Work Text
Monday
He falls
way
too quickly
It’s like a trait, a habit he can’t shake off. Chloe would make fun of him. Talk about how he needs to raise his standards. Talk about how he needs to stop falling for every single boy he sees at the street. It could be simple as a slight touch of hands, or a gentle, sweet smile.
He falls to quickly
Yet Simon
still
hasn’t learned to stop putting his heart out.
He had a boyfriend
once
, if he could call it. It’s what he thinks as he pulls out his umbrella, it’s what he thinks off when he quietly swears as he feels the cold water seep through his shoes. Once, only
once.
He wanted more, he always wanted more, he’s
selfish
like that. He wanted more that meant late night cuddles. That more meant marriage. That more meant children and vacation.
There were only for a month.
He wanted it, he always wanted it. But he didn’t get it.
But it was enough for him.
He’s used to it
But him, that horrible boy only wanted money, sex, ghostly kisses that meant
nothing
to only get things out of his cloudy mind. He hated it. But he went through it like he always does. He kept his mouth shut as he heard whispers near his ear that meant
nothing
.
So now he keeps it hidden in tiny box full of too many feelings.
He watched him fall in love with another girl. But he was fine with it. It’s what
he
wanted. A girl who puts on
too much
makeup. A girl that shows
too much
skin. A girl who gets drunk. A girl who’s carefree. He wasn’t mad, she was pretty smile with her red lipstick and red crop top. She’s everything that Simon
isn’t.
He’s
still
not over it.
It’s been five years.
He wonders how they’re doing as he walks in the damp, cold streets of Detroit. The lifeless city. The colourless city. The dull city. It’s what Chloe named Detroit as she watches him take a train, he could still remember her tears in her eyes.
It grows colder every second.
He’s freezing, hugging his arms as he shivers. He
hates
himself for not bringing a jacket. He hates himself for not checking the temperature. Simons stares at the signs that’s hard to see in the grey hues of the weather. He couldn’t care if he’s going to be late to class. He couldn’t care if he’s going to get a mouthful from Chloe who likes a big sister for Simon at this point.
He’s hugging his arms for warmth, hearing the silent
pitter-patter
of the rain from his old umbrella that’s falling apart. He’s running at this point, feeling the splashes of the muddy water soak his pants, he couldn’t care if people are watching.
His quick puffs of breaths are now mindless clouds that float in the air as he slows down, he hasn’t ran like this since high school. Simon leans against the window, heaving, shaking. The corner of his eyes catch a glimpse of light,
warmth
.
He’s like a cat that’s been left out in the rain when he enters. Strangers are looking him when the door rings. He catches it all, the stolen glances, the ‘poor guy’ comments that they think that Simon can’t hear. He’s doesn’t need their sloppy attempts at sympathy.
“Welcome to Jericho, what would you like?”
Shit
The guy looks
cute
.
He’s been preparing himself for the next time he falls in love with a single glance. He has seen it coming, his heart was looming with ghost and cobwebs for about month now. It’s like an alarm, a timer, telling him the next when he’s going to fall in love. He could already imagine Chloe shouting at him to stop catching feelings.
Despite his muscular body that Simon is silently screaming about it’s his
eyes
. Blue and Green. Heterochromia. Reminding him of the deep, blue ocean in the summer and the green leaves from the trees in spring.
“Hey…”
“Excuse me?”
“Fuck, sorry.”
“What would you like to order.”
He’s drumming his fingers on the counter, but the
way
he’s looking at Simon isn’t like any other. It’s sweet, genuine, like he’s known Simon for awhile.
Maybe he’s right, maybe he’s just being stupid and being hopeful.
“Uhh…”
“Sir you look like you’re coming down with a fever,” he tilts his head
which is the cutest thing he’s ever seen
.
“Are you alright?”
No he’s
not
alright.
“Chai Latte,” he says way too quickly. “I-I want a chai latte.”
“Alright.”
He
doesn’t
even like Chai Latte. But he had to say something to stop it from turning
awkward
and
weird
like his dates from Tinder.
Tuesday
He
shouldn’t
be doing this
But it’s tempting, he just getting a taste, dipping his toes into the waters.
He’s not going to get attached.
“You again?”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry?”
His heart is beating too much and there’s red in his cheeks.
“Chai Latte.”
“Alright.”
Wednesday
It’s gotten to the point where he thinks about what would it feel like to put his lips against that
him.
It’s gotten to the point where he’s picking out his best clothes in his closet.
The faint smell of caffeine that hangs in the air is something, the quiet conversations, the laughter.
It’s all that’s has to do with
him
“I’ve never asked what your name is.”
It’s starting again, he’s slowly getting his hopes up, it shouldn’t be happening to him. He’s just dipping his toes into the waters.
But it’s too
tempting
“My name?”
“I was calling you ‘Chai Latte’ boy because no one orders Chai Latte.”
He’s right, he
hates
it.
“My name, my names Simon.”
“Simon.” He says, it’s like he’s trying it out.
“My name’s Markus.”
Markus
That sounds like a good name. It goes well with his smile, that warm smile that’s stuck in Simon's mind for the rest of the day that
almost
made him fail a quiz.
Thursday
“Chai Latte.”
“Okay.”
“Just okay?” He’s trying something out, a holy grail to add humour into their boring conversations.
“Yeah, is there a problem?”
“Yeah, I want to speak to the manager about your
horrible
customer service.”
He made Markus laugh. It’s the type that last for almost a minute. It’s they type that’s infectious. The type where his teeth is showing and there’s absolute bliss and joy.
He likes that laugh.
Friday
“Simon.”
The way Markus said his name made his ears red and his cheeks flush. It sounded like a whisper, deep, just for him to hear.
“Markus?”
“Here’s your order.” He gives the cup to him and a napkin. But Markus never gives him a napkin—
“Thank you.” He mutters, it sounds like he’s uninterested, but he’s overthinking about the napkin and how Markus winked at him.
He winked at him.
Shitshitshitshitshit
He’s covering his face when he walks out of the coffee shop, holding the warm cup in his hand. He’s walking faster now. He
told
himself that he won’t fall. He told himself that’s he’s just dipping he’s dipping his toes into the waters.
But he’s so
selfish
The napkin falls to the ground, the water seeps into it. He picks it up, but there’s a writing on it, numbers and letters that he has to squint so he could see—
“Call me <3 61472878378”
His heart is beating a thousand times a minute like in cheesy romantic movies. His ears are red hot and his cheeks are flushed. This couldn’t be it right? His mind his trying to find a thought to anchor on, to pull apart every single detail.
But he can’t
“Chloe.”
“Simon.”
“I…”
“You fell in love with another guy Simon I told you—“
“Yeah but it’s different.”
He clutched the wet napping in hands, careful that’s he doesn’t break it.
“He gave me his number.