He was content.
He was happy.
All because of a small café huddled among the huge city buildings of Fifth Avenue.
He would go there every day after work until the setting sun beckoned his departure. Every single day, tirelessly, relentlessly, persisting to enter through those doors and hear the bells ring. He would go there to see him.
The waiter with long black hair, and eyes of gold.
His name was Wang Yao. A beautiful name for a beautiful man.
He had never said his name out loud, but sometimes he would whisper it in the darkness of his room. The name sounded delicate, much like the owner of the name. He wondered if the foreign word meant something, but he never got the chance to ask.
No, it wasn't because he didn't have a chance. Rather, it was out of place for someone like him to speak to Yao. He was a customer, nothing more, nothing less. Just another face sitting in one of those wooden chairs drinking coffee by the window, that was who he was. Who he would always be.
To Yao, he was nameless. Perhaps Yao wouldn't even recognize his face.
But that was okay. He was content with just watching him, watching him taking people's orders with a smile on his face, watching him carrying trays with light almost feather-like steps around the tables, watching him laugh and talk with staff and other customers. Yao always looked so kind, so care-free, even to someone as ordinary as him, Yao smiled at him.
On the rare occasions when Yao had to take his order, speaking suddenly became a challenge. He mumbled and even the simplest sentences were spoken in disarrayed order. He didn't dare look up from the menu even though he had it memorized by now. In his embarrassment, the waiter chuckled and scribbled down his usual orders.
Yao was the reason for his existence.
Pathetic as it sounded, Yao was the reason why he even bothered to wake up every morning. His job didn't pay much, but it was enough for him to visit the café every day. He had no family members, no friends, no lover, and no one for him to leave a legacy to, but that was probably for the best because of his schedule devoted to Yao.
When he dies one day, no one would attend his funeral. He wondered if he could leave behind whatever money he had left for Yao when that day was to come. Would that be too much coming from a stranger? If an accident was to occur, he wanted Yao to have his inheritance. Everything for a man who didn't even know who he was.
The first time he saw him, his breath was taken away by the warmth emitted off of him. His laughter was the melody of the tinkling spring river, and his eyes, even from afar, he could tell that they were precious stones stolen from heaven above. The first time those bells rang over him, the waiter looked behind the counter and smiled at the newcomer.
He now had something, someone, to live for.
Even if he was only a stranger, he was content just watching his beloved waiter in this small café on the busy streets of Fifth Avenue.
On days when Yao was absent, his mind was transformed into a bottomless pit of restlessness. Where is he? Is he alright? Did something happen to him? What if he was… But of course none of his worst nightmares came true as the waiter always returned the following day. It was just a cold, the man breathed a sigh of relief.
Of course…. Of course, he thought about the possibility of them together. But why would Yao ever consider him? He had a minimum wage job, he was average-looking at best, his youth had all but disappeared after years of working, he was not charismatic nor had any real talents. He was a man who could not offer anything to Yao.
So even if Yao was to be with someone else, as long as he could still see him at the café, he would be fine. Just watching him was enough to light up his day.
Sometimes he wondered if he could strike up a conversation with him, it didn't matter what they would be talking about, anything would be made interesting with Yao around. But then as he gazed at the reflection on the window, he knew it would be fruitless.
"It's a beautiful day isn't it?"
Blood rushed to his face, and his eyes stayed glued on the teacup in front of him. His mouth was dry, and he could feel his hands trembling. No matter how much he tried, the words remained stationary on the tip of his tongue.
Da, today is very beautiful indeed.
How he wished he could have said those words. But he could only manage to nod slightly as the waiter walked over to the next table.
There were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn't be selfish. There was no place for him in Yao's life, so he was content being a stranger, a customer who always came to the small café, day after day.
Eventually that day would come when he could longer come to the café. Would Yao notice the absence? Would he even realize the sudden disappearance? The answer pained him more than he thought it would. No, Yao didn't know who he was. The waiter might notice the empty seat by the window, but he wouldn't remember the face of the man who sat there, the man who loved him.
But that was okay, the future had no importance. He is here today.
Once again, quietly sipping coffee in his usual spot, he watches Yao intensely, calmly, happily.
This is his every day.
Ivan Braginsky is a content man.
Tomorrow he will come again.
If I had the courage would our lives have been different? Would you have looked at me, and would I have bravely looked back at you?
I wish I said, "Da, today is very beautiful indeed."
AN: Inspired by a Nalu short story I read years ago. That was honestly the most painful story I've ever read in such a short time, and I remembered feeling so empty after finishing it lol. I tried finding the story, but I had no luck. If what I've written conveyed even a quarter of the emotions in that story, I would be very happy. Thank you for reading!