“Latte for... Nick Hile?” the barista shouts across the crowded Starbucks. Nik sighs and grabs his drink, having given up trying to correct them a while ago. He ignores the girl’s apologetic look and instead looks towards the various tables that are scattered around the establishment. It’s crowded and Nik worries for a moment that he won’t be able to find anywhere to sit.

He manages to find a table hidden in a corner of the shop and sips at his hot coffee, drinking in the warmth of the beverage. It was winter in New York, the harsh, biting cold sinking through Nik’s insufficient coat. His gloves are riddled with holes, his scarf moth-eaten. Nik idly thinks about making a trip to a thrift store to find new gear.

He’s lost in his thoughts when a figure seemingly appears in front of him, tall and confident. It’s a man, blonde and wearing what looks like an expensive coat. He pulls the chair out opposite Nik and sits down, sticking his hand across the table, a smile already bright on his face.

“Hey, I’m Finn,” he says, the smile taking up his entire expression. Nik’s guard immediately lowers, something in that smile familiar in a way he couldn’t place.

“Nik,” Nik replies, shaking Finn’s hand weakly. He’d absentmindedly removed his gloves before Finn had gotten there, making him wonder just how long he’d been waiting for the other.

“Sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up this morning, I was trying to make coffee to help with the hangover,” Finn’s voice was calm, much more so than Nik felt. His heart starts beating a million miles a minute, though from what he can’t tell. “You barely drank any water last night.”

“Wait that was... your house I woke up in this morning?” Nik’s eyes go wide as he makes the connection, but is still frustrated by his lack of memory from the night before.

“Yeah, you crashed right when we got back. I’m surprised you had the motor skills to take your pants off.”

“W-what?” Nik can’t help it, his voice raises a bit too high and he sinks further down in his seat when other customers look over at him, towards the commotion. “ We didn’t... did we?”

“What...?” Finn’s voice trails off as his brows furrow, and Nik feels a burst of relief. He wasn’t ready to get rid of his virginity just yet, especially not to a complete stranger when he’s wasted. “Oh, god, no we didn’t. We were both plastered.”

“You just were still wearing your work clothes, which I assume can’t be the most comfortable to wear,” Finn continues on, and Nik gets the slight sense he’s rambling. “I fell asleep after that, just had to make sure you were comfortable.”

That triggers something; Nik’s face crashing into a pillow and someone saying goodnight in a slurred voice. He remembers being introduced to someone who looks very close to Finn in his mind, so he truly doesn’t think the man sitting in front of him is lying.

So he believes him. But- he’s going to have a bit of fun first.

“Oh, really? How do I know you’re not just a stalker who took advantage of my impaired state?” Nik tries to hide his smile as Finn’s cheeks flair, a sign that seals the deal for Nik.

“I- Wha- Nik! I would never do such a thing! We were having a very pleasant evening and you even... You- you, uh, you told me what part of India you came from!” Finn closes his mouth tightly, seemingly realizing that he’s being the loud one now.

“Oh, yeah? Do tell,” Nik’s voice is teasing as he leans his head on his hand that he has propped up against the table. He’s enjoying Finn stumbling over himself, but shoves down any deeper thought as to why he likes to see Finn this way. That’s a conversation with himself he’d rather have another day.

“I don’t- look, I was also drunk. I don’t remember specific details,” Finn huffs and brings his coffee to his lips, a frappe by the looks of things. Nik chuckles as he finishes off his own latte and sits the empty mug down.

“God, I’m just making myself look worse, aren’t I?” Finn’s voice drops low and he frowns, making Nik feel a pang of guilt in his chest.

“No, I’m just messing with you,” Nik confesses. He can’t stand the way Finn’s features move in a way that makes him look heartbroken, and the way it tugs at his heart. “I think I remember you. I’ll have to see what comes back as the day goes on. I’ve never had that much to drink before.”

Finn’s face lights up at that, a smile that reaches his eyes and gives him crows feet. Nik feels himself also smiling, as if Finn’s joy was infectious. It was an odd feeling, a pressure in his stomach accompanying the odd sensation.

Pressure wasn’t the right word to describe it, but Nik doesn’t have the time to entertain the thought as he gets distracted with the slew of words coming out of Finn’s mouth. He only manages to catch ‘job’, ‘interview’, ‘professional’, and ‘suit’ before his head is fully spinning.

“Hold on- slow down, Finn,” Nik lays a hand down on Finn’s and squeezes gently, an idle gesture of comfort.

But Finn rips his hand away and that pit in Nik’s stomach is back. “Sorry. I talk fast when I’m nervous. Your interview is in a week, I cleared it with my bosses and talked you up, so don’t let me down.”

“Gods, that’s so kind,” Nik breathes, gripping his mug before remembering it’s empty. “We’ve practically only just met and you’re basically already offering me a job.”

