Coffee Curls

   Golden strings of light falling into the room through slightly tilted windows are revealing a steam hovering over various drinks. In the air there is a slight smell of caramel coffee and chocolate mousse coming out of the pastel-pink machine.

Between the beige walls and the magenta finishes, the children's giggles and the barely audible conversations of their mothers are reflected. A thin layer of light paint is coming down from the walls that are decorated with multiple photographs of various flowers.

Remus slowly approaches the wooden counter in an ivory shade. He begins to draw patterns on the surface of the counter with his finger, waiting for the café worker to approach him.

After a while, he notices a small bell with floral designs on the counter. He presses the metal button on the bell, which causes the irritating sound to spread around the room.

After only a dozen seconds, a tall and slim man leaves the staff room. In a hurry, he approaches Remus, stumbling over his own legs.

Remus cannot look away from the approaching boy. His raven hair is falling gracefully over his wide shoulders, which are clad in a silk lilac button-down shirt. The milky skin of the boy, decorated with peach blush reflects sunlight like the truest mirror.

Plump lips in the most beautiful shade of pink from all over the room are slightly open. They seem as soft as the most delicate rose petals decorated with morning dew, which manifested itself in the form of lip gloss carefully applied on the lips of the curly-haired man.

The employee's eyes resemble the autumn sky obscured by gray clouds through which the tiniest rays of light shine through, adding life to irises. Entire of eyes is finished with long ebony eyelashes, which cast a shadow on the warmed cheeks of their keeper.

Hazel-eyed boy realizes that the object of his sighs is standing centrally in front of him with a cocky smile playing on his plush lips. The head of the shorter man is slightly tilted, and a wrinkle appears between his perfect eyebrows. Remus wants nothing more than to smooth it with his hand.

A soft grunt pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Good afternoon, how can I help you?” asks the black haired boy expanding his smile, which makes dimples appear in one of his cheeks. His smile is wide and showing adorable bunny teeth.

“Hi,” Remus replies in a quiet voice, and after a moment of thought continues “What do you recommend-,” he looks down at the name tag on the curly-haired boy’s shirt “- Sirius?”

Sirius seems confused, but after a few seconds he glances at his badge and a smile crosses his face. The scarlet blush appears again on his porcelain face. He looks up at Remus, then begins listing his favourite drinks available in this cosy café with a low, confident voice.

While speaking, he gestures with his hands, and the taller boy listens to every word softly spoken by the lanky man. His gray eyes are shining and seem to have absorbed millions of tiny sparkles that were once in the velvet night sky.

Remus observes each wave of his hands, he admires how the lips of the dark-haired boy are arranged while saying the names of coffees and teas. He watches him move mugs, glasses and cups from place to place. How his big, pale hands clad in signet rings lift variously decorated plates, how he lightly blows away the hair that are falling on his whitish forehead.

“To be honest my personal favourite is ‘Caramel Frappé’ with raspberry syrup,” Sirius says with the sincerest and bright grin that illuminates the whole room three times more than golden flashes of sunlight coming through the cinnamon, striped blinds.

“Well, then I’ll take a Caramel Frappé with lots of raspberry syrup,” Remus winks at Sirius who seems to glow even more (if it’s possible at all).

He sits down at the table in the corner of the room, trying to break away from reality, even for a brief moment.

As Sirius prepares Remus’ drink using his very supple looking hands, which the tall man wants to touch with even the tip of his pinky, just to feel if their structure is what he imagines it to be, Remus realizes that he hates coffee with all his heart.

However, he doesn’t mention it. He gives the café boy to finish what he started because he looks so cheerful and Remus doesn’t want to be the person taking away his smile.

Remus finds himself thinking that he wants to be the reason the boy smiles.

He wants to be the reason the boy laughs.

He wants to be the reason the boy’s eyes glow.

He wants to be the reason the boy cries, but only happy tears.

It may seem strange, after all, they don’t even know each other, but from the minute of making eye contact with the owner of the most stunning irises, Remus feels that something would have a chance to bloom between them.

He was never a romantic. He wasn’t interested in long-term relationships, he preferred flings, maybe because he never met the right person.

Remus roams over the beige walls that absolutely need painting, appreciating magnificent photos of plants and florets, some he has never seen before.

He stops at a photograph of particular cerulean flower and squints his eyes to see the finest and most itemized details of the bloom more accurately.

His vision is obscured by a blinding sun stream that flies into the hall unexpectedly through the newly opened fanlights. His honey skin reflects some orange light, but the rest of it seems to melt into the sweat bead on the top of his forehead and the tip of his nose, caused by the lack of air conditioning in the not well-kept coffee shop.

