Your Melody Sounds As Sweet As the First Time It Was Sung

I just kept walking. I didn’t even know where I was walking to. There weren’t too many people out, surprisingly, although I kept to the smaller streets, and if anyone did notice my breaking apart inside, they didn’t say a word. I walked and walked, turning random corners and down alleys that would be deemed far less than safe. There were forgotten buildings that had certainly seen better days, but had certainly never seen me before. I wondered if I was like those buildings; precious memories stored within my walls and when I tried to look back on them, I’d see what a mess I was now.

After a while, I accepted it; I was lost. How pathetic is that? Lost in my own city.But this had never truly been my city, had it?

Usually I’d be scared in a situation like this; lost, god knows what time of night, in a city that is known worldwide for being dangerous. But I wasn’t scared, and I couldn’t explain why. Maybe my mind had too many other thoughts that it had no room for fear. Maybe I was subconsciously hoping that I would be shot in a tragic accident or something so that I wouldn’t have to deal with all these revelations. Whatever the reason, I just continued walking.

Eventually, I saw a familiar sign and breathed a sigh of relief. The green Starbucks logo was still shining, and when I got to the door I was happy to see that it was open and the lights were on. I pushed my way through the door and was met with the warm, cosy air and delightful smell of roasted coffee beans. Maybe I died and went to Heaven… Nah. I’m too horrible to be allowed admittance into Heaven. I glanced up at the vintage-looking clock on the wall, and it read a quarter to ten. I guess I hadn’t been walking for as long as it felt like I had been. There were a few people sitting with laptops, newspapers or books, a steaming cup of coffee clutched in their fingers. There weren’t many, though. I suppose it was quite late.

I fished around in my several pockets, hoping that I’d have enough money for some sort of caffeine hit. Hopefully I did, but I was in no right mind to count change right now. Slowly I took a step towards the counter.

“Hey, what would you like this evening?” a barista greeted me casually.

“Uhm…”

It was then that I realized I hadn’t thought about what I wanted. Although I would have preferred something stronger, I decided to play it safe.

“I’ll get a grande mocha with shots of vanilla and peppermint, thanks.”

He gave me a nod and started tapping away at the cash register. He told me the amount and I placed my handful of coins on the table. At this point, I didn’t care how retarded he thought I was. My tear-stained cheeks probably gave that away. I watched as he counted, and just before he did I realized I didn’t have enough money. I mouthed a curse word to myself and rubbed my eyes.

“Uh, just make that a shot of vanilla, I guess.”

He gave me a small smile, putting the coins in the till.

“No, it’s okay. It’s just one shot. On the house.”

I looked at him, and actually took in the guy’s features. He was probably a year or so older than me, but the little-more-than-stubble around the bottom of his face paired with the bags under his pretty brown eyes made him look older. He was wearing the customary green Starbucks apron, but underneath that I could see black skinny jeans and a black button-up shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The guy’s brown hair was relatively neat for a guy, but in the attractive way, and it wasn’t too long or too short. A few delicate clumps of hair curled down his forehead and across his eye. He was attractive, that much was obvious.

“Really?” I asked, hopefully.

“Yeah sure,” he smiled. “Just don’t go round saying that I give out cheap drinks. Not good for my reputation, y’know?”

I grinned gratefully and he handed me my drink, pleasantly hot under my fingers.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” he said as he began to wipe down the bench behind the counter.

I crossed the room and sat in one of the squishy green armchairs that someone had just left. I took the lid off my drink and inhaled the smell happily, my eyes closed. Placing the lid back on, I took a gulp and didn’t care how it scorched my throat. It was a welcome and delicious distraction. I drank slowly, but thankfully my coffee didn’t seem to get much colder. When I was halfway through my drink, wishing that I had enough money to buy another one, I looked up to notice that pretty much everyone else was gone. The only other customer had just walked out the door, and that left me the only sad soul left listening to the jazz music, and that barista cleaning up. The other barista that had been working had just left too. I glanced up at the clock. Was it ten thirty already?

