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There’s a little cafe down the road. One that’s a little tucked away, just off a street that feels too busy for it, where so many people walk past it without a thought. It’s almost as though it’s invisible, only seen by those who truly want to and missed by those moving too quickly through their day. It’s like another world, one that radiates homely warmth and always smells like bacon and fresh coffee and pastries baked on little trays and displayed in glass cases with little handwritten labels. It’s an oasis, somewhere that feels so out of place in a little borough of London but it’s there, and it stands, waiting for someone to need it. And evidently so many do, because there’s always someone sat at one of the little tables crammed into the space, a student nursing their fifth coffee and looking barely alive, or a couple holding hands across wood, space in between them but none all the same.
It’s not exactly a classy little place - some of the paint on the sign outside chips a little in the vicious wind and rain and there’s a stain from where a bird’s shit on the window and someone’s not cleaned it off quick enough. It doesn’t make you want to leave though - somehow it’s all of those things that make the place more endearing, make it feel more honest and true to a life that’s always moving too fast not to leave you with a couple of scars.
The inside shows the same kind of love, too. There’s tables scattered around the place, mostly little ones just big enough for a small family cuddled close together, or a couple of students on a first date. The walls are simple white but are covered in little bits of art, framed pictures that tell stories that maybe are long forgotten, but they don’t lose their beauty. Simple light shades hang from the ceiling and there’s a tiny candle at each table, flickering slightly even in the fading daylight, and a couple of flowers in a vase, splashing colour and life. Behind it all, there’s a small counter, curled into one corner and covered in glass cases and menu signs and leaflets for all kinds of local clubs and fundraisers. There’s even a little pride flag hanging from one corner, and a sign written in delicate handwriting just below it that reads everyone welcome .
Behind the counter sits a tall man, all awkward limbs and carefully styled brown hair and sunshiney smiles, dressed in an apron over a shirt with a carefully pressed collar and jeans. He sits there, a book in his hands when the place isn’t busy, when it seems no one new needs the sanctuary at that moment. Although, if you ever asked him, Callum would never admit that that’s what his place was. He’d blush and say that it’s nothing, really, just another little cafe , too humble. Secretly though, it feels like acknowledgement of everything that he’s out into the place when someone says something like that, or offers him that little smile that says so much, or comes back to the cafe, over and over again.
It feels something like that with the man that Callum spots outside.
It’s the middle of the day, a normal tuesday afternoon, when he sees him for the first time. He’s just put down his copy of Aristotle and Dante , a book that’s been well worn out by this point, to serve the older man that comes in every tuesday at the same time and orders a simple tea and a scone and calls him son with such a kind voice that it makes him shiver. He’s about to go back to his book, settling into the little stool that he keeps behind the counter when it’s calm like this and he’s not rushed back and forth, when the movement of his coat catches Callum’s eye. It flies about in the bitter wind - a wind that makes it all too clear that the holiday season is fast approaching - and almost collides with the window, since the man is stood just at the edge of it. He’s poised like he’s waiting for something, and hunched like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It intrigues Callum but he’s always been too curious for his own good, and a man poised and waiting for something or nothing isn’t exactly a rare sight in London. So he leaves the man be, and scolds himself whenever his eyes drift back to him.
Callum gives up on pretending by the time he’s closing. He’d seen the last customer out about an hour ago, a kid that’s maybe fifteen or sixteen and comes by most days after school with a little journal and a pronoun pin tacked to the lapel of their jacket. They always have this kind, nervous looking smile and they always order a hot chocolate and Callum often sneaks a biscuit next to their mug. The place has been quiet ever since, because it’s getting late and the sun just about gone.
Except the man is still stood in the same place, coat still billowing in the wind. He’s barely moved all day except occasionally pacing a little further down the street and back again. It makes him worry, maybe irrationally since he doesn’t know the other man at all but he’s always cared too much, even about people that he might never see again.
So he pulls off his apron and hangs it up on the little hook behind the counter and pulls on his jumper. It’s fluffy and wooly and warm because he hates the cold, even though usually at the end of the day he only has to lock the door and walk two metres to his own front door. He settles into it now though, mind racing with whatever’s about to happen. He takes a deep breath, loud in the silence, and it’s a last minute thought when he grabs the hot chocolate he’d made for himself, pours it into a takeaway cup and steps towards the door.
As he expects, the wind is bitter when he steps outside. It’s no harsh but it’s freezing, curling in with long talons between the knit of his jumper, making goosebumps rise on the skin of his arms, and he’s got no clue how the man’s been stood out here all day.
He tries to make his footsteps loud in warning, but the man still startles when he speaks. “Are you okay?”
