Chapter Text
Lance’s p.o.v:
Coldness. That’s all I can feel. That blistering, harsh type of cold that nips at the tips of your fingers, and bristles against your face. It snowed all year round in Vermont, and the fact that it was Winter only made it ten times worse. I secure my beanie over my head a little tighter. Pulling it snugly enough that it pressed my bangs right against my forehead. My gloved hands making their way into my coat pockets. Gazing out at the bundle of corner shops to my left.
Abruptly coming to a stop as I set my sights on a coffee shop, right across the road from the pavement my feet are planted on. Well, that’s got to be new. I’ve never seen that before. And I walked this route almost everyday. Couldn’t hurt to try it out, right? Before I know it, my feet are walking me right across the road, instinctively looking down both ways before briskly pacing down the gravelly asphalt beneath me.
The soft ringing of a bell sounds through my ears as I heave open the glass doors to the little shop. A warm flush hitting my skin as I remove myself from the cold. Dragging my beanie off at the sudden warmth filling my body. My hair sticking up in all sorts of different directions, smoothing it down with the palm of my hand. Music softly playing from a stereo on the little wooden counter. With a newfound pep in my step, I flounder over to counter. Peering over, and setting my sights on a lone, raven haired boy leaned against a coffee maker. His hands grasping a small paper coffee cup, occasionally bringing it to his lips. The rhythmic tapping of his foot drumming against the floor. Presumably timed with the music wafting through the room. After a moment or two of awkward silence, I clear my throat. Waving over at the man. He seems to perk up a little.
Making his way over to the counter, he offers a strained, half-smile. Words beginning to tumble out of his mouth smoothly. His voice gravelly and deep, almost like the voice of someone who’d just woken up. “Evening’. What can I get for you?” I hum thoughtfully at his words. Having to fish out my glasses from my satchel in order to read over the chalkboard that hung upon the wall. “Maybe.. A vanilla latte? Soy milk, though. “Vanilla latte, with soy milk. Gotcha. Can I get a name with that?” A friendly smile spreads across my lips. My hands tugging at the individual fingers of my gloves in order to drag them off. Looking back up at him to answer his question after my momentary distraction. Cheerily responding as I deposit the small amount of cash across the mahogany of the counter. “Lance.” —————————————————————— Keith’s p.o.v:
“Lance.” The name rung in my head, hit with a sudden gust of nostalgia. Almost knocking me off my feet. I knew this guy looked familiar, but his place in the recesses of my mind was simply an afterthought. Too distracted by the pools of azure staring back at me from over the counter. Too distracted by those angular cheekbones, and that sharp, relaxed jaw. My pining for the ‘stranger’ in front of me settling into the pits of my stomach when I heard the guy tell me his name.
It’s not like I’m new to Vermont, far from it. Having been forced to move a whole thirty hours away from home, because of Mom’s job. Away from my friends, away from school, which honestly wasn’t such a bad thing, but more importantly, away from my metaphorical ’big brother’, Shiro. A teacher at the school I went to here, and the guy who let me live under his roof for far too long to be considered just a temporary fix. Lance, a name that’s all too familiar to me. The guy that was basically my middle school gay awakening, the guy I was, to put it simply, completely smitten with. And for a small while, I thought I had a fair shot at getting Lance to fall for me too. Up until the move, cutting things short. I tried to keep in touch, I really did. Until that unfateful day where I went searching for his contact, only to find my call sent to voicemail after the first ring.
Snapping back to reality, with a sudden resurgence of awareness. Realising I’ve somehow made my way over to the coffee machine. Impatiently tapping my foot as the cup fills with the dark, umber liquid. The rising temperature of the paper leaving a warm imprint on my hand. My mind failing to recall each of the steps I swore I’d committed to memory after my... What, two weeks of working here? Still regaining my footing whilst simultaneously trying to keep my cool. After eventually managing, by some great feat, to make that sickeningly sweet beverage, I messily scrawl his name onto the cup in the sharpie I kept tucked into the pocket of my apron, waltzing up to the counter and sliding it over. Not quite sure where to put my hands as I awkwardly stand in front of him. Fiddling with them as I offer him a sheepish expression. Relief washing over me when he reaches out to take the cup into his own hands, assuming that this interaction is finally over. Until he opens his mouth. “Yknow.. You look a lil’ familiar. What’s your..” —————————————————————— Lance’s p.o.v:
My words die on my tongue when my eyes trail down to the plastic name tag pinned to the top right corner of his apron. ‘Keith’. As in the Keith I thought I had completely erased from my memory. The Keith I’d ‘never have to worry about again’. The one person that had plagued my mind in all the wrong ways. Felt all those feelings for, ones that I shouldn’t have harboured. Let affection drive me to madness. I can feel the colour draining from my face, and uncomfortably warm bile rising in my throat.
Without a second thought, I dip my head down in a curt nod, and let my feet take me back out through where I came. Forgetting my drink in the process. Muffled speech filling my ears as I pull at the handle of the hefty Oakwood door. Which feels an awful lot heavier then the when I first heaved it open just a few minutes ago. Quickly occupying my fidgeting hand, haphazardly reaching for the delicate, bronze rosary hanging from my neck. Fingers freezing over against the chill of the air, turning the sticky sheen of my nerves into a thin, cracking layer of dried sweat.
Steadying my breathing, I stabilise myself by colliding my back into the nearest wall. Mind racing a thousand miles per minute as I try to grasp the current situation. All that hibernating guilt built up in my inner cavities being spurred awake again. Just like a bear in spring. Exiting my body in a flurry of harsh breaths. My vision clouded with an overwhelming haze of white, trying my best to blink it away. Gripping onto my head with my opposite hand, rosary still clutched tight in my left one. The heel of my trainer pushing me off the wall once I’ve gathered myself. Thoughts running dry as I push them back down into the crevices of my mind. I can’t catch myself thinking about stuff like that. Not again, never again.