Work Text:
(A drawing for this AU I made that inspired this fic.)
The golden hour light streams through the glassy windows of a humble apartment in London. Inside the small, brick building is a bedroom cluttered with all sorts of unfinished engineering projects— ranging from tiny toys to metallic robots that are all mechanical in nature.
Themes of eggs and snakes are a noticeable pattern etched along each project, whether through the design of the build itself or the carvings that decorate them.
Pressed against the wall over the long wooden workbench are two framed diplomas that glimmer subtly from the streaks of sun outside. One has the words Mechanical Engineering scrawled elegantly on the paper with black ink, the other reads Computer Science.
Gentle humming whisks through the room mixed with the scent of copper, all emitting from the inventions lining the room’s tables and shelves. The only other noise breaking the stable simmer of barely-there-silence are the sounds of keyboard keys clattering.
By the office desk next to the unkempt bed in the middle of the room sits a man slightly hunched over his computer, Pendleton.
Dressed in an academic aesthetic akin to his personality, Pendleton sits wearing a grayish purple cotton vest over a once freshly pressed white dress shirt and a crooked wine red tie in between. A metal fried egg pin sits along the left side of his vest’s chest— barely in view with how his flowing, ebony strands curtain down the sides of his face and hang just around his waist area.
He types with sheer focus emanating from his fast flying fingers. Gold-rimmed circular glasses reflect the lines of codes presented through his desktop screen and before he knows it—
His alarm goes off.
The loud ringing noise pulls Pendleton out of his typing haze and he lifts his head immediately up from the screen and scrambles to find where the noise is coming from. Like a deer caught in headlights then being triggered to run off, his fidgety hands feel for his phone, wherever it is on his desk.
“Oh dear, where on Earth is it?”, he mumbles breathily as he digs through piles of blueprints and used up sheets of paper that are spread across his desk.
A few sheets fly off along with some chewed up pencils that roll over and land on the carpeted floor. He mumbles more statements of worry to himself until his hand finally grasps an indent right behind his monitor,
“Aha! There you are, you bothersome thing!”
The phone continues to ring its alarm until his bony finger drags across the screen to stop it. He lets out a relieved sigh while his other hand mindlessly threads through his long locks for comfort after the sudden disturbance.
He glances at the time flashed on the tiny powerful device, “5:30 pm…”
Pendleton easily gets lost in his work and he knows that. The intricacies of engineering his inventions and constructing code that allows them to function as he pleases is a magnificent world of wonder very few understand.
At least, that’s how he feels every time someone tries to probe more into his interests. Someone as in, old ladies in grocery stores, or maybe some casually curious librarians.
He doesn’t socialize much… or at all, really. He gets too lost in his little world of creation that anything else outside of that becomes white noise.
He reaaally should try to talking to his peers more, he thinks.
He lets out a sigh and turns to lean his weight back against his desk. His gray eyes hop around his chaotic room. To any new onlookers, this place is a mess— a dump even. Especially with all the scraps of metal and mechanical components lying around everywhere.
Is that some grease staining his bed sheets? Crap. He never noticed that before. With a shake of his head, he sets his phone back down on his desk in a spot more visible then walks over to relieve his mattress from the dirtied cloth.
Despite what one may think, Pendleton’s a pretty organized man. As organized as his overactive brain allows him to be, always buzzing with new ideas, always wanting to do work with his hands.
One corner of his bedroom is designated only for his best inventions, ones that got him accolades during his time in university.
Another corner’s strictly for coding— his desk filled with all sorts of blueprints that act as guide on what movements or functions he wants his creations to enact.
Another side includes his interests outside of inventing, video game consoles, Pokémon card collections, anime figurines and movie posters.
And of course, his sleeping corner where he barely uses on nights filled with too many passion project ideas that he needs to scribble out at the very least. It’s a simple bed with a small bookshelf next to it lined with classical novels he sometimes pretentiously enjoys.
He only reads them so he can fall asleep fast though. Literature doesn’t strike his interest as much as programming or machineries do.
His train of thought gets broken by another sound coming from his phone— a notification chime. He glances back to the screen with his dirtied bed sheets still in his hands.
It’s an email that’s from one of his clients, asking for updates on the latest developments of the website he’s tasked to fix up. Pendleton briefly skims through the preview of the notification before it fades to black.
That’s his line of work, it’s not exactly ideal for him but so long as it helps him pay the bills and fund his personal projects then he can manage working for overseas clients and such.
Before he feels like going back to work, he folds up the sheet in his hands and tosses it into a nearby laundry hamper by his bed. Another glance across his room and his eyes catch sight of the nearly setting sun through his windows.
Slight panic jolts across his veins as he remembers what his alarm was for— coffee! And his favourite cafe’s going to close soon, gah!!!
