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The first time Viktor had walked into the café, Jayce barely noticed him.
It was the middle of a Saturday rush, the espresso machine was throwing a tantrum, and someone had spilled oat milk on the counter like it was a sacrificial offering. Jayce was elbow-deep in napkins and damage control when he caught a glimpse of a man in a long, dark coat, leaning slightly on a cane and squinting at the overhead chalkboard like it had personally offended him.
“Hello! What may we get you?” Jayce had greeted with a smile. When he had met Viktor’s eyes for the first time, all he could think was… honey.
“Do you have sweetmilk?” Viktor’s accent had rolled off, sending shivers in Jayce’s tummy.
Jayce blinked. “Sweetmilk?”
Viktor looked entirely serious as he nodded. “With condensed milk and anise.”
“Oh. Uh. No, sorry, we don’t have that.”
“Then an espresso for me,” Viktor’s expression did not change. “With six sugars, please.”
Jayce paused. “Six?”
“Yes.”
“…All right.”
Jayce called out when the order was done. Viktor took his coffee, stirred in the sugar, and sat in the corner by the window. Silent. Still. Disappearing into a book thicker than Jayce’s entire college transcript.
Jayce didn’t think much of it.
Until Viktor came back.
And then came back again.
And again.
Always early in the morning. Always dressed like he lived in a very dramatic novel. Always ordering the same thing. And Jayce came to know more about him through small talk, like his name was Viktor and that he was completing his PHD at Piltover Chemicals.
“Do you want me to keep some sweetmilk around for you?” Jayce offered one day.
Viktor blinked. “No. That would suggest I plan to return.”
“You’ve been here every other day for three weeks.”
“That’s a coincidence.”
“Sure it is.”
Jayce started calling him "Sugar Guy" in his head. It made it easier to think about the way Viktor stirred his coffee like he was solving a puzzle, or the way his hair always looked like it had lost a fight with the wind but still somehow won.
He started giving Viktor the corner table before he even asked. Started putting six sugars on the counter without a word. Once, he accidentally gave him seven, and Viktor looked personally betrayed.
Then came the fateful rainy Thursday.
The café was quiet. Mist curled against the windows, and the whole world smelled like wet concrete and warmth. Jayce was experimenting with seasonal syrups when he looked up and saw Viktor, dripping at the edges, curls damp, coat heavier than usual.
Jayce grinned. “Rough morning, Sugar Guy?”
Viktor glared, but it lacked bite. “Don’t call me that.”
“I could call you Sweetmilk instead.”
Viktor harrumphed, looking like a drowned cat.
Jayce beamed. “Guess what we do have today?”
He reached under the counter and pulled out a small can of condensed milk.
Viktor stared. “Is that—”
“Imported,” Jayce said proudly. “I figured, hey, if someone’s gonna risk diabetes every morning, they deserve the good stuff.”
For the first time, Viktor actually looked… thrown. He glanced at the can, then at Jayce. “That’s surprisingly thoughtful.”
Jayce shrugged, trying to ignore the way his chest fluttered. “You say that like I’m not always thoughtful.”
“You did give me seven sugars once.”
“That was sabotage. You made me nervous with all that staring.”
Viktor actually smiled . Just the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he didn’t want to admit it had happened.
Jayce made the sweetmilk. Poured it carefully. Slid it across the counter with a flourish. Viktor took a sip, then froze.
Jayce leaned forward. “Well?”
Viktor looked at him. Really looked. His eyes, behind the tired, sharp lines of his face, were oddly soft.
“It’s perfect,” he said, voice quiet. “Just the right amount of sweet.”
Jayce swallowed. “Yeah,” he said. “I thought you might like it.”
Neither of them moved.
The café was warm and quiet, the rain ticking gently against the windows like a reminder that the world existed, but just barely. Jayce wanted to say something clever. Or something bold. Instead, he leaned an elbow on the counter and smiled at Viktor.
“You know,” he said casually, “I could make some sweetmilk for you whenever you drop by.”
Viktor blinked, surprised. “You’d do that?”
Jayce shrugged, but his grin gave him away. “Only if you plan on coming back.”
There was a pause. Viktor’s eyes softened, a smile playing at his lips. “Then… I suppose I will.”
Jayce held his gaze, voice dropping a touch. “Good. I’ll make sure the sweetmilk’s waiting.”
There was a moment, a quiet, gentle something , settling between them like the steam curling from the coffee cups. Not loud, not rushed. Something unspoken, waiting to grow.
Viktor’s fingers lingered on the edge of the counter. “I suppose you've secured yourself a long-term customer, then.”
Jayce grinned. “You bet. I don’t stock sweet milk for just anyone.”
Viktor huffed out a laugh, soft and real. “Then I’d hate to disappoint your inventory.”
Jayce didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.
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