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When Conor moved to New York, he knew he had to tick off the first item on his to-do list: find a café where he could write. He wandered the streets for weeks, getting lost countless times, until he finally found it. "Midnight Coffee" was written in gold above the door. The facade was a dark blue with intricate details. The aroma of freshly roasted coffee and baked goods almost overwhelmed him. The interior, made of black-stained wood, drew Conor in like a magnet. "Hello Love, what can I get for you?" asked the woman behind the counter. She was nearing retirement but knew she could never part with this place as long as she lived. "This is amazing," Conor said, turning around. It was practically empty, which made it even more inviting. Conor avoided crowds. The woman beamed at him. She loved it when people loved her shop, because of the loving attention to detail. Every book on the wall had been carefully chosen. Every plant had its designated spot, and every cushion was hand-sewn. Conor knew this would become his second home.
"Can I get a big cup of black coffee, please?" he asked the woman. "Oh, and I'm Conor, by the way," he smiled at her. She tilted her head slightly but smiled nonetheless. "Hello Conor. I'm Victoria. Where are you from?" she asked as she began to take his order. "I live practically around the corner, but I'm originally from Australia." She nodded knowingly. "None of my customers have ever introduced themselves to me before," she grinned. Conor was surprised. He had always assumed that Americans introduced themselves to everyone and everything. Apparently, that wasn't the case. Victoria noticed the strained look on Conor's face. Victoria handed Conor his coffee. But instead of sitting down, he remained standing at the counter. After a long conversation, Victoria now knew that Conor had more or less fled Australia after his heart was broken. He wanted to start over in New York. Conor now knew that Victoria was originally from England and had moved to New York for the same reasons. She found her new love, opened the shop, and started a family. Her husband died of cancer a few years ago. As the café became increasingly crowded and Victoria barely had time to talk to him, he left.
Conor had become a regular. He sat in the same seat at Victoria's cafe every day. She always joked that Conor was the only one keeping the place alive. Which wasn't true. The cafe was doing well. But only a few people stayed and filled the space with life. "God damn it," Conor cursed when he realized his poem wasn't going to work. "Watch your profanity," Victoria joked. "Sorry," Conor muttered quietly. He was frustrated. He had a clear picture in his mind of the words appearing on the paper. But he couldn't do it. Tearing his hair out, he crumpled the paper. The door swung open. A tall man with blond curls and a bouquet of flowers walked in. Victoria immediately lit up. "Shane! You're back!" She practically ran around the counter to hug Shane. Conor didn't even register the situation. He was too caught up in his own frustration. After Victoria had asked Shane about his semester abroad in Norway, she immediately involved her grandson. The dishwasher was leaking and needed fixing. "Who's that?" Shane asked his grandmother, nodding in Conor's direction. "A new regular," she beamed. "He came by one day, introduced himself, and has stayed ever since. Sweet boy, loudmouth, but his heart is in the right place." Shane watched Conor repeatedly crossing things off on his paper. "What's he doing?" Shane asked quietly. "He's trying to write. But it's not working," Victoria replied with a sad expression. She had grown very fond of Conor in the past few weeks. "He needs sugar. He seems to have no energy. Would you bring him a piece of the chocolate cake? I'll pay," Shane offered. Before Victoria could nod, however, Shane had to leave again.
Victoria arranged the chocolate cake and took it to Conor. "Sugar, for the brain," she said, placing the cake in front of him. He smiled at her gratefully. The cake tasted delicious. And indeed, Conor had a bit of a run of good ideas afterward. He managed to write several lines. As he was about to leave, he came back to the counter. "What are you getting for the cake?" Conor asked Victoria. But she just waved her hand dismissively. "It was paid for." Conor was puzzled, but didn't question it further.
This happened several more times. Shane repeatedly ordered and paid for chocolate cake for Conor. "Victoria. I need to know. Who is it?" Conor asked desperately. But she never revealed their identity.
One day, Conor came into the cafe and looked at the counter. "Hey Vic..." he stopped mid-sentence. It wasn't Victoria, but Shane. Conor knew Shane by now and knew he was Victoria's grandson. "Where is she?" Conor asked directly. It was unusual that Victoria wasn't there. Shane's expression turned sad. "In the hospital. She fell yesterday." Conor gasped. "Will she be okay?" he asked, shocked. Shane nodded. "They're operating on her tomorrow. She'll have to stay in the hospital for a while, but she'll be okay," Shane reassured Conor.
Conor asked Shane if he could visit Victoria. He got all the information and headed to the hospital. He found Victoria quite quickly. "Conor!" she exclaimed happily as the door opened. He practically ran to her and hugged her. "What happend?" he asked, a tear welling up in his eyes. "Oh, my legs aren't what they used to be. I tripped and landed really badly. And now I'm stuck in bed." Victoria explained that the surgery went well and that the doctors told her she would recover. Conor left the hospital full of hope.
Two days later, he went to Midnight Coffee. As he swung the door open, he bumped into it. A small sign hung on the door – "Closed today for private reasons." Conor swallowed hard. He fought back tears. He knew something terrible must have happened. Shaking his head, he ran home. After taking a few deep breaths, he called the hospital. “Hello, may I please speak to the lady who is in room 1807?” he stammered into the phone. “I’m so sorry, but she passed away yesterday.” The phone fell from his hand. Uncontrollable tears streamed down his cheeks. This couldn’t be happening. How? He had seen her just yesterday. She was fine. Cheerful and full of hope. Conor collapsed to the floor and screamed.
The café remained closed.
Conor walked past Midnight Coffee every day, hoping it was all just a bad dream and that Victoria would greet him from behind the counter. But all Conor found was a note. It said that Victoria had died and the funeral would be held on Wednesday. Conor's shoulders slumped forward. Quiet tears streamed down his face.
