Chapter Text
Sirius Black
Sirius woke up. The world behind the window was still dark and cold. It was so... grey, unhappy.
He heard James' alarm from the room next to his. Irritating beeps didn't last for long. James must have gotten up.
It was 6 a.m. An inhuman hour for waking up. For Sirius, it was torture to wake up this early. He was never a morning person—or he didn’t remember being one.
Sirius slowly went to the bathroom. His clothes from yesterday were still lying there, in a mess, just like he left them. A black shirt and jeans were waiting for him all night. He didn’t like them at all. He would never wear them if he didn’t have to. Unfortunately, he was expected to wear them. This was in the rules of his workplace—the dress code—to be dressed like this. He was a barista in the local café. He didn’t want to be one, of course, but he was just a hopeless drawer, an artist, who needed money. So here he was.
Sirius Black, the barista.
How lovely.
He took a shower last night, so he didn’t need to take one now. Sirius put his clothes on. He pinned his black, wavy hair, which was a little bit longer than shoulder length, into a messy bun.
Just like every fucking day.
The only thing he was allowed to do with himself for work was to have black polish on his nails and some eyeliner. He was so grateful for it. Oh, so grateful.
After he brushed his teeth and did everything he needed, he walked out of the bathroom. James was already standing in the kitchen with his usual messy hair. He looked like he was still dreaming about some kind of cats or something, his glasses falling from his nose.
When they were teens, James used to be a very morning person. He could wake up at 6 by himself and stay awake for the rest of the day. But something changed. At the age of twenty-three, he spent too much time at work, and when he wasn’t, he was doing things for himself, like hobbies. And it was good, but James Potter was doing too much. He was overworked.
“Mornin’,” Sirius said.
“Hi, Padfoot...”
“Coffee?”
“Please.” James was an excellent cook, but as good as he was at that, he was hopeless at making coffee without burning something.
Sirius grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. His eyes caught something: a white box of pills. A full box of pills. James’ new box of pills. He hadn’t taken them. But Sirius ignored it. Maybe James needed to take them later or something. Sirius trusted his friend enough. They’d been friends since they were eleven, for god’s sake. So Sirius just kept making coffee. The smell of the bitter drink filled the flat. Sirius grabbed sugar and added two spoons to one of the cups—James’ cup. Sirius never understood and would never understand how James could flaw coffee like this. Accidentally, Sirius looked at the clock and realized that he needed to leave for work. He took a huge sip of his coffee, nearly spilling it.
“Sorry, James, I need to go.” He ran to put on his jacket and shoes.
“Bye!” he said quickly. He didn’t hear what James said because he was already rushing down the stairs. He went outside, and freezing air grazed his face. The café wasn’t far from where he was. He just needed to cross the street. But he still needed to rush. If he wasn’t on time, his boss would be angry, and no one really liked her angry. No one found it exciting to anger her. Sirius had luck—it wasn’t his day to open the café, so he didn’t need to be so early.
One plus.
The café was warm, music in the air. It was cozy.
“Finally.” Marlene, who opened the café today, was already preparing it to be ready to open. “What took you so long?”
“I’m not late. I still have ten minutes to come here.”
“You made me wait for you, so today, you are cleaning the tables.”
“Not fair.”
“Not my problem, Black!”
“Fuck you, McKinnon!”
Marlene started to exhibit cakes in the showcase. They sat in silence for some time—not long, because someone came in.
“We’re closed. You need to wait. Five minutes,” Marlene said.
“Marlene, really, is it a problem? Just five minutes?” Sirius was a little bit irritated. “You can come in.” The stranger smiled at him.
“Thank you.” Stranger smiled at him, and than Sirius realised how beautiful he was.
Oh, beautiful man...
The stranger took off his coat. Sirius looked at him once more as he was ordering coffee.
Oh, how beautiful he looked...
Sirius took his sketchbook from his jacket and started to draw. He was drawing the Beautiful Man. When he looked at him again, he met his hazel eyes. The Beautiful Man was staring at him. They were staring at each other. Sirius felt like his face was turning red, so he looked at his drawing again.
This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.
He took in his art again. It was good. It was really good. Really, really good. Why couldn’t he be a drawer instead of a barista? His dream was to be a drawer since forever. He wanted to do what he loved. Sirius heard the sound of the closing door. His heart froze. The Beautiful Man was leaving.
Oh, Beautiful Man...
Sirius wasn’t thinking when he ran after him. Of course, he wasn’t thinking—at least, not clearly. It wasn’t dark outside. The sun hadn’t risen properly yet, but it wasn’t dark.
“Wait!” Sirius shouted after the stranger. And again. He wasn’t thinking.
“It’s you.”
“It’s me... Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Hi...” Sirius’ face turned red again. “Hi...”
Stupid, stupid...
“Something wrong?”
Oh, his voice. The Beautiful Man had a wonderfully caring voice. Every single piece of him seemed to be caring, gentle, wonderful.
“No... Yes...” Sirius wanted to disappear. “I drew you.”
“You drew me?” He seemed to be so confused. “Why?”
“I think you are beautiful...”
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid...
“Can I look at it?”
Oh, god. God, he wants to look at it.
“Yeah, sure.”
“It’s beautiful. It’s a masterpiece.” The Beautiful Man looked at the drawing once more. “Sirius Black...” he read the signature.
Masterpiece, masterpiece... masterpiece...
“That’s my name...”
“It’s beautiful.”
Beautiful...
“Can I take it?”
“It’s why I ran after you.”
Beautiful Man...
“I think I need to go back...”
“I think you do.” The stranger looked into Sirius’ eyes. “That friend of yours is looking for you.”
“Bye...”
“Goodbye... Sirius Black...”
Beautiful Man...
Sirius looked as the stranger’s figure was slowly walking away. It was smaller with each step he made. Sirius came back to the café when the Beautiful Man was no longer visible.
“Jesus, Sirius, why did you run after him?” Marlene asked.
“I wanted to show him that I had drawn him.”
“Really, Sirius? You drew a stranger?”
“Yeah... He was beautiful...”
“He had scars on his face.”
“They were beautiful.” Marlene looked at him, and after that, she started to laugh terribly.
“Sirius, you’re acting like a teenage girl.
” “He said that my name is beautiful.”
“Sirius, you will probably never see him again.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Never.”
And they laughed. So bad. Oh, so bad.