Coffee and Cigarettes

It starts with a noisy clatter, glass breaking into pieces and falling slowly to the pavement. Shea knows that he shouldn't be standing there and watching it happen, watching Mr. Parsons sticking his head out of his window as he notices the obvious broken window and Shea, the perpetrator who is there, a rock in his hand and a grin on his face.

But, instead of doing the best thing and moving out of the way, he only waves to the angry teacher obnoxiously in a way that he usually does to piss his fellow humans off. He doesn't care much about what they think and actually, he finds it funny. He loves watching that crimson colour rush to their faces and their eyes bug out so much that he swears they're going to pop out of their sockets. He laughs underneath his breath, counting slowly in his head for the real fun to start.

It only takes a good 10 seconds for someone to come outside, waggling their finger at the young 18 year old. Shea has a chance to run away now, but he always leaves it for a while, always waits for the perfect moment to make the perfect escape. He comments on how the teacher's fly is undone, and as the gullible man looks down, Shea uses this opportunity to run as fast as his legs can carry him. Shea knows his college like the back of his hand, he's spent days there long enough to know every route and every hiding place.

He makes this chase into a game of hide and seek, hiding behind the school's physical education equipment shed. He examines the way the teacher creeps slowly around that area of the school's field, he makes his way over to where Shea is hiding. Shea's breath hitches unknowingly when the teacher's hand is on the shed and he knows if he just turns a certain way he'll see Shea and his game will be over. Luckily, he gets distracted by something else and instead of searching for Shea, he walks away.

Shea sighs in relief, peeking out from behind his hiding place just to make sure there really is no one about. When he realises there isn't, he steps out into the open, walking back into the school grounds in triumph. He knows that trouble will come back to haunt him, but right now he doesn't care. It's the end of the day and he's going back to the café. This realisation makes him smile, he gets to see his best friend (who's actually his boss but most of the time he forgets that) and he gets to forget about his shitty life and all the shitty people in it. So this kind of makes him feel better.

He tucks his dark brown almost black hair into his beanie properly, not letting any strands stick out from here, there and everywhere. He hates the fact that when he doesn't dry it, his hair decides to turn into this untamed mess. It pisses him off and makes him look younger than he is. He might be eighteen, but many people say to him that his immaturity is more of a 11 year old. He can't help that though, he's making his life exciting rather than boring and monotonous.

He's out of the school in only a few minutes and sees some people from his year, one of them meeting his eye. They only look at him for a second before a glare settles on their faces, they edge away like Shea's got some deadly disease and if they're near him for too long they'll catch it. It's not like Shea's unpopular or anything, it's just that not many people like him. He can't understand why though, in his opinion he's pretty cool, maybe a little lazy at times but he's a nice guy.

Getting to the café doesn't take long at all, he has to go on two buses, one to get to the centre of town and another to get to the edge of town. It's far out, yes, and it's a shock that people bother to come there at all, but no one can resist the coffee and tea they make as well as the many treats that his boss and friend, Ivan and himself have made. Shea feels like his life at the café is different to his separate life at school, he is well liked in there, people like and care about him. He gets on with the staff and they understand that he can't help swearing every five seconds. He loves it all, and it's the only thing that matters to him in the whole world.

He opens the door wide, waving to Ivan who's already serving a couple at the back of the room. Ivan looks up at him, he's a very slim guy, slim and extremely tall. His eyes are a very dark blue and his hair is the colour of coffee. Ivan raises an eyebrow at Shea as Shea greets the other staff as well as the ones who are in the back doing god knows what.

"You're actually early," Ivan points out and Shea snorts at him, Ivan knows about how much Shea is a slacker and Shea knows how much Ivan hates tardiness. The two go together like peanut butter and jelly - really, they do.

Shea checks in, signing his signature. "Why are you so shocked?" he fakes hurt but of course this doesn't fool Ivan.

