"Good morning, how may I help you today?" Lovino asked, not looking up from the inventory notes he was taking. Antonio leaned over the counter, palms down on the flat surface, his face a couple inches away from Lovino's.
"Hi!" he beamed. Lovino looked up and started when he saw him so close, jumping back and throwing out a hand, pushing Antonio away.
"Oh. It's you," he said in a flat tone.
"You don't seem happy to see me," Antonio remarked, not hurt by Lovino's blatant dislike for him, partly because he could tell it wasn't real. He could see it was a front Lovino maintained, and he didn't mind it. If that's what Lovino had to do to be comfortable around people, then that was what he had to do. He could also see how that could cause problems, however, around other people who might not have as adequate insight. Working in the psychology and therapy field had made it easier for Antonio to understand and notice specific quirks or motions or manners a person may do subconsciously.
"Has anyone ever been?" Lovino said dryly. Once again, he waited, and Antonio waited too, not sure what for. "Are you going to order or not?" Lovino finally blurted.
"Oh. Right. Large mocha for here, please."
"Would you like-"
"I'll have what I had yesterday, thanks." Antonio dug in his pocket for his wallet and extracted the money needed. "Here's six dollars."
He handed it to Lovino and Lovino put in in the register and drew out the necessary change, his palm out to Antonio, but Antonio took Lovino's hand and curled his fingers around the change.
"Keep it," he said, his hand lingering on Lovino's a bit longer than necessary. "I owe you from yesterday."
Lovino coolly whisked his hand back out of Antonio's and deposited the change in his pocket, glaring suspiciously at Antonio.
"Would you like your-" he started, but Antonio interrupted him, knowing what the question would be.
"I'll have it brought to me, thanks." Antonio stepped back to his table in the corner below the clock, where he had sat yesterday, waving at Lovino. Lovino ducked behind the coffee machines and for a minute or two all Antonio could see of Lovino was that one curl, bobbing away as he worked.
Finally Lovino stepped out from behind the counter and brought him his pastry and coffee. Antonio noticed he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and that although it was clear that Lovino had washed, his clothes hadn't. They had a wrinkled, 'slept-in' look to them, and as Lovino got closer, Antonio could see the bags under his eyes, sleep dust encrusted in his tear ducts.
"Rough night?" he laughed, as Lovino set down his mocha and pastry in front of him.
"Whether it was or wasn't isn't any of your business," he replied sharply. He set down the mug of hot coffee heavily, and a bit spilled over the side and onto his finger. "Shit," he hissed, drawing his hand back quickly and shaking it vigorously in an attempt to cool the burn.
"Sucking on it works better," Antonio advised him, trying not to laugh at his pain and failing miserably.
"Shut up," Lovino huffed, walking away, one hand flailing wildly as he returned behind the counter and waited for another customer. Antonio looked around, there was no one else in the shop. He looked up at the clock and saw that it was only 7:45 am. His first class was at 10, so he had plenty of time to spare. He glanced over at Lovino, who didn't seem interested in talking at all.
"There's no one else here," he told him. "We can talk, it'd be okay."
Lovino ignored him. Antonio sighed and opened up his book.
Twenty minutes later, Antonio finished his mocha. He looked up from his book, to ask for another, but saw that Lovino was slumped over the counter, snoring quietly. Antonio laughed and Lovino woke with a start, looking around frantically until his eyes rested on Antonio.
"I'll ask again- rough night?" Antonio said playfully, for the second time. Lovino made a sort of noncommittal groan, as if he was too sleepy to answer properly.
"Call me if anyone comes in," he yawned, and got up and walked into the bathroom. Antonio watched the door close behind him and then returned to his book.
Twenty minutes later, Antonio started to get concerned.
Thirty minutes later, he started to worry.
Forty-five minutes after Lovino had gone into the bathroom, he finally made the decision to go check on him and see if he was alright.
He walked into the bathroom, looking for Lovino.
"Lovino?" he called, garnering no response. He leaned down to look under the stalls and saw Lovino's skinny legs splayed out, as if he had fallen or collapsed against the wall of the stall. He got down on his stomach and squeezed through the gap at the bottom of the stall, then got back to his knees once fully inside the stall.
Lovino was sleeping, leaning against the wall, his legs spread out in front of him. Antonio laughed, relieved. There wasn't much space in the tiny stall, so Antonio had to settle for sitting on Lovino's thighs, facing him.
"Lovino," he whispered, attempting to wake him up. Nothing happened. "Lovino," Antonio repeated himself, this time louder, and patted Lovino's cheek. Lovino's olive skin was soft, and smooth and Antonio found himself cupping Lovino's cheek. His skin felt like silk under Antonio's rough hand. His lips, even when asleep, formed a slight pout, and they looked full and as soft as the rest of Lovino and absolutely kissable.
