“–And the next time you want to test out coffee beans from a shop halfway across the city and cut shipping costs by sending someone to pick them up, you can do it yourself!” Lyril hung up before his brother could finish his familiar trail of excuses that started and ended with the creative genius of an artist needing to be left in his workshop. At the very least, Radames better have been doing that cleaning he had promised.

Lyril slid his phone into a pocket as he strode around the corner and right into a tall figure.

“Hey!”

Lyril hated that the first thing he noticed were the other man's eyes.

“S-sorry–”

Eyes that were presently frowning and looking around their feet. When the stranger crouched down, Lyril belatedly caught on that the already strained plastic bag full of bean packets had torn. Bags of coffee were spilled on the pavement, along with his phone.

His ears bright red, embarrassment hitting maximum, Lyril stammered, “N-no, leave me to–”

“It's alright, I was walking too fast too.”

While the stranger with the incredibly blue eyes was busy gathering three bags, Lyril grabbed at his phone and stuffed it in his pocket. He rose, trying to balance three packets in his arms. The young man who was helping paused, about to pile another few on top.

“Are you going far?”

Lyril managed to point at a nearby corner where the corner of the café’s menu board was just visible.

“I'll help out.”

“No, no, you really d-don't need to–”

“You can't very well carry them all yourself without a bag,” the stranger replied with a frown. “Come on.”

*

When the stranger had left, Lyril's millions of apologies and thank yous trailing behind him, he stomped in.

Or tried to.

“What do you think?” Radames posed in the doorway, head held high as he gestured to the inside of the café. There were some fresh arrangements of flowers on each table, some of which were in slightly different positions than they had been several hours ago. As pleasant as they were, the scent of roses and verbena did not do very much to improve Lyril’s mood.

“I thought you said you were going to clean, not redecorate.” Lyril thrust several bags of coffee beans into his brother’s hands. “Here you go, and I mean it about never doing this again.”

“Thanks!” Radames chirped gratefully. “And who was that handsome man I saw coming with you? You didn't invite him in!”

“Why, so you could have a new guinea pig for your blends?”

“No, so I could charm him with my blends and you could get a date!”

Lyril rolled his eyes and ducked behind the bar as his brother followed suit.

He watched Radames work for a few minutes before he said, "You and your experiments... just look up recipes online."

He knew he'd made a mistake the moment his brother's eyes widened and his mouth opened in horror just as dramatic as his brother could.

“How dare you!”

Lyril wisely decided to start gathering filthy cups and carrying them to the kitchen behind the bar as Radames's rant continued behind him:

“Betrayal! My own brother, saying this to me! Look up recipes online! How could you! I am astounded, Lyril, astounded! I'm speechless! I have no words!”

He continued to have no words, loudly, for the next fifteen minutes as Lyril was loading up the dishwasher. When he returned, his brother slid him a cup.

“Try this, tell me what you think.”

Lyril took a sip. “I'm impressed you were able to do that all this time while being astounded and speechless.”

“I drew power from your derision. Well? Thoughts?”

Right as Lyril was about to answer, his brother whistled. “Look who's coming back!”

He looked.

And froze.

It was the stranger who'd helped him with the bags of beans, stomping towards the café with a dark expression.

“Your chance to talk to him!”

“No, I can’t just…” Lyril made a weak gesture with his hands, ducking down behind the counter.

“You can’t serve him from down there!”

“I’m not going to serve him, not like this! He’s hardly going to be thrilled to see the guy who almost knocked him over in the street less than an hour ago.”

“Oh yes, that’s why he picked this café, which he’d just walked you to, because he’d just hate to see you again.” Radames rolled his eyes.

“You’re the one always saying we have the best coffee in the neighborhood!” Lyril shuffled along the sink, eyeing his closest escape route.

“And we have really charming baristas as a bonus! Oh, fine, I'll serve him and make a good impression for you, you hide.”

Lyril managed to crawl into the kitchen just as the young man strode in. He heard Radames's voice from the bar:

“Hello sir, what can I offer you?”

Lyril couldn’t resist the temptation to peek out, which turned out to be a very bad decision. The stranger pointed right at him.

“You! You stole my phone!”

“What?”

Lyril exchanged a completely bemused look with his brother. He barely heard Radames saying “I’m sure there’s some mistake– ” as the stranger approached. It was quite a different sensation to have those intense blue eyes looking right at him rather than at the pavement.

“I didn’t steal your phone,” he started, fumbling for his pockets. “Mine fell, and I picked it up--” a horrible thought dawned on him as he patted the sides of his jacket. He dimly registered Radames saying something about customers not going behind the counter when he found something phone shaped.

“I think that's my phone,” the stranger hissed and held out his hand. “Thief.”

“I-I must've picked it up, when– I'm so sorry–”

The stranger snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

Lyril was fully prepared to keep apologizing when Radames very carefully propelled the stranger out from behind the bar, saying warmly, “May I interest you in a free coffee as compensation for my brother's actions?”

“Don't tell me that this is some elaborate marketing scheme you've cooked up.”

Lyril was barely hearing the words. All he could do was stand there and stare. The sensation when his skin faintly brushed against this man's hand was–

Radames snapped him out of his thoughts as he thrust a bag of beans into his hand, staring at him pointedly.

“Our very best original Lighthouse coffee for this kind gentleman, hmm? May I take your name, Sir?”

*

Raphael was their first customer the next day, shuffling in with a large bag, phone in hand. He nodded briefly while collecting his coffee from the counter.

“When did he order?” whispered Lyril to his brother.

Radames was beaming. “He used the app before he came!”

“You still have that thing? I told you it costs too much to keep it, and nobody uses it.”

Radames simply turned big brown eyes towards Raphael, then back to Lyril. Then again.

The message was clear, and Lyril raised his arms in defeat.

“Anyway, he seems to like that it's so quiet, see, he's studying!” Radames's excited whisper made Raphael look up at them. They both waved, and Radames shuffled into the kitchen to bring out some more muffins. Lyril decided to go over and ask if Raphael needed anything else, maybe peddle some of those muffins to him.

“Um, hi,” he started.

Raphael looked up. “Yes?”

“We have some muffins just out of the oven, if you-- I mean, on the house, of course.”

Raphael narrowed his eyes. “Let me make something clear. I’m staying because I'll be late to class if I go anywhere else.”

“Wh--?” Lyril blinked at him.

“I don’t know if you intentionally ran into me, but please don’t flirt. You’re not getting in my pants.”

Lyril’s face went bright red. “No-- th… what? No! No, no, oh God, no, I just, I wanted to say I’m sorry again, with, with a muffin, or anything else you might like, and, um… not at all-- that!”

Raphael looked at him for a long moment, then smiled faintly. “Alright, I’ll hold you to that, Elmahdi. Do you have any lemon muffins?”

“Um, I think so.” Raphael started getting up, and Lyril waved his hand. “No, no, I’ll bring it. It’s the least I can do.”

As he was making his way back, the bell rang and five people entered, chatting loudly.

Lyril sighed.

The day had begun.