The Cafe
Aaliyah
The air was biting as they stepped out of the small café they’d ducked into after the market, a light mist beginning to settle over the cobblestone streets. Cruz had insisted on the stop, not for herself, of course, but for Aaliyah. “You’ve barely eaten today,” she’d said, ordering a warm soup and bread before Aaliyah could argue.
It was such a small thing—a meal—but it had lodged itself in Aaliyah’s chest like a thorn. Cruz didn’t nag or fuss, but her quiet thoughtfulness was more disarming than a grand gesture ever could have been.
“Do you want my coat?” Cruz asked as they turned onto a quieter street. Her voice was steady, practical, but Aaliyah caught the faint undertone of concern.
Aaliyah glanced at her, surprised. Cruz was already shrugging out of her leather jacket, her movements fluid and efficient, like she’d already made the decision for her. “I’m fine,” Aaliyah said quickly, though the cold nipped at her cheeks and fingers.
“You’re shivering,” Cruz pointed out, holding the jacket out for her.
Aaliyah hesitated before taking it. “Thanks,” she murmured, slipping it over her shoulders. It was heavier than she expected, smelling faintly of leather and something distinctly Cruz.
They walked in silence for a while, the mist softening the edges of the city around them. Aaliyah couldn’t stop glancing at Cruz out of the corner of her eye. There was something about her tonight—something softer, less guarded. Cruz had her hands in her pockets, her head slightly bowed as if she were lost in thought.
“Do you ever stop?” Aaliyah asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.
“Stop what?” Cruz glanced at her, her expression unreadable.
“Taking care of everyone else,” Aaliyah said, her voice quieter now. “Making sure I’m warm, making sure I eat… even when I don’t ask.”
Cruz’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “It’s my job.”
“There it is again,” Aaliyah said, rolling her eyes. “Your job. Do you ever do anything just because you want to?”
Cruz didn’t answer right away. She looked ahead, her brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t think about it that way,” she said finally. “Wanting or not wanting doesn’t matter. What matters is what needs to be done.”
Aaliyah frowned, pulling Cruz’s jacket tighter around her. “That sounds… exhausting.”
“It’s just how it is,” Cruz replied, her tone quiet but firm.
--
Back at the hotel, Aaliyah draped Cruz’s jacket over the back of the chair and sank onto the couch. She felt restless, her mind racing as the weight of the day settled over her. Cruz was across the room, inspecting the locks on the windows with her usual precision.
“You know,” Aaliyah said, her voice cutting through the quiet, “you don’t have to do it all alone.”
Cruz paused, turning to look at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Aaliyah hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’ve done so much for me. More than I ever expected. But you don’t have to carry all of it by yourself.”
Cruz’s gaze softened for a fraction of a second before her usual guarded expression returned. “Someone has to.”
Aaliyah felt a pang in her chest. She didn’t know what Cruz had been through to make her this way, but she knew what it felt like to carry a weight you couldn’t share. “Maybe,” she said softly. “But it doesn’t have to be you all the time.”
--
Later, Aaliyah lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The jacket still hung over the chair, and the faint scent of it lingered in the air.
It wasn’t just the jacket. It was everything—Cruz making sure she ate, keeping her warm, looking at her with that intensity that made Aaliyah’s heart stutter. These weren’t things Cruz had to do, no matter what she said about her job. These were choices.
And that realization hit Aaliyah harder than she expected.
She’d been attracted to women before—secret, fleeting moments that she’d tucked away in the shadows of her mind. But this was different. This wasn’t a stranger in a darkened club or a stolen kiss she could forget by morning. This was Cruz, who saw her, who cared for her in ways that felt impossible to ignore.
Aaliyah pressed a hand to her chest, her heart pounding beneath her palm. She’d spent so much of her life locking this part of herself away, burying it under layers of expectation and fear. But with Cruz, those walls were crumbling, piece by piece.
She wasn’t ready to name what she felt, but she couldn’t deny it anymore. And that terrified her almost as much as it thrilled her.
Cruz
The streets of Salzburg were quieter now, the buzz of the market replaced by the soft murmur of evening life. Cruz walked a step ahead of Aaliyah, her eyes scanning the cobblestones slick with mist, the faint glow of the streetlamps casting elongated shadows. The weight of the day settled heavily in her chest, though she wouldn’t let it show. That wasn’t who she was.
