Chapter Text
“Hey! Two-face just came in. Didn’t even request for you. Just asked if you were here and gave me that look.”
Two-face. That’s what Maria started to call him. She was the typical flirt, and not just when she wanted to bat her eyelashes at someone; nicknames, teases, and small jabs always found a way through her husky words. Maybe it was because she’s worked here for ten years and knew how to talk. Knew how to amuse and lift up all kinds of people enough to leave a good tip or come back for seconds. If she was lucky? They’d come back for thirds and decide that maybe they should stop counting and instead just stick with the place.
You knew that even sometimes, it was men she would be extra sweet to. Just a little bit more sugar to add to the stickiness of the honey. To make them want to lick it off and ask for more. That was who Maria was. Which meant she knew when a regular was a regular. And maybe more. Hell, you only knew because you’d fallen victim to the sweet drips of her personality. That she buttered up your flattered self to the point where she had you pinned to the back of the cafe, in the alley, after both of your shifts. It only happened once. You almost, almost fell into the sensation to go back for seconds. Hell, she even asked if she could take you out once. You agreed. You ultimately decided you didn’t want to again, that Maria deserved someone with the same bubbles of enthusiasm and chaos as her. Someone that wasn’t ten years younger than her and didn’t know how to live it up.
You weren’t the bubbly server who talked up everyone in her way and partied every friday, like her. You weren’t the enthusiastic, happy girl that could have the worst customer interaction in human history and laugh off the whole experience right after. You’d just drag her down. When you talked to her, she completely understood. In fact? Maria didn’t even want it to be serious, either. Just liked the “pretty young thing” you were and wanted to help you loosen up. Apparently you were a nervous wreck and looked it, too, when you first moved into the city. When you first started classes and worked at the little cafe that was just a couple of blocks away from your apartment.
And hell, just her being there for you helped. To have a friend that has lived there her whole life. To have a friend that was thirty-three and got through her twenties just fine. Who you could go to whenever you had any questions about anything.
Upon hearing Maria’s words, you looked over at her, flashing her a bright smile and seeing her move her eyebrows up and down in a knowing way. Something that made you chuckle and shake her head. Her hair was up today, into a bundle of curly-blonde hairs that peeked out and framed her face. Heavy dark makeup as usual. Tall, skinny thing she was. She was just a ray of sunshine.
Next second you knew? You finished up folding some silverware, got your server book and tucked it in your apron. Grabbed a simple white mug, filled it up with coffee. Your gaze hung low, looking down at the black and white checkered tiles that were all throughout the cafe. Red, white, black, hints of green – the overall aesthetic made you feel like you were in a movie, located in a diner that was meant to show off the classic waitress who smoked and wore heavy eyeliner. The one that would glance over when she heard the main character say something she knew too much about. One that she would warn and then never appear in the film again.
“Don’t give me that look,” you said quietly, sneaking past her and looking back as soon as you approached the two-way, flimsy cafe doors that separated the back from the front of the store, where classic cold booths held years of memories and wooden tables that definitely needed to be replaced.
“I’ll look at you however I want, pretty,” a wink that hid her diamond-blue eye for a quick second, before turning back and continuing her way down toward the kitchen. Her distant, raspy voice immediately filled the echoed space as she started talking to the kitchen staff. A chuckle left you, and then you pushed past the doors, entering the seating area.
You were surprised to see that it was already dark outside. Street lamps barely kissed the tall windows of the front of the cafe with their light. The space immediately looked and felt more warm with the hued lights that occupied the inside of the cafe, unlike earlier, when the sun was able to lift up the look a little more. To make the place seem brighter and more open than it was. But now it was just something so subtle in the night of the city. Something a bit more hidden and mysterious. Something that gave just enough to give.