Suddenly, a shadow resembling the clouds accompanying yesterday’s sunrise, which began to erase the lavender, cherry, and scarlet hues from the morning sky, appears on his table.

Remus looks up to see what or who has blocked the source of the unpleasant light, and as his discernments meet the fit figure of Sirius holding a tiny plate with a pink cup adorned with embellished leaf patterns in his hand, he smiles again that day.

Two boys exchange sincere smiles and Remus looks as Sirius sets a delicate coffee cup on the wooden table where Remus is sitting. When the boy is about to move his long, slender fingers from the porcelain set, Remus starts reaching for the handle of the cup, which causes the smaller boy’s fingertips to rub against the coffee shop boy’s hand.

And wow. Sirius’ hand felt even more pleasant and softer to the touch than anyone could have expected. Though their skin contact lasted only a few milliseconds, it seemed like an eternity.

Probably both boys felt a slight spark as the touched, as the blush on Sirius’ honey-glass face deepened, as did his dimple.

Remus whispers a soft ‘thank you’ then drops his gaze at his worn out converse.

Sirius wishes him tasty coffee and the blond-haired man wants to laugh because, coffee? Tasty? It doesn’t connect, but either way he gives Sirius a slight, soft smile just to make him even happier in any way.

The boy walks away from the table with a lively step, making his hair jump to the rhythm of the music coming from the navy blue car passing on the cobblestone street outside the dusty window.

Remus grabs a vessel with a hot, steaming liquid on the surface of which there is a froth of milk sprinkled with milk-white chocolate shavings. He takes one sip and instantly feels the boiling drink irritate his tongue and tender palate.

The taste almost makes his face grimace, but he feels the eyes of a cute worker on him, so he decides to stick his tongue out and lick it over the thin layer of foam he can feel on his chapped, upper lip.

He still feels watched, so he takes another, this time a larger sip of coffee, inhaling its strong caramel scent. On his tongue he senses the sweet taste of raspberry cream, perfectly contrasting with the bitter aftertaste of coffee.

Sugary cream melts in his mouth and works like magic on his taste buds. He begins to enjoy its satisfying effect and decides to drink the drink to the very bottom. Not because he likes it so much, but because it will bring a smile to the Curly’s full strawberry lips.

After a few minutes, all the contents of the glass were gone. There was only a small streak of red syrup left at the bottom.

Remus reaches for a coral napkin from a pearly and lime container in the centre of the small desk. He wipes the corners of his mouth with it and then rolls it into a ball to hide it in the pocket of his denim jacket.

He gets up from the table, grabbing the coffee set and carefully goes towards the counter so that nothing breaks along the way. Remus stamps his feet lightly, leaving grains of sand on inaccurately swept greyish tiles.

He walks over to the counter behind which Sirius is sitting. He puts his cup down and sends a smile to the dark-haired boy as he looks at him. The boy grins back, blushing once again. Remus pays for the coffee and when Sirius asks him if he liked it, he replies that it was delicious, and he will definitely come back.

This is not a complete lie. Even though the drink was disgusting, he is going to come here day and day just to get to know the starboy and to make him smile even wider.

The sandy fringe falls over his face, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s terribly excited about what could happen when he gets there. Not even a day has passed, and he was on his way to a small pastel café where he hopes to find a boy with a storm of curls on his head.

He is halfway there when his attention is drawn to a tiny corner gift shop. He thinks for a moment and then states that if he shows up at the coffee shop a few minutes later than he had planned, nothing will change. Remus is wasteful, there is no denying it. Maybe that’s why, he quickly crosses the street, unevenly flooded with cement, and stops right in front of a small door with thick layers of maroon paint peeling off.

He pushes the door and it opens with an unpleasant creak that makes him creep. A faint sound of the bell announces his arrival at the store. The owner must have heard him, because after a few seconds, she emerges from behind an old-looking bookcase on which there were books in various colours, sizes and thicknesses.

“Hello darling. Are you looking for something specific?,” the woman asks with a warm smile, scanning his posture while doing so.

She looks like she’s in her forties with blonde locks that are curler than Sirius’ and with green eyes wide open. The woman is wearing a cosy sweater and a long, patterned skirt that goes all the way to the ground.

“Probably not, just something to read at once,” he responds honestly and starts looking for thin books with a slight plot.

“All right, I’ll leave it to you. If you need anything, scream,” with this she moves away from him and begins to climb the stairs made of birch trees, to the upper floor, perhaps the attic.

