Coffee And Constellations
The door chimed softly as Everett held it open, letting Finnley step into the coffee shop first. The familiar scent of roasted beans and cinnamon filled the space, and the soft hum of conversation wrapped around them. Finnley felt a flicker of warmth beneath his still-racing heart—though he refused to acknowledge that Everett was the reason for it.
The shop was quieter now, most of the evening crowd having left. The group Everett had been with was gone, but not before they gave him a round of not-so-subtle smirks and meaningful glances as he returned. Everett had barely glanced at them, waving them off with an eye roll. He was too focused on Finnley, who was now eyeing the pastry case with forced casualness, trying not to let the weight of Everett’s gaze unsettle him.
“Want something?” Everett asked, tilting his head toward the counter.
Finnley shook his head. “No, I’m good.”
“Liar,” Everett smirked. “I saw you eyeing that muffin like it had personally wronged you.”
Finnley huffed a small laugh, biting the inside of his cheek, and before he could protest, Everett was already ordering it for him.
They found a small table in the corner near the window, where the streetlights painted golden patches on the floor. Everett shrugged off his jacket and leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out slightly, clearly more relaxed than Finnley felt. Finnley toyed with the edge of the muffin wrapper, unsure where to start.
“So…” Everett’s voice was light, but there was something searching in his eyes. “What’ve you been up to this week? Besides, you know, dodging me.”
Finnley’s fingers stilled. His lips parted slightly, surprised by the bluntness, but he quickly shook his head, laughing under his breath. “I wasn’t dodging you,” he muttered, though he wasn’t entirely convinced himself.
Everett arched a brow. “No?”
“No,” Finnley insisted, a little firmer. He picked at the muffin. “I just—had a lot going on. My friends and I were working on this piece. We all play together sometimes—Hayven on piano, Willow on bass, and me on guitar.” His voice softened as he spoke, almost unconsciously. “We performed it for our friends—Arlo, Illaria, Caterina, and Ezra. They’ve been asking us to for a while.”
Everett smiled faintly, watching the way Finnley’s eyes brightened at the mention of his friends. “How’d it go?”
Finnley’s lips tugged into a small, genuine smile. “Better than I thought it would. They were all obnoxiously supportive. Arlo almost knocked over a lamp because he was so excited. Ezra just laid on the floor and said he was ‘emotionally ruined.’” He chuckled softly, his eyes distant with the memory. “It was nice. Felt… good.”
Everett listened intently, a grin tugging at his lips. He liked the way Finnley’s voice softened when he talked about the people he cared about, the way the tightness in his shoulders loosened slightly as he spoke.
“That sounds pretty perfect,” Everett said.
Finnley shrugged, pulling a small piece from the muffin and popping it into his mouth. “Yeah. They’re good people. We had this massive sleepover afterward—chaotic as hell. And before that, we went to the supermarket and nearly got kicked out because Ezra was racing the carts through the aisle.”
Everett laughed, the sound low and easy. “I’m almost mad I missed that.”
Finnley’s eyes flicked to him, startled by the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
Everett cleared his throat, leaning forward slightly, his forearms resting on the table. “So, guitar, huh? How long’ve you been playing?”
“Since I was fifteen,” Finnley replied. “Hayven taught me. She was the one who got me into music.” He toyed with the wrapper again, his voice softer now. “I always wanted to do something with it. Or—art history, actually.” His face flushed slightly, suddenly unsure why he was sharing so much. “I wanted to work in a museum, travel to all the historical states. But, you know…” He trailed off with a faint shrug. “Never really had the guts to make the leap.”
Everett’s brows lifted slightly, something like admiration flickering in his eyes. “Art history? That’s cool. You still could, you know.”
Finnley huffed softly. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just one of those things I’ll always think about and never actually do.” He shook his head with a self-deprecating smile. “Besides, it’s kind of a pipe dream.”
Everett’s gaze sharpened slightly. He leaned forward again, resting his chin on his hand. “I dunno. I think dreams are pretty annoying like that. Always hanging around, waiting for you to be brave enough to grab them.”
