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I had to practically drag Finn into the café, and he followed with that hesitant shuffle of his, fingers brushing at his sleeves like he was checking to see if the world might bite him. The street was damp from the early drizzle, cobblestones slick and uneven, puddles reflecting the low gray sky hinting on how it just rained a little while ago. The wind was chilly, so almost no one is out on the street. Finn walked in a small puddle and the water splattered against his shoes, he noticed this and jumped back a fraction, tugging his coat tighter around himself. That's a bloodfiend for you.
The shops around us were sleepy, windows fogged from the warmth inside, signs peeling at the edges. Finn’s eyes trailed to everything. Windows, the street, the faint drizzle dripping from the eaves, the puddles that threatened to catch him off guard—and his shoulders tensed and relaxed in little increments, a constant, quiet rhythm I found myself watching with fascination. He shuffled slightly behind me, just enough to stay in my vicinity, and I noticed him tugging at his sleeves again, long fingers brushing the cuff nervously before he adjusted them again.
When we reached the café, the small bell above the door jingled faintly. Finn froze for a fraction of a second, eyes wide as he took in the warm, dim interior, soft golden lights hanging from the ceiling, shadows pooling under the tables. The smell hit us first: roasted coffee, warm milk, sugar, a little pastry scent in the air, and he inhaled sharply. He looked almost startled by the warmth, like he hadn’t been sure it would be safe, and I laughed softly, just a faint sound, which made him blink and quickly adjust collar before straightening his shoulders.
I led him to a small table in the corner, and he eased himself into the chair with that careful movement, as if he's unsure of whether to sit next to me or across me. Hands folded neatly on the table, then unfolded, then folded again, fingers curling and uncurling and he fidgets a little with his bandaged wrist. I watched as he adjusted his posture repeatedly, tiny shuffles, subtle shifts in the chair, little taps against the wood with his fingertips. It was like he couldn’t sit without performing a ritual, and every small movement made him look ridiculously, painfully endearing..!
The menu arrived, and Finn stared at it as if it might bite his head off if he ordered something wrong. I ordered first. A warm cappuccino drink with foam curling lazily on top in the shape of a cat... "You could even call it... a cat-puccino"
I giggled a little and realized quickly how lame that joke was and looked away feeling a little bit embarrassed. He stared at me before nodding. “The same thing that they ordered..,” he said softly, almost apologetically, and added quickly, “If that’s okay.” I giggled. “Of course it’s okay.” Relief flashed across his face in the tiniest, quietest way and his shoulders relax a little. He wrapped his fingers around the menu card and studies it intensely, as if there's some kind of answer to everything on it.
When the drinks arrived, the steam trailed off lazily, the shape too cute for anyone to drink from. The faint chocolate dust on top of the whipped cream catching in the soft café light. His was coated in more cocoa powder, which makes it look like a black kitty instead. Finn stared at it for a long moment before wrapping his fingers around the cup, holding it gently, rocking it ever so slightly, then setting it down again. He didn’t drink. He didn’t need to taste it. He was just… here, I hope he enjoys my companion atleast.
"So.. how do you think of this place?"
I asked him, tilting my head and blinks at him slowly. He looks up and for a second, our eye met and he breaks the contact immediately after. I could swear I saw him getting a little flustered, but it could be my imagination.
"It's.. cozy. I like how it's not a huge space."He answered while looking down at his drink
"I'm glad then! You're not going to try it..? I asked, nodding toward his cup
He shook his head slightly. That was all I need to know so I nod in acknowledgement. After a brief pause, he started talking again, almost in a whisper tone:
“But I wanted to order anyway. I didn’t want to make it awkward.”
That was something. I smile at him and proceed to grab his hand. He twitches in surprise and his eyes darted to the mentioned hand, it was hard not to notice how his pupils dilated within that short period.
"Thank you, Finn"
"You're welcome.."
Conversation with Finn was full of pauses, not uncomfortable ones, just small gaps where he watched me to see what came next. He listened intensely, nodding at the right times, leaning in without realizing it, then catching himself and pulling back, fiddling with his sleeve again. When I laughed, even under my breath, he blinked and smiled faintly, like he was relieved to have done something right.
After I finished my own drink and an additional small cake, I called the waiter over to pay. As I was pulling out my wallet, he grabbed my arm and shook his head. Pausing briefly, he apologized for grabbing my arm so brutely (He didn't!)
He pulled his tiny bird-shaped coin purse from his coat pocket. I blinked. Is that...Punishing Bird..? The worn fabric was soft, fraying at the edges, stitching loose. He froze as soon as it left the pocket, hands hovering, eyes flicking to mine quickly, cheeks coloring faintly. “
I… I’ll pay,” he murmured, voice quiet, hesitant. Fingers fumbled with the clasp, coins rattling softly, and I couldn’t help but smile
“You don't have to, you didn't have anything afterall"
"Also...your coin purse is cute, you don't have to be embarrassed about it" I said.
“I want to nevertheless" he said quickly, voice small, tucking the purse slightly under his arm and then pulling it back out, counting coins nervously glancing at me, exhaling softly when I let him. He leaned just slightly closer as he did, shoulder brushing mine by accident, then immediately pulling back. After a while, I noticed in small increments: the way he mirrored my shifts, my small gestures, the tiny lean when I reached for the drink, then froze when our eyes met accidentally.
The café hummed quietly around us, low chatter, faint clinks of spoons against ceramic, the occasional laugh floating softly.
He was painfully deliberate, obsessively careful, every motion small, entirely unaware of how obvious it was that he was nervous. I found myself softening, leaning slightly closer, responding without thinking, laughing faintly at a tiny nervous twitch, at the way he behaves.
The bell above the café door jingled faintly as we stepped back into the street, the chill of the early evening brushing against our faces. Puddles reflected the faint orange glow of the streetlamps, tiny ripples forming where the wind caught the water. Finn paused for a moment at the threshold before taking a step out into the warm orange lighting.
The cobblestones were slick, each step requiring a little more focus than usual. This time, