A/N: Originally a fic I wrote... 5 years ago? 6 years ago? Who knows. It fit with these two in my head...
Real world AU with punk!Lea and awkward Isa. Also, Isa with brown hair, because he's too "sensible" (read: boring) to be walking around like cotton candy without Tetsuya Nomura's colour palette.
RxR if you like it!
To Second Cups
Step 1: Pull out a medium-sized paper cup, a simple logo emblazoned upon the front. "I hate my life."
Step 2: Grind the beans and put them in the head of the espresso machine. "I'll suck it up."
Step 3: Pour the shots into the paper cup, set aside. "I'll quit tomorrow."
Step 4: Steam the milk, make it into a froth. "I'll suck it up."
Step 5: Pour it into the cup, add cinnamon, turn around. "I'll quit tomorrow, I hate my life."
"Enjoy your drink, sir." Again, the fake smile disappeared from his face the moment the customer left. There was nothing new to this routine – everyday was nothing but the same mundane thing.
But then, the door chimed open at exactly eight forty-two in the morning, and suddenly, he didn't care anymore. Turning away from the counter, he bit his lower lip to contain his glee and sighed contentedly, setting forth with the morning cleanup.
"I'll suck it up. Just for now. Just for him."
X
He didn't like working at the café. After all, Lea Flynn had always been too high-strung for his own good.
Always getting into fights, it was a miracle that the trickster had made it through high school, let alone be accepted into university. His image was of someone borderline belligerent – his straight black hair was always grown long, spiked back and dyed an exotic red, ears studded with sharp silver, gold and obsidian to no end, and smoldering red eyeliner ringed emerald eyes upon high, defined cheekbones. He looked like a man on fire, the epitome of fierce and dark and dangerous.
Growing up to a contemporary artist and the lead vocalist of a nightclub's rock band, Lea had been raised to be whoever he wanted to be – and if it didn't quite fit with the rest of society, then so be it. His parents figured that as long as he didn't kill someone or burn the whole town down, it was alright.
However, Lea wasn't all bad – the friends he surrounded himself with were all surprisingly normal, good people. Yes, Larxene had a penchant for hiding knives on her form, and yes, Marly tended to throw his pink-haired self on anything that moved, and yes, maybe Demyx was lacking a few brain cells in the self-preservation department – but as a whole, they were all just living fairly average lives.
Yet, when someone around him was being put down, Lea would stand up for them, and when someone tried to harass him for his image, he would bite back just as hard. It wasn't surprising that he maintained such a bad reputation, despite his heart being in the right place.
That was why the café was just not for him.
Filled with hearts and moons and stars painted upon the walls, nude suede furniture and golden wooden countertops, it was a cheery place. The low lights gave the large room a warm ambiance, welcoming to all customers – there were small stalls for those who wanted to stay and chat, as well as a few round tables in the centre of the shop. It wasn't too grand, but it wasn't too small either, giving it such a cozy atmosphere that it was instantly a customer favourite.
Lea hated it. It was too nice, far too cutesy for his own good. While he was working, he wasn't allowed to be himself, either – his studs had to be removed, his eyeliner reduced, and his punkish clothes replaced with a smart, sensible apron with the café logo emblazoned upon the left breast. He hated it.
Yet, why did he continue to work there? It was a question his friends often asked. After all, there was absolutely no plausible reason for such a wild, energetic man to work so timidly at a tiny café. Lea didn't tell them for a reason, though – it was his secret, and his alone.
Lea didn't want to share him.
Originally, the job started as a dare from a professor Lea was on close terms with. The elder, gruff blond had never failed to tease the redhead about his loud, rambunctious personality – "You'll never find a woman," he always sang pointedly, his fingers flying fast over the keys of his desktop as he continued his programming while mocking Lea, much to Lea's chagrin – and somehow in the midst of their bickering, the bet was formed.
The task had seemed relatively simple. All the redhead had to do was get a job in a low-key store, act gentlemanly, and not get fired. After one month, if he was still working there, then the bet would be over and Lea would be free, and his professor would have to leave him alone once and for all. If he was fired, however, his professor earned teasing rights for the entire semester. Just imagining hearing Dr. Highwind's gruff voice taunting him every day made Lea cringe – and so, he had decided to prove the man wrong.