"Because you're Shea - and Shea's always where he shouldn't be," Ivan answers and Shea just rolls his eyes, Ivan likes to say things like this because he thinks he sounds smart, apparently. Shea thinks he sounds like an idiot.

He starts his shift behind the till, firstly getting the customers their orders, a cappuccino for a woman in her early thirties and a frappuccino for a girl around his age who won't stop making eyes at him. He just ignores her obvious attempts in flirting and hands her the drink, trying to stop himself from outwardly saying that one, he doesn't like her nor does he know her, and two, that he likes cock. And yes, he is that blunt.

Ivan takes the mick out of things like this all the time, he knows how gay Shea is and finds it hilarious when unaware woman try to get his attention. Shea points out to him how he was getting the attention of the woman and Ivan, who is straight, wasn't getting any kind of attention at all. Ivan threatens firing him for things like this, but Shea knows he'd never do that. He'd never even think of doing that to his friend. He knows as much as Shea that if Shea didn't have this job, he'd be worse off than he was already.

At around 5, Shea asks the time and Ivan only smirks at him.

"He's coming soon, isn't he?" Ivan prods him in the side and Shea grabs his hand in his grasp and pushes him away from him. He doesn't like inappropriate touching.

Shea doesn't get embarrassed much but when he mentions him he can't help but act like a blushing idiot which is unbelievably out of character for him.

"I don't know, I mean, he might be. Who cares if he is, I've never even said a word to him except, 'What would you like to order, sir?'" Shea frowns, feeling a little bitter from the truth in his words.

He doesn't know the man's name but he knows that every afternoon at around quarter past five, the artist enters the café with a sketchbook in hand and a pencil. He comes up to the counter, asks for the exact same order every time (which Shea knows off by heart by now) and sits at table 12 near the back. He sits there sipping slowly at his drink and sketching in his book. Shea has no idea what he draws in that thing and he wants so terribly to have a look in it but he's never had a chance to speak to the guy properly. The man leaves about an hour later, having left half of his drink on the table and his chair tucked in neatly.

It's all the same every day and Shea wonders whether he's doing it on purpose for some sort of attention. He's told himself many times that he is going to talk to him, but he finds himself distracted by something or someone. He hopes today that he will talk to that person. He's promised himself he would.

And of course, as Shea keeps an eye on the clock at the back, the man enters dead on time, the bell on the door ringing silently in the background. Shea looks over to him immediately, taking him in. He's most likely around his early twenties, an art student at a university in London. That's where he's from at least, one time he came here with two friends who kept on talking about work they had to do at Central St. Martins.

Shea knew from then on this guy was a hard working type, he notices the black pencil marks on his fingers one day as well as the slight bit of blue paint on the side of his hair on another afternoon. He always contemplates pointing this out, but he looks cute. So he doesn't.

This time, however, his hair has no bits of paint in it, nor does his fingers have any traces of pencil smudges. He looks clean, like he just went for a shower before coming here. His hair is lighter than he last saw it and his eyes which are usually a passionate emerald green have black shadows underneath them. He walks slowly up to the counter first where Shea is standing there looking him up and down. He's unaware of this and he looks more like he wants to fall asleep. He yawns and instead of sitting at the table he usually does - table 12 - he sits on one of the stools.

Shea finds his voice a while after he's taken a seat and he coughs, trying to get rid of the strange feeling which has taken its place in his throat. "What would you like, sir?" he asks.

The man looks up and meets his eyes for the first time and Shea is taken aback. He doesn't look happy, in fact, he kind of looks depressed.

"Anything," he answers, "What ever you think I'd like."

He's taken aback by this, because no one has ever asked such a request of him so far, and Shea doesn't exactly know what he should do. He glances over to Ivan, who at that moment is in a conversation with Pash, who apparently dropped some of their plates at the back. He's too busy at the moment and Shea knows he hasn't the time to help him right now. So instead, he uses his instinct as well as his knowledge of the good food they have.