“Hey... uh…”

I looked up at the unexpected voice to see the barista looking at me apologetically. It must be closing time.

“Oh, sorry!” I exclaimed. “I’ll leave…”

“No, no!” he hastened to say. “That’s okay. I just need to clean your table…”

“Oh,” I muttered, a blush rising to my cheeks. “Okay. Sorry…”

“That’s okay,” he smiled. “You can stay as long as you want. I don’t mean this in any offensive way, but it kind of looks like you need it.”

I smiled up at him as he finished wiping the table in front of me.

“But it’s getting late. Don’t you have somewhere you’d rather be than working a late night shift for one customer?”

“To be honest; no,” he sighed, throwing the cloth over to the other side of the room so that it landed perfectly in the sink.

I studied him with my eyes as I took the last sip of my mocha before gesturing to the seat next to me. I don't know what prompted me to do that, but I didn't regret it.

“You wanna sit down?” I asked. “It looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

He bit his lip and smiled a crooked grin before taking off his apron and sitting in the chair.

“You could say that,” he said, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Do you… do you want to talk about it?” I asked tentatively.

His eyes looked up to me, and he studied me curiously for a few moments.

“I don’t know… do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

Did I? Maybe it would help. Maybe it wouldn’t, but if anything bad happened then I never needed to see this guy again in my life. Maybe it was worth a shot.

“Maybe,” I said quietly.

“Well maybe, before we divulge our deepest darkest secrets to each other, we should exchange names,” he said, a hint of humor coating his tone and making me chuckle.

“Fair enough. I’m Charlotte.”

“I’m Jon.”

He stuck his hand out and I shook it, a small grin on my face. Jon just had this pleasant aura around him; warm, like the coffee he worked with.

“So who wants to go first?” I asked.

“Well personally,” he began. “I think that we need another round of caffeine. This might take a while.”

***

After several cups of coffee, it honestly felt like I’d known Jon for years. I know that saying is kind of silly, but I’m serious. Maybe it was because we had both just lay all of our problems down on the table.

I had told him all about Brendon and how I’d fallen in love with him. I told him about Brendon’s birthdays. I told him about the band, and them going off to record an album. I told him about stopping contact with them, and I told him how hard it was, but how I thought it was so necessary. I told him about moving, and only just discovering that Kiah hadn’t told our best friends that we’d left. I told him everything but names. The only one he needed to know was mine.

As I spilled my life, he just listened intently. He never asked for any other details, or tried to give his input into the situation. Not until I asked him for it, anyway. He told me that it seemed tough. He told me that maybe explaining the situation to Brendon myself might have been a simpler way to deal with it (of course, he didn’t use Brendon’s name. We used the alias of Mr. X that we oh-so-originally came up with). I agreed; he was right. But I told Jon that if I had to speak to him again then I’d surely change my mind. Jon said that the only advice he could give was to make sure Kiah knew that I wasn’t mad at her and possibly get someone else to explain to ‘Mr. X’ about what was going on and where we stood. But didn’t Kiah already do that? I was so confused.

After he helped me (kind of), I tried to return the favor. He told me about how he was freaking out over where he stood with his girlfriend. He said he’d never felt this way about anyone else before, but that she made it perfectly clear when they started dating that she didn’t expect it to be too serious, and that at that time he’d agreed with her. He told me that he was slowly but surely falling in love with her, and he was so worried that she’d never feel the same. He told me that he knew that one of his friends had a thing for her, and that she was getting close to him as a friend. He was worried that soon enough, she’d break up with him. He didn’t know if he’d be able to let her go.

He showed me a picture of her, and unlike me he had no hesitance about telling me her name. Her name was Meghan, and the small photograph he kept in his wallet depicted a smiling girl with bright multi-colored hair and sparkling brown eyes. In the picture, she had an arm around Jon’s middle and her other hand was doing a thumbs up at the camera that Jon was holding above their heads. From the picture, she looked just as equally happy with Jon as he told me he was with her. But hey; what would I know? I’m just a third party observer.

