Work Text:
Paul drove Richie to school every Friday morning.
He’d been doing it since his nephew was in middle school. The school bus stopped being an option for Richie once the popular kids started picking on him during the ride to school. Neither of his parents’ work schedules allowed them to take him on Fridays, so that left Paul. Even after Richie started high school, even after his parents divorced, Paul upheld the routine.
Paul tried to make it a nice experience. He’d learned what questions to ask that would get Richie talking, which usually resulted in him rambling about the latest cartoon—or, as Richie would prefer he refer to it, the latest anime—he was into. He got enjoyment from that, and Paul got enjoyment from not having to do all the taking. He was never much for conversation.
A few years ago, when Beanie’s opened, Paul started bringing Richie there on the way to school. He insisted that it was so that both of them could get a pick-me-up early in the day, so Richie would be awake and alert by the time his first class started. Paul was sure Richie had accepted that explanation.
Until one Friday, in late September of Richie’s senior year of high school.
Paul had noticed a notable improvement in his nephew’s mood that had started the week before. He seemed less… well, maybe miserable was a rude way to put it, but it was accurate. Like whatever clouds that darkened his demeanour had parted, letting the sun shine on Richie for the first time in years.
The two of them stepped into the coffee shop together, as Richie was going on about an episode of Titan Fighters or whatever it was called. Paul tried to listen, but he always wound up getting lost in the convoluted plotlines of Richie’s shows. At least his nephew was enjoying himself.
Paul’s eyes began to wander forward, falling on the barista at the counter. As much as he tried to kid himself, he couldn’t deny the true reason for his daily visits. Hell, Paul came in multiple times on Fridays, because he needed more coffee later in the morning. He knew there was a Starbucks nearby, and there was a coffee machine at the office, but he liked coming to Beanie’s. It was part of his routine… and it was where this barista worked.
He always kept a respectful distance, of course. God knew how many creeps hit on her and her coworkers every day. That was exactly why Paul was as kind and inoffensive as possible whenever he interacted with her. No one else seemed to share his opinion of the barista, who was often grouchy and blunt, not at all like her cheery coworkers. But perhaps that was why Paul liked her so much. She seemed more human than her peers.
“Are you even listening?”
Richie’s question shook Paul from his thoughts. “Huh? Yeah, yeah, I’m listening.”
He scoffed. “Come on. You weren’t even looking at me.”
“I was thinking about what to order,” lied Paul.
“You order the same thing every time.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong.
“Are you gonna ask that barista out or what?”
“Wh-What?” Paul let out a strangled laugh, praying she couldn’t hear them from here. They were still close to the back of the line, so chances were low.
Richie gave him a deadpan look. “I already have to deal with Pete and Stephanie. Don’t make me suffer through this, too.”
Paul was at least vaguely aware of that situation, from both Richie and his coworker Ted. The latter focused more on how his “little bro bagged the mayor’s daughter”, but Richie had given Paul a more complete picture. According to him, the two of them were constantly dancing around their obvious feelings for each other.
“It’s different!” he insisted. “I barely know her. Hell, I don’t even know her name.”
“Then ask! Nothing’s gonna happen if you don’t make it happen.”
“It doesn’t need to happen, does it? I… Everything’s fine the way it is right now.”
Richie snorted. “Oh, please. You have the most boring fucking life, Paul. All you do is work, go to Beanie’s, and go home. Don’t you wanna be happy?”
“I am happy. Besides, da—being with someone wouldn’t automatically make me happy, even if I wasn’t. There’s other ways to do that.”
“Yeah, but clearly you’re interested in her. She wouldn’t, like, fix your life, but she’d at least make it more interesting.”
“Maybe,” he relented.
“So ask her out!”
“I’m not asking her out!” Paul was whisper-yelling at this point. “She’d think I’m a total creep! Again, we don’t even know each other’s names!”
“Fine. Then ask for her name.”
“That would be creepy too.”
“Not as creepy as asking her out.”
“I don’t want to be creepy at all!” As the conversation continued, more and more people were making and receiving their orders. There was only one person in front of them now.
“Okay, then just talk to her.”
“About what?”
“I dunno. I don’t talk to people.”
“You know that makes you a massive hypocrite, right?”
“Yeah.” Richie shrugged.
“I don’t wanna bother her. She’s working.”
“She clearly hates this job. Maybe she’d be happy to have someone to talk to her like a person.”
“Or she’ll get annoyed that I’m bugging her and trying to make her talk more than she has to.”
“Don’t you wanna take that chance?”
“No. Sorry.”
The person in front of them left with their order, leaving Paul and Richie in front of the counter. Paul gave the barista a friendly smile, and she returned a thin-lipped one of her own.
“Uh, hi. We’ll have a Woodchipperchino and a—”
“Black coffee,” she finished for him. Paul gaped at her for a second.