Finally, the man turns to look at him.
Callum’s breath leaves his chest.
Blue eyes are the first thing that he sees. Startling blue, like the clear water of the ocean that he used to see as a kid, when he’d go and stay with his grandparents down in Cornwall. They seem to almost glitter and shine in the light of the moon as it shines through the street, accompanied by a streetlamp a few doors down that’s one of the most temperamental pieces of technology Callum’s ever known.
Those eyes are accompanied by messy brown hair, ruffled like he’s been running his hands through it all day, but it’s almost hidden by the hoodie that’s pulled over him. His cheeks almost shine red from the windchill, and Callum can’t help but notice the way he shivers every so often.
He’s sure he can see fear and desperation and maybe a little hope when the man looks over to Callum but it’s soon closed off.
“Fine,” the man says, turning to look back across the street, voice gruff and quiet.
“You look cold,” Callum replies, because he never has known when to stop. “I brought you out something to drink if you want it. It’s just a hot chocolate but- keeps you warm, you know.”
The man’s face scrunches up a little. “And why would you do that?”
Callum shrugs and repeats himself. “You look cold.”
“Ain’t looking for charity.”
“It ain’t charity,” Callum smiles, holding out the cup but the man just looks sceptical. “What are you doing out here anyway? It’s freezing.”
His face darkens. “Nothing to do with you, mate.”
Callum frowns. “Do you- need help, or-”
“Oh, just piss off, will you?” he shouts, and it echoes through the empty street and makes Callum flinch away a little. He at least looks a little regretful, but doesn’t say anything else. Callum sighs, shaking himself. He’s not helping anyone.
So he puts the cup down on the street near the man’s foot, and walks back inside to make sure everything’s locked up right.
By the time he comes back out again, ready for the safety of his bed, both the cup and the man are gone, and he smiles a little to himself.
He opens up the next morning, just throwing the front door open and he finds himself wondering after the man from last night. The one with eyes so blue that they’d been in his dreams last night, once he’d finally fallen asleep. He wonders what he’d been doing out here all day, when the weather’s not exactly kind. It’s not like there’s much of a view to be sought after round here, and he didn’t exactly strike Callum as a sightseer. He felt somewhat like he was meant to be there, to Callum, like he knew his way around here better than most.
Yet the look in his eyes had said something different. It had said a man lost, someone in need of help or just someone to care, and Callum’s been there. Maybe that’s what made him leave the hot chocolate in the end, and why it made him so happy to see that the man had taken it eventually.
It leaves him wondering - worrying - after him now, as the city opens up for the morning and life begins again, the sun rising on another day in this place.
He can’t stop himself from hoping that he’ll see the man again, and that maybe he’ll get his name this time.
That’s why he keeps one eye on the window for most of the morning, even as his regulars come in and out. There’s a couple of new people that stop by too, a woman with a little boy by her side who orders a coffee, a juice and a biscuit, and ends up at the table nearest the window. He takes note of the two of them as they leave, looking happy and it makes him happy, that people look that way after they’ve been in here. It makes him feel like maybe he could achieve something worthwhile here, something good , and that’s really all he’s ever wanted for his life.
Apart from, of course, the thing that he doesn’t think about. The thing that he’s not let himself think about because he knows that if he does he’ll be gone, thinking too much about it all. No, he doesn’t have the time for that right now.
He pulls himself out of his own mind, and turns back to the kitchen behind him. He’s got things he has to do. There’s no time for thinking like that.
He notices him again, just after the sun’s started to set. He’s just finished serving some customers - a young couple that always sit in the back corner, and always fight over who’s going to pay - when he turns back to the window like he’s done a million times today, and spots him there. It’s the coat that he notices first, the same one as yesterday and the way that it just catches on the wind that’s somehow worse today. It’s getting colder, setting further into winter as the darker days of October crawl by. Callum first catches sight of him walking along the street outside and it should be too busy but, as much as Callum hates to admit it, he’s been waiting for the man all day. He’s determined to get his name today, or at least something else about him, or why he was out there yesterday. He stops for a minute, checking something on his phone held in front of him before he shoves it back in his pocket, and turns towards the cafe. His eyes catch on Callum’s for a second and he blushes at being caught, as much as he hates it. He doesn’t catch the look on the other man’s face, too bothered about making it look like he’s busy and the next time he looks up, the man is gone again.