Initially, it had been easy enough. All he had to do was go to work in the mornings, since his classes were in the afternoon, and serve customers. For the first few weeks, despite his increasing sense of despair and shame of being ordered around by caffeine-addicted morons, the redhead had sucked it up and gone along with it. It was his job, and being nothing short of ridiculously competitive, he refused to lose the bet.
At least not many people ever showed up during his shifts – they were generally quiet, peaceful mornings, the whole affair of entering this tiny café left only to the most dedicated of customers.
All he had to do was hate himself, plaster on a smile, and serve his customers until Dr. Highwind was no longer on his ass about his behaviour. You can do it. You can do it… god I hope I can do it.
X
On another note, Lea wasn't usually the type to be smitten by anyone. In fact, there had been a time when he could find no one of interest to him whatsoever – it eventually grew so bad that the man had begun to worry about his libido (or lack thereof). Thankfully, a quick (unwilling) kiss he had been forced into by one his friends as an experiment nullified all concerns.
Larxene had been a good kisser, and had been more than enough to excite him, technique-wise. Did he want to kiss her again? Heck no – that woman carried knives for a reason.
Yet, Lea just couldn't understand why men enjoyed the sickening taste of lip gloss on their tongues. It just wasn't that great. After that experience with Larxene (and the following beating he endured when she decided he wasn't good enough for her) the redhead quickly decided that he'd much rather be with a man, if it came down to it. Women were just too violent.
Still, he had found no one of interest, until that one handsome customer came.
That fateful morning, at exactly eight forty-two a.m. a young man – probably a little older, if not the same age as Lea himself – had stepped into the café, rubbing morning tiredness out of blank eyes. He had sighed, stretched, and walked up to the counter, dressed in a classy gray pea coat, fitted slacks, and a pair of dressy shoes.
His face, however, was what caught Lea the most. There was something in those thin, furrowed brows and downcast eyes that intrigued the redhead – in fact, almost unsettled him – as the man fluidly approached the counter. Dark chestnut hair, tied loosely in a low ponytail above the man's warm scarf, complemented the chiselled jawline and thin lips of the customer, thick neck leading to broad, strong shoulders underneath the sweater he wore. A large, albeit fading, scar crossed the bridge of his nose and spanned almost onto his forehead and cheeks in a large X, the tissue slightly discoloured where it healed – whatever had caused it must've been horrible, but a part of Lea felt that it added to his mystique.
However, Lea could almost feel resignation in the way he moved, despite his powerful form.
He could still remember the first time he had heard the customer's voice – a tired, dusky tone, as he politely nodded towards the redhead before murmuring, "One large black coffee please."
Lea felt himself nod as he held his gaze in the man's direction, but the man simply fished an expensive leather wallet out of his back pocket, flipping it open expectantly.
The customer paused for a moment, before those eyes lifted, and Lea's world started to fall apart.
Blue eyes… or were they gold? An amber hue seemed to lurk underneath a ring of blue, which seemed to have almost faded away – as if the blue had been stronger once upon a time, and had slowly been overcome by a golden amber tint. The amber glimmered in the shadows, brought out by the haggard bags developing under the man's eyes. Those eyes held a deadpan expression, the two men at a standstill as the customer examined Lea's expression with that cold, emotionless gaze.
Neither man moved for that long, long moment, until something in the man's eyes shifted, pupils dilating and the amber glinting before blue seemed to glow just a little brighter. Something in Lea's gaze seemed to pique some interest in the customer, as comprehension seemed to dawn on the man's face, the haze in his eyes lifting to a less harsh, almost nervous tone. Before Lea had even begun to ring up the man's total, the man held out a hand and said, "Two cups, please. Make them… make them both black."
Meeting those eyes, Lea felt his face getting progressively hotter as he tore his eyes away from the other man's stare, fire flaring in his belly as he realized how attractive this customer really was, despite the darkness in those heterochromatic eyes. Say something! his mind urged, but instead he remained tongue-tied.
"Of course. For here or to go?" Lea had finally whispered, feeling his heart sink while accepting the exact change handed to him. The man ordered two cups – one for him, and one for someone else. Clearly, there was no place for the redhead to even entertain thoughts of talking to the brunet.
Still, when the customer had stated that he would be enjoying the warm liquid in the café instead of taking it to go, that was when the fascination had truly begun.
