Warm hands, warm hearts. A Heartstopper Cofeeshop AU.

Part 1. Meet, again.

Three years earlier

Charlie

I nearly drop my keys as I go to open the door. It's too early for this- these 4:00 AM opening shifts. But the promise of caffeine laid inside, and almond croissants, and the carefully curated playlist I'd made for mornings like this.

Rain comes down in sheets outside as I prep the cafe- grind the beans, mop the floor, lay out the pastries. I steal one now and eat it in the armchair while it's just me, before the bus-drivers and the teachers and the gym-rats pile in for an endless stream of espresso.

It's nice to have a moment here. Home is too loud sometimes, with Olly's sweet enthusiasm and the heavy stares of my parents. And since graduating Truham seven months ago, I haven't had the solace of the art room to escape to. I take a moment to soak in it.

And then the first customer arrives.

The day goes by quickly. I chat with regulars as I make their latte's, brew cups of tea and listen to the rain. My coworker James and I nod along to the music, make small-talk. He's nice, sweet even, but after eight months here I still barely know the guy besides his taste in music. And far too much about his girlfriend.

At first of course I'd had the tiniest crush on him, Elle and Tao had teased me relentlessly from afar- so used to my pining that it had become a regular segment on our weekly catch-ups. The infatuation had mostly faded after learning just how intensely straight he was, and now he's just nice company for my days.

"Wanna take your 15?"

He asks after a sudden rush of customers dies down, and I nod. He pours me my break time usual- a cup of Earl Grey, and I settle back into my favourite arm chair. I'm watching the rain again when I see him.

Nick Nelson.

He's sopping wet as he approaches, and shakes off like a dog under the awning- wiping his feet more than he has to as if scared of tracking any water inside.

Somehow I'd forgotten how handsome he was.

We'd gone to Truham together-but I'm a year younger, and we'd never connected. He'd always been one of the elusive rugby boys, although he seemed nicer than the others. But honestly, I'd never bothered to risk it- not after learning what the others were like. There were a few times I'd caught him in form, glancing at me from his table across the room. Of course every time our eyes met I was flustered, looking away. Never turning those glances into more.

He doesn't see me as he heads for the counter, I can barely make out the muffled conversation, two drinks to go, a quiet chuckle from James, the sound of coins dropping into the tip jar. He's moved to the end of the counter now, just a few meters from where I sit, back turned to me.

I realize I've never seen him out of a Truham uniform, and although it's been less than two years since he left for Uni, he's somehow more beautiful than I remembered. I can see the outline of his muscles even beneath his soaked jumper, his joggers hugging his calves, a tote resting on his shoulder. I'm lost in it for a moment until he starts to turn, and I pull my head away to look the other direction, pull a sip of my too-hot-tea into my mouth and hope he doesn't notice me.

"Hi."

Oh, god.

I turn my head, peer up at him. Nick Nelson, in front of me, smiling.

"Hi." I breathe. The tea is scalding my throat- I try not to choke.

"Charlie, right? Charlie Spring?"