Insomnia:
Unlike most people, Hazel Levesque came alive during the night. She craved the peaceful silence that the light of the moon gave, and the stars that accompanied it. At this point in her life, it was medicinal, allowing her to focus solely on herself and heal.
At twenty years old, she was no longer the little girl that had spent her entire childhood cooped up in an orphanage, forced to abide by their strict mannerisms. But that didn't mean the memories of the cruel and abusive headmaster had left.
With her sketchbook and charcoal in hand, she descended the fragile stairs of her apartment and stepped onto the streets of the sleeping city.
It was a colder night than usual, a sign of the seasons changing. There was a light drizzle that sent miniature raindrops falling from the sky. Hazel's short-cut auburn hair peeked out from her grey beanie, a simple black trench coat overlapped her plain beige sweater and jeans.
The fresh air expanded her lungs as the golden pupils of her eyes began to sparkle. The sound of a grand piano playing a somber melody spilled out from a window above, filling her with a strange feeling of melancholia.
Some women might have been worried about walking the streets late at night, and rightfully so. Hazel on the other hand simply did not care. The small switchblade that she kept tucked in her waistband made her one not to be trifled with. She followed no one. She did whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Her foster parents had given up on trying to control her long ago.
On nights like this, she did not have a planned destination. Sometimes she would spend the entire time just walking, if she couldn't find a suitable place for her to draw. Drawing for her was a form of therapy, a way for her to get lost in her thoughts, and forget.
After half an hour, the dull lights of a midnight coffee shop caught her attention. The establishment looked like it had been abducted from another time period. It's old wooden frame sharply contradicted it's modern neighbors, and it's antique street lights emitted a hearty yellow glow.
Hazel looked both ways before crossing the street, making sure to avoid the puddles and potholes that riddled the asphalt.
The aroma of fresh brew flowed over her instantaneously as she entered, casting a blanket of warmth over her body. In the front corner of the diner, two old men presided over a game of chess, methodically moving the pieces back and forth across the old-fashioned board. A symphony of classical instruments played from a vinyl record, adding to the charming and wholesome atmosphere.
Behind the counter was a dashingly handsome man. His wavy dark hair and swirling green eyes instantly captivated her. An apron covered his dirtied white collared shirt; the sleeves were rolled up to expose his vascular forearms.
"Good evening ma'am, welcome to Café Minuit." The barista said in a thick New York accent, a stark contrast to the shop's French design.
Hazel wasn't particularly hungry, but it was a common courtesy to purchase something in order to stay.
"Good evening, may I please have one sugar cookie."
If there was one thing she had picked up from the orphanage, it was a strong affinity towards sweets.
"Would you like it warmed?"
"Please."
A moment later, Hazel sat down on a small table in the back corner and finally took out her drawing materials.
The book was filled with hundreds of images, a testament to her progress as an artist. Over the years she had experimented with many styles. Recently, she had been using charcoal, chosen for its ability to switch tones fluidly and capture light of a scene.
She sketched anything that came to mind, but her favorites were the portraits she made of people, specifically their face. The different expressions that people created enamored her. A smile and a frown each held a thousand untold words.
Hazel slipped a piece of the warm vanilla dough into her mouth and honed in on her unsuspecting target.
The barista was now actively reading a book, his face changing from soft to tense as he processed the letters. His seating position perfectly showed off his side profile.
She began to sketch his face, focusing first on his strong jawline, his most attractive feature. Once satisfied, she then tackled the placement of his eyes, saving the hardest part, his hair, for last.
Hazel bent her head down as she added the final touches to his eyebrows, losing sight of the man for a couple minutes. When she raised it back up to study his shoulders, she found his sharp eyes staring right back at her, causing her to jump in her seat. Blood immediately rushed to the sides of her cheeks, coloring them with a light shade of pink.
Hazel squinted her eyes, flipped the page, and tried to ignore the sound of approaching footsteps for as long as possible.
Surprisingly, the man didn't say a single word as he sat down across from her. He merely placed his book on the table and continued where he had left off. Hazel did catch the hint of an amused smile that crept up the ridged lines of his face. Up close, he smelled like a mixture of the sea and burning firewood, an interesting but surprisingly pleasant combination.
Both of them continued to trade not-so-secret glances at each other for the rest of the night, neither one willing to start any form of conversation.
Eventually, the virgin sunlight began to stream in through the dusty windows, a signal that it was time for her to leave.
"Will I see you again, tomorrow?" The barista asked hopefully, stifling a yawn as he ran his hand through his hair.
"I can make no promises." Hazel said promptly, before opening the door stepping out into the waking city.
Author's Note:
Hope you enjoyed reading this AU. Let me know what you thought. Thanks.