It becomes a routine, just as much as watching out for his regular customers- watching out for the mysterious man in the windows with the blue eyes that he can’t forget, no matter how hard he tries. He doesn’t manage to catch him outside properly again, not for long enough to talk to him. He starts leaving a cup of hot chocolate out just before he starts to clean up for the night and more often than not it’s gone by the time he’s locking up. Maybe it’s ridiculous, maybe it’s hopeless and stupid but he thinks something about that is the beauty of life, that he gets to offer help to this man that’s been everything he’s thought about for weeks. Callum doesn’t know him, not really - doesn’t know how he takes his tea, or even if he drinks it; doesn’t know what music he listens to or how he ties his shoelaces but there’s an undeniable connection between them. It’s nothing but something all at the same time. They know nothing about each other - not even names - but Callum feels like there’s something between them, and maybe that’s what keeps him leaving the drinks out, even though it starts to make a hole in his budget.
He’s always been a hopeless romantic at heart, and maybe this is all part of it.
There’s one night that he adds a little something else to the cup, because he feels like he should - feels like he wants the man to know something about him other than the fact that he’s nosey beyond belief and seems to have an abundance of hot chocolate. He grabs the sharpie that sits in one of the little cups on his side of the counter and writes just a few words on it, hoping the man notices.
My name’s Callum.
He’s almost nervous when he leaves it outside, but it’s still gone when he moves to go upstairs.
When he comes back down in the morning, there’s a note stuck to the front door, a little one that makes his heart race because it’s only one word but he knows exactly where it’s come from-
Ben.
It’s a few nights later that it happens.
He’s just tidying up and things feel off. He should put it down to the weather, or the fact that his alarm didn’t wake him up this morning or that he hasn’t heard from anyone, today of all days - and it’s a painful reminder that this is maybe the only impact he really has on a world that’s constantly on fast forward - but he knows that really it’s because he hasn’t seen Ben.
It feels wrong, that maybe the sight of the other man that he barely really knows when it comes down to it affects him so much, but he can’t stop himself.
So he’s deliberately slow when he clears up, drags out the whole process - restocks the coffee and checks it over and over again, cleans the whole coffee machine and all of the tables, instead of just wiping them down. He even reorganises some of the signs that he’s got up on the little board by the counter, just for something to do. He’s about to give up all hope and just crawl back upstairs, admit to himself that this is just how it is when the door swings open, clattering against the stopper of the hinges with a sound that rings out through the whole room and makes Callum jump and trip back a couple of steps. He looks up, searching the low light and there’s a figure there, just inside, that slams the door closed just after he’s come in. Heavy breaths break the silence, wheezing and harsh and somewhat panicked but almost exhilarated. Callum’s about to shout, question with confidence that he’s never had until he catches sight of the coat, and the way it catches the light from behind the bar that’s still on. It’s familiar, even if it’s not catching in the wind.
“Ben? Wh-”
“Shut up.”
His voice rings out, harsh and broken up by still-heavy breaths and it makes Callum shiver.
“What-”
“ Shut up! ”Ben almost shouts again, turning to watch Callum just for a second, too short for him to really grasp anything of Ben’s face, before he turns back to look through the window of the door. It’s a couple of seconds before footsteps race down the street and fade away again, and Ben seems to relax a little. The silence burns for a minute, until Ben coughs.
“Sorry. Thanks,” Ben says, voice quiet and gruff and it looks as though he’s about to make a run for it because he goes for the door handle but suddenly Callum’s desperate for him to stay.
“Wait! Wait,” Callum says, a hand reaching out but he doesn’t touch, reminds himself that he doesn’t know this man , not really. “What was that about?”
“Nothing to concern yourself with, mate,” Ben says, and makes the mistake of looking back at Callum.
Mistake, but not because Callum doesn’t want to see him or his face or those eyes , the ones that he still thinks about.
Mistake, because there’s no way he’s getting out of here when his face looks like that. When there’s blood dried under his nose and a scrape along his cheekbone that’s bleeding with a bruise that’s already forming. Callum thinks quickly back, and he’s sure he’s never seen Ben’s face like this before.
“What- what happened to you?” Callum says, nervous all of a sudden and he can’t fathom quite why.
Ben looks at him, confused, until he runs a hand across his face and winces away from himself within seconds.
“Ah.”
Callum wants to say so much, wants to ask so many questions but that doesn’t seem important right now. Maybe he shouldn’t be doing this - shouldn’t be getting involved with a guy who’s clearly just come in to hide from someone - but he doesn’t have the willpower to stop himself.
“Sit down,” Callum says quietly, and his voice feels too loud again, in the quiet of the rest of the building and the street outside. “Please, just- I can clean up your face.”
“What, this your good samaritan deed for the day? You running low?” Ben says, and Callum tries not to be offended because he can see right through the other man.
