Coffee and Cigarettes

He's got a 6B pencil in his hand and still, that's not enough. He needs to be able to shade the contours into his creation's face, to show how the lines meet together rhythmically and how one slight glance to the left could mean a dozen different emotions. Oliver sighs, his hands digging into his own unkempt messy hair. 

He doesn't care about the state of it too much, in fact he doesn't really care about anything but getting this portrait right. If he doesn't, he'll feel like he's lost at something, like he's in a game right now competing for something that he doesn't even know of. But it doesn't matter what he may gain from finishing this, whether it be pride or relief, he just wants it to be absolutely perfect. 

Ever since Oliver was younger, he was told he had a gift. It wasn't something that many people admired, however, he uses it now to his ability to create paintings and sketches that most people can't completely understand. But his ability to paint stunning creations is not the gift that many people are scared of, that was just another thing he seemed to be good at. 

His ability to be able to depict what a person's real personality is, the way he can just know if they are lying, if they are sad,  or if they are happy. He'd be able to take the mask off of a person to reveal their true personality - no matter if it is good or bad. 

And that's kind of how he first laid eyes on that boy behind the counter, his interest seemed to peak. The way the younger boy seemed to carry himself was slightly strange, Oliver could tell even if this boy may look strong, he certainly wasn't. 

So he finds himself going there everyday, drawing pictures of the staff as well as that boy. At first it is only because he has nothing else to do and the importance of these works aren't so high. That is until he spends night after night perfecting any mistakes, rubbing out tiny little imperfections vigorously, and scrapping any pieces that were deemed to him as rubbish. He knows vaguely that he's become a bit obsessed in drawing these pictures, and he knows how dangerous this can be. 

When he gets too overwhelmed in a too particular topic, it becomes hard to pull him out of it. He doesn't really understand why he's so intrigued, he hardly knew about this café or the staff members a few weeks ago and now he's going every afternoon after being in university. Yeah, the coffee and tea is pretty good and of course their treats are simply delicious but he'd be kidding himself if he says that is the primary reason he keeps on coming back.

 It's not like he's drawing countless pictures of cakes - even if they are beautiful to the eye. He's only interested - he finally figures out - in the dynamics of how the staff in the café work. He finds it funny to watch that the one they call Pash is always being clumsy and he likes how their boss seems to act as much as a child as their youngest member. And then there's that - that person. He's got cerulean coloured eyes that dance with the darkness that emits inside of them. 

Oliver only notices this when he's in a bad mood when entering the shop, things aren't going well with his work for university and he's scared all of this drawing at the shop may be taking him away from what he should be doing. He's thought about not going for a while, but this thought never seems to be carried out. So he's there entering the shop, irritated with everything and just wanting to have a break. He sits at the front and that's of course when he meets the boy for the first time. And the first thing he sees are those cerulean orbs. 

The night following he's trying to find the correct colour of blue, but apparently he doesn't have that exact colour that he wants. He doesn't notice how he's left his sketchbook most probably at the café but he's more preoccupied with finding that stupid colour of paint. He goes to the other side of town from where his flat is to purposefully ask his friend (and not to mention girlfriend) if she has any colours of paint she'd like to lend him. 

He feels kind of bad because he hasn't seen her for a while. But he tries to keep this at the back of his mind as he rings the doorbell, waiting not so patiently for her to open the door and let him in. When she does, she only stares at him like he's a new species or something and she clings onto the door instead of questioning why he's there in the first place. 

Her name's Savannah, a girl he met a long time ago in sixth form. She has blonde hair that reaches past her shoulders and round chestnut coloured eyes. 

"Do you have any blue paint I can borrow?" he asks and he knows she is probably angry at him now because he hasn't seen her for a while and now he is asking her for paint. He doesn't realise this - or maybe he just doesn't want to - and waits for her to go back into her house and find those paints for him. 

Savannah only raises an eyebrow at him in a silent questioning way and Oliver knows now that he should either say what she wants him to say, or run like the wind. He doesn't do either of course, but he knows he'll feel bad about it again when he's home all by himself and there's nothing else much to think about. 

Surprisingly, she only rolls her eyes at him and enters into her house, coming back out a few minutes later with the colours he wants. She gives it to him and he smiles back at her and then that's all he does, no hug, no kiss, not even a goodbye. But at least he says thank you.

He's always wondered why Savannah even puts up with him, or even why she hasn't just dumped him already. He can feel it coming though, like a calm before the storm, and weirdly enough it doesn't upset him as much as it should. He knows he should have broken up with her ages ago but things have been happening and he's become too busy. He can't help but feel guilty all the time. 

But his mind is taken off Savannah when he starts to paint and every time he does this, the real world is blocked out. He's close to finding that colour and when he does find it, he can't contain the happiness inside of him. He wonders for a second whether he's becoming mad with all of this, his obsession is growing stronger and he knows he has to do something about it - stop it at least. 

But he knows what it is now, it is most definitely an obsession. He's never been like this before with anything but he feels like maybe if he understands this boy a little more then maybe he'll be able to help him. Oliver can tell he needs helping, no one else seems to know it, not yet, but Oliver knows full well. 

Because of being too occupied with finishing that painting, he only notices a few days after that he hasn't got his sketchbook and he knows instantly where it is. He hopes that nobody has taken it, or worse, looked at it. Luckily, no one has. 

It's then when he properly introduces himself to that boy with the conflicted eyes and he learns his name. Shea. It rolls perfectly off his tongue. 

-

"You've got to come out sometime with us, Oli!" his friend, Jonah, persists, "I'm not having my best friend cooped up inside of his house all day."

What Jonah doesn't know is that he isn't cooped up in house all day. He's at the café for the other half of it. Although, he doesn't mention that, knowing that Jonah will probably take it the wrong way, like he always does. 

Jonah's trying to get him away from all of his sketches and paintings, he's seen a few of them but doesn't question anything about them. But Oliver wishes he'd just go away and leave him to his own devices. But alas, Jonah doesn't have the gift of telepathy.

When he realises that one: Oliver is going to try and ignore him so he gets the gist, and two: he doesn't want to go out, Jonah decides to do what he does best. 

So he's now pulling on Oliver's arm, Oliver trying to get him off him because he'd rather if he wasn't manhandled, thank you. But then, Jonah's persistent. So he manages to get Oliver to stand up and now he's trying other tactics. 

"Please? I mean we don't even need to do that much! You just look so tired, Oli. Isn't there somewhere you'd maybe like to go at least?" Jonah asks.

Oliver had been tired recently, he'd spent the whole night working on his sketchbook and then working on what he needs to do for Central St. Martins. He hadn't got any shut eye and even though he feels now like he's going to collapse any minute, he's still managed to keep himself wide awake. 

He thinks over Jonah's offer, and he knows instantly where he'd like to go. He hadn't been there since he was introduced properly to Shea, so he sees this as a perfect opportunity to go talk to him again. Besides, he can see them as becoming really good friends in the long run. 

So Oliver nods at Jonah, a brief smile flashing across his face, "Yeah, there's somewhere I'd like to go."