Air A Kiss Coffee (Dune Coffee Shop AU)

[ALandWithNoName]

~Cold rain~

~Wet clothes~

~Long day~

~Paul~







He had to choose between lunch and a newspaper. Crazy just how expensive some splattered ink and mulch cost these days... but, so be it. Price wasn't really the issue to Paul; it was the fact said newspaper was currently tented over his face, keeping the bitter rain off futilely. Wind pushed it aside anyway. Paul sighed as his paper began to undo into pulp. Never even got to read the thing.



The work day had ended, and while he knew the forecast, Paul simply forgot his umbrella in the hectic mornings he so often had. Further, he was in the office late to patch over a clerical issue, preventing him from catching the last bus on his usual route. Another walk home. He wasn't the type to see and wait it out, leaving immediately as he could, along the quiet streets; businesses closed at this time of day.



Paul chuckled at a chill gust, the paper nearly shredded from sogginess. It wasn't the rain, either, really. It was the damned cold. He kept his free hand in-pocket, walking brisk to keep both warm and quick. What he wouldn't give for a relief...



And perhaps it was fate, as just in that moment of thought, a gust pulled the paper from his face in a way that drew his gaze street-side. The annoyed suck of teeth vanished at lit neon across the one-way. Paul stood there, staring at the hole-in-the-wall. Small, conventional, windows streaked from water running down. Perhaps it was the warm, soft wood panels of the interior that drew him to cross the street. Perhaps it was his fatigue. Perhaps none of it.



None the matter, as the tired office worker finally and vicariously shut the door behind him, muting the rain as though all a dream. Air-con warmth nuzzled his cold cheeks, fighting against his wet clothes. He still had the wet paper on his forehead when the barista called out, Paul looking over.



The young man was plain and unremarkable in all, save one thing. Paul stared at it. That hair, the color between velvet and crimson, like hearth-side fireplace hue... Something about it was so calming, that only the uncomfortable cough of the barista shook Paul from the trance. The office worker nervously laughed, apologizing. "Oh! I'm sorry, I just... well, I'm sorry."



The barista smiled like a Buddha. "It's fine, sir. Cold day and all. Have you been here before?"



"No. First time." Paul finally let his shoulders down, realizing that he held the soggy mess to head for no reason. He sighed as he looked at the garbled words, illegible now.



"Would that be today's paper?"



"At one point." Paul walked over to the counter, having wiped his shoes on the mat by now.



The barista leaned behind the counter, rustling before producing the same print, along a smile.



Paul had no words, touched to silence at the gesture. All he could do was steady himself by sitting on the stool in front of himself. The barista never spoke, and the quiet finally let Paul process the day behind him. He listened to the clinking of porcelain for a while, watching as the barista meticulously cleaned the mugs. Something about this guy was so familiar... Paul worked up the courage to ask. "Have we met before? What's your name?"



The velvet-haired barista turned, smiling. "Leto, sir. I don't think we've met. I like to think I'm good with that."



Paul laughed. "Leto? That's my dad's name!" After a moment, Paul shook his head. Wait... why... did I...?



Leto's own laugh cut off the thought, before replying in that calm Buddha-like way.



"Is that so?"

Spoiler: 1979 - Smashing Pumpkins

insomnia wouldn't let me sleep until i wrote this. hm. song?


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6M0yLxLCNA