He starts scrambling again, grabbing his phone and rushing out of his room then dashing through the hallway straight to his front door all while making sure he doesn’t trip over the boxes of wires and electronic parts that line the exterior of his living room.
His hands habitually find his keys and wallet before running out of his apartment, locking the door behind him in a hurry.
He dashes through the stairs but stopping shortly in the middle of the flights to catch his breath. He’s not physically fit, as clearly presented by his skinny and tall stature, but he presses on nonetheless.
For coffee!
…that he knows he can easily make at home but going outside for some isn’t so bad now that he’s gotten some parts over himself for it.
He quickly pats down his top and black pants before his dress shoes’ heels meet the remaining carpeted steps that’ll grant him his once-daily schedule of fresh air and sunlight. His waist-length hair dances with the wind as he speed walks instead to the cozy cafe down the nearest corner of the street.
He arrives just in time as the small business is still open and catering to a few more customers inside. He takes one more deep and slightly excitable breath before entering.
The bell above the door rings as per usual to notify the staff of another customer’s presence and the strong, wonderfully warm scent of fresh brews waft across his entire senses. He walks in with his hand fidgeting with the other one as he waits for his turn behind a few other people.
Pendleton thinks himself as an unnoticeable, invisible presence that even upon entry, no one looked his way. And you know what? He actually appreciates that more than anything.
He’d much rather be in his own little world than be scrutinized for his every move anyway. He doesn’t think his nerves can handle all that.
One order of black coffee and a glazed donut later and he finds himself sitting by a corner table that’s in perfect view of not just the large windows of the coffee shop but also the entryway.
Despite his desire to avoid social interactions whenever his nervous persona can, he does have a habit of people-watching.
Much like his inventions, sometimes he’d pick apart the way a person looks and holds themself not as a way to judge them but to form a story of their life. It makes him feel closer to what other people who appreciate socializing talk about.
But at a completely safe and non-intimidating distance.
Sure, he can get really lonely sometimes… okay, maybe all the time— but it’s just so easy to pick apart and build up inventions than doing the same with people.
It’s not like a person who can singlehandedly change his life will just waltz in through the nearly-closing coffee shop just as the sun’s about to set.
Ding!
“Hi there! May I take your order?”, chimes the barista as this new customer enters.
A person dressed in simple, yet alternative fashion walks through the door. Their hair’s messily curated in the style of a wolf cut mullet combo; their top’s a fitted soft maroon with heavy large prints on the center while tucked neatly in black cut-off shorts that pair well with the black grommet belt along their waist.
To add on to the edgy statement of their aesthetic, the new customer accessorizes themself with a leather black choker holding a cross pendant, silver chained necklaces, studded leather bracelets, waist chains that are wrapped around their hips, fishnets with skull patterns on them, and chunky, platform boots decorated with more silver grommets and chains on the zippers.
“T-they look amazing!”, whether Pendleton murmured that out loud or kept it within his thoughts is lost on him.
It’s a truly fortunate thing he’s seated in a faraway corner where no one would’ve heard either way… probably.
His eyes catch sight of two things he finds in common with this stranger. The glasses, albeit black-rimmed and squarish, and the snake tattoos inked majestically on their collarbones.
Much like his interest for eggs and their versatility, snakes are also one of the few things he finds an inclination towards. Just because he understands such solitary creatures in the same way that cats are. But serpents are just a little side-interest he has.
He just thinks they’re neat even though he only knows surface-level information about them.
Pendleton awkwardly steals glances at the stranger who’s preoccupied with their phone right now while waiting for their order. He keeps his head slightly ducked down, pretending to sip from his coffee cup while his pale features are halfway covered by his silky dark strands like that of an eclipse.
Oh if only he has the guts to strut right up to them and ask to be friends…
Freshly moved into the city of London for a one-year long vacation, the next thing you want to do after unpacking your things for the day is to, of course, visit a new cafe. The locals have left stunning reviews on the one just down the corner of the street and you’re determined to check it out before closing.
But first, you glance at the manageable accommodation you were able to snag at a worthy price, making sure everything’s neatly unpacked and no stones have been left unturned before deciding to head out.
The interior of the apartment is cozy, a studio room with partition walls that add to the minimalistic white, gray, and wood vibes that the landlord was going for. Though in your opinion, what really makes the space cozy in your eyes are the things you brought overseas while you stay here.
Hanging by the slightly left ajar wardrobe are your varying clothes in mostly dark and black colors, each coupled with complementing accessories such as silver chains and chokers. You’ve been dressing alternatively for a while now after exploring your preferred style during your teenage years.
This style just brings out a sense of confidence in you that no other aesthetic does— that and the political attachment to being and dressing alternative carries a weight that you also truly believe in.