Antonio's eyes darted around Lovino's face, noting how his dark brown hair parted in one place, how it framed his head, his dark, long eyelashes, the little freckle under his left earlobe, and his eyes started to wander away from Lovino's face and to his body as well. Lovino's thin slope of a neck stretched down and curved into his shoulders, creating a perfect parabola. Antonio could see Lovino's collar bones; thin and delicate like a bird's, swooping down under his shirt, and he ached to see what the rest of Lovino looked like, under his clothes, longed to feel Lovino's bare body under his…
Without realizing it, Antonio's face drew closer and closer to Lovino's, trying to see more, to feel more… the tip of his nose brushed against Lovino's, his hand still cupping Lovino's cheek, his thumb rubbing back and forth across his skin, relishing it's smooth softness…
Lovino's eyes opened, and Antonio had a split second to read the emotions that flicked through the brown-green: first, surprise, at seeing another face, then shock, realization upon seeing it was Antonio, and finally anger. Lovino stood up quickly and shoved Antonio off him. Antonio stumbled, then regained his balance and looked up, only to see Lovino pull pepper spray out of his back pocket and press the nozzle, sending the spray straight into Antonio's eyes and nose.
"I'm sorry!" Antonio gasped, feeling tears stream down his cheeks as a reaction to the pepper spray. He couldn't see and his eyes stung, so he rubbed his eyes with his palms to try to ease the pain, but it only made it worse. "I was trying to wake you up!"
"Like hell!" Lovino spat.
"Why do you even keep pepper spray on you?" Antonio coughed, doubled over, his hands over his face.
"It's a necessary precaution." Lovino coolly deposited the pepper spray back into his back pocket.
"Jesus fucking Christ, mate, you-" Antonio paused and so did Lovino, listening intently as the bell on the door rang, signaling a customer had come.
"I'll come back in a couple minutes with a cold rag," Lovino said quickly. "Wait here. Don't move."
"A cold rag would be lovely, actually, thanks," Antonio said, starting to regain some sight, although his eyes still stung like hell. He heard the sound of the lock on the stall door being turned and then heard Lovino hurry out.
"What can I get for you today, ma'am?" he heard Lovino's voice say, muffled. He could almost see it in his head, Lovino at the counter, smiling falsely and wiping his hands on his apron nervously, laughing at a bad joke the woman made about parking tickets or traffic, grinding the coffee beans and serving her. For some reason the image of Lovino smiling and laughing with someone else, even if it was false, made Antonio angry.
He felt around for the stall door and found it, stumbling around the bathroom, his arms held in front of him. He ran into a counter and leaned forward, feeling a faucet. He turned it and held his face under the spigot as cold water began to run into his eyes and down the side of his face, dripping into his ears and wetting his hair. He stayed like that for a while, bent backwards like some sort of bathroom limbo dance, as the water soothed his eyes until the pain was mostly gone and his back was cramping so badly he felt like an eighty year old woman. He turned off the tap and toweled his face dry with a paper towel that felt like cardboard.
He left the bathroom and ran into Lovino, who was just returning with a cold, wet, rag.
"Sorry," he mumbled, letting Lovino step back first so that Antonio could make his way back to his table.
"You used the sink," Lovino pointed out.
"Yeah. Is there a problem?"
Lovino sighed. "Just don't drip on the floor." He put the cold rag away and then went to the woman, who was sitting at a table on the other side of the room from Antonio.
"Is everything to your satisfaction?" he heard Lovino ask her, as he wiped down the table next to her.
"Oh yes, thank you very much." She gave him a warm smile and Lovino returned it. "You seem very young," the woman said, although she herself looked to be only twenty-five. "Are you a student here?"
"No, no, I'm just a lowly coffee grinder," Lovino shook his head, laughing.
"Don't say that," she giggled, placing a hand on his arm. "The coffee is excellent."
Antonio stared at the two of them, noticing how Lovino seemed to actually be enjoying her company, noticing how the light coming in from the large windows seemed to envelop and surround Lovino, how it looked as if he was glowing. He looked happy, talking to the woman, and Antonio felt another surge of unreasonable anger. He wanted to be the one Lovino was smiling at, the one who Lovino was laughing with, the one who Lovino didn't act as though he hated. The woman was kind, and very pretty, and she and Lovino were now chatting, as if they had known each other for years. It occurred to Antonio that she and Lovino would make a perfect couple, and it hurt, almost, when he thought that.
Eventually she stood up, swinging her bag over her shoulder and tying her hair back into a ponytail and left, thanking Lovino and waving as the door closed. As soon as her back turned away, Antonio saw the look on Lovino's face slide off, as if he was removing a mask, as if his face were a board he was wiping clean, and he knew that Lovino's friendliness with the woman had merely been another act, like the one in which he hated Antonio. It made Antonio feel better, but not much. If that was the facade Lovino kept up with everyone else, why did he have a different one for Antonio? Why did he feel the need to act coldly to Antonio, and not everyone else?
Lovino swept by Antonio while he was deep in thought, still staring at the now empty table.
"Your mug is empty," Lovino pointed out as he passed. "Want a refill?"
"Huh?" Antonio awoke from his daydream and checked his watch. "No thanks, I'd better go. Have a nice day."
"Right." Lovino looked down at the mug and picked it up, taking his time, as if there was something he wanted to say. But he said nothing, and Antonio hurried out of the coffee shop.
As he left, he wondered if the expression Lovino had had on when he saw him was also melting off, like it had with the woman.