The words made something twist in Finnley’s chest. He stared down at his hands, not knowing what to say.
When he didn’t reply, Everett filled the silence. “I get it, though. College wasn’t exactly my thing either.” His eyes lowered slightly, his fingers tapping against the side of his empty cup. “I went on a track scholarship. Running was kind of my whole life back then. But…” He let out a faint breath, his lips quirking into a dry smile. “College was too much. I dropped out. It just… didn’t work.”
Finnley’s eyes snapped up, studying Everett’s face carefully. He didn’t miss the vulnerability in his voice—the rawness underneath his casual tone. “You ever think about trying again?” he asked softly.
Everett’s mouth twitched in a half-smile. “Sometimes. I dunno. Feels too far gone most days.”
Finnley’s voice was quiet but steady. “I don’t think it is.”
Everett met his eyes, something unreadable flashing behind his. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them thick with something they both refused to name.
Everett’s lips twitched into a soft smile, forcing the moment to pass. “So, besides playing guitar, dodging me, and causing mayhem at grocery stores, what else do you do?” he teased lightly.
Finnley let out a quiet breath, grateful for the shift. “I read. A lot. I like history and mythology—Greek myths, especially. Orpheus and Eurydice is my favorite.”
Everett’s eyes widened slightly, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Wait, no way.” He leaned forward, eyes bright with excitement. “You’re into mythology too? That’s my thing.”
Finnley blinked in surprise. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Everett said, suddenly animated. “I love the Perseus and Andromeda story, but I’m also kind of obsessed with the stars. Like, all the constellations named after myths? Orion, Cassiopeia, Hercules—it’s like looking at ancient stories written across the sky.”
Finnley’s heart unexpectedly stumbled over itself. He felt the smallest flicker of warmth, the kind that nestled into his chest and refused to leave. He leaned in slightly. “Orion’s my favorite,” he admitted quietly. “The hunter. He’s always chasing something he can never quite reach.”
Everett smiled softly. “Yeah. I always thought there was something kind of beautiful about that. Lonely, but beautiful.”
They fell into easy conversation, sharing their favorite myths and constellations, trading bits of trivia about stars and gods. And somewhere between the laughter and soft smiles, Finnley forgot to be afraid.
When the coffee shop finally started closing, they reluctantly left. The night was cooler, and they walked side by side toward the park. Neither of them spoke much, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just quiet and easy.
When they reached the park, they stood by the pond again, the moonlight stretching across the water. And for once, Finnley didn’t feel like running.
•~✮✩✮~•
Everett leaned against the railing by the pond, watching the moonlight scatter in broken streaks across the water. The night was still and quiet, save for the occasional ripple and the faint hum of distant traffic. Finnley stood beside him, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, his gaze fixed on the water, though Everett doubted he was really seeing it.
They hadn’t spoken much since leaving the coffee shop, but it wasn’t an awkward silence—it was easy, almost familiar. Like they’d been walking side by side for years, not just hours. The space between them was warm despite the crisp night air. Close, but not too close. At least, not yet.
Everett shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced over at Finnley. The moonlight caught on his profile—soft and sharp all at once. The gentle curve of his lips, the faint crease between his brows as if he were lost in thought, the way his lashes cast the slightest shadow against his cheek.
He didn’t want the night to end. Didn’t want to break whatever fragile thing they were building. But when Finnley let out a quiet breath and turned slightly, Everett knew it was time.
“Hey,” Everett’s voice was low, reluctant, as if speaking might shatter the stillness. “We should do this again.”
Finnley glanced at him, lips parting slightly in surprise, but then he smiled—a soft, genuine smile that made Everett’s chest tighten. God, he was beautiful.
“Yeah,” Finnley murmured. “I’d like that.”
They exchanged numbers beneath the flickering glow of the streetlamp, fingers brushing briefly as they traded phones. Everett grinned a little wider than he meant to when he saw Finnley’s name pop up in his contacts.
A promise to hang out again lingered between them—unspoken, but certain. And as they parted ways, Everett kept glancing back, stealing one last look until Finnley finally disappeared down the street.