Conor hadn't thought he'd have to put his black suit back on so soon. He tried to tame his hair, but it was impossible. During the funeral, Conor lost all sense of time. It could have been minutes, or even hours. All he saw was the picture of Victoria. She was standing behind her counter, a huge smile on her face. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun, as always. Even though the image was black and white, it radiated warmth.
As she was lowered to the ground, Conor looked around for the first time. There were many people there. But his eyes remained on Shane. The only person whose name he knew there. His blond curls hung lifelessly around his face. His eyes were red and swollen from the many tears he had shed. Conor felt a lump in his throat. If he felt this miserable, how awful must Shane be feeling?
The funeral meal was held at Midnight Coffee. Victoria would have wanted it that way. Shane stood behind the counter, making sure every customer had a coffee and a slice of cake. When Conor entered and looked at Shane, his eyes began to water again. "My deepest condolences," he managed to say. Shane nodded, equally affected. Shane thanked him briefly and wordlessly made Conor a coffee. Black and a slice of chocolate cake.
Conor swallowed. He looked from the chocolate cake to Shane and back again. It felt familiar. However, he didn't know exactly why he felt that way about Shane. As the shop emptied, only Shane and Conor remained. Shane was tidying up. "I'll help you," Conor said, grabbing a rag and starting to clean the tables. "You know you don't need to," Shane replied. Conor rolled his eyes. "A 'thank you' would have been enough." Shane swallowed audibly. "Thanks."
Once everything was clean, Conor turned to Shane. "I know this is tactless. But... are you going to take over the shop?" Conor asked tensely. Shane remained silent at first. Part of him desperately wanted to. Another part wasn't sure he could take on his grandmother's legacy. He began to tremble slightly. Conor took his hand. "When was the last time you ate?" Conor asked Shane, concerned. He looked gaunt. Shane just shrugged. Conor stood up without a word, fetched a plate, and placed the last piece of chocolate cake in front of Shane. A single tear trickled down Shane's cheek. "Sugar is..." Conor began. "Good for the brain," Shane finished. A tired smile crossed Shane's face.
Conor's eyes widened. "You," he stammered. "It was you. Every single time?" Conor asked, breathless. Shane nodded as he began eating the cake. "I really needed to know you were okay. Besides, it always made me happy when you were successful," Shane smiled. His eyes were still filled with sadness, but a small spark of joy shone through them. Conor laughed. "Do you know how many poems I wrote about you? Like, without knowing you were the cake guy?" They both laughed. It was liberating and felt like a new beginning.
They stayed the night, talked for hours. Shane decided to take over the shop and continue running it in Victoria's spirit. Conor remained a regular. But not only that. He helped Shane wherever he could, not just in the shop, but also in his personal life. The two got to know each other better, went on dates, and eventually became a couple.
-
Conor lay in Shane's arms. The room was dark, illuminated only by moonlight. Shane brushed a strand of hair from Conor's eyes. Months had passed since they became a couple. Conor had never felt so alive in a relationship. He took a deep breath. "What's on your mind?" Shane asked. Conor wasn't the type of person who took a deep breath so easily. Conor placed his hand on Shane's bare chest. "Do you even know how happy I am to have you?" Conor asked suddenly. A wide smile spread across Shane's face. "I love you," Conor said suddenly. Despite the fact that Shane and Conor had been a couple for a while, no one had ever said those three magic words before. Shane gasped. He was too surprised to even speak. "You don't have to say it back!" Conor immediately backtracked, but his body tensed. A slight defensive posture emerged. He was annoyed with himself for having said it at all. He had never said those words to anyone before. But he felt it. And Shane felt it too. Through all the grief, all the hardship, Conor had always been there for Shane.
"Say something." Conor's voice was desperate. Shane's features softened. "You are my sun I gravitate towards." Conor's world seemed to stand still. It wasn't the same as his "I love you," it was so much more. That Shane expressed his love for him in Conor's poetic language was dizzying. Shane's lips curled into a smile. Seeing Conor so speechless was incredible. A small tear welled up in the corner of Conor's eye. Before it could fall, Shane wiped it away. Conor understood that Shane would be everything he ever wanted. And Shane knew he could never be separated from his own sun. Conor kissed Shane gently, so tenderly, as if he were afraid Shane would fall apart. Shane brushed his hair away from Conor's face and beamed at him.
"Sunny," he whispered. A shiver ran down Conor's spine. He found the name both grotesque and fitting. Grotesque, because there was nothing sunny about him at all. His pale skin and black clothing reflected nothing sunny. Yet it filled him with pride to be Shane's sun. He shook his head in disbelief. "If I'm Sunny, then you're Life," Conor decided. Shane looked at him, puzzled. "I can't imagine a life without you. I feel so seen, so happy, like I've never been before. I'm so glad you came into my life." Shane also shed a tear. They both knew this was just the beginning.
-
"We're going to be late!" came the shout through the house. Conor ran nervously through the apartment. "Life!" But Shane just rolled his eyes. "I'm already ready," he said, completely relaxed, as he walked down the stairs. His tie was crooked, his blond curls flying wildly around his head. Conor groaned. He untied Shanes tie and retied it. "Where is she?" Conor asked, stressed. "Relax, Sunny," Shane grinned. "VICTORIA!" Conor called through the house. A squeaky "Yes" came from the upper floor. "Honey, we're late!" Conor cried desperately. Completely relaxed, a little girl with brown curls and a white and blue dress walked down the stairs. Conor stopped for a second and smiled at Shane. Their daughter was perfect. Shane picked up Victoria and headed for the exit. "Do we have everything?" Conor asked again, stressed. Shane walked back and took his hand. "Now we do."