“All that happened? Really? No way…” Veronica feigned a yawn as she slouched on the sofa in the breakroom. “I can’t believe I missed such drama…”

“Very funny.” Lyril bit into a biscuit with a scowl.

“Oh, lighten up. You said yourself it could’ve gone worse.”

It was true that the evening, though exceptionally awkward, had passed relatively uneventfully. Still, it was with an air of gloom that Lyril found himself spending his morning break slumped in a seat opposite Veronica, staring into his coffee cup.

“I’m not about to celebrate the calm before the storm.”

“Peak hour!” Radames trilled, leaning over Lyril’s shoulder to confiscate the barely touched coffee. “C’mon, I need you serving customers! Where’s that smile?”

Lyril rose with an answering groan.

“It routinely packs its bags and leaves at the mention of Diego.” Veronica snorted, patting the seat Lyril had vacated. “If you’re taking away my source of news, you’d be better be willing to fill in the gaps.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll clear up any misconceptions that Ly has surely given you about it being the worst evening of his life. It was a lovely dinner,” Radames declared. "Even if Ly refused to talk to a certain someone I went out of my way to invite on his behalf.”

“That’s a very optimistic summary, even for you.” Lyril pulled on his apron as Veronica and his brother continued to discuss the ‘lovely’ evening.

“Did anyone break anyone’s nose? Did anyone throw up? Did anyone cry for an hour on the floor?”

“Well, no, but–”

“That’s already an improvement from last time,” giggled Veronica.

Lyril decided to end this particular discussion by propelling Veronica out of the room and out from behind the counter. “Please go before people think you’re working here.”

“If I pretend to work here I can stay behind the bar!”

“If you pretend to work here, you’ll get customers.”

Veronica’s face twisted. “Ew.”

“Exactly. Now go next door to your actual job.”

“Eww.”

*

Raphael looked up from his notes. The line had dwindled to a couple of people, and he knew peak hour was over. Now everyone who had gathered around lunch had managed to get to work, or back to school, or back home before the heat.

If he had to be honest, he liked coming first at opening and at lunch – it gave him an opportunity to watch Lyril work before he had to go to class. He liked looking at him when Lyril forgot people were watching: when he would take orders, grind beans, throw croissants in a small oven, smile awkwardly at little kids while giving them a cookie, thoughtfully measured milk, exchanged quips with his brother... Raphael half-wished he could be behind that counter, exchanging quips with Lyril with such ease. It would be a much bigger motivator to get up in the morning than going to class or rehearsal.

Raphael took a sip from his coffee.

Well, this was a pretty good motivator too. Lyril looked almost confident when he forgot that people around him could see him. It was a glimpse into what he really was. A rare honor.

He looked at his phone.

Amir should be coming soon, so Raphael had to make sure he didn’t look up too often.

Not that Raphael had a right to look if he wasn't going to do anything about it, but... it was nice to forget that sometimes. Nice to forget the truth.

Nice to forget why he'd vowed not to do this again.

*

Lyril was almost enjoying the quiet after peak lunch hour until Diego showed up.

“Radames is on break,” he said shortly.

“I’ll wait.” Diego smiled, sliding into the seat closest to the bar. He tapped his fingers on the wood thoughtfully. “I’ll take… what new concoction did Radames came up with last?”

“What he came up with last was talking to you.” So naturally, it tasted foul.

“Ouch… that how you treat customers here, Ly?” Diego paused. “Alright then, tea.”

“What kind of tea?” Lyril muttered through gritted teeth.

The chimes at the door sounded again before Diego could answer. Both of them glanced over to see Amir hurry in and head to his and Raphael’s usual table.

“What kind of tea?” Lyril asked again.

Diego’s eyes, which had followed Amir all the way to the table, showed no signs of looking anywhere else.

“What kind of- oh whatever.” Lyril grabbed a tea bag from the closest compartment and threw it into a cup. When he turned his attention back from the kettle, Diego was still looking in the same direction, chin rested in his hand, a small warm smile on his face.

Lyril filled the cup, ignored the jar full of sugar packets and irritably pushed the cup towards him after a good five minutes of brewing. “Here.” Diego still hadn’t looked away.

“Thanks.” Diego turned to him to smile briefly. “Hey, can I ask… is that your brother’s new boyfriend? I saw some chemistry last night.”

Lyril shrugged. “They’ve been out on a date, not that it’s any of your business.”

“Hmm. I’d better go and get to know him a little more then.”

“Why, exactly?” Lyril seethed.

He might as well not have spoken. Diego took a sip from the cup and, pulling a thoroughly revolted expression, grabbed a handful of packets of sugar before rising.

Lyril had to stifle a laugh at the look of distaste on Amir’s face when Diego pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. Then his eyes passed over to Raphael on the other side, chewing the end of a pencil as he studied a stack of papers, and his eyes lingered.

Raphael’s half of the table was covered with lined paper, a handful of pens and highlighters scattered over them (the purple one untouched, as usual). With Amir’s books out too here wasn’t space for Diego to put his tea on either side; Lyril fought back a grin seeing him attempt to hold the saucer balanced on his leg without seeming too awkward. Hopefully he’d spill it.

While Amir was still glaring at Diego, Raphael merely glanced and inclined his head at the new presence at their table. His own drink was tucked next to a stack of two, maybe three books – Lyril shifted to the side for a better view as he piled up saucers for the dishwasher – the top one was A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Lyril racked his brain for anything he could remember of it from English classes. There wasn’t a great deal: when it came to plays, his class had mainly studied Macbeth and had barely taken more than a cursory look at most of Shakespeare’s other plays. He remembered some names, a fairy king and queen in the forest… he wished he could go over and talk to Raphael about what he was studying. Or maybe just listen to him talk about it.

Lyril watched Raphael switch the pencil out for a sharp tipped pen and scribble something down in the margin. Just as he was cursing his school’s chosen exam board for focusing on a different play, he heard someone clear their throat. Lyril ducked down to thrust the saucers into the dishwasher, stealing one last glance back at Raphael before hurrying to take the next order.