The second the thought passed, your eyes glanced around. Only three tables were occupied. A group of young college kids, an elderly couple, and the one you were expecting. The two-seater table in the corner of the cafe, right next to the window that allowed you to feel the slight drift of cold city air when you were near it. Where both the light from lamp posts outside and the lights from the cafe couldn’t fully intertwine, but had started to. You’ve learned by instinct to look there every time you’ve entered the seating area, and every time you walked into the store. Every time you were having a bad day and tried to manifest to see the slightly hair-shielded face and low gaze that would immediately meet yours.
Like today. Like right in that moment, when you were already walking over and his gaze never left yours every single step you took. Didn’t even scan your black flared jeans or the way your apron was slightly off center or the way you had cafe-stains on your black t-shirt.Just right at you, as if he, too, has learned by instinct to know what you were already wearing. What jewelry you would have on and if you were having a bad day or not based on how worn your expression looked.
The first day you met Leon. You remembered it like it was yesterday. It was morning – you didn’t have classes, and you had taken up a shift from one of the other servers. Officer Schmidt always came in the mornings – he was a bit famous in the cafe for always bringing lottery-scratch offs to the staff for Christmas every year. Had this real friendly moustache sitting on top of an ocean of grey stubble, that showed off two rows of the straightest white teeth you’ve ever seen. But that morning? It wasn’t just a perfect smile he carried, or a concealed firearm – it was Leon. You didn’t even notice him at first, until you were done making small talk with Officer Schmidt and he thought it decent to introduce you to Leon.
His eyes were the first things you noticed. Striking, cold, too alert yet too distant all at once. He wasn’t as old as Schmidt – not “I have a wife and kids in college” old – but was definitely older than you. You remember how his hand felt. Big, warm, and all sorts of marks or callouses that came from kisses of the world’s aggression. Experience. Ugliness. That with the wild look in his eye? One you would only see from an old, cornered animal? A work horse? Someone that had been tossed and turned around in the roughest of waves? It was an uneasy pair. And it made you even more uneasy when his eyes lingered on you a little longer than most would at first glance. Got yourself a looker. Oh he’s cute! Looks like a bad boy. All of the cheesy things your coworkers could have said? Were said. The morning crew were always lookers and too much for you to handle.
There was no shock to this brood of a man… until he came back, alone, asking for the waitress with the broken black server book. Glad to know you made a good first impression and that was what he took out of it. That was when Maria started calling him two-face because “the only time he wasn’t all macho-and quiet was when you’re here. Two sides. Two-face.”
According to your coworkers? He would barely even talk to them if you weren't in. Wouldn’t even give in to a flirt, let alone even stay. Leon would just order something random off the menu and go. But with you? That was the first thing he’d ask every time he came in. “She in?” Every. Single. Time. And he’d stay, but without saying anything to you. Of course, he’d order his regular coffee – plain, every single time – and say hello and thank you. But the bare minimum of manners was all that was used when it came to hearing his voice. Of course, you’d try to get more out of him, and as expected, wouldn’t give you enough to carry on the conversation. Would just tell you with his eyes that he was here for you. You’d feel them every time he sat there and drank his coffee whilst you cleaned up; whilst you walked around and tended to your other tables.
You couldn’t understand him. Not really. Would barely flash a smile or anything, even when you really tried to. Even when you gave a cheery laugh or a bad joke.
But now? There he was. And there you were – approaching his table, half-dreading getting past the awkward, unexplained tension between you two with his quiet words and your bad attempt at cracking him. But half of you was also… Excited? Enticed? Enthused? Whatever it was, you liked interacting with him. Leon never gave much and people who do that tend to turn you into a puddle of anxiety. But something about him was different. That alarm in his eye. The distance in its faded sparkle. The lines carved in his face that told stories of experience you definitely haven’t experienced yourself. Just looking at him was more than enough to distract you from the near-burning heat of the white mug in your hands.
“Oh I knew you’d be coming in today. I had a feeling,” your soft voice immediately went up in pitch.
“Rough day?”
Leon’s voice immediately made your shoulders feel more apparent. Made you completely forget that you had three tasks to do to close tonight. That the cafe was closing in an hour, at seven. That you have already decided that you were going to take it easy with Leon tonight; calm, collected, less desperate. What mattered the most was that you already forgot that decision and you just told Leon a longer sentence than you meant to and he responded with a question back.