“How’d you know?”
“You get the same thing every day.”
“Oh! Uh, yeah. Makes sense. You, uh, you got it. Thanks.” The barista hummed in acknowledgement.
Paul handed her a ten-dollar bill to pay for the drinks, then retrieved a five-dollar bill for her tip. Instead of putting it in the jar, he just passed it directly to her. Paul had done this every day since the implementation of the “sing for a tip” policy, both so she wouldn’t have to sing and so he wouldn’t have to suffer through a song.
As she started making the drinks, Richie elbowed Paul in the ribs.
“Ow!” he grunted through his teeth.
Richie looked between Paul and the busy barista, eyebrows raised. Paul shook his head.
She’s busy! he mouthed.
“What?”
“Never mind.” Paul pressed his fingers against the counter as he silently waited for his coffee, trying not to look at the barista too much. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing over every now and again, though. At least she didn’t seem to notice.
“You’re gonna be miserable for the rest of your life,” Richie remarked in a low voice.
“You don’t know that.”
“Well, there’s at least a way to not be miserable right now.” He angled his head toward the barista, an obvious cue Paul ignored.
“I’m not miserable, Richie. I’m fine. I’m doing great. I have a good job, I’m doing well for myself, and I… I’m happy, okay? I’m happy.”
“Sure. Whatever.” Richie rolled his eyes. “It’s your choice. Either talk to her like a normal person, or be lonely the rest of your life.”
“Okay, just because I’m not dating anyone doesn’t mean I’m lonely. I have friends.”
“Really? Name three.”
“Well, there’s Bill… And Charlotte… And… Ted, I guess.”
“Ted’s not your friend. You just work with him.”
“He counts!”
“Here you go.” The barista held out their order, which Paul took. He handed Richie the cup marked with a “WCC”, keeping the unlabelled cup for himself.
“Thank you. Have a good day.”
“Thanks,” Richie echoed. The barista said nothing, but she gave them a small nod. Paul and Richie left the shop and got back in the car.
Richie didn’t say much for the rest of the ride, sipping his drink and looking out the window. Paul didn’t worry about it; this was normal for him. Richie didn’t typically drink and talk at the same time. Paul just focused on driving.
Finally, Paul arrived at Hatchetfield High, pulling into the drop-off lane. His nephew remained quiet as he slowly pulled forward, until Paul reached a spot he could let Richie out at.
Richie opened the passenger side door and stepped out.
“‘Bye, Richie. Have a good day at school.”
“I will. ‘Bye, Uncle Paul. Think about what I said, okay? Talk to her. When you go back later. Or tomorrow, or whenever you go to Beanie’s next.”
“… Okay. See ya.”
Richie closed the door.
Paul already decided he wasn’t doing that.
The next morning, Paul received the news that Richie had been found dead in the locker room of Hatchetfield High School.
He spent the following few days in a haze. Richie wasn’t the first person he’d lost, and he wasn’t the closest with his nephew, but the loss was very much felt. Richie had been a good kid, an innocent kid who didn’t deserve what happened to him. Even if Paul didn’t know exactly what had happened. The killer was still unidentified, and the motive was unknown. Paul had joined his local neighbourhood watch in hopes of discovering said killer’s identity and—hopefully—bringing them to justice.
Paul kept finding himself returning to the conversation he had with Richie at Beanie’s. The way his nephew seemed to show an investment in Paul’s life had stuck out to him. He genuinely seemed to want his uncle to be happy.
And he wasn’t. Paul could admit that to himself now, as he walked from the CCRP building to Beanie’s.
It had been a week since Richie’s death.
The first Friday in five years that Paul hadn’t brought Richie to Beanie’s with him.
Paul had never been happy. He’d tried to deny it, shrug it off, insist that his life was where he wanted it. But Richie had seen through that. He was maybe the only one who had ever seen through that.
His late nephew’s words echoed in his mind.
“Nothing’s gonna happen if you don’t make it happen.”
“You have the most boring fucking life, Paul. All you do is work, go to Beanie’s, and go home.”
“She wouldn’t, like, fix your life, but she’d at least make it more interesting.”
Paul had resisted taking Richie’s advice. It wasn’t that he didn’t want change. Of course he did. But he knew things could go wrong at every turn. He’d never even tried pursuing someone. It felt like too much of a risk. A risk of pain, a risk of heartbreak, a risk of being even unhappier than he already was.
“Don’t you wanna take that chance?” he remembered Richie challenging him.
Yes.
Yes, he did.
Richie would have wanted this. Richie would have wanted Paul to be happy.
Finally arriving at his destination, Paul pushed the door open. A tiny bell rang overhead.
I’ll do it.
I’ll talk to her.
For Richie.