His coffee was prepared quickly. Lea ushered himself to hurry, taking care so as to not spill a drop – unfortunately, he still managed to drip a little down the side, leaving a trace of brown liquid to stain the shining porcelain. He cursed his clumsiness – he was normally more cool-headed than this. Goddammit. At least Marly isn't here to mock me. Swearing internally, he wiped up the edge with a small napkin and set the two cups on the counter, almost burning himself in the process. It was as if all of his regular charm and suave ways just went out the window when in the man's presence.
The brunet accepted both cups with a small thanks and a slight smile (just the faintest of a pull on his lips, but god if Lea didn't pay attention to it like nothing else) before heading to a stall in the corner of the café, right beside the window. Gazing out of the windowpane, the man sighed, picked up the black coffee, and took a small, refined sip, sighing in satisfaction as the liquid warmed him.
That first day, Lea realized something odd as he watched on from the corner of his eye. The second cup was never drunk – it just sat there, as if it was waiting for someone. As if the brunet himselfwas waiting for someone. Yet, no one emerged, and the coffee went to waste. A part of the redhead felt bitter that his effort was being lost, but another part of him was happy – if no one came to claim the coffee, then that meant that it wouldn't be disrespectful to gaze at the attractive man out of the corner of his eye like so. After all, it was only bad watching someone when they were already taken.
And so, that pattern continued. Every morning, at precisely eight forty-two, bright and early in the morning, the same young man would come in, order two cups of coffee, and sit by the window. Each day, he sat alone until he was finished his cup, before he would place both cups into the dish bin by the garbage and leave, sparing a second to give the barista a stiff, albeit friendly nod.
Lea didn't know exactly how to describe their relationship, but whatever it was, Lea was content. Watching such a beautiful man sit before his very eyes was a treat for him, and even after the bet was long over, after the professor had relented, admitting defeat, he continued to work at that café.
Just for that one customer.
X
"I'm tired of plain coffee. Any suggestions?"
His finger stopped short over the register, just millimetres from pressing the usual buttons to ring up the two cups of coffee. "I'm sorry?" Lea asked, shocked at his sudden speech. Every morning, other than his order, the brunet generally said nothing to him.
The man chuckled at his lost expression before retrying. "I've had coffee every day for the last three months. Do you recommend any drinks?"
Three months. I've been working here for three months already, Lea realized with a start, before smiling politely at him, trying to contain the usual catlike grin that wanted to emerge. It had been so long since he had actually been able to speak to the object of his affections properly.
"I make a mean mocha." Smooth. Real smooth, Lea.
However, it didn't seem to face the customer. Blue-gold eyes lost some of their ice as the man chuckled lowly and nodded. "Two of those, then, please." He leant upon the counter and laced his fingers together, resting his chin upon his hands in thought. Lea almost swooned at the action, trying to resist the urge to pull out his phone and snap a picture of the brunet himself. He was better than any model, didn't he realize that?
Holding himself in check, Lea simply grinned and responded cheerily, "Right away," in his usual, lazy drawl, before turning to make two mochas – and, just like every other day, he took special care not to mar the perfectly clean dishes he placed underneath the cups. It was embarrassing to be sure, but he wanted to appear perfect for the brunet. Swivelling to face him, Lea carefully placed the two steaming cups upon the counter. "Any whip?"
The brunet nodded absent-mindedly, not paying any heed to the question. With a light chuckle, Lea nodded, pulled out the whipped cream from the fridge underneath the counter, and carefully added two dollops of the puffy substance on top of the cups in perfect spirals.
The man looked up at the cups that were pushed gently into his line of sight with a start, expression softening when he saw their immaculate condition. Without a word, he placed the two upon the highest level of the counter and crouched down in front of the register.
"Um, excuse me, but what are you doing?" Lea asked nervously, thoroughly confused as he leaned over the counter to look down at the brunet's crouched form.
"Pictures."
What? Quickly so as not to miss what was going on, he hoisted herself upon the counter and leant over, looking at the hunched man. All Lea saw, however, was a small Polaroid camera pulled out from the man's work bag, eye glued to the sight so as to get that perfect focus before snapping a picture. "Perfect," he murmured, content with what had just occurred. Standing up, the normally deadpan figure smoothed out his button-up and smiled ever-so slightly. After removing the ejected photograph and replacing the camera back into his bag, the man picked up the two cups and made his way to his regular seat.
Dumbfounded at what just happened, Lea heard himself call, "C-can I see the picture?"
He didn't get an answer.
