Chapter Text
Silver had discovered Café Nassau in the first week he moved to town and within a short time it had become his favourite. Unable to work at home, where his mind was constantly distracted by video games, the internet and dark thoughts, he was always looking for a comfortable, warm place to work that met the basic requirements: a comfortable seat for his aching body, decent coffee and tea and quality food. Café Nassau had them all, and soon Silver became a regular.
Max and Eleanor, the owners, had furnished the place with armchairs and upholstered chairs in a very original mix of vintage and modern. There were plants everywhere and on the walls prints of punk rock concerts mixed with 1920s lithographs and children's drawings made during the art workshops they held in the café on Sunday afternoons. Max had studied pâtisserie in France and her cakes were a mixture of that and the things her grandmother had taught her in Louisiana when she was a child. Eleanor was in charge of the drinks and the administrative side of things: every now and then she went on a few day trips in search of coffee, tea and unusual flavours. The place maintained a busy but quiet vibe: Eleanor and Max worked hard and clients were reserving cakes all the time, but the Café was chill, and Silver loved it. He could focus on his work.
Silver usually arrived at Café Nassau at a leisurely pace, around 9.30 am, and stayed there for about three hours, working on his translations on his favourite spot, the armchair in the corner. Then he would gather his things and, when the weather allowed, he would take a short walk along the river to stretch his legs and back. Sometimes he would have something to eat sitting on a bench there, other times he returned to Café Nassau for a bite, some tea and maybe another hour or two of work. The novel he was translating was surprisingly interesting and in the last few weeks he had been surprised to notice how, when he woke up, he couldn't wait to go back to the Café and resume his work.
Well, there was another reason actually.
The ginger beard man.
The man would always arrive after Silver and leave before him. He was also working on his laptop at some mysterious activity that Silver had failed to detect. He never stayed too long, an hour at most, and always drank tea or coffee, no food. Although Eleanor and Max greeted him warmly, as if they knew him, he never indulged in much small talk. A quiet guy. Silver had noticed him from day one, of course, because the man was tall and had a stern, somewhat tired look that fascinated him. He dressed quite simply, always in dark clothes, and under his sometimes slightly tight clothes, one could see a glimpse of enviable muscles. After a week or two, the two would exchange a nod of greeting, but nothing more.
That morning, Silver woke up around 8.45am, with no alarm clock, on the couch he had fallen asleep on the night before. As much as he tried to bring balance and meaning to his days, the evenings and nights were still a disaster, between insomnia, chronic pain and distractions. He slipped into the hot shower to recover and took a painkiller on an empty stomach. He put on his leg brace and slipped into his trousers and shoes. He considered going out with his hair still wet, but the crisp March air was still not so warm. He hastily blow-dried it and finished dressing. Lastly, he grabbed his walking cane and limped, as he did every day, to Café Nassau.
Having conquered his usual armchair, he set the cane aside and ordered an almond milk macchiato and two slices of raspberry plumcake and plunged headlong into the chapter on which he had broken off the day before, almost without touching breakfast. It was a book about spaceships and distant planets: in a few minutes, Silver was literally in another galaxy.
...
The ringing of the bell attached to the front door distracted him from his concentration and brought him back to reality: he looked up and realised, in horror, that a school group, probably on a field trip, was entering the café. Must have been about thirty people. No, thirty teenagers. Screaming, laughing, shouting teenagers. Silver groaned, and so did Max and Eleanor. The three of them exchanged a smile between amused and worried, then the two girls began to serve the chaotic youths and Silver tried to get back to work despite the noise. But it was impossible. The chatter of the kids piled on top of each other, the Café was full of people, the queue for the toilet was endless, Eleanor and Max were shouting over the confusion to understand each other, and the very few customers who were already there, like Silver, didn't know what to do: getting up and paying the bill was out of the question, with that queue, but sitting in the noise was equally stressful.
It was at that moment that the ginger bearded man entered.
The ring of the doorbell almost went unheard, but Silver saw him, since he had not even been able to keep his eyes on his laptop due to the confusion, and was looking around blankly for several minutes.
When the man entered the café his horrified expression matched the one the other customers already had. Eleanor greeted him with a wave of her hand as she ran to serve cappuccinos to a small table of 15-year-olds, and shouted something in his ear that Silver could not understand. The man looked around and nodded, then replied with something that made Eleanor laugh and shake her head. She went on with the tray in her hand.
It was then that the man met Silver's gaze.
And then he started walking towards him.
Silver, astonished, did not even have time to straighten up in his armchair.
"Is this seat free?" The man asked. "Sorry, there are no other tables and I have to answer some emails urgently. Do you mind if I sit here? I won't bother you."
