Chapter Text
Noel didn’t mind the coffee shop. Truly! It wasn’t always ideal; he left highschool with big dreams like France, theater, and bad love. He only ever made it to Quebec, in a coffee shop owned by Constance, a childhood friend of his, and disappointing rounds of speed-dating that left much to be desired.
All that being said, he was grateful to even make it that far. Everyone born in Uranium shared one fear: being buried there. Noel could at least claim that he made it out of that sad little town. He also was lucky enough to have Constance. They weren’t particularly close in high-school, despite having choir together all four years. Constance was always kind and friendly towards him, which was appreciated. Then again, that was kind of her thing.
Constance adored Uranium, for whatever reason, but still left soon after graduation. She believed that with a little love, luck, and determination, she could open up more Blackwood Cafes, so that small-town kids like her (and Noel) could feel at home, even when far away from it. The Blackwood Cafe always felt peaceful, even on the busiest of days. Work was put in to ensure that every patron felt all of the best parts of the “tiny town aesthetics”, as Constance always said. Constance had always been the sentimental type, in that way.
So Noel was being completely honest when he said he liked his job. Even if he didn’t, college expenses were not going to pay themselves.
However, that didn’t stop some days from feeling like absolute hell on earth. Constance had called him at 3 in the fucking morning to inform him that she’d be out sick. He assured her it was perfectly fine, and that he could cover for her (despite today being his day off). So here he was: at work at 7am, filled to the brim with caffeine, and ready to serve some customers.
Mornings were always busy. People rushed to get their coffee before going off to work. Noel dreaded this would be the case as he set everything up to open. His humming was drowned out by the whirring of the cars just outside, and the droning of the machines. Birds chirped, a small clock ticked from its place on the wall, and he could hear chatting outside as other shops, such as a flower shop, bakery, clothing store, and many others also prepared for the day ahead. In that moment, he understood Constance’s vision, maybe even for the first time ever. It felt quaint and peaceful; a feeling he once found boring, but in this moment found to be a comfort, soothing his aches over the much less glamorous aspects of adult life.
The first customer of the morning was a regular. A kind elderly woman who always ordered a cup of earl gray tea, and would charm the employees with stories of her grandchildren, old gossip from decades ago, or cute tales of Beanie, her cat, if the store was empty. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. A mere fifteen seconds later, another person rolled in: a tired looking father with a young daughter.
While Noel couldn’t imagine why the two were up so early, the child took it in stride. Her face was adorned with a grin (which had a middle tooth missing), she was dressed in a pair of bright, glittery fairy wings, and under her arm she held a teddy bear.
“Who’s this?” Noel asked with a kind smile. Young kids were always hit or miss; while some were incredibly sweet, others had to be avoided at all costs. However, he felt that this one was one of the former. She reminded Noel of a younger him in some ways. His bunny, Lola, would never leave his side until 3rd grade (when he started being bullied for not picking a “manlier” toy).
The girl’s grin spread impossibly wider as she declared “this is Queen Fuzzie Boo-Boo the Fourth, and she’s my bestest friend!”. The father, though still apparently weary, smiled at his kid’s enthusiasm.
“Wow, I wasn’t aware we were in the presence of royalty! What would Her Majesty and her closest advisor like this fine Tuesday morning?”. Clearly, his years as a camp counselor counted for something, because the way this kid smiled when she realized an adult was actually engaging with her was worth all of the glitter on his clothes, and all of the times he had to clean up spilled paint.
“I want a hot chocolate! Extra chocolatey with lots of whipped cream and marshmallows! Fuzzie Boo-Boo can’t have anything though. Her tummy hurts if she has anything this early in the morning.”
“One extra chocolatey hot chocolate coming right up! And for you, sir?”
“I’ll just have a plain black coffee, thanks.” The man replied. He pulled out his wallet, paid for the drinks, and put a few small bills in the tip jar with a slight smile.
More customers followed: a hectic intern on a call, two college students who gossiped about a “Brad” from their economics class, a sapphic couple enjoying a day off together, an older man with a seemingly just as old dog. Almost an hour passed by as he made polite small-talk and prepared each item as best as possible: a latte, a blueberry muffin and a croissant, two mocha Frappuccinos, an americano. Noel felt this day wouldn’t be so bad after all.
That is, until, a disgruntled businessman storms in, briefcase and work phone in hand. He looks about 50-something if Noel had to guess, tired, and balding with just a hint of stubble adorning his chin. While the man talks much too loud, and the other patrons have all already thrown some kind of questioning glance, or, in some cases, a critical stare, Noel still musters up what he can to be cordial to the man. It is his job, after all.
“Hello sir! Welcome to the Blackwood cafe. What can I get for you?” Noel felt himself picking at his nail polish (a bad habit he’d had since he’d started painting them and could never really shake) as the man cut himself off, and began to stare him down.
