LIVING//timothéeXreader//completed

part 1: drawing

Sunday morning, the middle of your weekend before you have to go back to your hectic college classes for the week. Sundays are your favourite days to relax and indulge in one of your few hobbies; reading old books at the antiques store, doodling strangers in your notebook, or going to your favourite cafe in Midtown Manhattan.

This Sunday, like any other in Sunday in November, is covered in a mixture of rain and snow flakes. You pop up your umbrella and make sure your book bag is closed as you trek through the windy rains and slushy snow. Your muscle memory carries you all the way to the little cafe in Manhattan.

The cafe doors open with a gentle ding, and your thoughts quickly become drowned out by the noise of chatty customers. They fill what small space there is of the cafe from left to right, and the baristas behind the counter scramble to get the orders ready.

You sigh and your shoulders slump when you make eye contact with the owner. "Sorry, y/n, we're over stuffed today. Next coffee'll be on the house!" He shouts to you over customers. You give him a lazy wave and turn back around. One step forward and you're back onto the overflowing streets of Manhattan.

You take your phone out of your bag and, despite the snowflakes falling onto your screen, open up maps to find a new cafe. The clock at the top of your screen reads 9:48.

You walk along the crowded and jagged sidewalks, following the robotic voice your phone is feeding to you through your earbuds.

In three feet, turn left onto 5th Avenue.

In three feet, take a left onto E 46th Street.

In three feet, your destination will be on your right.

You turn off the robot and check the time: 10:01. You pull shut your umbrella and shake it off, and proceed to open up the door of a rather tame cafe.

A barista behind a tall, marble counter smiles at you as you walk up to her, ready to order your usual. "How can I help you today?" She asks, her red lipstick shining back at you.

"I'll have a small black coffee, and a croissant, toasted, please."

"Will that be for here or to go?" She asks, her fingers hovering over the touch screen of the register.

You glance around the rather empty cafe, admiring it's quaintness. "For here, please" You tell her.

You sit down with your book bag and umbrella on the seat next to you and take out your notebook. You flip through the stiff pages and notice a few stuck together, steaks of red and yellow seeping through.

You roll your eyes at your lack of attention to detail and flip to the nearest page that isn't stuck to another or damaged from the paint. Before opening your trusty pencil case, you glance around the narrow cafe.

blond hair, two coffees, funky glasses...

big jacket, blue hair, that's interesting...

lone coffee cup abandoned at a large booth, love the irony...

barista restocking cups, eh, nothing new...

maybe i'll draw that coffee cup, all lonely.

You grabbed your favorite pencil for sketching out of your pencil case and got right to work. Your lines scribbled all over the page, some dark, some light, some thick, some thin, some even falling off the side of the paper.

You let your sketch fill up with mistakes and perfections, good parts and bad parts. The gravity above your shoulders seemed to lose its force and all of the noise around you slowly faded away.