"Sure, uh... Of course." Silver stuttered, still amazed at the proximity to the handsome man he had noticed in recent weeks. Silver straightened up and rearranged the mugs and the notebook he kept for memos to make room for the man. "Chaotic day, huh?" He managed to blurt out, cursing himself for the platitude.
The man gave him a knowing smile and opened his laptop, starting to work, unfazed, apparently, by Silver's messy look.
Silver tried to put on a tone and act like a grown-up. He was there to work, he could not be distracted by a bunch of noisy teenagers and a sexy man sitting at his own table, so close to him that he could see the shadow of his collarbone from his half-open shirt... Focus, Silver.
After about ten minutes, Silver still hadn't written a word and his eyes were burning from trying to stare at the screen and not at the hot man in front of him.
But, surprisingly enough, it was the man who spoke. He closed his laptop, annoyed, and said, without addressing Silver directly but with only Silver in front of him, "It's no use. There's too much noise."
"Yeah," Silver replied, trying to relax. "Usually this place is much quieter. I like it because of that."
"Have you been coming here long?"
"A few months. I just moved here recently."
"Oh."
"What about you? Are you a regular?"
"Sort of, I've known Eleanor for a long time and I recently started working nearby, so..."
"What do you do?"
"I'm a professor."
Silver's inner self groaned. Of course the man was a hot professor. "What do you teach?"
"Sign language."
"Really?"
The man took a sip of tea, humming as if to say 'really'.
Silver then did something that amazed them both. He touched his chest and signed: My name is John Silver. He did it awkwardly, with the little sign language he remembered, but nonetheless correct.
The man widened his eyes and smiled. When he smiled the fine lines around his eyes lit up his face. "Do you know sign language?"
"Very little," Silver replied, shrugging. "I can say my name and little else. I had learned something, several years ago, from a friend, but we lost touch and I have forgotten most of it."
"In any case, it's impressive. This has never happened to me before."
Silver regained some self-confidence. "Maybe I should take one of your classes."
The man laughed this time, catching the flirting attempt. "Maybe you should."
He shot him a look that caused Silver a twinge in his stomach.
Max reached over to refill his cup of coffee, which gave him time to compose himself. "So," Silver asked. "How does one become a sign language teacher?"
"Being deaf usually helps."
"Oh. Right. Well, it can't be enough though, am I wrong?"
The man raised an eyebrow, amused. "You're right. I have a PHD in linguistics too."
"That's so cool."
The man seemed definitely amused. "Your concept of coolness is not what most people would think, you know that, right?"
"I know. I'm sorry. I have a thing for grammar. I'm a translator."
"What do you translate?" "Fantasy books, mostly. And sci-fi."
"See, that's cool."
Silver smiled. "So... are you reading my lips now?"
"A little bit. But I'm mostly relying on my hearing aids."
"Oh," Silver said worriedly. "It must be uncomfortable with this noise." He made a gesture to indicate the café filled with screaming teenagers.
The man furrowed his brows, seeming again impressed by Silver's knowledge. "It is."
Silver didn't know what to say but again the man filled the silence. "I'm sorry, but I have to run now. I have a class in twenty minutes."
"Oh... OK."
"I enjoyed our conversation. I know it might seem inappropriate and please tell me if it is but... Would you like to meet again? Maybe at a quieter time?" Silver's eyes widened. Hot ginger beard man was asking him out? No way. He flashed his most mischievous smile and signed, with his fisted hand: yes.
The man smiled and took a business card from the wallet in his trouser pocket and handed it to Silver. 'So formal,' thought Silver.
"This is my number. Text me."
"Sure. I will..." Silver took the card and read: "... Professor Mc Graw."
"Just James. Or Flint, as everyone calls me." He signed something while saying the name 'Flint' but Silver couldn't catch it.
"Flint. Nice to meet you."
Flint smiled and gathered his things to leave. Silver was still sitting. He wondered if he should stand up to greet him. Everything was so formal...? But standing up would have involved the risk of dropping the cane he had beside him, which Flint didn't seem to have noticed, and that could have triggered a series of questions from Flint that... Silver's thoughts began to darken. He decided to remain seated.
Flint waved at him and said, "No voice messages, OK?"
Silver laughed. He followed him with his eyes as he paid the bill, turning the business card over in his hands. If he waited any longer, Silver knew, he would never write to him again.
On his way out of Café Nassau, Flint noticed his phone vibrating once, and a message from an unknown number appearing in the notifications. What about tomorrow night? ;) The man lifted his gaze, shaking his head with a half-smile, and saw Silver, still sitting at the table, staring him with a naughty smile and waving bye-bye.