To be enthusiastic about a regular and to their face was the goal, really. But not with Leon. This felt different. Even the way his demeanor presented itself that night. The way he was looking up at you from where he sat and the way his jaw was less set; less tense. Like he wasn’t clenching his teeth or allowing his thoughts to take up more energy than normal. Leon wore the same black jacket he always did. Has his hair parted the way it always was. The same scars on his hands.
In some weird, unexplained way? You were intrigued. Flattered in some way that you tried telling yourself wasn’t egotistical. It was this strange sense of satisfaction that you were able to be this man’s weekly waitress. Not a friend, not even an associate. Just something he can make permanent without you having to give back. Something he can say is a part of his routine. And maybe it was your spirit, or maybe it was the same curiosity you would have when you were figuring out mathematical equations for your classes. But you were magnetized toward him. It brought out your wonder like no other. You didn’t want to label it as a crush, or an admiration, because it wasn’t just that. It was wanting to sit down and ask about him. Where he worked, who he was, what he did, if he had family.
Why he was always brooding and never wanted to say more than four words at a time or why he always drank black, plain coffee. He was older, but still too young to be suffering the way the wicked did.
You embarrassingly faltered for a little. Clearly, you weren’t expecting that. Weren’t expecting him to respond the way he did.
“U-um, yeah, well, earlier it was,” was all you said at first as you placed his regular order down in front of him. Plain, black coffee. “How could you tell?” Naturally, your fist went to your right hip, leaning a bit on it.
Leon just looked up at you. He carried his exhaustion with him in the gentle crescents of his eyebags, and the way he sat; did he have a rough day too? Was that how he knew? Was that the feeling that told him, “I should go to the cafe where the young server is and order my plain black coffee all to just say a few things then leave”? But again – something about the way that the light hit him tonight and the way his posture was more worn in wasn’t just some feeling he had. Perhaps it was the roughness of the day. What did he do? What did his days usually look like? He then brought his hand forward, taking the mug in his hand and giving it a sip. How did it not burn him?
Would he even respond back to you? You started thinking that maybe your mascara was rubbed under your eyes more than normal. Or perhaps you had a big stain on your face. Whatever it was, you stood there without faltering again. Stood there and tried not to back down by the way you could see his brain incubating on whatever he was thinking. A part of you was starting to get slightly defended – not just because of the staring, but because he wasn’t exactly saying anything. Not for a bit, anyway. When he spoke you almost jumped, even with that low, calm, tired tone of his.
“You’re still in that rush-mindset.” For a moment, you didn’t realize that that was the first time you’ve ever seen anything close to a smile on Leon’s face, especially after taking in some near-boiling coffee. It wasn’t much; just a little upward lift of the one corner of his lip. Just enough to add a piece of his own emotions into his words. Your eyebrows raised. “Didn’t even bother to ask this time what I wanted to order.”
Yeah. You didn’t. Even though you both knew what he got, every single time. Again, when you weren’t there, he never ordered straight black coffee. Always ordered something sweet, or different. Something someone like you would order. Something sweet and creamy and reminded you of the fact that sugar did in fact brighten up your day. Make your heart beat a little faster and your nerves feel powerful. Made you feel the smiles you actually forced on your face every time you served another table or greeted another customer.
But the way Leon brought attention to the fact made you both shocked and slightly defensive. Crossing your arms, your mouth slightly agape, you quietly scoffed. The fact that he always refused to have any depth to any conversations you two would have – if you could even consider your talks that – or gave you more than a dry response and still have the audacity to only give you something when you made a slight change in his routine? Leon didn’t say it in an aggressive way, but you still felt offended in some strange way.
“Well, you’re dealing with the product of a frazzled college student who was yelled at by like, three different customers today!”
