sparks fly - k. akaashi

stick figures

it was a rainy day. people were hurrying to get back home or into a place with a roof over their heads to avoid getting themselves stuck in the cold autumn rain.

one of those places was a small, but cozy coffee shop. inside the coffee shop were only a few people. a group of studying teenagers in the corner, the workers behind the counter, a married old couple who were reading the same book, one writer, and one artist.

there wasn't much going on. the occasional chatter of the cashier and the customer, the group of kids who were studying, and the couple discussing something that happened in the book. the artist and the writer however, didn't have anyone with them to talk to. they didn't mind that though. they both preferred their own time alone.

the writer had a laptop open on the table along with a notebook. he would switch from typing on the laptop to scribbling something down on his notebook. there were two empty mugs of coffee sitting a good distance away from his work and an empty plate. on the other side of the table was a small stack of papers and index cards that he had organized.

his black hair was ruffled from him running his hands through his hair multiple times from frustration, but it didn't look messy. he made it look good and somewhat still organized. there were a pair of round black glasses on his face and he was wearing a simple sweater with a coat. the coat was draped on the chair next to him along with an umbrella being leaned against the wall next to it.

"would you like another cup of coffee?" his dark blue, almost green, eyes darted up to see a worker standing next to his table with his two empty coffee mugs and plate in their hand.

"no thank you, i'm okay for now." he answered and the worker nodded before walking away. he watched them leave for a few seconds before his attention was caught by the artist sitting a few tables away from him.

the artist had a sketchbook open and a pencil in her hand. it wasn't moving across the paper or anything. it was simply just there, unmoving. there were no empty dishes around her and no coat or umbrella. nothing but her and her sketchbook.

the writer didn't know he was staring until she looked up and met his gaze. she was a little surprised at first, the writer could see that on her face, but after a while her lips lifted up into a friendly smile.

the writer returned her smile and glanced over his the empty chair across from him, a silent invitation. when she didn't move from her seat he looked away from her and back to his laptop.

he was typing on the keys but there were no words being formed. just a jumble of letters so it would look like he had something to write about.

"hi."

the artist pulled the chair out and sat down, placing her sketchbook on the table as she did. she was careful not to move any of his papers.

"hello."

there was a silence that fell over the two of them after their first words to each other. neither one made a move to say anything further than a simple greeting almost like they were seeing who would talk first.

"let me move these for you." the writer broke the silence and grabbed the stack of index cards and papers, pushing them to the side.

"thank you."

"do you want anything to eat or drink?"

"a coffee would be nice. i can get one for you if you want one." the artist moved up from the chair and waited for the answer.

"that would be great." he replied and reached into his bag. "here let me pa-" the artist was already walking to the counter, not letting him pull out the money.