Sighing, Lea brushed his hair back absentmindedly, busying himself with the task of cleaning the espresso machines in order to occupy himself. He hadn't been expecting the serious man (potentially an accountant, based on the portfolios he always brought to work on) to suddenly whip out something artistic like a camera. It was odd, seeing the stern-faced man work so precisely with the lighting in a photograph.
A little thought came to his head and he groaned, pressing his flushed cheek against the cool countertop. If Highwind could see me pining like this, I'd be so screwed for life. At least I still have dignity on campus…
Minutes passed by, and eventually, he turned back and noticed that the other man had already left, the cups neatly stacked and the second mocha untouched in its cup, just as usual. No one had come to claim it that day, either.
He sighed, picking up a cloth to wipe the counter with, when he noticed a small square of paper tucked underneath the bin which held the straws. Carefully pulling it out, he flipped it over to see it was a Polaroid photo – a beautiful shot of the two mochas Lea had made earlier, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows and hitting the white cups in such a way that it seemed to sparkle iridescently.
'You were right. These were good,' was scrawled upon the bottom right corner of the photograph.
Slowly, he felt a smile tug his lips upwards. The brunet acknowledged his existence.
So, all that was left to see was who exactly those second cups of coffee were waiting for.
The man didn't order mochas after that often – only once in a while, when he looked especially tired. Lea always wanted to ask him what was wrong those days, what had happened to make such a proud man appear so lifeless, but something stopped him – it was as if there was a barrier in between them. That was when Lea would realize with a sigh his place – he was a barista, and the brunet was a customer. That was all they could ever be.
X
One day, when the customer seemed particularly depressed – the sudden downpour of rain which seemed to have caught him, making the man miss his usual eight forty-two mark, leaving him akin to a sopping cat – the brunet rested his chin on the backs of his hands as he watched the redhead prepare the two steaming cups to warm his chilled stomach up. Out of the blue, he asked, "You have a lot of piercings."
Lea felt his face heat up instantly – for what reason, he didn't know. He had always been proud of his piercings, each one telling a story – three for when he left elementary, middle, and high school, one for turning sixteen, one for his first night of drunkenness after turning legal – each one had their own tale. And yet, now that his idol, this mysterious man, was looking at the lonely holes which decorated his lobes, he felt a bit ashamed of himself.
It surprised Lea to no end when the brunet added amusedly, "It suits you. It's unfortunate you have a dress code stopping you from wearing them here."
The redhead stopped short, almost dropping the cup in his hands. His secret crush liked the idea of his piercings?
"I got them to represent milestones in my life," he murmured softly, trying to focus on the task at hand.
The customer raised an eyebrow in interest. "Milestones? Like what?"
The barista quickly rattled out a few to which the brunet listened with surprisingly great interest, before a small smile broke out across his face. "That's surprisingly sentimental."
Lea's green eyes widened in surprised, then embarrassment. "What, do you not do anything sentimental?" He paused, adding, "Well, you like taking those photos, right?"
The man stiffened, the amber in his eyes flashing bright in Lea's vision before the man's shoulders relaxed once more. "That… it's an old hobby of mine. So yes, I supposed you could say that it is… sentimental."
Lea snorted at the strangeness of the statement, but handed his customer the two cups anyways with a smile. "I'd like to see your photos instead of seeing you holding that portfolio all the time," he teased.
"I'd hardly think that looking at photos would be entertaining."
Lea shook his head, leaning his chin upon one hand, elbow propped up on the counter. "One of my best friends, Dem – I mean, he's actually a guitar major so it's not like he's professional or anything – but he's an avid photographer as well, and his photos are always fun to look at. I'm always happy to snoop through someone's collection." Despite his casual tone, in his mind, he was dead serious. If he could see this man's photographs one day, Lea could die happy.
The brunet paused for a moment, then nodded. "I'll think about it," he responded, blank once more, before taking his usual seat.
Lea turned around, leaning his back against the counter, breathing deeply to calm his racing heart. That was the longest conversation he had ever had with the other man.
"Photographs, huh?"
These random snippets of conversations continued as time progressed. While they never failed to make Lea felt extremely nervous, he couldn't help but smile as he thought of them. The pair was getting closer to each other, much more comfortable – just the last week, the brunet had commented on his freshly-re-dyed hair, and before he knew it Lea was regaling his idol with the long, convoluted story of how he had begun dying his hair to such fiery shades. By the time he was able to reel himself back in, the story had already been told and the redhead had all but wanted to sink into a well and rot there, with the amount of embarrassment he felt.