When she disappears from sight, Remus decides to look around a bit. The whole room is cluttered with all kinds of ornaments, books and appliances. Barely visible oak walls are illuminated by light coming through a small round window placed near the roof and multi-scented candles placed on many shelves. The entire floor is carpeted with Indian patterns. Hangers full of amulets that are made of various precious stones. Remus manages to see one with amethyst and two with opal.

In the background, unfamiliar music plays, a bit reminiscent of the songs of the artists his friends listen to. The whole place reminds him of a magic shop from ‘The Craft’, a film he once watched with his best friend - Lily.

He begins to run his fingers over the edge of bookcase that is full of thick wrapped files. A bright aquamarine book immediately catches his attention so he grabs it and flies through the pages to see if there is a font that is pleasing to the eyes.

The title of the story is badly worn out, so he only sees half of it. This is something that contains a word ending with ‘ess’. Although he doesn’t know what the tale is about, he decides to buy it. Holding it firmly in his hand, Remus walks over to the olive desk that he hopes is a cash register.

In a high voice he calls the owner of the shop who is quickly running down the stairs, almost falling over her flounce skirt. She runs to the desk and with a slight smile asks Remus if he found anything he liked. Remus shows her what he chose, and she tells him it’s a good choice.

While paying, he notices a crimson scarf with a print of white and buttery flowers, which automatically reminds him of the cocky, curly-haired boy who is probably sitting behind the old counter now and stomps his foot to the rhythm of rock music mixed with the aroma of coffees and teas.

Without hesitating, he tells the lady that he’ll take this scarf. She looks at him with omniscient eyes, which causes a blood-red blush to appear on his sun-kissed skin.

Remus leaves the suspicious shop and a huge grin spreads across his face. He’s holding the book he just bought in his left hand, and he stuffed the scarf into the pocket of his faded blue denim jacket.

The walk to the café passes quickly but pleasantly. Although it’s only afternoon, you can see intermitted colours blending together and creating a lush landscape of slightly cloudy sky. You can see the drastic lines in which the carmine turns pink and then gently turns mauve and golden. Many birds fly over uninhabited tenement houses, and some sparrows hang on power lines that have long been out of use.

As he walks, he kicks the nearby stones with his feet and listens to the light breeze. Orange, pale and brown leaves float with the wind, dancing to its variable melody. Some of them gently fall onto stone paths and dark-grey streets illuminated by barely functioning street lamps and the sun shining beyond the horizon.

The neighbourhoods that he traverses are empty, sometimes he passes by pedestrians who seem completely tired of life and are walking around on clogs shuffling their feet.

Nobody gives him the faintest glance.

The closer he gets to the café, the more lively the town seems to be. On a small playground you can see laughing children who are pulling their mothers by their hands to show them unusual phenomena, as for kids so young.

After a good fifteen minutes of walking, within two hundred yards, he sees the purpose of his walk. Remus speeds up the pace a little and tries not to stumble over the uneven cobblestones that someone with no competence has placed here.

When he stops by the curtained window of a bright pink building, he wonders if it is closed, but when he hears soft music coming from the room through a leaky old door, his worries are shattered.

With a jerk of his hand, he opens the aforementioned door, and after crossing the threshold of the café, he inhales the bittersweet scent of hot drinks.

The first thing that catches his eye is of course Sirius, whose long hair this time doesn’t fall carelessly on his defined collarbones, but is tied in a bun from which a few unruly curls fall out. His eyebrows are furrowed and his plump raspberry lips are formed into a small scowl.

Louis then notices that Sirius is having a conversation, or rather he is listening to the monologue of a middle-aged man standing on the opposite side of the counter. Remus is curious what this man could have said to evoke such an angry expression on the face of grey-eyed boy, so he slowly walks towards both men. Sirius’ skin is so pale it seems almost transparent. Perhaps it would have been if it hadn’t been for the violent red blush on his cheeks.

He manages to hear a bit of what the older man says, making the blood boil in his veins. Because that jerk just called Sirius a homophobic slur referring to his long, dark hair. He called him a slur that no one should use in this sense, a slur that makes people want to hurt themselves, or have gone so far as do so.

Remus clenches his hands into fits and feels his nails dig into the smooth skin of the palm of his hand. He quickly walks over the counter and passes the hideous man, giving him an angry glare.

His face softens when he sees the other boy’s sad gaze on him and gives him a slight smile.

“Don’t worry about such an idiot, I think you look gorgeous with your hair up like this,” Remus whispers, gesturing with a hand to Sirius’ hair.

