Hello, christmas holidays! Hello, more time for me to get down to business. I am extremely excited for what I have in store for my lovely readers, so be prepared.

It does rain. Of course it does. The universe and any greater beings have delighted in letting Ludwig know that they hate him. (With the exception of the introduction of a certain, fascinating Italian into his life)

One second there's nothing but suspiciously cheerful clouds, and the next there's torrents and buckets and bathfuls of water splashing down, drenching everything. His pathetic eyelashes can't keep the rain out of his face (he has never before in his life wished for thicker lashes) and he is stumbling blindly for a few moments. He spots the warmth of a small cafe down the road, and runs as carefully and accurately as he can manage towards its appealing glow.

It's one of those small 'artsy' cafes that sells itself as a non-chain, unique sort of place. It's complete with the usual second-hand mismatched sofas and battered tables. (It irks him greatly that the damned things don't match, how could the owner possibly have thought this was a good idea?) The little place is thrumming with faint music that has probably been very carefully selected, but it's not really anywhere near his usual tastes - it's very acoustic and mellow. Ludwig wouldn't be surprised if they had musicians turn up to play occasionally. The kind that would probably marry their guitar if they could and wear their hair horrifically long.

You can tell instantly that the coffee here is good; this is a place for coffee made with love, in the same way that this is a place for people who like spending hours in a coffee shop revelling in the 'ambiance'. He can spot a number of artistic looking people lounging elegantly over some sofas at the back. They probably spend too much time taking photos of their cups of coffee. Actually he can see one doing that right now. (Another thing that irks him.)

He's very aware that he does not belong here in the slightest. He's nowhere near artistic enough to appreciate any of this, despite Feli's insistence that he makes a good art historian. The coffee looks incredible though.

He orders his favourite - a filter coffee with milk and sugar - and tries to find a corner where no one will bother him. When he does, the chair he sits in is far too soft, and he sinks into it with a curse.

With little else to do but wait out the damned rain, his mind strays to the bizarre new addition to his life. The Italian had literally come out of nowhere. The German had seen him pass a few times of course, and well, he'd…admired from afar. He curses his fair skin, knowing that he is blushing again. And the stupid man just kept talking to him, until he just couldn't keep his distance.

He's scared. All his life he's taught himself to keep his distance. But he can't do that with Feli because he finds, to his horror, that he doesn't want to.

Fuck.

—-

Feli had sped through his morning, grabbing his usual espresso from a nearby cafe and running into the museum a little late. The 11 o'clock tour was a welcome distraction, but sadly there weren't many tourists on a Tuesday morning, and instead he spotted a few older people that came along every now and then to spice up their morning. He wishes desperately for some curious Swedes to come along like last week, so they can distract him with questions and the longer these old people peruse in silence the closer his building panic attack is.

He's not freaking out. Not at all. Why would he be freaking out? It's not like he just ruined another promising relationship or anything!

You can't get drunk on a guy you barely know and start going off about pole dancing and various embarrassing past stuff, and god Ludwig works at the same fucking bar that Feli used to work at! And he's… still on a tour right now, shit!

He hopes the elderly people don't notice the way the second half of the tour is significantly shorter than the first part, or that he's rather distracted, but hey, they've probably all been here before anyway and there's not much more he can tell them, really.

It hits him after they've left that now he has nothing to distract himself from his freak out.

He can't get any of his thoughts straight and his body feels jittery and uncomfortable so he decides to leave early - the receptionist nods vaguely, she knows how useless he is after the tour anyway - and starts walking briskly away from the museum.

With each step, he feels his body coming under control again. His heart rate calms down. As he walks he watches businessmen hurry to their lunch meetings and pigeons squabble over scraps and take out leftovers.

He makes his way to his favourite Starbucks overlooking this square.

Feli and Starbucks have a complicated relationship, because he hates their coffee but has a vicious sweet tooth and love of spiced chai lattes. This particular venue, he can ignore the poorly made, American coffee because of the vantage point. You have to climb a hidden staircase of to the side to get to this cafe. It's part of one of the office blocks and is meant to be for the suits who work there but Feli prides himself on his ability to spot these places.

It's exactly what he needs, because it has a balcony that is rather high up, overlooking the square. From up here, he can watch people rushing about beneath him and have has freak out in a respectful, unobserved sort of way:

Oh God, Ludwig is probably extremely weirded out right now. He doesn't even know what he'll do when he next sees the German, because last night the he had actually slept on his couch and taken him home after he'd gotten drunk while Ludwig was on duty because he didn't want Ludwig to find out about his past habits and dear God, he had come so close. There's also the fact that he must have said all sorts of stupid things while he was drunk and he's meant to be making a good impression because Ludwig is not that French suit tailor or that Czech model he's a respectable, adorably flustered German with a good eye for art even though he doesn't realise it and, oh God, this chai latte isn't helping with this freak out as much as wine would. Or pasta.

Maybe he should go find some pasta.

And not call Ludwig.

He should definitely not call Ludwig.

Much Love to my Beta Issy - I miss your squishy face. Hope you all enjoyed this, please review and tell me what you thought!