“I’m just here to help out,” Finn’s voice is back to being light and Nik relaxes, seemingly having forgotten about the hand thing. “Bonus: you can stay at my place. I know the area you live in, and it’s definitely not the safest or cleanest. You’re more than welcome to room with me.”

Almost as if he was expecting it, Finn immediately shuts down any of Nik’s attempts to argue. Only speaks about how there would be a moving truck at Nik’s house tomorrow that would bring all his stuff over. Nik is barely able to keep up, his brain running a mile a minute as he tries to drink in all this information he is having a hard time processing.

Nik is in shock as Finn suddenly gets up, telling Nik about how he'd text him more details later, talking about hanging out later that day. It barely registers that Finn is gone. Nik can’t say how long he’d sat there, his head spinning, until he rushed out onto the cold New York streets, a flower of hope blooming in his heart.

********

For the first time in a while, Finn feels truly excited about something.

This man he had met at a club only yesterday was seemingly changing his life around, flipping everything he knew on its head.

He hadn’t been able to get Nik out of his head all morning, and he’d spent way longer than he should have drafting a message to send to him, and...

When Finn had walked into the coffee shop and laid his eyes on Nik, he’d felt his stomach drop. A feeling he was still getting over now, walking down the seemingly endless New York streets. He knew where he was, in the back of his head, but he wasn’t paying attention to any of it as Nik’s smile presses against the back of his eyelids every time he blinks.

“Watch it!” a woman’s voice shouts at him, and Finn’s eyes flare open. It was only then the impact in his shoulder registers and he realizes he’d bumped into someone when his eyes were closed.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, continuing to walk at a faster pace down the street, pulling his coat closer around him. The cold doesn’t register, not really, but the sensation grounds him long enough for him to be able to pay attention until he gets home.

********

As soon as the door shuts, Finn finally lets his face break out into a smile. Really, he doesn’t know why he’s smiling so much, or why he can’t seem to get Nik out of his head. It probably means something, but that’s not a conversation he wants to have with himself today; he just wants to float.

He hangs his coat up and begins to tidy up his house, something he hasn’t done himself in a while. It’s not that he hated cleaning, he just always enjoyed seeing the reactions of the cleaning ladies when he gave them large tips. He always thought their rates were too low, and constantly tried to pay them more, and would sneak money in their carts when they always refused.

Being semi-rich was something Finn enjoyed only for the fact that money always seemed to make other people's lives better, and he was always willing to help people out. His job pays ridiculously well, something he wasn’t looking for when he signed up but was happy enough to accept anyways.

But now he realizes just how much he really doesn’t know how to clean, constantly getting distracted and forgetting where things are supposed to go. He feels like a child, getting easily sidetracked, but he’s having fun nonetheless. Putting on music helps as it blasts through the house and he’s dancing, wishing he had someone else to dance with.

When Finn makes his way into his room, he’s met with a room that’s already spotless. “Ah, right.”

He’d had it cleaned specifically for last night, in case he had wanted to take anyone home. He had ended up taking someone home, sure, but not in the way he had originally planned.

Yet, when he walked into the club and saw Nik sitting there, everything else had melted away. Feng had been waving to him, but all Finn had noticed was the color of Nik’s pink hair in the low light of the club. He just wanted to... stare.

Normally Finn would flirt his way into someone’s pants- granted, if they were into it- but Nik had been different. They had just talked for the entire evening, with Finn getting Nik’s number and then providing him a safe bed to sleep in. He cared for Nik, so much and so quickly it was jarring.

Finn shakes his head and looks over into the corner of his room to where his guitars hang from the wall. He walks over to them and grabs his favorite off the wall; a classical guitar with nylon strings, one he had gotten from his great-grandfather when he’d first moved to New York.

He sits on the edge of his bed and rests his fingers on the strings, trying to get them to remember one of the hundreds of songs he’s learned in his lifetime. He hasn’t picked up a guitar in forever, too caught up in work and other business that he realizes he hasn’t left any time for himself or for the things he loved to do.

The existential thought that he’s been living, not thriving, crosses his mind and he quickly wipes at his eyes. He brings his hands back to the guitar, his hands quickly moving, shifting, plucking, and strumming as he lets out all of his frustrations and hopes and confusion.

He’s creating his own music, something he’s never really thought to do before. He quickly gets a pen and paper and begins to play, writing into the late evening, even as his fingers scream in pain. He continues to play and breathe the music, only just remembering to call the moving company before it closes.

When he’s finally satisfied with what he made, only then does Finn put the guitar away. His stomach rumbles and he’s reminded that he hadn’t eaten dinner that night. He makes his way to the kitchen with a small smiling spreading across his face. His stomach may be empty, but his mind is alive, filled to the brim with thoughts and feelings.