Surprisingly, the brunet let out another rare chuckle at his antics, and finally took a seat at his regular table.
He doesn't hate me! the redhead sang internally, pumping his fist in victory behind the large machines on the counter. His face was flushed and hot, thinking back on how long he had kept the man (who had already begun his daily work at the table) waiting.
And yet, it was clear the man didn't mind, as eight forty-two would always roll around, and the man was always right on time.
Lea rarely saw the camera. Sometimes during his stay, Lea swore he could hear the clicks of a camera shutter, but every single time he turned to look at his favourite customer, the man was gazing thoughtfully out of the window, or focusing intently on work-related portfolios spread out in front of him. Eventually, Lea gave up on figuring out whether or not the sound was the customer – it simply wasn't worth the chance of being caught staring.
X
"You've got a new piercing. What's the occasion?"
Lea stopped pouring the foam to stare at the man in confusion. "Excuse me?"
The other man sighed, gesturing towards his own ears. "You've added one, right? Isn't that why it's taped?
The redheads reached up to touch the awkwardly bulky medical tape self-consciously. "I finished an assignment for a year-long lab this week," he admitted. "It won a competition – nothing big, but enough to be something worth remembering." He paused before asking accusingly, "Is it ugly or something?"
"No," the brunet responded coolly, a hand held up in mock-innocence. "That's a cute reason." With that, he picked up the cappuccinos – he had decided to be daring that day – and sat down at his usual table.
Lea stared at the man's retreating figure, conflicted. "What was that?" he mused aloud, but he said nothing more – no, more than anything, he felt warm inside.
No one had ever liked his piercing-craze – they'd called it strange, maybe, disrespectful and inappropriate, definitely. Watching the figure seated at the other table thoughtfully, Lea turned to face the next customer with a smile. Maybe he wasn't so crazy for liking him after all.
X
"Sir, please leave. You're harassing other customers."
The enraged man who had been cornering a frightened woman right in front of Lea turned, eyes heavy-lidded in his drunken stupor. He raised one shaking finger to point at the barista. "Shut your mouth, you little bastard," he sneered dizzily. "No one talks to me like that."
Impatient, Lea folded his arms and stared him down, polite façade slipping away. "Sir," he hissed through clenched teeth, venom starting to drip into his tone, "It's not even nine o'clock in the morning, and you're drunk. Please leave before I make you."
The girl who the man had been harassing whimpered in fear, and he turned, raising a hand to strike her. "You little whore, blamin' me!" he cried, but before his hand could connect with her cheek, a callused, iron grip had encased his wrist. Surprised, he turned to face the girl's defender as quickly as his dulled reflexes could manage. He didn't even see the punch to the jaw coming.
Lea smirked at the man and stepped on his chest, his anger fully unleashed. "You get out of this store before I hurt you, alright old man?" the redhead whispered dangerously, kicking his side before the man stood up and stumbled out of the café, tottering with every step.
With a sigh, the redhead rubbed his temples in annoyance, trying to reign in his explosion of anger before turning to face the frightened customer. "I'm very sorry ma'am," he said politely, bowing to the woman. "We'll give you a free coffee for your trouble. If that man returns, we'll make sure to report him."
The girl nodded fearfully, but not because of the man – no, it was this worker who scared her. No matter how civil he was, it was terrifying to watch such a dangerous-looking worker hit another full grown man that hard. The expression on her face betrayed her fear of his strength, and before Lea could say anything, the girl scurried out of the store.
"Looks like you just lost a customer," a wry voice called from behind him.
Lea spun around to look at the speaker, and once he did, his head fell in shame. The brunet had seen him attack the customer, instead of just calling the police, which is what the managers had told him to do repeatedly before hiring him should anything happen on his shifts. The redhead was completely mortified – what would he think? What would he say? Would the brunet judge him, leave him, never return to the shop ever again?
However, instead of all the terrible scenarios he managed to create in his mind, the object of his affection simply murmured, "Good job taking care of that. You're quicker than you look. I'm impressed."
Lea cocked his head in confusion, but the brunet's eyes held no lie – they were shining in lightly concealed approval. He felt himself relax, before chuckling along. "Yeah, I've always been a bit of a troublemaker when I see people picking on others," he admitted sheepishly.
