Traffic slowed to a halt as people behind their dashboards noticed the green glow of the old walk signal, a small person taking step after step to nowhere as he flashed. Simultaneous glances were taken left then right, eyes seeing nothing but tightly packed cars in lines of four, faces behind the glass showing slow signs of aggravation. The tapping of fingertips on steering wheels clearly proved patience to be running thin, and the group waiting for their turn to pass the street took it. A parade of people marched onwards in-between the painted yellow lines, taking caution not to bump the noses of any cars poking a little too close in their business.
The road had emptied out to a plaza, the roaring of engines firing up, tearing the subtle silence that wasn't noticed until it was gone behind them. Like a flock of birds, the group of passers dispersed into all different directions, swarming to shops and cheap food joints alike. A rectangular building in the plaza held the needs for one of those passer by's, different shops side by side. It was truly a wonder how the doors didn't knock together when they were opened. Saving space was a miracle everyone liked to perform, but there was a limit to be broken when stores had to be two inches apart.
Said passer by was a male just in the brim of his twenties, typical fashion on his body and a backpack slung around his arm. A large hand pushed open one of the doors, a bell sounding off to signal another customer. Groups of rushing salespeople armed with different types of coffee were always prepared to come running at the young adult, after all, he made his presence quite known with that bell. They never did, no matter how logical it seemed. Always trying to boast customers entering with a bell but no one to greet said customers with a steaming cup, what bad business.
A short line was present in the joint that day and it was moving fast. He stepped behind the last person to scan over the menu, blue eyes seeing combinations they've most certainly seen before, possibly a million times. The sign read Starbucks, a name he had been familiar with for a long time now. Every day, after a hard day's work of ignoring studies, he would pass the same street, walk into the same plaza, and order the same coffee; light and sweet.
"Next please."
He jumped in surprise, practically tripping over his own feet, and walked up to the counter. Blue met a deep, rich color that reflected what one would find in the deepest part of the ocean. Such calm eyes with intelligence packed beneath a dull rim, he didn't even notice the annoyance rising in them as he stared.
"Here again, idiot?" No facial expression what so ever, as it always had been. "Wouldn't be the first time I came again, would it?" Answering a question with another question, yet more witty; a sense of being clever washed him over, bathing in his grin. An eye roll, typical response. "I suppose you are having the same thing" As if it mattered. Any word of protest to change the usual order weren't met. Had it been another salesperson, they would have asked to make sure, double check over everything twice to prove their coffee was perfection with a lid. This one would do no such thing.
Watching the boy reflecting his age work was always so captivating. His arms, always well built, would direct such smooth hands to yank and pull at this or that to make the thought of coffee come alive. The uniform clashed with the soft blond color of his hair, practically platinum, but never failed to accent the most crucial parts of his figure. On his chest, wore without a care, was a nametag with pretty cursive lacing the space; Hello, I'm Lukas. Much better than he could ever hope to write, Lukas had always been so careful. Steam puffing up into his eyes is what made them shut, thoughts shattering twice.
"There." He glanced down into the chocolate colored beverage, seeing his own reflection blurred by a bit of foam and remaining evaporation. "Thanks!" The reply so chipper, so loud, you could see the detest on Lukas' face flare up, making him the picture perfect "I hate my job" worker. "Just go take your normal seat, Mathias." The way he spoke his name always rolled off his tongue with the upmost elegance, an accent so perfect Norse ancestors would be jealous. "Yeah, yeah." He gripped the cup tight in his gloved hand, the warm welcome to erase the chill.
Sitting back at a corner table, one by a window with just two chairs, Mathias would peer out into the open, sipping the drink delicately. Hs mouth rejected the taste but he forced himself to keep drinking, ignoring the growing urge to gulp down something sweet. Drowsiness was nowhere to be found nor a taste for something bitter. Part of him wanted to drown the beverage in a barrage of sugar, just at the right angle so Lukas would walk over and ask "Want a little coffee with the sugar?" Worded differently, of course, but the same sort of sarcastic question none the less.
Eyes set on the small holster of sugar packets on the table; maybe he should do it after all. Day after day, visit after visit, his courage always left him and the unseen admiration behind his grin was forever left unseen. Forgetting how it even ended up like this, his heart thumping when he was near, swelling with just a bit of pride each time he saw Lukas wearing the cross pin he got him so long ago, the seat beyond him always ended up empty. He would walk in even when he wasn't thirsty, when he wasn't having the taste for coffee upon his tongue, just with a small hope he could pop the question out there.
"Lukas, want to drink and sit with me?"