•~✮✩✮~•
By the time Everett got back to his apartment, it was nearly 11:30. He kicked off his shoes by the door, still half-smiling to himself as he shrugged out of his jacket. The place was dark except for the faint amber glow of the lamp by the couch, but he didn’t bother turning on more lights.
He was too busy replaying the entire night in his head. The conversation, the shared laughter, the way Finnley’s eyes softened when he talked about his friends. The way they lit up when he talked about music.
Everett raked a hand through his hair as he flopped onto his bed, still grinning like an idiot. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this light. He pulled out his phone, the screen briefly blinding him in the dim room, and saw his friends had blown up the group chat.
Rennee: “So… you dead or what?”
Lilith: “Okay but actually. Blink twice if he’s a serial killer.”
Asako: “You’re either having the time of your life or you’ve been kidnapped. Both valid options.”
Lilith: “Everett. DID HE KILL YOU.”
Brock: “If you don’t answer in 5 mins, we’re filing a missing persons report.”
Everett snorted softly, shaking his head as he read through their increasingly sarcastic and only slightly concerned messages. He could practically hear Lilith’s deadpan voice and Isaac’s over-the-top dramatics. He let them stew in their fake worry for a few more seconds, then started typing.
Everett: “Sorry, still alive. Barely. He’s actually an axe murderer, but he’s super cute so I let it slide.”
Lilith: “OH THANK GOD. Worth it, honestly.”
Isaac: “Wait wait. So how was it? Gimme details, you coward.”
Rennee: “Yeah, spill. We need to know if we’re planning a wedding or a rescue mission.”
Everett’s grin softened slightly as he leaned back against his pillows, the words coming easier than he expected.
Everett: “It was amazing. Like… genuinely amazing.”
Everett: “We have so much in common. He’s into mythology too. We just sat there trading stories and constellations like total nerds. It was…”
He paused for a second, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard, before finishing the sentence.
Everett: ”…perfect, honestly.”
The responses came immediately.
Lilith: “Holy shit, you’re actually SMITTEN.”
Isaac: “Oh he’s doomed. You’re gonna wife him by next week.”
Asako: “LILITH GRAB YOUR BRIDESMAID DRESS. WE’RE DOING THIS.”
Everett laughed softly, shaking his head at their dramatics, but he didn’t stop them. He liked it. He liked talking about Finnley.
He told them about how Finnley played guitar—his voice picking up even in text as he described how Finnley’s face lit up when he talked about it.
Everett: “And he plays guitar. Really well. Like, you can tell he LOVES it. I can’t stop thinking about it. I wanna hear him play.”
The thought stirred something warm in his chest.
The mental image of Finnley, fingers moving effortlessly over the strings, lost in the music—it was almost too much.
He kept texting, rambling more than he probably should have, telling them how beautiful Finnley was.
Everett: “And I know I’m being annoying but he’s just… God, he’s beautiful. Like actually, objectively beautiful. He has these blue-gray eyes that look almost silver when the light hits them right. And he does this thing where he bites the inside of his cheek when he’s trying not to smile and it’s stupidly cute.”
His friends, predictably, were ruthless.
Lilith: “I cannot WAIT for you to be married and insufferable.”
Isaac: “You’re so gone for him. It’s gross. I love it.”
Brock: “Make sure you two have a cute first dance song. None of that cliche crap. I’m thinking something artsy and broody.”
Everett shook his head, smiling so much it almost hurt.
The group chat eventually slowed, their messages tapering off one by one as the night grew later. But Everett didn’t mind.
He set his phone on his nightstand and turned off the light, still grinning like an idiot as he pulled the blankets over himself. The room fell into darkness, save for the faint glow of his screen as another text came through.
Finnley: “Tonight was really nice. Can’t wait to see you again.”
Everett stared at the message for a long moment, warmth flooding his chest.
He replied softly.
Everett: “Me too.”
When he finally fell asleep, it was with the image of blue-gray eyes lingering behind his lids.