.
After much urging and nagging from his roommate, Alex had embarked on a journey outside of the realms of their apartment for the first time in what felt like an eternity. To pick up a book he’d been wanting to buy, which Matt didn’t realise would inevitably keep Alex contained indoors until those 300 pages or so were read back to back. However, it was an improvement. He’d saved himself £5 of Amazon delivery.
He’d not picked up his pace after he realised the walk to his favourite bookshop had taken longer than the anticipated 15 minutes it usually would take, since being out of his roommate’s hair for once was a rarity these days. He deserved that, if anything, though it wasn’t as if they didn’t enjoy each other’s company from time to time. Matt had a girlfriend, in all fairness.
“Hiya,” he greeted the shopkeeper shyly as he walked into the nearly empty store. It was quaint, tucked humbly away in a quiet street of London. It was one of his favourites, he had to admit, having been lost in it a time or two.
The woman nodded and smiled sweetly. “Can I help you with anything dear? Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“Um… yeah, actually. Do you have a copy of Desperate Characters?”
“Paula Fox?” she inquired, to which Alex nodded in confirmation. “It should be in our general fiction section.”
Smiling a ‘thanks’ in appreciation, he’d wandered over to the designated section to grab his desired item, though not hesitating to rake his eyes over some of those classics he’d get round to reading. One day, he promised to himself.
Returning to the counter, at which the old lady was still waiting for him to make his purchase with utmost patience, he handed over the book. It was only in his nature to be as observant as he was, and if that weren’t a most prominent trait of his, the ad hung lonely on the wooden pinboard not far behind the cash register would’ve gone unnoticed.
Skimming his eyes over the sheet, clearly a quickly made flyer, given out to any store willing to display it, it had read:
Hiring now!
Regency cafe, Page St., email for enquiries.
The place had rung a bell to Alex, the street not too far from his apartment. He jotted down the email for future reference. The woman bagged his item, patiently waiting for him to finish up copying the email address on a scrap of paper she handed him.
“Is that everything for you love?” She handed him the paper bag over the countertop, popping in a printed cardboard bookmark for good measure.
He nodded, and handed her a tenner. “Keep the change.”
***
He’d felt like an idiot, staring at this scribble of paper for almost an entire walk home. Contemplating what he’d say in the email; considering a first job didn’t usually entail much professionalism when he was younger, just the odd dog walk or mowing the neighbour’s lawn for a few quid; he’d overthought, to put it lightly.
Nevertheless, he got home and composed the email in good time. It wasn’t rocket science, sending in his simple CV, knowing for this job he’d probably be qualified. With a single interjection from Matt, asking if he could help in any way (which Alex politely declined), he’d gotten the task done in little time.
“Everything sorted?” Matt asked, supplying a cup of tea. Alex took the mug softly with sleeves covering his hands.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“No prob’,” Matt smiled, ruffling the boy’s hair.
Taking a string of little sips from the steaming mug, he felt the relief of his productivity being released from his shoulders.
Closing the lid of his laptop, careful not to spill his tea, he reached for the remote too. Mindlessly flipping through channels in search of some background noise aside from the clanking of pots and cutlery coming from Matt in the kitchen, he stopped on E4. He knew Matt could never get enough of the comedy shows, so he turned up the volume in his favour and sat back.
It wasn’t long until he heard the familiar alarm of his laptop, signalling a new message.
“That were quick,” Matt quipped, finishing up drying the last of the plates.
Alex hummed in disbelief. “Dunno what it is yet,” which was partially true, but Alex didn’t tend to talk to many people.
Opening the laptop, rising it from its short slumber, Alex pulled it onto his lap and curled his legs beneath himself. He clicked on the reply.
‘Dear Mr Turner,
Thank you for your application. We are delighted to inform you that we are impressed by your CV and think you’d be the perfect fit for out job role.
Would you be available to meet to discuss the details, and any questions you may have?
Kind Regards,
Pauline.’
Matt circled the couch, beaming with curiosity. “So, what does it say?”
“Got the job,” Alex turned back to him, smiling. “Think it’s a family run cafe or summat, I dunno, I looked it up.”
“Nice one. Good job, mate.”
Typing a quick response of thanks, organising a prompt time of 10am the following day, Alex turned back to his laptop for a split second before settling down again. He picked up his tea, refocusing his attention back to the telly for the night, satisfied with his work. Maybe now he’d start to feel better about himself not moping around the flat most weekends.
***
As of this particular weekend, Alex had seemed to embrace his newfound love of short walks around the streets of London. Especially when it wasn’t pouring it down, like it usually was.
Arriving at his destination earlier than planned, he’d settled for awkwardly standing outside the door until there was any sign of life in the place. The lights were off, so the place was unoccupied as far as he could tell, but it was fairly sunny out and he could see the interior perfectly. Chairs were perched neatly on the matched sleek, white, oak tables, far from set up for the day. Perhaps they opened later than he’d originally anticipated.