“Give me just one moment Brenda,” the man said in what was possibly the quietest voice Noel had heard from him yet. Of course, this was not saying much at all, and the rest of the shop could still hear the man perfectly well. His next words were very clearly meant for Noel. “I’m on a call. Stay out of my way, and mind your own business, kid.”
“Oh,” Noel said plainly. It didn’t make any sense to him, since this man was clearly here for something, and he was standing right in front of the counter. Frankly, nothing about the man suggested that he wanted people to “mind their own business”. Between the obnoxiously loud talking, the crisp suit he wore, that Noel could only assume cost a small fortune, and the way he glared intimidatingly at almost everything in the store, the man certainly wasn’t difficult to notice.
Noel stumbled over his words to say this, say anything about how the man’s words came off as rude, but only got as far as “I just thought…” when the man cut him off.
“You thought what, boy? Time is money. I am worth a lot of money, so don’t bother me. Sit there and wait until I’m ready to order. Maybe go fix your hair in the back or something, huh?”
And what did Noel do? He did something he hadn’t done for ages, since highschool when he used to be picked on for his nail polish, or his music, or later on, for being gay. Noel froze. All eyes watched him as he stood there. The eyes took sides, made judgements. The daughter sat there, confused as to why he didn’t say anything. If he did say something in response to the man, it would just escalate the situation further. Ideally, he could reach a resolution that didn’t end with a screaming match, or worse, with Noel getting slapped in the face. The old man and his dog seemed more judgemental, like he should have never tried to speak up in the first place. He needed to; the Blackwood Cafe was known for being a safe space, free of people like this who just wanted to berate other people. His shaky hands slipped in an attempt to pick at his polish, and he accidentally ended up scratching himself instead, and removing a small bit of skin in the process.
Suddenly, an accented voice calls out from the businessman. “Hey, not cool, bro. Either order, or leave and let other people get stuff in peace.” As he turns to face the mystery person, Noel catches a glimpse of him. He’s about Noel’s age, but slightly taller. His hazel eyes seem rather inviting, despite the current situation. Messy brown hair is obscured slightly by a backwards baseball cap, and he is wearing a tightly fitted tank top and loose sweatpants. Quite frankly, he’s the most handsome man Noel’s seen in a while.
The businessman seems surprised by the other man’s interruption. However, he seems to realize that it is not worth the time, and goes to leave. The pretty man mutters the word “jerk” under his breath as the businessman picks up the phone once more and begins to rant to the poor soul on the other line.
Almost awkwardly, the other man approaches the counter. “Hope that was okay. Talking to that guy like that. You just… you seemed uncomfortable. I do not want you uncomfortable.”
Noel felt the heat rush to his cheeks at that. Sue him, a hot man swoops in and saves him from a shithead and he’s flustered. “Thank you. I really needed that help.”
“No, you did not. I see you”, the man looked down at his nametag clipped onto his apron, “Noel Gruber. You work so well with everyone. Talk to them, perfectly. You could talk to a frog and still be engaging. I am certain that you could have handled it. But you should not have to.”
This man might kill him. He’s unsure how a complete stranger was able to give such a compliment, one that felt so intimate. As he smiled at Noel, he attempted to capture every inch of this man’s beauty. His pink lips were slightly cracked and dry, but added to his charm. Freckles adorned his face. They were light enough that had Noel been standing a little farther back, they’d have faded into the rest of the man’s glowing face. Dimples accessorized his already stunning smile. The man had the type of smile that could put anyone at ease, even the most restless of souls. His front teeth gapped ever so slightly, and his stance felt casual enough that he looked as if he belonged right there, leaning ever so slightly on the counter of the Blackwood Cafe to smile at Noel.
“Well, I will have a chocolate croissant. That is alright?” Crap, Noel probably looks weird now. He was too busy checking out a stranger who did one kind thing for him, and has now forgotten how to do his job, or even function like a human for that matter.
Subtly attempting to shake off whatever daze this man has put him in, Noel attempts a smile. “Of course! That’ll be 4.99. Cash or card?”
This time, the other man looks slightly dumbfounded, and Noel swears he catches him looking at his lips. “Uhm... Card.”
Noel is reluctant to grab the item, knowing that it will put an end to the interaction. While the Blackwood Cafe has some regulars, most patrons seem to be random passersby who stumble upon it and find its proximity convenient. However, after a pause that ends up slightly longer than necessary, Noel passes the bagged croissant over to the other man. “Thank you, любов. Have a good day.”
Noel’s only mostly sure he responds with a “you as well” before the man is gone.
It takes Noel approximately 30 minutes of repeating the entire conversation in his mind before he realizes he never even got the man’s name.