“No,” he says simply. “Sit.”
He doesn’t give Ben a choice, just retreats back behind the counter for where he keeps a first aid kit.
He watches the other man out of the corner of his eye, from behind the corner. He hesitates beside the door, one hand out like he’s waiting. Like he’s still considering making a run for it but there’s something in his eyes. Something that Callum can recognise - something that’s like desperation. For what, he’s not entirely sure but it seems something similar to what he knows he finds himself - desperation for someone , for another person to listen, to be there, to understand.
He’s not going to push, knows that won’t get them anywhere, but he hopes, silently. Callum stays there until Ben seemingly makes his mind up, and slips into one of the chairs in the middle of the cafe. He keeps one eye on the door, but it’s something.
Callum slips out from behind the counter, first aid kit in hand, and over to where Ben’s sat. He’s got his eyes trained on the table, a hand laying there with the other in his pocket.
He tries desperately not to think too hard about the blood that’s staining the other man’s knuckles, and pulls a chair out.
Callum opens up the first aid kit and sorts through it, letting his concentration fall on that instead of the way he can feel Ben’s eyes burn into Callum’s head. He doesn’t dare look up, doesn’t dare catch on those blue eyes that he still hasn’t stopped thinking about because he’s somewhat scared of what he’ll find there. Scared, and apprehensive, and hopeful .
He’s about to bring an antiseptic wipe up to Ben’s face when he finally talks, voice quiet in the silence.
“Why are you doin’ this?” Ben whispers, like a secret into the darkness.
Callum shrugs. “Because. Wanna be helpful, couldn’t exactly just let you go out like this.”
Ben looks at him then, eyes so confused like it’s the most ridiculous thing that someone could really want to just sit and help him , no payback and it breaks Callum’s heart, and makes him wonder so much after the man that’s sat in front of him. He barely even knows him, really - just knows his eyes, and his coat and the way he hesitates outside the shop - but Callum’s hopeless to this connection that he feels to him. Maybe it’s stupid, but he can’t help it - can’t fight it.
“Let me help you,” he says, voice quiet in the near silence, pleading.
Ben hesitates, then nods, and there’s a change between them - a step forward.
He’s silent while he works, wiping the blood from under Ben’s nose and across his cheek and the man barely moves - he flinches a couple of times and Callum replies with a small sorry, sorry every time. Most of the injuries don’t look too bad, once the blood’s cleared away. There’s a lasting cut across his cheekbone but it’s more of a graze than anything, and there’s nothing he can do for the bruise that’s forming under the man’s skin. Strangely - or maybe not strangely at all, he doesn’t really know any more - he wants to run gentle fingers over it, soothe it with a touch or a gentle press of his lips but he stops himself, not sure how Ben would react. The moment is intimate anyway, when he finishes cleaning the wounds and he’s got nothing else to do but he doesn’t want Ben to leave, so he just watches him for a minute under the guise of checking everything over. Ben doesn’t seen to want to move either, since he’s stopped watching the door as if someone will burst through it any minute and now his attention’s on Callum, in a way that he’s not had for so long. It’s charged, and dangerous, and addictive.
It’s almost broken when Callum’s phone lights up where he’s left it on the table between them, a text message coming through on the screen-
Mick: happy birthday kid, sorry i didn’t get in touch sooner. pint always ready for when you want it. call me soon, yeah?
Both sets of eyes flick to it, and as much as maybe Ben’s trying to hide his curiosity, he’s terrible at it. They both read the message, and it sends a jolt of something through Callum. He reaches over to turn the screen off, hiding it away because he can’t decide how to feel.
“Happy birthday,” Ben says, only a little above a whisper. “Your dad?”
“No,” Callum says, eyes drifting back down to the table. There’s finality in his voice, and he wonders whether Ben does hear it or not. They’re silent for another minute and it’s a silence that Callum hates, because even when he doesn’t look to Ben he can see the pity that’s seeping into the man’s gaze.
“Glad it wasn’t,” he adds, an afterthought and Ben nods a little, as if he understands.
“Been there,” Ben replies, and all of a sudden it feels like they know each other so much better even just in that moment. “What you doing all on your lonesome then- nice lad like you on your birthday?”
Callum laughs a little- it’s been a while since he’s been called a nice lad . “Ain’t got nothing to do really. No one to celebrate with.”
Ben nods a little and then looks around the cafe, somewhat hesitant, before he speaks. “Celebrate with me then.”
Callum laughs a little. "What?"
"You got anythin' but coffee round here?" Ben says, and Callum nods a little before moving back to the kitchen.