He pulled out his phone, sending Matt a quick text to inform him of his whereabouts. Matt was slow in the mornings, and Alex usually slept in till noon. He wouldn’t be surprised if yesterday’s conversation flew over Matt’s head completely, leaving him wondering where Alex possibly could’ve run off to.
Somebody must have noticed him standing outside, as the welcoming sound of the bell over the door rung and he was met with the warm, yet confused smile of a young man around his own age.
His hair was in a noticeably similar fashion to Alex: an unkempt mop threatening to fall in front of his eyes. The slim frame leaned towards the door.
“Can I help you?” He asked, with the best intentions.
“Um… hi, yeah I’m… Alex,” introducing himself nervously, not daring to meet his eye.
The mention of Alex’s name seemed to spark his attention, cutting him off so he had less time to stumble over his words. “Oh Alex! Yeah, me mum mentioned you’d be starting today. C’mon in.”
His predictions were confirmed, and the prospect of working for a small family-run business put him at comfort.
As he held the door open, Alex stepped inside to the homely scent of freshly ground coffee and breakfast.
“She couldn’t make it today, doesn’t really work on weekends so, looks like it’s just you and me,” the boy jested cheerfully. Alex knew he could sense his hesitance, yet making note of his patient attempts to pry him out of his shell.
Alex smiled at that. “Cool.”
“I’m Miles, by the way, nice to meet you.”
“Y-you too,” Alex shyly stammered, accepting his friendly handshake. The grip was firm, yet warm.
Miles met his eye, urging Alex to look up at him, though at the expense of having a shy blush creep up to his cheeks within a split second.
Alex looked back down, smiling, unable to ignore the swoop in his stomach at a single interaction with the cheerful boy.
“So… I’ll show you ‘round,” Miles broke their silence, leading him behind the bar. “We don’t open till eleven, so we have a bit of time to kill.”
Waving vaguely to the selection of different coffee machines, mugs, powders, syrups, you name it, Miles was teaching him in no time. Alex already knew the whereabouts for the ingredients of a latte, so that was a start.
After about 15 minutes of a general introduction, Miles had guided him through the theory of making, what he deemed, the perfect coffee.
“It’s pretty simple actually, you just put the stuff in here, clip it on and press that button there,” he gestured vaguely, looking back at Alex to confirm his understanding.
Unfortunately for Alex, a lot of information had flown over his head and managed to slip his mind. If Miles weren’t so fascinatingly exuberant in the art of making a simple latte, perhaps Alex would’ve been able to retain some of the - no doubt helpful - knowledge Miles was trying to teach.
“Is it too late to mention I don’t own a coffee machine?” Alex admitted, as a sort of confession as he saw the look on Miles face that screamed ‘you really don’t know how to make a coffee?’
He seemed to catch on. Alex wasn’t lost, per se, just required a bit of guidance. “Here, I’ll show you.”
Alex passed him a mug, quietly and helpfully at his assistance whenever required. He placed it under the machine.
“Wait, hang on,” he said, reaching under the counter, pulling out two plain, beige aprons, one for himself and one for Alex. “Need these.”
Handing it to Alex, he looked at it unfolded, seemingly confused at the contraption.
“Mate, it’s an apron, it’s not gonna kill you.”
Alex laughed at that. “Never worn one before.”
“Fair.” The boy smirked, mockingly. “Right, coffee.”
Watching his careful hands with concentration, and perhaps a little admiration (for they were particularly slim, nimble fingers), he watched as Miles loaded up the machine with the required ingredients for the coffee.
A roughly measured amount of water, ground coffee, and steamed milk later, a latte was made. He’d taken his time explaining the steps along with visual guidance to Alex, who nodded to clarify his understanding.
“…and there you have it! The - almost - perfect latte,” he beamed, passing the mug to Alex. “Try it.”
He smiled skeptically, though jesting. He took the mug from Miles’ hands and sipped on the warm liquid tentatively, careful not to burn his tongue.
His eyes widened in shock. God that was good coffee.
“Good, innit?"
Alex nodded, and hummed in response. He took another gulp, relishing in the bitter, yet smooth and ever refreshing taste of the coffee.
Miles smirked at him expectantly, “you wanna give it a go now?”
“M’kay.”
Alex repeated the steps in his mind, occasionally reminding himself by articulation. “So, water first?”
“The tank’s filled for the day, you don’t have to worry about that bit.”
Alex blushed in embarrassment, at the acknowledgment of being corrected for his first error, though he knew Miles was only doing him a favour by saving his time.
“Could you, um… pass me a mug, please?” he queried politely.
Miles smiled, reaching over for a clean cup. Alex took it from him, brushing his fingertips over Miles’ knuckles in the exchange. Fighting the impulse to flinch at the shock of contact, Alex quickly turned away from him, redirecting his attention back to the coffee machine.
Scooping a decent amount of ground coffee beans into the filter, he smoothed it over and carefully attached it to the underside of the machine, just above the mug.