Her footsteps slowed when she glanced back and noticed Aaliyah hugging herself against the cold. A faint shiver ran through her shoulders. Cruz paused, her fingers brushing the edge of her leather jacket before she even realized what she was doing. “You’re cold,” she said, her tone even.
“I’m fine,” Aaliyah said quickly, but her arms tightened across her chest.
Cruz didn’t wait for her to argue further. She shrugged off the jacket and held it out. “Take it.”
Aaliyah hesitated, but the sharp look Cruz gave her left little room for debate. She took the jacket with a quiet “Thanks” and slipped it over her shoulders. It dwarfed her, the sleeves falling past her wrists, and Cruz had to fight the faint twitch of a smile. She turned away before it could linger.
“Come on,” she said, keeping her voice brisk as she resumed walking. She didn’t think about why she’d noticed Aaliyah’s shiver or why it mattered to her. It was just her job, keeping her safe. That was all.
--
The café was small and warm, the kind of place Cruz would have walked past without a second thought under normal circumstances. But as soon as they stepped inside, the scent of bread and soup hit her, and she realized Aaliyah probably hadn’t eaten anything substantial all day.
Cruz guided her to a corner table, her back to the wall, her eyes scanning the room. It wasn’t crowded—just a few couples and a family with a baby. Still, she felt the familiar hum of vigilance in her veins. She flagged down a server and ordered before Aaliyah could argue.
“You haven’t eaten since this morning,” Cruz said when Aaliyah raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not starving,” Aaliyah replied, crossing her arms.
Cruz huffed softly. “Doesn’t matter. You need food.”
The soup arrived quickly, steam curling from the bowl as Aaliyah reluctantly picked up the spoon. Cruz watched her out of the corner of her eye, her gaze flicking between the entrance and the table. She didn’t mean to notice the way Aaliyah tucked a strand of hair behind her ear or the way her fingers hesitated on the spoon before taking the first bite.
“You’re always watching,” Aaliyah said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was curious, not accusing.
“It’s my job,” Cruz replied, her tone neutral.
“You keep saying that,” Aaliyah said, tilting her head. “But it feels like more than that.”
Cruz frowned slightly, unsure how to respond. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “What else would it be?”
Aaliyah shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe you just care.”
Cruz glanced away, her gaze fixed firmly on the door. She didn’t let herself dwell on Aaliyah’s words, didn’t let them sink in. Caring was dangerous. Caring meant distraction. And distraction meant mistakes.
“Eat your soup,” Cruz said, her tone softer now.
Aaliyah chuckled faintly but didn’t push further. She returned to her meal, and Cruz allowed herself to settle into the silence.
--
Back at the hotel, the air between them was quieter but not tense. Aaliyah dropped the jacket onto the back of a chair, and Cruz’s eyes lingered on it for a moment before she busied herself checking the locks. The suite was secure—she knew it was—but the routine calmed her, gave her something to focus on besides the strange warmth still curling in her chest.
“You’re staying up again, aren’t you?” Aaliyah asked, her voice cutting through the quiet.
Cruz glanced over her shoulder. “You know the answer to that.”
“You don’t have to stay on watch all the time, you know,” Aaliyah said, her tone light but her gaze serious.
Cruz shrugged, leaning against the window. “It’s habit.”
Aaliyah didn’t respond immediately. She settled onto the couch, pulling a blanket over her lap. “Thanks,” she said softly, almost hesitantly.
“For what?” Cruz asked, genuinely curious.
“For… today,” Aaliyah said, gesturing vaguely. “For everything, really.”
Cruz nodded, her expression unreadable. “Get some rest,” she said, her voice quieter now.
She turned back to the window, her eyes on the street below. The mist blurred the edges of the world outside, softening the harsh lines of the city. But Cruz’s mind was sharper than ever, her thoughts tangled in things she didn’t want to name.
She didn’t know why she’d noticed the shiver in Aaliyah’s shoulders or the tension in her voice. She didn’t know why she’d felt a flicker of satisfaction when Aaliyah had smiled, even briefly. These weren’t things she was supposed to notice. Aaliyah wasn’t supposed to matter like this.
But as the quiet of the suite deepened, Cruz couldn’t help but glance back at Aaliyah, her chest tightening at the sight of her sleeping form. She told herself it was just relief—just the knowledge that Aaliyah was safe for another night. That was all it was.