Today was full of surprises. Not just because it was the first sighting of a Leon Kennedy smirk, but the first hearing of a Leon Kennedy chuckle. Leon slightly shook his head, doing so. Letting that huff of air out of him before leaning back in his seat like he was lounging in a bar and looking up at you again. They were more narrowed. More daring. Playful. He crossed his arms, too, mirroring your appearance like a child talking back to its parent. Something in the air was flipped – something less tense and more exhilarating. You finally made a gentle crack in his mysterious, ceramic world. That realization led you to say more.
“And also this is the first time you’ve talked to your apparently favorite waitress. Like, ever.”
Whatever part of what you had just said made Leon raise his eyebrows, just slightly. Enough to get a flicker of something started in your chest. Bantering with Leon was not something you ever expected. Hell, him giving you any material to work off of was something that would’ve been whispered in a fairytale. Something unreal. This felt unreal. That alone made you want to explore it more. Perhaps he wasn’t having a rough day – if he was? Perhaps that was why he changed his mood.
Leon then furrowed his brows. “Who says you’re my favorite?”
“Says the past two months, sir.”
Yeah, you did have other things you needed to do before close. Yeah, maybe Maria was waiting for you in the back, peeking through the windows of the two-way doors and wanting to know why you were talking to Leon. You had no other customers. You didn’t have anything to do after your shift, which meant being able to stay an extra fifteen minutes to do tasks if you needed. Most importantly, you don’t know why, but this unexpected turn of events with Leon made you want more. Even if he was just some fascinating, moody regular. Even if he was nothing more than a man.
Leon couldn’t do anything but smirk for a bit. No way you had him stumped on what to say. But, thank god, your worry was soothed quickly. “Okay, well, then would my favorite waitress put another cup of coffee on my tab and sit down for a little? If you don’t have anything else to do and want to forget about whoever yelled at you?”
If you were told you would be having this conversation an hour ago with Leon, you wouldn’t have believed them. It was like seeing something so unknown, like learning a new word. Smelling a new scent. Finding something in nature that no one else has found before. Hell, climbing a mountain that went past the fluff of clouds in a sea of baby blue. This was energizing. This wasn’t the same quiet, reserved, gruff of a guy that came in almost every week, same seat, same order. This was someone who broke out of the shell and showed a feather or two.
But feathers still had weight to them. Feathers could still fall through the air. Leon has proved that to you. His request almost ricocheted off of the wall of surprise, but the hit of it was felt. All you could do was give him a smile. A daring nibble of the inside of your cheek, before turning on your heel, walking towards the two-way doors, and finding yourself in the back-end of the store.
Maria was quick to corner you after abandoning her bucket and mop. By the look on her face, she was about to dump perhaps many pounds of questions and comments on you. It was too late before she got a headstart and started loudly talking. After hushing down her embarrassing words of admirer and hot-mysterious-regular, you rolled your eyes at her, trying to tell her about Leon’s request. She got the memo quickly. Hushed down. And rushed you to hurry up and get back out there. You got another mug. Filled it with some plain back coffee, a small plate of sugar packets and creamer on the side. Pushed past the hinged doors. Only Leon and the elderly couple sat now within the cafe. Suddenly, it felt a little too closed in. A little too dark and empty where your giddiness could fester and turn into something a little too personal. But that didn’t matter, because you were already forcing your steps to lead you to his table, where you sat down the tray, and sat right across from him.
It felt uncanny. Mystifying. As if the bottom of the ocean rose up and you were able to see what was under the thickness of hundreds of feet of water. As if you lifted up the layers of crushed leaves and found one that still had some hydrated green to it. And it was, because now you weren’t standing and taking an order from a regular – you were sitting across from a man named Leon who you definitely felt like you seriously couldn’t figure out. And possibly would never be able to. Perhaps the fact that his gaze was near eye level with yours was the reason behind the fact that you could barely meet said stare. His eyes were blue. You could say that for sure now that you weren’t looking down at him. You didn’t realize you were staring until you forced your gaze down to your mug
“You seriously like it plain?”