"Nice place you've got here," Ben says quietly when he comes back and it makes Callum's heart race because he's proud of this- of the little life that he's built for himself and what he's got here and it makes him feel somewhat special to hear someone else appreciate it too.
"Thanks," he says eventually, voice quiet. He drops two glasses to the table and a little bottle of whiskey, and Ben grins a little.
"Nice choice," he says, and grabs one of the glasses. Callum unscrews the top and pours a little into each glass, and closes it.
"Cheers," Ben says, holding his glass up and there's something in his eyes, something that feels mysterious and dangerous and much too much for someone like Callum, because he wants nothing more than to search it, discover what it really means. He doesn't, though. Instead he picks up his own glass and connects it with Ben's, the little clink echoing in the room and it feels like a moment at the start of something.
The whiskey burns down his throat, and he relishes in it.
"So, you gonna tell me what this was about?" Callum asks after a minute, because the curiosity eats at him and he can't just let it go. A dark look passes across Ben's face and for a minute Callum thinks he's just going to get up and leave, but he takes another drink instead.
"You been waiting to ask that?" he says, and there's a bite in his voice. Callum just raises his eyebrows, and Ben sighs. "Just got in trouble with a couple guys, nothing to worry your pretty little head about."
The word pretty sinks into his skin and sticks there, and he can't shake it. He's not sure he's ever been called pretty .
"You've been hanging around out there for the last week all day, Ben, don't think I ain't noticed."
"Admiring the view are you?" Ben says, but his smile fades quickly and Callum can see the facade for what it is. "It doesn’t matter, alright? It’s just family stuff.”
Callum’s about to push until Ben meets his eyes for a minute and they’re pleading. For the first time that evening, their eyes meet and it feels like they’re both being honest- vulnerable. It’s terrifying, but Callum thinks there’s also something comforting in it too. The idea that they’re both strangers really- just passing each other in a world that’s too big, too fast, and that they’re connecting for a night, even if it is just that. There’s something, and that feels worth hanging on to.
“I’m sorry,” Callum says eventually. “For asking. And for- well, I get family stuff .”
Ben shakes his head a little, eyes back to the table. “Nah, that’s- that’s okay. I’m sorry too.”
He doesn’t know what to say, so he reaches a hand across the table and their skin connects and it feels like fireworks, almost. Maybe Ben feels it too, because he looks up the minute their hands connect, eyes catching again.
“Do you, uh,” Callum takes a breath, tries to swallow down the nervousness, because he wants to be impulsive, maybe reckless, for once in his life. “Do you wanna come up? I- I mean- to my flat? I live upstairs.”
He’s not sure what connotation Ben understands from it - he’s not entirely sure what connotation he means himself - but Ben looks back at him, eyes honest and searching, and nods.
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, that would be nice.”
They’re quiet as they walk through the empty cafe, and while Callum locks up behind them. Ben slips his fingers between Callum’s when they’re out in the cold and it makes Callum’s heart race. He unlocks his front door, and follows him up and it feels like the start of something.
Callum wakes to the sun shining through his bedroom and the feeling of someone else warm against him. It’s not a familiar feeling but once he’s remembered enough to know who it is, it’s comforting, somewhat. They’re close together since Callum’s only got a single bed and it’s oddly intimate. Little rays of light dance across the room, from where gaps in the curtains reveal the outside world. They’re only thin, too, so it’s almost completely light in the room but that’s how he likes it. It’s perfect for now, anyway. Light casts itself across the bed, and across Ben, and it glints off his skin in a way that makes him look ethereal to Callum’s eyes. From the minute he’d seen him, Callum had known he was beautiful but this feels like something else. Sunlight dances across his face, just catching on the bridge of his nose and the delicate flicker of his eyelashes and the graze across his cheek that’s healed over now. Maybe it’s weird to be watching Ben like this, but they don’t feel like strangers any more, and not just after last night. It feels like something , something that he doesn’t understand yet but he can’t wait to find out.
Ben shifts where he is and Callum puts his head on the pillow again, suddenly embarrassed about the possibility of being caught. A hand shifts out under the covers and the feeling of fingers just colliding with the bare skin of his chest makes his heart race. They’re accidental, but it still feels like it’s meant to be. The touch shifts away, then returns, fingers making an intentional path up his chest, trailing up to his shoulder. He wants so desperately to open his eyes again, too curious to see what Ben’s eyes look like but it’s dangerous and he so desperately doesn’t want the touch to stop so he waits.
He supposes that’s what love is, sometimes- a waiting game.
The word love echoes around his head and he pushes it aside, because that’s not what this is.
