Chapter 1
Kent notices him the moment he walks in. It's impossible not to – the guy's tall and he snaps a picture of the coffeeshop right after getting past the door, blinding Kent with the flash and making him rub his eyes and blink.
"The hell?" he hears some other customer say.
The newest visitor doesn't seem to care about the heads that turn to look at him and his camera, merely starts making his way towards the counter as he adjusts the collar of his jacket.
He's beautiful.
"I'm gonna date that," Kent declares solemnly, and Mayer throws a plastic spoon at his head.
"Way too out of your league."
"Probably straight too," Jayce offers with a yawn, head resting on his folded arms behind the cash register.
He rises it just enough to take a peek.
"Nice camera though."
Kent straightens his dark orange apron, puffs out his chest to make sure his name tag is visible, and runs his fingers through his hair to spike it higher.
By the time the customer is in front of him, Kent is already welcoming him with one of his best smiles – big but not overkill, just the right side of charming and gentle.
The customer does not seem charmed at all.
"I'll have some tea," he says, eyes quickly scanning the menu behind Kent, though it seems out of habit than anything else, his gaze never stopping long enough to really consider any of the very varied, carefully thought out drinks of
Twilight Hill High's.
"
Simple.
No sugar."
"Aw, come on," Kent says, smile widening.
"You go to a coffeeshop to ask for tea?"
The guy stares at him.
"Yes."
"...Alright then." Kent's shoulders fall a little under that blank, unimpressed expression, and Mayer politely turning his head to snicker does not help.
Neither does Jayce, who straightens up with a smirk in what is clear interest to see Kent's attempt at flirting crash and burn.
"What's your name?"
"Lynch."
"A simple, no sugar-ish tea it is, Lynch."
While Lynch pays for his drink, Kent writes on the cup,
Hey hey hey Lynch, I'm Kent, but you can call me Any Time,
with his phone number a lazy scribble that he hopes comes off as casual and endearing.
Lynch takes his drink after it's ready, his eyebrows rise near his hairline as he reads Kent's thoughtful message, and he goes find himself a table where he can calmly drink his tea and adjust the lenses of his camera.
He does not, in fact, call Kent that night, or any time during the week and a half it takes him to come back.
This time Kent sees the flash before he sees Lynch, and he blinks it away with a ball of dread sinking his stomach.
He's carrying the same camera, the strap hooked around his shoulder, and an umbrella under his arm, even though it hasn't rained in at least two weeks as far as Kent knows.
Kent groans, ducking behind the counter and lightly punching Jayce in the leg.
"Take this one for me," he whispers.
"No way," Jayce replies with a big grin that reminds Kent a lot of Mayer, and really, why did he ever introduce them?
"That's not
my
job, senpai.
You take the orders, Mayer makes the drinks, I charge.
Up you go." He waves at someone at the other side of the counter.
"'Sup."
"Hi," Lynch replies politely.
Kent tries to get up as gracefully as possible.
He hits his head on the counter and curses as tears of pain pool in his eyes.
"Hey." Play it cool.
"Let me guess, tea again?"
Lynch nods, and Kent can tell he's surprised that he remembered his order from nearly two weeks ago, eyes widening if only a little.
His fingers are absent-mindedly adjusting his camera, brushing over it with a gentleness bordering on devotion.
It reminds Kent of the way he's seen players holding volley balls right before a serve; Lynch must either be a professional photographer, or on his way there.
As Mayer makes the tea, Kent can't really stop himself from asking, "What's with the umbrella?
It's like, the nicest day out there."
Lynch looks up.
"A project for my class."
"Let me guess again.
Photography?"
"I've carried worse things," Lynch says, shrugging the shoulder that isn't holding his camera's bag.
"The umbrella is okay."
Kent is curious about the mysterious worse things, but the rejection from those weeks before still holds him back a little, makes him feel unusually shy and at loss of what to say.
He's grateful that Mayer hands over the tea only a minute later, this time with a simple
Lynch
written on the cup, and as Kent passes it to Lynch he notices how cold his fingers are as they brush his own.
It's a perfectly sunny day, so Kent can only assume he's one of those people with permanent cold hands regardless of the weather or season, which he finds himself envying a little.
He loves putting his hands under his unsuspecting friends' sweaters when they're cold in winter days, Mayer being the the most usual victim, though Jayce's screams are louder and better.
Lynch walks away with his drink and goes sit at the same table from before, and Kent pointedly does not stare at him (maybe there's a little staring going on, but that's at Lynch's back when it's safe to do so).
Mayer pats him on the shoulder.
"Aw cheer up, there's plenty of other fish in the sea.
Fishes without umbrellas on sunny days."
"Go away, jerk," Kent mutters, his dejected mode starting to activate.
"Why did you let me give him my number?
We're not supposed to ask customers out, it's bad for the business and stuff.
You should have stopped me."
"You just looked
so
smitten," Mayer replies with a smirk, poking Kent on the stomach.
"Seriously though, he looks really boring anyway.
I bet all he can talk about is photography and maybe some pretentious shit about museums and books.
You can do better than that, my friend." He throws an arm around Kent's shoulder and pulls him close.
"Yeah," Kent says, thoughtful.
"Yeah!" he repeats, encouraged.