Your eyes finally were able to shoot up. Because they had a real reason to make full contact again. They had something to ride the waves with; some conversation. Words. The entanglement of his voice responding to your voice, responding to his. There was something so strange building up near the bottom of your lungs, as if the tops of them felt like they were the only parts air could touch. You were reminded that this wasn’t the brooding Leon you usually dealt with.
Just looking at Leon again made you feel like you were looking at someone totally different. He was a lot more handsome than you thought; it wasn’t all the time you could look at him almost eye-to-eye level. The thought alone made your smile appear subconsciously.
“Uh, no, I am not a weirdo,” you answered, trying to calm down the smile on your face. Trying to not let it be known so strongly, right off the bat, that whatever curiosity had fondled his mind about you wasn’t the same as yours, if not stronger than his. That you were only drinking it plain in the moment because you knew he only drank it plain when you were there. Because in some weird way, you knew he never ordered it plain when you weren’t there. Maybe he wanted to associate it with you, with something different. You understood in some psychological way. Because that’s why you did it. You wanted to understand. You wanted to understand why it took one little playful conversation for him to break.
However, the look on his face after your statement was more than enough to make you gently laugh at him.
“I usually like to have coffee with my sugar,” you admitted honestly. With a small breath and an attempt to sit back against the creak of the wooden chair, you picked up your hot cup of black coffee, and took a sip. Bitter. Something that wasn’t good or bad. Just something that was there, matter-of-factly, stabilizing. That was when you allowed silence and a smile to fill in the rest of your response, just for a little, as if you were dealing with a newly founded creature. As if you were learning the language of something you were unfamiliar with. As if you both were dancing around different fires.
Then you spoke. “You do, though. Plain, I mean. Only when I’m here to give it to you.” Just enough to ask the question without delivering the tone. Just enough to give him the opportunity to sneak in more of his own language. Just enough to hint that you caught on to him, just a little.
Leon picked up his own cup too. But didn’t bring it to his lips right away. Instead, he just kind of looked at how your own cup met your lips. Watched as you leaned back in your chair and visibly felt more comfortable with getting to talk to him. It was when he picked up two packets of sugar from your small plate that made you break and raise your eyebrows. Well well well.
“Can I tell you a secret?” He glanced back up at you. Ripped off the tops of the white packets with a staggered line, something that wasn’t clean or precise, causing some flecks of sugar to fall down in front of him. After dumping in the sugar, he picked up his spoon and started swirling. It was then that he gave the biggest smirk that you’ve been given from him, and shrugged just a smidge. Big enough to make your stomach flutter.
“I never even liked coffee before this. Just had to make good first-looks with the officer I came in with that first day. Had to seem tough enough to drink it like that. It just stuck.”
Your brow raised at his statement, as well as a smile that seemed effortless. Somehow? You weren’t shocked. This man was a walking chain of unexpectedness. But you couldn’t ignore how he was letting you slip into his personality. How the look of his lines deepened when he smiled, and how he started looking at you with longer and longer bursts before pulling away to sip at his mug. You noted down in your mind that he was one to try to impress. He wanted to impress you. Little old you that he never showed any interest in having a full conversation with before. And you wanted to impress him back. If you were told that you were still on shift? You would have denied it.
“But you kept coming back. Almost every week, almost the same day, same plain black coffee with nothing else,” same waitress. “Usually, people who don’t like coffee try all the different sweet stuff first.” You tilted your head. Saw how his eyes followed how yours moved. Like he was trying to mentally capture the fact that you wanted to sit and talk to him. Little did he know, you were enjoying every second of it. Your curiosity was being woven into fine yarn that he could use. You were smiling and enjoying talking to him. Was this man not used to normal conversation? It didn’t make you uneasy, or awkward – only a little – but it was just fascinating how he went about communicating. That you only felt awkward because this strange, attractive, older man wanted to talk right back.
Damn it, he was charming.
Leon shook his head, smiling, taking another long sip of his coffee. You watched how he moved, how he held the damn thing; he kept it close, like it was a part of him that he had to reserve. That was when you noticed the little marks and scars on him. You’ve only touched his hands once, and remembered how tough they felt. How calloused they were. Whatever Leon did on a day-to-day basis, he did it hard. Unforgivingly.