Ben’s fingers trail from his shoulder to his chin, a gentle touch against his lips as if Ben’s just remembering last night. Suddenly he can’t wait any more, and his eyes flicker open. Ben’s eyes flicker up to meet his again and everything comes rushing back-
Ben’s hand on his neck, winding into the hair there.
Pulling him down until their lips connect again but it’s barely kissing anymore, just breathing, being close.
Their foreheads come together and Callum opens his eyes, if only just to see the blue of Ben’s again because it feels like too long.
Ben’s other hand grabbing onto Callum’s, their fingers intertwining.
All of the points of contact burning against Callum’s skin, but he never wants them to stop.
-all of the memories that run around his head, and he never wants to forget. He reckons Ben’s thinking the same thing, because his eyes go wide for a minute, tracing Callum’s face, down from his eyes to his lips and back up again. Callum watches, carefully, but to his relief there’s no regret there.
“Hi,” Callum says eventually, voice hoarse and definitely too loud in the quiet. Ben’s eyebrows quirk a little, and then he seems so frown before turning back to the bedside table. It washes over him like cold water, the realisation that maybe he’s fucked this up already but Ben just seems to grab something, fiddle with his ear for a minute and then he turns back, his eyes a little darker, as if there’s shame there.
“Morning,” Ben replies after he falls back to the bed, and his voice feels like bliss to Callum’s ears. “You okay?”
Maybe he’s naive but the way it sounds like there’s actual care in his voice makes butterflies flutter through his stomach. “Yeah, yeah. You?”
“Yeah, uh, yeah,” Ben says, then turns so that he’s lying on his back. “Last night was, uh…”
“Yeah,” Callum replies, and he’s hopeless to the little smile that crawls across his face. It’s been a while, he’s not hesitant to admit, because it’s not like he exactly gets out much. He’s not convinced he’d get much attention even if he did - he’s not exactly the most attractive man in London, and he’s not sure that there are that many other redeeming factors about him. He’s nothing on Ben, anyway- the man who he’s not stopped thinking about for weeks, just from a single glimpse of his eyes, the man that’s completely captivated him in a way that he’s not felt in so long that it feels dangerous and new and makes him feel out of control in the best way. The idea of Ben lying next to him, naked in his shitty little apartment, it doesn’t feel real.
“You sure you’re alright?” Ben says. “You’re quiet.”
For a second this want to be honest crosses over him, this thought that he could just say it, whisper everything that’s going around his head into the light of the early morning, just for Ben’s ears. Callum reckons he could be - what does he have to lose? - but he steels himself, because Ben doesn’t need that. So he sighs and smiles, the little lie coming easily but not without a little guilt swelling in his stomach.
“Yeah, just- been a while,” he says, because it’s not the full truth but it’s enough that it makes him feel better.
Ben laughs, but it’s more of a deep exhale, looking up to the ceiling with a little smile on his face. “Couldn’t tell.”
A blush climbs across his cheeks and lights up all the way to his ears like he knows it usually does and he’s lost for words, not sure exactly how to respond to that because you too sounds corny and doesn’t really make sense but he wants to say something.
“It’s alright, I’ll leave off,” Ben laughs and then he’s shifting away, warmth gone from Callum’s side. “I should go anyways.”
Callum wants so badly to stop him, to ask him to stay but he doesn’t know how. So he watches Ben collect his clothes from around the room and pulls himself out of bed, throwing on his own clothes when being naked with Ben clothed leaves him feeling too exposed.
“Right,” Ben says, by the time he’s waiting outside the front door. “Well, uh, thanks for last night.
“Of course,” Callum says, because there’s so much more he wants to say but he doesn’t know how.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around then,” Ben says with that smile of his that’s making Callum’s heart race. He nods, and Ben smirks at him.
Callum feels a little like a coward when he watches Ben walk away.
The next few weeks pass in a blur of thinking about Ben and trying to convince himself that he’s not thinking about him and before he can really notice it’s December, and Christmas is all too close. He decorates the cafe one afternoon, glittering tinsel and little warm fairy lights wrapped all around the top of the walls, and he moves one of the tables out of the way for a christmas tree that he buys from a charity sale just by the park. There’s christmas music playing just quietly in the background while he does it, a song that feels somewhat familiar, and he brings the boxes of christmas decorations down from his flat to decorate it. Even though it makes him somewhat homesick - or longing for the experience of home that he never had - decorating the cafe for Christmas is something that he’s always loved doing, even if just for the looks that he gets from some of the little kids that come in. The looks of wonder on their faces is always worth it, which is why he never fails to do it.