The guy on the other side of the counter looks like he needs some sugar, so Shea heads over to where the treats are and looks over them. He spots one in particular, it may be simple but he remembers how much he obsessed over it when he first started working there. It's a brownie sprinkled with sugar at the top. It's the best thing they have, in his opinion anyway. He sets the brownie on one of their china plates and hands it to his customer. He takes the plate off Shea, looking at it longingly before taking a bite out of it. Shea inspects his movements closely, noting how from this one bite his eyes roll back in pleasure. He finishes it quickly, licking his lips with delight.

"That was so delicious," he smiles at Shea, "Thanks a lot."

Shea is kind of stunned because no one ever really smiles at him and this is a strange occurrence altogether. He shakes this thought out of his head and shrugs, acting like his usual self.

"Yeah, well. I made it so of course it would be," he smirks confidently, probably sounding cocky but this manages to get the other man's attention as he raises his eyebrows at him in amusement.

"Oh, really?" he asks, and Shea wonders whether he think he's lying, because he really did make those brownies.

His customer gets that familiar black sketchbook out and Shea's eyes are on it immediately, he can see pieces of paper sticking out a little bit and he has an urge to ask whether he can see it. But the other guy is looking up at him and he knows that he wants Shea to go away. He's seen that look so many times from his peers that he can spot it so easily. His heart sinks to his stomach in disappointment and he trudges away, saying underneath his breath, 'I didn't want to fucking see it anyway', even though he knows this is a lie.

Shea spends the rest of his shift cleaning up the mess that Pash made out back and he's angry at the older worker because he's angry at everything a lot of the time. He's swearing at him, asking him why he can't stop being such a fucking klutz and he thinks that Pash might retaliate but Pash, being calm and reserved, just ignores him.

"I saw you finally talked to that guy. I was wondering whether you actually would," Pash speaks out after a period of silence.

Shea's now cleaned up Pash's mess and wants to go back towards the counter so he's not in the mood to having this conversation with him. He's acting like he doesn't like Pash, but actually he does. But he just doesn't like him right now.

"Is my life some sort of entertainment here?" he questions and Pash only proves his suspicions right by grinning at him in this weird cheshire cat way. It's kind of creepy - no - it's really creepy.

He manages to creep away from Pash and avoids having the same repeated conversation with Ivan too as he makes his way to the counter. He sighs when he notices that the guy's gone and his seat at the front is empty. He shakes his head, knowing that things never really will ever go his way.

It's when Ivan, who has finally managed to get his attention, points out something that makes him feel a lot better. "Someone seems to have left their book here."

Shea rushes over to where the book has been left straight away and Pash, who's noticed that Shea is doing so, takes it before him.

"What the fuck, Pash that's not fair!" he whines like the kid he really is.

Pash shrugs. "Language, Tully. Anyway, life's not fair, get used to it."

Shea has sussed out now that Pash is out to get him, maybe he secretly has it in him for some reason. Although, he's got no clue why. He tries to snatch that darn book off him again and in the shuffle of feet moving backwards, Pash drops the book on the floor, as it opens.

Everyone's silent for a second, except from Ivan who is breathing in a weird way.

Pash is the one who breaks the silence, and he's the one that points out the obvious. "This guy you've got a crush on is kind of creepy."

They all agree with this silently as Shea looks back down at the page, the dark eyes that resemble his own staring back at him. It seems the guy did draw him, but not in the way that makes Shea feel flattered. This sketch shows everything that he hates about himself, and he has no idea how the hell anyone would be able to do that.

He kneels down and picks it up, flicking through the pages, seeing more drawings of people in the café and his co-workers. Shea can't help but feel uneasy though, because a lot of the drawings which have been ripped off their hinges are of him. It's like looking into a mirror that shows the person you are inside and what scares him most is that just from this drawing, this man has managed to sketch this version of him which he'd been trying to avoid for a while.