Or tried to, at least, for the handle didn’t want to attach. Wiggling the contraption about a bit, in an effort to find the catch, Miles sensed his tension from beside him, and chuckled lightly.
“Need a hand?”
He conceded. “Maybe.”
Miles gripped the handle, somehow finding the catch within a second or so. Alex gaped, blushing sheepishly.
“Comes with practice, you’ll get it soon enough.”
Alex proceeded, pressing what he guessed were the right buttons, as he remembered Miles doing so. Watching the substance come to life as the water from the tank filtered little by little through the powder, he began to get the hang of it.
Successfully steaming the milk, he pouring it, finally, into the finished product. He brushed his hands on his apron with a modest sense of pride.
“Voila,” he jested, seeking Miles expression for validation.
“See, you’re a natural already.”
“You haven’t tasted it yet,” he quipped cheekily.
Miles raised his eyebrows, challenging Alex’s comment. “You try it first, be your own judge.”
Alex took the cup, repeated the sip he took with Miles’ cup, and put it down.
“Doesn’t taste as good as yours,” his complement was hidden in the self-deprecative tone.
Miles snorted, “I might’ve been doing this since I were 16, but it’s only a cup of coffee. ‘S made out of the same ingredients.”
He hummed, at a lack of smart responses. “Let me show you a few other things. You’ve already nailed the basics by the taste of this,” Miles suggested, putting the mug down, licking at his top lip.
With Alex’s base knowledge of what he’d learnt from Miles, he quickly began picking up more and more in the time they spent together.
“Someone’s gonna have to drink all this coffee y’know?”
Miles shrugged. “It’s part of the process. I usually say drink the whole thing before starting another, but you were impatient. Looks like you’ve got a lotta coffee to drink if you don’t wanna let that go to waste,” he teased.
“So I’m not your first?” Alex smirked.
Miles chortled. He had no quip, nothing prepared for that remark.
Alex tried to fight a blush. He didn’t know he had it in him to make Miles laugh like that, let alone with such a suggestive joke. He smiled to his coffee cup, or rather many coffee cups, hiding his expression from Miles.
He tried to, at least. “Chuffed with that one, aren’t you?”
Alex blanked. “What?”
“The… coffee?”
“Oh. Right, yeah.”
“Idiot,” Miles snorted.
Something about the grinning boy at his side brought Alex out of his shell. The feeling was unplaceable, like a word lost on the tip of his tongue.
“Time’s it?” Miles asked.
“Uh…” Alex flicked his wrist, “shit, nearly eleven.”
“Better get cracking then. C’mon, help me set up.”
After a few minutes of tipping chairs, returning them to their rightful positions underneath the tables, Alex felt somewhat prepared for his first day. Courtesy of Miles, of course.
“Hiya there, what can I get for you?” came the first friendly offer from Miles. ‘Watch and learn,’ he’d winked.
Alex peered from the background, waiting for his first instruction.
“One cappuccino,” he bounced back the order to Alex.
***
“Can I get your number?”
Alex’s breath hitched in his throat. That was… rather forward. It wasn’t that he was opposed to the idea, rather an unexpected proposition from someone who continually managed to fluster him in only 5 hours of proximity.
Miles continued at his hesitation, meanwhile untying the apron from his waist. “Y’know… to organise shift timings?”
His hopefulness had apparently gotten the better of him. “Oh, yeah. Sure,” he relayed the digits back to Miles, who typed them instantly into his phone.
“Thanks,” Miles smiled.
Said phone buzzed. Tilting the screen to his view, he was greeted with the notification of an unknown number.
‘Hi :)’ the text read.
Alex’s stomach did a little somersault. Looking back up at Miles, he smiled wholeheartedly.
“I’d better get goin’… thanks for everything, Miles.”
“See you…” He made a vague gesture, in response, “soon, hopefully.”
It took Alex quite the effort not to overthink his apparent afterthought, nodding, trying to hide a blush.
He made his way out of the now empty cafe, slipping his phone into his back pocket, waving Miles a farewell.
It was probably due to the silent urge to tell Matt about his day that made his journey quicker than the morning walk. Around three minutes after he’s left, his phone was pulled back out of his pocket, hovering curiously over the text.
What should he say? He only wanted his number to arrange shifts, nothing more. No need to overthink it.
He thought about confiding in his roommate - but at the end of the day if he hadn’t given him the initial shove, he’d have probably spent the day on the couch. So, conceding, he decided it’s be better to take matters into his own hands. Matt was his roommate, not his dad.
‘hey :)’ he typed.
Too enthusiastic? Whatever. He pressed send.
He stared at the screen intensely for a few seconds, wondering whether his decision to reply so soon would lead Miles to believe he was just a little too eager.
After he’d undergone all five stages of grief in the space of the minutes following his response, he put his phone back into his pocket, focusing his attention on the mid-afternoon breeze that followed his steps.