He’s content to just carry on in quiet, since the cafe closed early today and the fading light casts pretty shadows across the whole room, but there’s a quick knock at the window that startles him out of his own mind.
Except when he turns around there’s no one there.
Callum frowns and walks over to the door, pulling it open but there’s nothing there, and no sign of anyone.
He tries desperately to ignore the way disappointment runs through him at the fact that it’s not Ben.
He moves to go back inside when he notices the note stuck to the front door.
In the park at eight. Wear something warm - B
He doesn’t need the letter to know exactly who it’s from, and he’s hopeless to try and fight the smile.
It’s bitterly cold by the time he’s walking through the streets towards the park, but he almost can’t feel it because of the blush on his cheeks. He’s not sure if it’s a date. His heart races like it is.
By the time he actually makes it into the park, his eyes are drawn without hesitation to a figure waiting under a tree. Maybe it’s subconscious that he looks there straight away, or something about fate since there are a few other people in the park, but whatever it is he knows him straight away. The coat gives it away- the same one that he’s seen Ben wearing almost every time he passes the cafe, the same grey check. Underneath it he’s dressed up smarter than Callum’s ever seen him- a patterned blue shirt and jeans. He looks somewhat nervous, Callum thinks, if the way that he’s wringing his hands in front of him is anything to go by. It’s a strange look on someone like Ben, who always seems to have this air of cocky confidence to him. He must notice Callum though, because he soon stops, hiding his hands in his pockets. Callum can see through it though, and strangely it cools something in his own chest- makes him feel so much more normal about the way his own heart is beating too fast, and his fingers curl around themselves in his jacket pockets.
“Hey,” Callum says, smiling shyly and he tries not to read too much into the way that Ben’s face seems to light up at the sight of him.
“You came,” Ben says, sounding almost incredulous,
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Ben shrugs, and he suddenly looks even more nervous than he had before, and he’s closing in on himself right before Callum’s eyes and somehow he’s fucked it up already .
“May I ask what we’re doing here?” he says, and it brings Ben’s attention back to him. “Another person might be concerned about a strange man asking them to the park late at night.”
Ben laughs, a delighted sound, and it’s music to Callum’s ears. “Well, you came, didn’t you?”
Callum stops for a minute, just watching Ben and looking into his eyes and assessing just why he trusts the man just as he does. Maybe he shouldn’t since they’ve only actually spoken on a few occasions, but it’s a strange impulse that he just wants to. He doesn’t know how to explain it, it just is , and even if it’s just for tonight he’s content to just let that be.
“Yeah,” he says eventually. “Yeah, I did. And it’s bloody freezing out here.”
Ben laughs, deep and hard into the quiet of the night. “Come on then.”
“Where we going?” Callum asks, staring at Ben’s outstretched hand with mock distrust - only mock, because in reality holding Ben’s hand is all he wants to do in the moment.
“You’ll see,” Ben says with a raise of his eyebrows and a shake of his hand towards Callum.
He takes it, because how could he not?
They walk in quiet for a little while, through trees and along the somewhat familiar paths. Ben haf let go of his hand after initially tugging him along but now they walk so closely to each other that their hands may as well be curled together. They collide every so often, cold skin against skin, and Callum wants to reach out so badly but he doesn’t know how.
Eventually Ben leads him through this gap in a treeline and everything opens up to a part of the part that he’s never seen before. It’s wide and open and it looks blissfully empty, surrounded by trees. There’s one bench that Callum can see, and that’s where Ben leads them.
The other man sits down with a sigh, and then taps the wood next to him.
“Sit,” he says.
Callum does, eventually, even though how close he sits feels monumentally important. Except the minute he does, Ben shifts so close to him that it doesn’t matter- not that it bothers him.
He’s about to ask again what they’re doing here when Ben speaks up, quiet voice careful. “Look up.”
Callum does as he’s told, and his breath leaves his chest in a single go.
There’s stars up there, more than Callum’s seen in years. It’s one of the things he hates most about living in central London- the skies are almost always dark, except for the occasional star if he walks out into the middle of the square on a clear night. This, though- it’s something else completely. He can see hundreds- no, thousands, millions of them above him, accompanied by a bright full moon. It’s a better sky than he’s seen in so long and he wants to cry, because somehow a near-stranger knew that he needed this more than himself.
“I noticed you have some old star maps framed in your cafe,” Ben says, and he sounds almost nervous. “I thought you might like this. You can’t often get a good view of the stars back in London, and I’ve always loved this spot, so-”
Callum leads across the bench, takes Ben’s face in his hands and presses his lips against Ben’s. Maybe it’s too forward and he worries when Ben goes still, but the minute he starts to kiss back he doesn’t care. He’s never cared much for labels, just the feelings behind a relationship and whatever they are there's so much there- he’d have to be blind not to recognise it. In the moment, kissing Ben had been the only thing that Callum could think about, so he did it. Simple as that.