The man laughed lightly, the sound like music to Lea's ears. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Work for Lea always started at seven o'clock sharp. And, as usual on that Monday, he was completely exhausted. Just because he had been tamed at the café all these months didn't mean that he was any different with his wild, outgoing personality in everyday life. This particular morning, he was extremely exhausted and just holding a general hatred towards the world for creating alcohol and allowing him to get drunk with his friends at a party the night before. His head ached, and every part of his body hurt from the major hangover. It was just another regular Monday morning.
Entering the café, he croaked to the back, "Good morning!"
But no one replied. Lea groaned, remembering that he would be the only one minding the store that day until his shift ended. With a sigh, he climbed behind the counter and started setting up for the day.
Business was completely dead that morning. Not a single soul made their way into the glaringly empty store, making Lea's eyes rest upon the clock so desperately for eight forty-two to come that he thought he had gone crazy.
The rain pounding against the windowpanes didn't make it better – in fact, when combined with the incessant, almost agonizing pace of the clock, he was ready to trash the place just to hear something other than the never-ending rhythm of nature striking back.
Finally, the familiar tinkling of bells caught his attention, and his favourite customer stepped inside, shaking his head vigorously to lose the water which had drenched him inside out. However, instead of the familiar work bag upon his figure, a small, plain black backpack was slung upon his back.
"Welcome!" Lea cried out, wincing internally at how pathetically eager he sounded. He wasn't even just excited it was the brunet – when combined with the hangover, he had just become really, really bored by then.
The man walked up to the counter, reaching a hand up behind his head. "Are you that excited to see me?" he scoffed lowly, but his eyes were teasing. Lea smiled back – he had long since realized that his original hunch had been right, and underneath that cool heterochromatic gaze was a witty young man. He like that side of the brunet, he had to admit.
"You're the only customer since we've opened. I'm pretty desperate to see another human, I'm not going to lie," he chuckled. "Your usual?" Noting how terribly the storm had treated the man, he added, "I'm assuming your umbrella broke, or you just don't fear death by drowning, if you're walking around in a storm like this. Would you like a towel or something?"
The brunet nodded, placing the soaked backpack and his jacket upon a stool at the counter, taking a seat at a barstool rather than taking his regular table. With one hand, the man released his hair tie, allowing his shaggy, drenched chestnut locks to fall around his eyes and spill around his shoulders. Lea was absolutely mesmerized at the close-up he was suddenly getting as the man pushed the hair around his face up and over his head, leaving only a few strands to frame his chiseled features. He took the procured towel and gently dried his hair and face, the pair resting in a slightly uncomfortable silence as the man worked.
The customer reached into his bag, pulling out a large folder, along with a waterproof camera case. "Good thing you packed your Polaroid like that today, huh?" Lea commented after breaking out of his stupor, getting to work on the man's usual coffees.
After finishing the two drinks, Lea watch as the man placed the other cup beside himself, as if it was waiting for someone. With a start, he thought, Six months. It's been like this for six months. I've got to ask him.
"Excuse me?" he called hesitantly, climbing onto the counter to sit beside the espresso machine. The brunet's eyes widened momentarily as the redhead slung his legs over the counter. "I have a question," Lea said at last.
"Does it involve sitting on the counter? Are there not… regulations disapproving that?"
Lea stared at the man with a quirked eyebrow until the other man nodded for him to ignore the question and continue, so Lea simply took a deep breath and asked, "Who is that second cup for? No one's ever come to sit with you. Why do you buy it every damn day anyways?"
And to Lea's extreme surprise, the normally stoic man looked down, almost… shy? A slight blush started creeping up from the back of the man's neck and pointed ears, blue flashing prominently in his eyes. Without saying a word, he pushed the second cup of coffee towards Lea, reached into his wallet, and pulled out a business card. He placed it in the other man's hand and quickly busied himself with the coffee in front of him.
"…I'm sorry, what?"
Looking up in an almost endearingly awkward way, the man finally murmured, "My card."
Lea stared at him, the pieces of the puzzle slowly but surely clicking together. That first day he had come, the man had originally asked for just one coffee – but then, after seeing Lea, he had changed it to two… Examining the card in hand, the redhead could barely contain a chortle at the formal, straightforward font.
Isa Thornton, CPA… you sly bastard.