At least in the Western sense.
On the bed are all— yes, all that you brought from home— of your colorful plushies, ranging from food varieties to internet fandom-related ones.
A colorfully stark contrast to the articles that can be found inside your wardrobe. You also decorated the bed with night and star-themed sheets that just feel right.
And in the mini-bookshelves next to the mattress are your collection of novels in different genres— from sci-fi, to horror, and especially coming-of-age ones that you find so endearing.
You would have brought more decorations to really set the mood of the rented place but the landlord would only let you do so much to the room. After all, it’s not like you’re renewing the contract once your visa expires.
On the long desk near the front door houses your most-prized devices and what’s been helping you elevate your life while granting you a deep sense of fulfillment— your laptop and your trusty screen tablet.
Oh how far you’ve come since you first started picking up this line of work, your mind thinks with a hint of pride. Making illustrations for video game developers, whether indie or for more-known companies has never been more enjoyable than anything else you’ve pursued in your life.
You don’t quite know why you chose London as your first city abroad to travel to for a year long either. It’s just one of those moments where your gut tells you something and you just hop on it because honestly?
When has it ever been wrong?
Hey, maybe you’ll come across one of your old university professors that also lives here and catch up. So many things can happen in a new city with new people!
New people like… your eyes catch sight of a person rushing across the sidewalks in view of your apartment window. A man? A woman? A person with raven hair dressed in a delightfully academic outfit hurries in a blur before disappearing from your window’s view.
You let out a chuckle to yourself. They must be in a hurry to get to somewhere. But where, you wonder.
The nearest bus stop is on the opposite side so they may not run off far. Perhaps they intend to deliver something? Or catch up on purchasing something instead? To see someone important?
Your mind curiously plays around with speculative stories of the stranger’s behavior. A habit you easily fall into when observing people outside.
But then you catch yourself, shake your head, and stretch those sore muscles from all that carrying and unpacking.
“I need a matcha…”, you murmur out loud before checking your reflection in the mirror, grabbing your wallet, keys, and phone, and exiting your accommodation.
The cool London air greets, and even nearly smacks, your face upon stepping into the sidewalks. You’re not used to this climate… you should have brought a jacket.
You groan to yourself and still stubbornly walk towards the cafe because mama raised no wimp.
“I’ll just order it as takeout.”, you hush reassuringly under your breath, the coldness of the temperatures causing your words to form smokes from your lips.
The scent of fresh air from the tall oak trees surround and touch your senses as the orderly historical-looking buildings parallax into your view upon each step taken.
“U-um… h-hi!”, Pendleton lamely taps on the stranger’s shoulder. His face is slightly pink with fluster and his head tilts partially to the side to let his long hair curtain some of it out of sheer shyness.
You turn around to see this tall and lanky, long-haired man with noticeable eye bags and paper white skin and two thoughts instantly form in your head.
One: What the fuck, he’s hot? And two: Isn’t that the person you saw running outside your window earlier?
Curiously, you turn your body to face the awkward figure. He looks fidgety and clearly trying not to stutter on the spot. Great. Not only does he look hot but he also acts endearingly attractive too?
You’re not mentally prepared for this. You just wanted your matcha and that darn strawberry cake slice you’ve been eyeing since you entered the cafe and be on your merry way!
Despite your inner turmoil, your face keeps that blessed resting bitch face you’ve been adorned with all your life. Interactions feel less intimidating when you’re less facially expressive.
Thank the gods above for your parents’ genes.
“Hi?”, you say raising a curious but also cautious eyebrow at the meek stranger. That reaction seemed to have him wanting to squeak on the spot.
Did you say that too harshly? It’s just one word…
“I— um… you- you dropped… this.”, his seemingly sweaty palm opens towards you and underneath the ceiling lights glint against a steel heart pendant.
The stranger’s voice is soft, stammer-y, and with a hint of vocal fry at the ends… how endearing, you thought further. But you bring your attention back to the stranger’s hand and the tiny steel heart resting on his open hand.
“What?”, you ask slightly taken aback before realizing that it looks familiar. You then look down at the waist chains tied elegantly around your hips, hand tracing along the thin links before looking back up at him with a confused gaze behind your glasses.
“Uh… That ain’t mine.”
“I- um- I thought…!”, he suddenly closes his hand in a panicked state, bringing his fist to his chest with his words caught in his breath unable to form anymore sentences.
He stands there like a deer caught in headlights while his other hand slides up to his long hair, threading his fingers through it awkwardly.
You chuckle softly then your eyes drift down to another stranger. A woman sitting with her back turned facing you and this clumsy stranger while she minds her own business drinking her coffee.