He pulls away eventually, and Ben looks at him with a look in his eyes that Callum doesn’t understand because it feels like way more than he could ever deserve.
“Thank you,” Callum replies, voice quiet because he can’t get it any louder right now. Ben smiles, a soft, small smile and nods.
Callum turns back and looks to the sky, and he’s almost unafraid when he slips his hand into Ben’s.
“Callum,” Ben says eventually, and he sounds nervous. “I- uh, I wanted to ask you something.”
Excitement races in Callum’s chest, because there’s a question that he wants to hear. It probably won’t be, but it could , and the possibility of it burns something bright in him.
“Yeah?” Callum asks, hoping that the excitement doesn’t show in his voice.
“Would you maybe wanna,” Ben starts, then pauses, breathes heavy into the night air, so much so that it curls as a cloud out of his mouth. “I don’t know, get a drink sometime?”
Hope and excitement and joy build up in his chest but soon that same thought comes back, of why someone like Ben would even ask him.
“Really?” Callum says, voice quiet, and Ben turns to look at him.
“No need to sound so surprised,” Ben says.
“Well, I just,” Callum starts, then turns to look at the sky instead of the man sitting next to him. “Me? I don’t know, it sounds stupid.”
Ben’s quiet for a minute, then shakes his head and squeezes Callum’s hand. “You are more amazing than you give yourself credit for, Callum. I don’t know why you don’t believe it.”
Callum tears himself away from staring up at the sky and turns back to Ben, and once again the look in his eyes feels too much for just him.
“I wanna take you out, alright? Just say yes or no, put me out of my misery will you?” Ben says, and it’s a joke, but Callum can feel the insecurity beneath it.
“Yeah,” Callum says, and he doesn’t bother hiding the way he smiles, big and blissfully happy. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
It’s when they’re walking back, freezing noses and clasped hands, that Callum finally gets up the courage to ask.
“Why did you hang around outside the cafe so long?” he says, hoping desperately that this doesn’t break the little bubble that they’ve got. Ben sighs, and he thinks for a minute that maybe he’s fucked it up but Ben’s hand doesn’t move out of his own.
“Family stuff,” he says at first, and Callum thinks that maybe that’s all he’s going to get until he takes a breath and starts to speak again. “Just- been some stuff going on with my lot. Didn’t want to be hanging around there and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“You could have come inside?”
“Too intimidated by the sexy brunette behind the counter,” Ben says, and it shocks a laugh out of him- he’s not sure he’s ever been called sexy .
“You’re ridiculous,” Callum says.
“Yeah, well, if you’re gonna go on a date with me you’ll have to get used to that, babe.”
A date .
Callum doesn’t stop smiling the whole way home.
By the time it gets round to Christmas Day, Callum’s at a bit of a loose end. He loves the day of course, and the kind of joyful energy that it brings to the street. He makes himself a full breakfast in the morning, and ends up sat on his doorstep with a cup of tea and maybe London’s not the prettiest place to be doing it, but it’s what he’s always done and he likes it- makes him feel a part of it all.
He’s about to go inside when he hears the call of something that sounds like his name. He hesitates a minute, but hears nothing so he turns to go inside again. Except when he does there’s another call, closer this time and he’d never want to ignore it.
His boyfriend .
“Cal!” Ben calls, and Callum just sees him coming around the corner. He’s dressed in a gaudy Christmas jumper that he reckons he’s been forced into by whoever he’s spending the day with but it suits him, strangely. It brings a smile to Callum’s face anyway, although that could just be his presence.
“What are you doing?” Callum laughs, once he’s arrived next to him, out of breath.
“Merry Christmas to you an’ all,” Ben replies but there’s no malice in it, not when there’s a huge smile on his face. “Have you got plans today?”
“Uh, no?”
“Spend the day with me,” Ben says, a rush of words, so much so that Callum only just catches it. “Well, me and my lot, but we don’t have to be there the whole time. I was just over there, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you-”
“Yes,” Callum says, because it’s not even a question. Ben’s the only person that he wants to spend the day with.
A surprised little smile creeps across Ben’s face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I’d love to,” Callum says, similar smile creeping across his face.
Ben nods. “Better go and get dressed then, hey?”
Callum laughs, and turns back to the door of his flat.
“Oh, Cal?” Ben calls, and he turns back. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Ben.”