After our heart-to-heart, we were just chatting aimlessly about anything that the subject turned to. I forgot where I was, and I forgot that this morning I didn’t know that Jon existed, but best of all I forgot about Brendon. I forgot about my drama. I had a fun, nice,and incredibly easy on the eyes distraction and friend in front of me.

Bzzz Bzzz. Bzzz Bzzz. Bzzz Bzzz.

I was laughing at something that Jon said when my phone went off. I grabbed it off the table and answered it. I really shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Charlie! Where the fuck are you?! Didn’t I tell you to ring me? I thought something really bad had happened! You better have a good explanation!”

Pete was yelling so loud that Jon had clearly heard everything, laughing a little at me.

“Father?” he guessed. “Brother?”

“Something like that,” I mumbled.

“Pete, relax. I told you I’d ring you when I got home, and I’m not home yet.”

“Not home yet?!” he thundered. “It’s almost one in the fucking morning! Where the hell are you?

“Uhh…” I realized that I had no idea. “I’m not too sure. All I know is that I’m at Starbucks with a friend.”

“No Starbucks is open at this time! Tell me the truth! I’ll come and pick you up… unless you don’t want me to... That’s it, isn’t it! You’ve gone home with some stringy guy, haven’t you!? Charlotte, that is no way to forget your problems! I would have…”

“Stop drawing conclusions!” I yelled, my face bright red and Jon laughing quietly beside me.

“I just heard a guy’s laugh. You have a man with you, don’t you? Since when do you ever lie to me, Charlie? You know I’d never tell…”

“Stop,” I said, before he could say any names. “Yes, there is a guy here with me, but he’s really nice and we’re just friends. I am not whoring it up with some sleaze, and I was telling the truth. He works at Starbucks. And I swear, I didn’t know it was that late. I’ll get going soon.”

“Okay… well I don’t want you walking anywhere. I’ll come and pick you up.”

“Pete, I don’t need a babysitter, and you are not my mother. I can get home by myself, thank you very much.”

“I thought you just said you didn’t know where you were.”

“It can’t be far. I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“But…”

“Bye, Pete,” I said before hanging up on him and standing up.

“Sorry about that,” I said to Jon.

“That’s okay,” he smiled. “It was entertaining.”

I laughed.

“For you, maybe. But really, I had no idea it was so late. I better get going.”

“Okay, but are you serious that you don’t know where you are?”

I gave a guilty smile.

“I kind of had other things on my mind than the ground beneath my feet before.”

“Fair enough. Do you want me to give you a lift?”

I bit my lip.

“Well… I guess you’re not quite a stranger anymore…”

He laughed.

“Come on Charlotte. Your friend’s probably right; Chicago’s pretty dangerous in the dark.”

“Okay. At least I know I’m still in Chicago. But you have to call me Charlie from now on.”

“Okay.”

He locked up the café and we got into his car. When he started driving, I noticed that he was a really smooth driver. We continued our random conversation, and I found out that he actually went to the same university as me, when he wasn’t traveling with his friends. We pulled up outside my house, and smiled at each other.

“Thank you for listening to me,” he said sincerely.

“Ditto,” I smiled. I really was feeling much better. “And I owe you for all those coffees.”

“No you don’t. That’s what you get for being friends with a barista.”

I laughed.

“Well I’m going to pay you anyway. Maybe I’ll see you at uni on Tuesday?”

“Yeah hopefully,” he smiled. Again. He had a lovely smile.

“Okay. Bye,” I said as I opened the door. Before I could hop out, he leaned over and gave me a friendly kiss on the cheek.

“Bye Charlie.”

I stood out the front of my house and waved goodbye before heading inside and getting ready for bed. Even after all that coffee, I was really tired. I texted Pete quickly to tell him I got home safe, and ignored his reply asking me if my ‘friend’ had dropped me off, because it hadn’t taken very long. I was so tired that I couldn’t even be bothered to put on pyjamas, so I just stripped down to my underwear and collapsed under the crisp bed sheets.

And, surprisingly, I didn’t dream of Brendon Urie.