Her purse hangs on the backrest of the chair she’s sitting on and there, you see that it also has steel heart pendants hanging around it as decoration. You look back at the pale stranger and open your hand up to him to ask for the lost item, “I think I know whose that is.”
He blinks at you with wide eyes before ever-so-slightly shakily hands you the steel pendant. The simple brush of his fingertips is enough to confirm your guess that not only are his hands sweaty but they’re cold as fuck too.
Your hand flinches subtly but he doesn’t seem to notice it. It’s like touching an ice chip, your nerves just reacted accordingly.
You then turn and slightly bend down to the sitting woman with a simple, “Excuse me, ma’am? I think this fell off from your bag.”
Not much conversation was had apart from her courteously British-accented response, “Oh, thank you.”
“I’m sorry… I mistook it as y-yours.”, the first stranger pipes up as you finish the quick exchange with the woman. He’s still playing with his hair but with both of his hands now while his eyes avoid yours as much as possible.
The paleness of his skin only reveals so much of the blood rush happening inside him with how pink his cheeks have become. He must be flustered for making such an innocent mistake.
A cordial laugh draws out of you and out of habit when soothing your anxious friends— you reach up and gently rub your hand around his upper arm as an attempt to ground him,
“It’s okay, really! Mistakes happen. I appreciate that you tried to give it to me when you thought it was mine.”
You beam a smile at the stranger, the best that you can to show that you’re not as intimidating as he probably thinks you are.
You’ve had enough and more people in your life tell you that you look scary simply because of your edgy outfits with that blessing and curse of a resting bitch face.
You prefer to not add more to that tally.
The man takes the smile with widened eyes. His gaze flickers down to where your hand soothed his arm and back up to your docile expression. He does that repeatedly for a second before stammering a soft, “O-oh… okay then.”
Breaking the conversation between you two, the barista behind the counter calls your name with your matcha and strawberry cake slice packaged in a cute paper bag.
You smile and politely nod at the stranger before heading back to the counter, grabbing your food, and waving goodbye to him before walking towards the exit door holding your takeout in your arm.
He probably has a partner anyway, your mind reasons as you walk out the door— anything to get your thoughts away from being too attached to the pretty stranger.
Pendleton watches this confident stranger walk off, not without giving him a polite, wordless goodbye. He watches the way their boots tap against the tiled floor followed by soft clinking noises coming from every single chain around their body.
He stands there frozen for a moment before finally deciding to turn back to his corner table.
As he heads back, he can’t help but feel the heavy weight of longing. A magnetic pull urging him to follow after the stranger resonates throughout his entire being.
But he still trudges forward to his seat.
Fear and anxiety are, unfortunately, more tidal with their forces than the mere urge to run after someone he doesn’t know. The only upside is that he was able to gather three key information from that humiliating interaction:
One, the person was softer than he expected. That smile they beamed at him was unexpectedly kind and sweet that his knees felt like they were going to buckle from his nervous weight.
It’s not like no one has ever been kind or have smiled at him before but something about the way they expressed their kindness had him wanting to lean closer to them, physically and emotionally.
Two, they don’t look like they’re from around here— in terms of race, at least. Whether or not they’re actually from here is not a certain thing to Pendleton. Usually, it doesn’t matter, but knowing this detail about that stranger only makes him want to know more, as if he’s been given a new inventive idea that he wants to truly bring to life.
Except, instead of metal scraps, grease, and code, he’ll be dealing with something more complex than that— a human connection, a relationship of sorts.
And three, the barista mentioned their name and he heard it. He now has one personal detail about that stranger that already makes him feel attached. Connective strings have crawled their way up and around his body that invisibly ties him to whoever that person is just from knowing their name alone.
Every fiber of his being now seeks to get to know that person.
“That marvelously, lovely… confident… stunning person…”, he mutters under his breath as he slowly brings his leftover donut to his mouth while staring far too seriously at his empty coffee cup.
He feels more pathetic than usual now, sitting alone at the corner of a coffee shop, pining over someone he only exchanged conversations with for less than five minutes.
But what can he do? It’s not like they’ll come…
back…
to…
this cafe.
Cogs begin turning in Pendleton’s head that powers a light bulb of genuine idea. He may not be brave enough to have run after that person earlier when they left, but he can increase the probability of running into them often if he visits this place a lot.
And he means, a lot, a lot.
The idea’s light trickles down his mind and straight to his heart with a warmth he’s never felt before— that’s it. He’s decided.
Starting tomorrow, he’ll take his laptop to work on whatever his clients want him to do and bring it all to this cafe. All in hopes of seeing that stranger once more… and maybe next time, he’ll finally find the guts to get to know them.
The idea settles comfortably in his chest as he finishes his food and exits the shop with the bell ringing above the door just as they’re about to close.
“Thank you, come again!”