“You really think so?” Sirius asks hesitantly, staring at him with his big eyes full of hope. His confidence from the day prior long gone.

“I know so,” the boy chuckles and his smile widens. “You have the most beautiful curls that I’ve ever seen,”.

At these words, Sirius drops his gaze at the dusty tiled floor, mumbling a silent thanks. The frown vanished from his face and it’s replaced with a peach blush and a smile of plush lips.

When the song playing in the background changes to a different, this time slower melody, the lanky boy asks Remus what drink to give him. Remus, remembering the name of one of Sirius’ favourite coffees, says he’ll take this one.

This makes the eyes of the raven-haired boy shine brighter than the star he’s named after.

Remus decides to sit at the same table as the day before. As he begins to read the newly purchased book, he notices Sirius moving his hips to the rhythm of music, while making his drink. After reading a few pages Remus concludes that the action takes place in the 1950s, in a small town that looks like the one he is in at the moment.

The situation from yesterday repeats itself. There is a shadow on his rickety table, this time you can see that it’s a shadow of a human figure considering Sirius’ hair is pinned up. Remus looks up at him, scanning his appearance. Today he’s wearing a burgundy cashmere jumper and green, slightly ruffled cotton trousers on his limbs. There’s a thick leather jacket covering his shoulders and protecting him from the cool air coming through the slightly open window.

“I know you only ordered coffee-,” Sirius pauses for a second just to make sure Remus isn’t looking at him favourably. “-but I also made you some tea because I noticed you are reading now and green tea is the best for reading,” he says the rest of the words in a low, fluid voice with a  smug expression on his face.

“Thanks, it’s very sweet of you,” Remus replies him with a soft, radiant smile reaching all the way to his perfectly marked cheekbones, reflecting the rays of sun that is about to disappear.

Sirius sets down a porcelain cup, similar to yesterday’s, but this one is light azure with little pink dots on it and filled with milky coffee sprinkled with orange seedlings. Next to it, the boy places a muted brown tea cup with a lemon slice floating on its surface.

“What are you reading if I may ask?” Sirius questions curiously.

“Honestly, I have no idea. The cover is torn off,” as he says this, Remus lifts the book slightly to show what he meant, then continues “the action takes place in a city similar to this one,”.

“’Similar to this one’? What do you mean?” Sirius is clearly confused, his head tilted to the right, and a thought-line wrinkle has appeared between his eyebrows.

“Quiet, almost empty, streets are uneven, inhabited houses neglected, basically the first city I visited that looks like this, but honestly I like a lot more than the big crowded ones,” he clarifies with thoughtful expression.

“Oh, so you travel a lot?” Sirius seems genuinely interested in the subject, so Remus starts telling him about the cities he has been in, he describes each of them in as much detail as he can, he asks Sirius if he has ever been somewhere other than where they are now, to which the boy replies, that he has lived here since he was a little child.

Before they notice, it’s starting to get dark enough outside to be a sign of late evening hours. Remus’ long-forgotten novel rests right next to the barely touched vessels with drinks that are already cold. More and more damaged, cement street lamps start to turn on so that at least a small part of the road is visible to passers-by, who rarely come here, especially at this time of the day. The old mint-grey record player on one of the coffee tables in the café has stopped producing the sounds of music a few hours ago, which means that either the record is jammed, which, according to Sirius, would not be new, or all the songs have already ended.

A bunch of tightly twisted curls have fallen out of Sirius’ bun and now they frame his angelic face in a hasty manner. His full, deep pink lips form a lazy smile, and there are crinkles around his eyes, which now shine like real diamonds. There is a scarlet blush on his cheeks, caused by all the laughter and the bubbly atmosphere of the room.

The eyes of both men are slightly closed, and the hands that hang loosely along their separated bodies indicate a state of fatigue. Remus’ head rests on the table which wobbles every time Sirius tries to straighten his legs and his bony knee hits it from underneath.

Remus decides it’s time to go home when another yawn comes out of the other man’s mouth. He informs Sirius that he will be here tomorrow at the same time as today and waves him goodbye. Sirius happily waves him back and when Remus is about to press the doorknob he hears the amused voice of the curly haired boy.

“You never told me your name,”

The hazel-eyed man turns to face him “It’s Remus,” he tells him, biting his lips.

After saying this, he leaves the café, and before closing the door, he hears a vague whisper of his name. It sounds as if Sirius wants to see what that name sounds on his tongue, and he is probably pleased with how it turned out as his flawless face is lit by a big toothy smile.