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“You’re here again.”
Etho looks down from the menu, even though he knows it by heart now—and even worse when he’s never changed since he got it. He smiles, playing the part as Joel walks to the register, brow raised with a lopsided smile on his lips. He moves as the dance goes, a step closer but no quite directly in front of him. Someone could be stand in between them if they wanted to, and it wouldn’t be an uncomfortable distance, but there is no one coming in with the closed sign at the door.
“Again?” he asks playfully, brow knit in faux confusion but his lips betray with a smirk when Joel huff, rolling his eyes. Brown eyes, honeyed with the sunset light spilling in from the display windows. He looks at them curiously, like he will find a new shade to memorize.
New. Again.
“You always come to bother me,” Joel replies, not sounding as annoyed as he intends to. He sounds warm and friendly, a tad tired, but he’s smiling at Etho all too happily as he rests his chin on the heel of his palm. His fingers curl on his cheek, and Etho does his best to follow the path of his pinky tugs on his bottom lip. “So what can I get ya today?”
Etho lets out a quiet puff of a laugh, sliding his hands into the pockets of his hands, shrugging up his shoulders as the weight of his bag drags them down. His watch is caught on the hem of his pocket, and the sun is somehow still warm on his back, and the smell of coffee permeates the air sweet. There are few places he’d rather be—and even less space that have Joel in them right now.
“What’s special today?” He asks, then quickly changes his mind. “No, actually. You can pick. Whatever you think I will like.”
Joel tilts his head a little, cheek squished into his fingers. “Feeling daring, are we?”
“Uh… No, not really. Just the usual, please.”
Etho squeezes the back of his neck, feeling the heat prick his fingertips and cheeks—it worsens when Joel laughs, almost a giggle, and there are caramel lines on his eyes, blown with amusement and fondness and that’s far too sweet for him. He turns his head into his forearm, clearing his throat into it while Joel just keeps looking at him.
Orange falls outside like a filter, yet the warmth lifts slowly—not many people are outside now, walking or driving, and it’s as quiet as sunsets go before nightlife can start. From the sun to neon and fluorescent lights, and even then, inside the empty café, Joel doesn’t bother with the lights as Etho’s shadow falls beside him—like a companion, which is he, within these walls for the time being.
Not a friend, not quite. Not much else, either.
It’s easy to imagine more, standing where his shadow is, much closer. It doesn’t matter where he looks, as long as he is closer. But from where he stands, he can look at him. And Joel looks back.
And that’s as close as they are.
Before Etho can ask—
What are you doing after?
Do you want to hang out?
Can I have your number?
Are you seeing anyone?
Do you like someone?
Please tell me you don’t like anyone.
—Joel is pushing himself off the register, swiping at the screen with flicks of a wrist, then he’s moving away. The same path, over again, Etho could trace it if he knew the distance between his steps. He wants to know about that, greedily—they haven’t ever walked side to side.
To the right; he grabs a cup and pours lemon syrup, whatever remains of the black tea, a lid, he shakes it; he walks to the register where Etho waits, placing it in down before snatching a brown paper bag. Not many things are left on the display, but tucked in the corner, already wrapped in cling-wrap, there is a turkey sandwich. But Joel doesn’t grab it immediately, instead, he pinches the tongs and hums, eyeing the slices and tarts, the slices of cake and pies, various pastries and jellies—Joel jumps back and grabs a box instead, messily piling up the sweets and savories with childish giddy.
Etho looks at him through the glass, heart aching, etching his image into his mind, his heart, his dreams. The curve of his lips, the fullness of his cheeks, the sunkissed skin, the gold in his eyes. His face lit up with the cooler light, and even then, he looks dreamy, softer. Happy.
Is there someone who makes you as happy as when you try to annoy me?
The box is full, spilling at the sides and Joel is giggling, holding the box together as best as he can, tying a rope to hold it together. The thought of the flavors mixing would have made his skin crawl—but he isn’t thinking about that, because Joel saunters back and finally grabs the turkey sandwich, placing it atop the box like a crown.
Joel is the jewel, though, as Etho looks up to see him again.
“You are so annoying.”
Joel smirks—he knows Etho is full of it.
“Will that be all today?”
Etho rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. So who’s the real winner.
A car drives by outside. The shadows of the chair legs get shorter, Etho’s shadow more solid on the counter. His pocket is lighter without his wallet, another car drives by. He has the exact notes, but he eyes the box of monstrosity, and he doubts having exact change for it.
A ten. A five. And—
“On the house.” Joel smirks, leaning forth, arms cross loosely at the edge of the counter. He’s looking—looking for something, a reaction. “Flatmates are gone for the weekend.”
What are you doing after?
Do you want to hang out?
Can I have your number?
Are you seeing anyone?
Do you like someone?
Please tell me you don’t like anyone.
“Better than throwing them away,” Joel continues, his voice filling the silence Etho allows. He smiles, easily, in no rush to take the money in front of him. He’s close, like this, leaning in and looking up at Etho with giddiness and something unmistakably Joel.
“That’s too much!” For a single person.
“You can share it.”
Do you want to share? He huffs, “You squashed everything together!”
Joel laughs.
You’re cute.
Etho sighs, tired—the only truth that leaves his lips. He grabs the box, balancing the sandwich on top, and his tea on the other hand. Joel laughs fully when the sandwich slides against his chest, and his eyes sparkle when Etho glares at him.
“Will that be all today?”
I like you. “Yeah.” I like you.
“Come by again!”
I like you.
I like you.
I like you.
I like— “Sure. Save me the usual.”