"I'm Lea Flynn," he replied after examining the accountant's business card (and practically memorizing the number included on the spot), reaching out to shake the man's hand firmly. Isa had already seen his aggressive side, so there was no need to hide his strength – however, he was very pleasantly surprised when the man's grip was just as strong, hand belying a strength that left Lea both breathless and full of energy.
Isa grinned slightly as he met Lea's eyes, but the barista noticed a faint pink tinge upon the tips of his pointed ears as he pushed the large folder towards the redhead across the counter without a word, giving him an encouraging nod to open it.
Lea hesitantly took the large folder and flipped it open, but he could barely contain a snort when all that lay inside were spreadsheets, filled with names and bank statements. "Wow… I kind of got you were an accountant already, but thanks for some proof, I guess?" he chuckled, closing it and handing the folder back to the other man.
Lips pressed tightly together, Isa robotically took the folder from the man seated upon the counter and returned it to his bag. As he looked for what he had clearly intended to hand over initially, Lea had to stifle his chuckles as the pink in the man's ears deepened to a fierce scarlet.
After what seemed like forever, the brunet produced a smaller folder and handed it to Lea, not meeting his eyes. Lea, who had been enjoying his coffee with great gusto as the man searched, put down his cup and took the offered item. It was much denser than the previous folder. Curious, Lea flipped open the cover.
On the front page was a photograph of the first cups of coffee the barista had ever made Isa, complete with the little trail running down the side where he had spilled some in his nervousness. Lea's gaze shot upwards, eyes betraying the confusion he felt – yet, with the brunet completely focused on his beverage, all Lea could really do was keep going.
A picture of the next day's cups. And the next day's.
And then of Lea himself, making the coffee here, speaking to a customer there, staring off into space…
The shutter sounds… wow, did it really take me this long to figure it out? he scolded herself, but more than anything, all he felt was thankfulness. Every single cup of coffee he had every made for the serious customer was immortalized within that album – but it was more than that.
Every single photo felt… warm. The lighting was always perfect, the warmth of the store and the highlights of the smooth porcelain mugs giving the photos an ethereal glow. And the candid pictures of Lea himself were absolutely gorgeous – every frame captured the redhead in moments of such vitality and joy, each photograph portraying a lively young man who, despite all other appearances, looked happy.
Suddenly, he felt so silly, so stupid, for being so timid about his feelings of attraction all this time. It just wasn't in his nature, and he shouldn't have tried to fight it. For the last six months, he had been watching this man – this plain accountant, this secret photographer, this handsome man – come into his café and drink his coffee all alone, wishing to be the one sitting across from him.
"You're an accountant. Doesn't that mean that you studied business?"
The elder raised an eyebrow, confused at the sudden change in conversation. "Well, yes," he responded, immediately slipping into a more serious expression at the mention of his employment.
Lea threw his head back and laughed heartily, clutching at his stomach. "Are you sure? What kind of communication is this, then? 'I'll just take photos of someone for months and say nothing, that's for sure going to get them to notice me!' Ah, that's kind of amazing – so that's what business school teaches you."
The other man bristled initially, before the smallest sly grin pulled his lips. "Says the one who would always make sure my coffee looked impeccable, all the while neglecting other customers. Tsk, tsk."
Lea shrugged, laughing even louder despite the man's gentle quip – it's not like he had been particularly subtle in his fascination with the other man. "Hey, I'm just an awkward comp sci student – let me live."
As the other man let out a sudden wolfish grin, Lea knew that he had made the right decision in staying in that café.
For the last six months, he explained, Isa had been watching this young barista – this strange, strange young man, with his bizarrely dyed hair, stylish, rugged piercings, and his enchanting eyes which always seemed to intrigue him to no end – work in that café, all the while wishing that the barista would hurry up and get the hint that he wanted the redhead to come take the second cup.
The free, wild spirit and the cool, collected other. Lea grinned, Isa grinned. Lea burst into laughter, Isa smiled slightly in response, the redhead's voice echoing in the empty café, filling it with the very warmth all of the brunet's photographs conveyed. Picking up their respective cups, the pair gently clanked them together and each took a long, quiet sip, listening to the sounds of the rain erase all of their lost time. They had enough time to get to know each other better, to learn about each piercing and the reason for the scar across his face. All they knew was that although six month's worth of coffee had been wasted, there would be many more to make up for it.
And that was how they fell in love.