something i wrote ages ago but just cleaned up for publishing now? anyway enjoy

"My apologies, sir. I'll clean that up straight away."

Biting his lower lip precariously, the young man made fretful attempts at mopping up the spilled beverage that had toppled thanks to a clumsy turn on his part. Glasses low on his nose as he leant over the table a little, Matthew furiously dabbed at the runaway coffee.

"Nein, wasn't your fault. But thanks, man."

The young Canadian man hadn't had a chance to look up at the customer of which he was serving, not properly yet. He hadn't been the one to take the order after all, only the one to deliver, as he wasn't needed in the kitchen as of now. The customer was of a somewhat muscled build, wide shoulders, large hands. His hair was stark white, unusual, but it wasn't like Matthew to judge. What struck him as off was the strange colour of the man's eyes. Seeming to be crimson at the top, fading towards a bluer shade at the bottom. Rather interesting if you asked him.

Matthew finished mopping up the spill with the washcloth, and hastily tucked it into the pocket to the side of his light red apron, still embarrassed

"I'll get you another coffee, free of charge." He mumbled quietly, bowing his head and shuffling away.

For the owner of this Pancake House, he was probably the most insecure dork to work there. He stumbled a lot and had trouble keeping things fine and well, despite how hard he tried. This place really meant a lot to him. Perhaps it was just the sense of home, of somewhere warm and safe and full of friendly faces and nice food. It was an experience he wanted to share with the world.

Matthew returned to the table, a steaming mug of coffee cradled by both of his hands.

"Ah, I'm really sorry about before, mister.." His words faded off towards the end, waiting a reply from the customer in terms of a name.

"Gilbert. But you can just call me sergeant awesome." The customer chuckled, extending a hand for a handshake, but instead receiving the coffee mug.

Gilbert tilted his head slightly, before smiling and thanking Matthew.

"It's a pleasure, Gilbert." He dipped his head slightly and turned away, returning to the counter, smiling just the tiniest bit.

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully for the Canadian, the same as most days. Laughing quietly at Mathias' jokes from the other side of the kitchen, or quietly cooking by himself for various customers. But for some reason, he couldn't shake the image of that strange man from his mind.

"Hey, Matthew, orders are in." Mathias called from the counter, casually handing over his waiters' notebook.

To this, Matthew just sighed inwardly and let the corners of his lips curl into a smile. It was going to be a rather busy day today, Sundays often were, with young couples checking in for a sweet bite to eat or a hot beverage to relieve themselves from the bite of the cold and snow outside.

It didn't surprise him in the least that Lukas Bondevik sat at the counter-bar, clad in his thick coat and winter attire. It surprised him even less that Mathias rushed over to talk, making a coffee he would end up paying for, despite it being for Lukas.

Matthew turned his back to the counter, facing the kitchen, and placing the notebook down on the bench. It was with a tasteful flourish that he created what was on the ordered list, simply having to quick-bake some hotcakes and serve up part of today's cake special. Bearing his sweet smile still, he plated up each order and brought it to the counter for Mathias to serve.

The only thing to catch him off guard was that the white-haired man from yesterday was sitting in the same spot as before. What was his name?.. Gilbert, right? Yes, that was it. When he was done with today's shift, maybe he would be able to strike up a conversation. A new friend couldn't hurt, right? Matthew just hoped that the precocious man would still be there in the forty-five minutes that he had remaining on this shift. Gilbert had been there about that long last time, if the young man was remembering correctly.

Those minutes dragged on and on, with Matthew repeatedly glancing past the Dane (who was chatting it up with Lukas, the former being rather excitable as always, the latter not so much.) to the table where Gilbert sat, seeing if he was still there. Sure enough, there he sat, leafing through a small book. From where he was, he guessed a novel.

At last, Matthew's shift was over, and he untied and hung up his apron on the cupboard door in the kitchen. He had a break of an hour before it was back to work. It was the peaceful time of day, so few customers lingered around the store.

