Chapter Text
A bell ringed throughout the cafe and the heavy footsteps were washed out by the chatter and coffee machines.
It’s only 2 hours into his shift and Matthias decided his joints ache and he needs to go home. Of course, he can’t do that. Not only would that be less pay, but he isn’t exactly looking forward to coming home sooner than he has to. All that’s waiting for him is that dreadful brother.
Rush hour has hit and making lattes feel like muscle memory now. An almost out of body experience as he makes probably the 20th of the hour. He just stares at steaming milk as it prepares and tilts the mug over a wee bit to apply the foam art that he’s perfected over the months.
In the beginning, his hands would get shaky and he held the mug in such a concentrated way that his wrist would be sore. And whenever he’d mess up the art, he’d shamefully slide the mug over the counter to the customer and look down to hide his face. God forbid a man mess up his latte art.
He already has a mangled face for the world to see, he doesn’t need people to also remember him as a terrible latte artist.
So now he carefully places the mug on a saucer matching the same forest green design and walks back over to the pick up counter. Matthias calls out the customer’s name, but doesn’t shout it. He knows that typically you call out the customer name in a raised voice, but he never found that strength.
His boss had once made a passing comment about it, but seeing how it is very rare that a customer has a problem with Matthias’ quiet voice or fails to hear their order, it wasn’t brought up again since.
A businessman; a regular, raises his hands as thanks to Matthias as he takes the saucer into his palm. Matthias vaguely nods back before making his way to the counter.
With a routine movement of clicking the pen in his pocket and withdrawing a post-it note with his right hand, he prepares the usual statement.
“Good morning, what would you like?” The pen already making contact to the post-it, unmoving. Matthias also does not make eye contact with the person, as per usual.
With the customer not immediately saying anything, Matthias starts loosely making tiny scribbles on the post-it note. Then he starts to get a bit restless with another second that goes by and his eye drag off to the side and then slowly up.
The first thing that catches his eye is the weird attire. Hm, the people that revolve in this shop are either businessmen in suits stopping by and getting a cup of joe for their busy day, or a regular down-to-earth person to enjoy the cozy atmosphere.
Seeing something out of the ordinary in Matthias’ boring circle in the world made him perk up, if only just a little bit.
His eye drifted further up to the stranger’s chest. A badge is perched on their left chest pocket. Matthias doesn’t know what it could be for, but he keeps that in the back of his mind for later.
By now it must have been like a minute of the stranger not talking.
He doesn’t know what changed, he’s had customers take their time but he never yielded to making eye contact.
Matthias looks up now to find the strangers eyes.
Oh.
Eye?
Matthias’ hand halts its ceaseless scribbling and he is unmoving as he stares at the place the man’s eye should be. It’s covered by bandages, sure, but the scars peeking out underneath the edge of the bandages hint it may truly be gone.
However, the actual visible eye next to the lack of one may be even more interesting. Though Matthias looked directly at it for a split second, it sent a slight shiver down his neck.
An unnatural yellow zoned in on Matthias’ eye, not changing expression. It is rounded yet cinched at the outer corner due to the man’s cheeks so high up and stretching with a smile.
The air in the room seems to have vanished and Matthias’ chest squeezes in a painful way that has him frantically looking away and back at his pen. His hands are clammy.
At last, the stranger speaks up. “It is a good morning. Can I have a caramel mocha please?” His husky voice pierces through Matthias’ mind.
Matthias readjusts his sweaty grip on his pen and scribbles away before nodding. “Anything else, sir?”
The man’s blonde eyebrow quirks up a bit. “No. Thank you very much.”
“Your name?”
A widened grin.
“…Florian.”
With that, Matthias wastes no time to step away from the individual and throws himself into preparing the beverage. He takes a moment to sigh quickly before quickly gathering his thoughts to focus on his work.
But then he feels somebody watching his back and his hands can’t help but be a tiny bit clumsy.
This situation isn’t weird. He isn’t the only person in the world missing an eye. And he isn’t the only strange person in the world. So why he feels shaken up, he doesn’t know. Maybe it was the otherworldly look in the man’s eyes that caught him off guard, but he shouldn’t be bothered with that nonetheless. Why can a stranger make him… not him.
Matthias forces his nerves to calm down and his usual expressionless face is brought back.
With a steady heart and steady hands, he brings the drink (which he doesn’t recall even making. Was he that in his head?) to the odd customer.
“Florian?” He calls out in his typical hushed voice.
To his surprise, the man takes the saucer straight from his hands instead of waiting for Matthias to slide it across the counter.
A second goes by and the man looks Matthias up and down before giving him a warm toothy grin.
“Thank you, Matty.” He chimes and then takes his leave to a hidden corner of the cafe out of Matthias’ sight.
Matty? How does he know that? How? Matthias’ hands drop to his side as he watches the stranger’s back leaving his sight. He goes to pat himself down for whatever reason, as if searching for an answer.
It dawns upon him and he slowly closes his eye with a quiet yet equally frustrated exhale.
His name tag. Louis messed with it again. Matthias snatches his name tag from his chest pocket and seeing as there’s nobody in line, he turns on his heel to walk into the backroom and mutter something to his coworker about taking over for him for a bit.
A fucking heart attack for nothing.