Coffee Served With Secrets (Renga au)

A Meeting Place

It was the smell of coffee in the morning that brought him there. That bitterness diluted by sugar and milk goaded him to enter the café. It was new. Hasn't even been a week since it opened. It was unusual for Reki to take an interest in new places, new things, new people, but hell, it's a Sunday morning and for God knows why, it's the only place that's open.

No. He's lying to himself.

If that was the only reason he would've ignored his whining toddler-like caffeine addiction until a place he actually knew was open. But as he stood on the pavement, the café grasped him in it's clutches of warmth and good smells. And Reki couldn't quite place it, but it was a real warmth, not one manufactured to appeal to customers with pastel paints and flowers, but a warmth of a home. Maybe that's what entranced him into walking through the doorway.

Despite it's recent birth, the café wasn't entirely up to shape. There was an assortment of chairs from those school chairs of wood and metal to luxurious armchairs that would've looked as if they belonged in an old English millionaire's house if it wasn't for the wear. The floorboards already had a few markings from shoes scuffling, in a rush to serve coffee or to get out of the rain. It wasn't raining now. But there were a few customers currently, chatting amongst themselves over pastry or warm brew. Feeling awkward in the doorway as more people began noticing his loitering, Reki moved to the counter. Better to order something than to just walk in and out. And that's where he was.

Light blue hair, like cotton candy, tied up messily so most of his hair framed his face. Eyes as frozen as a lake danced upon with blades during winter. Pointed nose. Chapped lips. Scabs most likely from acne covered his face. Reki knew his name at least. Famous for being the prince of the school.

Langa Hasegawa.

Reki's unknowing sketch model.