It's the last day of January. The skies overhead are dark and the moon and stars are shining brightly like shattered glass thrown high above. The "Windy City" lives up to its name, Yuuri thinks as he trudges up the rain-slicked, wind-swept sidewalks, glistening blurrily through the distorting droplets on his glasses. It's probably about half past nine, he thinks, as he passes the lamppost with purple graffiti scrawled up its sides, though not without nearly walking into it. It's pouring too heavily to bring out his phone to check the time. His coat feels sodden right through to his work uniform, equipped for wind but not for rain, and his backpack lies heavily between his shoulder blades.

His shift had finished less than half an hour ago, but thankfully Minako had ushered him out, staying back herself to lock up the coffee shop. He'd packed his stuff and headed out as soon as possible but it was beginning to look like it had been a wasted effort. His umbrella had blown inside out the moment he'd opened it and one of its metal ribs had snapped or something because it wouldn't go back to its usual shape nor would it close – he'd dumped it in a nearby trashcan.

The whole day had sucked. He'd woken up that very morning to the sound of his next-door neighbour (it was a cheap apartment complex, the walls were stupidly thin) belting out a Pavarotti-style opera duet with his super loud dog and having slept through his alarm, about to miss the bus to college. With no time to eat breakfast or make lunch, he'd arrived to his Economics lecture late, hungry and very cranky. And to make matters worse, back-to-back classes until two o' clock and in his last class (a Maths seminar) his professor had asked him to stay behind to discuss his last essay.

Which then made him late to his shift at the Café. Minako had taken one look at his pale face, eyebags and the general mess that was his disorganized life and chucked him in the backroom with two shots of espresso, a pile of cheese toasties and a tall glass of water and locked him in until he'd finished everything and "sorted his shit out." And then he'd emerged and gotten back to work.

…just in time to be bombarded by the crazy rush of customers from the public skate session at the nearby Chicago Vicino Ice Rink, looking for something for their bellies and a place to warm up now that public hours were over.

Hordes of screaming kids demanding this and that -juice, chips, sandwiches and sweets- whilst their parents stood behind them, looking combinations of frazzled and frustrated, tempers fraying. Teenagers trying to play it cool but taking forever to choose between a Vanilla Hot Chocolate or a Hazelnut Hot Chocolate. Pre-teens gathering in clusters and making bulky orders and ramping noise levels up. Couples on dates, whipping out coupons for "couple specials" or worse, excessive PDA.

Of course, there were some nice customers who had been kind and patient, but there had been a massive kids party at the rink today and twenty screaming six year olds had taken over the little café for a good two hours.

Thankfully, numbers had dropped by five o' clock and he'd managed to bring out his books from the backroom and redo some of those calculations he'd gotten wrong in his last maths assignment.

So finally, his day was getting back on track when Tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle and Pumpkin and Sunflower Seed Oat Cookie walked in, the little chime above the door echoing through the mostly quiet shop. He was a regular, and came in every day at around 7PM near the end of the professional skate session times. Tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle – or just Caramel Drizzle as Minako called him when she tried to tease Yuuri about his absolutely, non-existent crush on the silver haired, tall, beautif –

It was absolutely not professional to fancy your customers and besides, he didn't have a crush, he – he just appreciated the aesthetic. Yeah.

Caramel Drizzle always ordered exactly what his name was "Tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle and a pumpkin and sunflower seed oat cookie, please." Minako had taken his order with a sly, read: COMPLETELY OBVIOUS, side-eye glance and smirk directed straight at her most loyal barista. Yuuri could still feel the flaming blush on the back of his neck even now, nearly three hours later.

Anyway long story short, he'd been about to take over the cookie on a plate – having vigorously checked it over for signs of Minako doing something devious, like baking his number on the bottom or something – and he'd looked up just as Caramel Drizzle was laughing. His sports jacket was crumpled over the back of his chair and his ice skates could be seen peaking from his slightly open duffel bag, his arms were gesturing wildly. His mouth was agape in a slight heart shape, and his eyes were bright as he brought a scowling blonde boy under his arm, squishing their cheeks together. His hair had glittered like actual strands of moonlight, illuminated by the muted backlight of the streetlamps outside, alabaster cheeks flushing prettily pink with cheer and the warmth of his drink like something out of a Disney classic…

…It might be more than aesthetic, he thought suddenly.

And just like that he'd faceplanted on the floor on the other side of the café, face burning and a flush of shame and maybe something else crawling up his neck and sparking at the tips of his ears. The cookie skidding under another table, and the plate breaking into pieces on the floor.

Yeah, he still wants to slam himself into a wall from the shame of it.

At least the day's nearly over now, he thinks, as his apartment block's main door comes into view. At last. The rain's finally letting up, just a soft distant patter compared to the deafening roar from before. And the wind is quieter now, too. He thrusts his fingers into his coat pocket, feeling around in the soggy insides for his keys, tangled in earphone wires and wet receipts.

Right now, all he wants is a nice hot cup of tea, some food and his gorgeous bed, and… why do his keys hate him so. Unsuccessfully, he jams it towards the general direction of the lock, squinting past his still rain-blurred glasses.

"C'mon!" He half groans, half yells. His earphones clack against the door, some of the wire still wrapped around the body of the key. He just wants to sleep and pretend today never happene –

"OSTOROZHNO!" A panicked voice yells suddenly.

Yuuri jolts upright.

Something white drops in the corner of his eye. Hard ceramic shatters on the concrete, into fragments and pieces scattering with force. His ankle stings sharply.

Footsteps thunder from inside the building, and suddenly the key is wrenched from Yuuri's hand as the door flies open hard enough to bang on its hinges.

"Oh my god, are you alright?! I'm so sorry! I just knocked the mug off the ledge and – "

Yuuri stares.

Shit.

SHIT.

"Hey, you work at Poco a Poco, by the Vicino Rink, right?" Caramel Drizzle points loosely at him, dressed in a band tee and clashing white and blue striped boxers.

SHIT.

A/N: Will likely add a continuation but its all i have for now! Thanks for reading!