"May I sit here?" He asked softly, motioning to the chair across the table from the red-eyed man, receiving a glance and a nod, before the latter turned back down to the book in front of him. Matthew took a seat, hands on his knees beneath the table. Upon closer inspection, Gilbert had been writing in the book, giving the Canadian the idea that it was a diary, or a journal.

"New in town?"

Matthew had always been known for being very quiet, his voice rarely croaked up anything that could be heard too well. But at least he wasn't being drowned out by the voices of others who couldn't care less that he was trying to speak.

"Ja." Gilbert nodded, apparently finishing the scrawled sentence he had been scribbling down, before turning over the front cover to close the journal, placing his black and red pen down beside it.

"Where're you from, then?" Queried Matthew, being sure not to intrude or anything. It seemed as if he was actually being heard for once.

"Germa-.. Prussia." Something lit in his strange albino eyes, and he rested his muscled elbows on the table, clapping his hands together all of a sudden. Taken aback a little, Matthew silently waited for Gilbert to continue.

"Sure, it may have been dissolved, but that's where my roots lay. My bruder is of thicker German blood though. Just proves I'm much more awesome than he is." Exclaimed Gilbert, eager to speak of his heritage, something that he was indeed very proud of.

Matthew watched from across the table as the white-haired young man continued on about how great and awesome the empire of Prussia was, and all of his banter was found quite amusing to the Canadian, who chuckled lightly at the excited statements of the Prussian. It seemed he was open enough to share, even if the person he talked to was an almost complete stranger. Maybe it was because he wasn't shown much courtesy ever, and seized it when it came around.

"Anyway, enough about how great I am, what about you? You're the manager of this place, right Mattie?" Gilbert blinked a few times, pointing a finger lazily upward, directed at the young man.

"Ah, actually, I'm the owner, and the manager. My friend, Ericemdo, works in my place on weekends and some public holidays." He murmured, expecting the other to speak over him or ignore at least a part of what he said. The fact that Gilbert actually listened to him at least cheered him up a bit. It was nice not to be drowned out for once.

The two conversed and made small-talk, discussing various topics from the news, or bringing up little facts about each other accidentally, both sharing a good laugh. The clock ticked and ticked and soon enough it was time for Matthew to return to his shift as the afternoon rocked around, the time of people retreating in to get a snack on their way home. Another busy period.

"I'll have another coffee." Nodding slightly, Gilbert gave the call and smiled at Mattie, who he could probably consider a friend. It was nice to meet someone who could actually look at him and not be repelled by his ghostly white skin or hair, or the scarlet of his mutant's eyes that seemed to be a great big neon sign above his head saying 'stay away from this guy, he's a loser troublemaker, a freak, too.'

Matthew happily agreed and returned to the counter, moving behind it, past the weary Mathias (still fawning over the counter about his partner who sat opposite, who appeared to be wearing the same face as ever), and donning his flour-stained apron.

Ever so slightly, he moved to the bar area and prepared a coffee, humming to himself quietly; he would admit to having been put into a good mood by the Prussian today. When the water had boiled, he mixed in the correct ratio of coffee, cream, and milk, before adding the water and bringing it to a brewing stage. He even dabbled about in the kitchen, ensuring that things were all put away properly in the short time it took for the beverage to brew.

He returned to the counter and poured the liquid into a clean mug, placing that on a saucer with a few sachets of sugar if Gilbert desired to sweeten his drink. Now done, Matthew was sure to carry the coffee neatly to his friend's table. Well, he would've, had he not stopped half-step on the realization that Gilbert had vanished. Presumably out the front door too, leaving behind only the change required for his first coffee. Also on the table sat a scrawled note that read simply; 'Enjoy your coffee, Maple Boy.' Scribed below that was a phone number. And, of course, below that, it was signed 'Gil', and there was an 'XOXO'.

Maple Boy was a new one. His brother, school bullies, and other various parties had called him various names before. That was true, but this one was new. It also seemed to be one given in admiration, too. So he sat down in Gilbert's seat, rather confused and unsettled, but tucking into the coffee anyway, folding the note and stuffing it in the pocket of his uniform pants, cheeks just the tiniest bit flushed. What a strange customer.