“People don’t ask questions when you keep giving them the same answer.” His smile faded just a little, just enough for you to notice, but not enough to leave the conversation.
“I kept asking. I always asked, until today.,” Your chirp was faint but enough to tease.
“Exactly. You always do, which is why I noticed when you didn’t.”
You swallowed. Took another gulp of your plain coffee, before picking up the creamer and pouring some in, just enough to watch it swirl in the sea of deep brown. You understood a little better now, just enough to make your coffee almost half as sweet as you’d usually make it – two packets. Enough to glance up at him with knowing eyes, and comfortable enough to cross your legs. He held that mug like that because he was reserved, you figured it out. The man before seemed like he valued routine. Perhaps control. Something that could be healthy or dangerous. You wanted to know where that line was. But you weren’t the only one taking notes.
“Well, sir, you have successfully distracted me from the shitty shift I was having earlier. How about I go back to being my normal self and ask you an actual, real, question?” You could tell he wasn’t expecting you to pull back your chair and stand up, crossing your arms and looking down at him with something a bit more daring. Challenging. Something in you had a spike of confidence once you were able to tear your own gaze away from his face, his hands. Hell, if he was going to be curious and come out of his shell today, you were going to deliver. “You gonna try my version of a good cup of coffee? And, no, that means you can’t go back to being all quiet and grumpy.”
There hasn’t been one strong emotion you have seen come across this man’s face. Not before today. Not in the past however many months, not when you first met him, not last week. Never. There was nothing more than his low expression. Hell, you don’t even think a wisp of his hair was different when he came in. But for now, it was the expression on his face when he realized that there was more to you than just the kind, robotic customer-service-server that you were. You weren’t just realizing things about yourself; Leon was realizing things about you, too.
“Won’t knock it till I try it.” Leon said it right back. Challenging you right back. Challenge accepted.
You went back. Maria had cleaned up her last table, and now she was restocking everything. The second she saw you, she scurried over. Asked everything at once and made you hush her down again and you simply just told her I will tell you later. She hadn’t realized Leon was still out there, and of course, she nodded and gave you a sly wink.
“You okay if I keep sitting with him?”
“Baby you sit with him until the rest of the staff is out and I have my jacket on and the keys to lock down the damn place. I got your tasks covered. You go.”
A couple of minutes later, you came out with a hot cup of coffee. Iced was a big step you figured – you should take it slow with the man. He was older; probably was more used to the warmer stuff anyway. Honey, a pump of vanilla and brown sugar, milk, and obviously, coffee, was your move. Just smelling it made you want to make another cup just for yourself – and so you did. Another minute later, and you were walking back through the doors, striding up to the table and placing the two cups down, before feeling the cool wood under you once again.
“If you don’t like it, don’t force it. More for me.”
You watched as Leon picked up the mug, glancing up at you as his lips planted on the edge and he took a sip. His lips. You felt like a kid who drew on a piece of printer paper with crayons that were probably eight years old, and called it your own masterpiece. Something that you hoped your parents would excitedly congratulate you on and hang up on the wall. Something that you wanted to share and give. You were expecting him to immediately shoot you a look, which was half-reality. Leon’s brows furrowed, and he pulled back, looking at you before giving it a second shot.
“Oh god, you don’t like it,” you said teasingly, your head tilting and a small laugh coming out of you, shaking your head. Leon immediately started shaking his, going back for a third sip and looking as you stated it again.
“No, no I do, it’s just sweeter than I-”
You laughed a bit harder now. Something that made you roll your eyes and cross your arms at him from across the table. “Don’t force yourself! Again, more for me-”
“Nah, I’m drinking it.”
You both were smiling. Laughing, mostly you, as he kept drinking it down as if you would have actually taken it away if he had sat it down. And for a moment, you forgot that thirty minutes ago, he was just a regular. One that all the girls would whisper about and question and wonder what his problem was for such an attractive man. Someone that you thought was just a shell of a person. Of a man. Someone that didn’t like to be asked questions because he didn’t want to be reminded of anything else other than small, meaningless talks and bitter coffee. The night continued.
You didn’t think twice about any of it.
You felt like the sun – never really getting to understand the craters of the moon until it was directly in front of you. Casting a shadow on the whole world and allowing their interaction to be whole. It was something absurd in the way that you wouldn’t expect. Something so unknown yet natural when it happened, like how you didn’t think he’d ever ask you to sit with him. Like how you didn’t think he would ever crack a smile big enough to show his teeth. Like how you didn’t think you’d be asking him real questions, like what he did for work. Why he had started visiting more and more. But never anything too specific. Too personal. Like why he wanted you. Why you wanted him right back.
And he never gave you answers that were ever too specific. Too real. Too personal. All you got about the material parts of his life was that he was government. He traveled a lot. Why he was lucky he was able to come to the cafe as often as he did. Outside of that? You realized he was lonely. Perhaps distant from little interactions like with the younger server from that one cafe. Like being made to try a new drink or staying at a place until they closed.
When that time came around, it felt so quick. Like it barely happened. The lights in the back were shut off when you turned your head at the noise of the doors opening, and Maria was there. Jacket on. Purse on. Eyes looking right at you with that smile creasing them. You looked back at Leon.
“I’ll uh, I’ll let you do your job. It’s getting late anyway,” Leon said gently, glancing at Maria before clearing his throat. The next second? He was standing, placing some money on the table. “Thank you, for your company. You can keep the change. Next week?”
It felt weird, how your chest felt a little empty. How you felt that weird sensation of disappointment. You knew you shouldn’t have had that much fun as you did. You knew he just wanted some company and you were just a server at the cafe. Knew he had to have been at least ten years older than you. But there was something magnetic about Leon. Something distant yet bright enough to make you curious. It felt like the opposite of you, because you knew nothing about you was that interesting. Mysterious. Magnetic. And you didn’t understand why he wanted your company. But you knew exactly why you wanted this, and it had your lungs feel tingly and your stomach a bit fluffier. Attraction. Something like being told not to touch the burner but wanting to anyway, just to see how much it would burn. Just to feel it.
So you stood too, not wasting a second longer to make it seem like you enjoyed it the way you did. Nodded at him while gathering everything on the tray. Next week. A week of hoping for another moment of figuring this man out.
“Yeah, Leon,” you balanced the tray against your hip, flashing him a quick smile. It was too short of a summary to show how that all went. It was too quick and faint. Maybe for him it was enough, and maybe you were just young enough to chase the chase, but you knew better than to indulge in it. To make that mistake and have a fleeting moment of conflicting emotions about a guy you saw for maybe twenty minutes every week, who you barely talked to, who flattered you only because he asked for you every time.
Jesus, you needed to start dating or something. You didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or chaotic about the fact that you were having a teenage-like crush on this man that probably wanted nothing to do with you. A man who probably didn’t look at your hands the way you did with his, or watched as his lips touched his cup every time he brought it up. Did he also feel as giddy as you did? Did he notice the way you were looking at him before? You watched as he turned, nodding, about to walk towards the door.
“See you next week-”
“Actually,” he turned then. Carefully, like he was hesitating for a moment but committed once he realized he was already facing you. “May I walk you to your car? I don’t know where you’re parked, but uh, you know. The boogey-man and all that.”
You gently snorted at him and his sarcastic hint at you needing someone else to walk you in the dark. Yeah, right. But regardless, you rolled your eyes at him and gave him a bright smile. One that wasn’t forced. One that you didn’t even realize decorated your expression.
“It’ll take me a bit to clean up- I uh, I also live a couple of blocks down so I don’t bother driving. I don’t want to make you wait or walk.”
“I don’t mind,” he said gently. “No pressure. You can kick me away yourself.” A smirk.
Licking your lips, you nodded. “Give me ten minutes.”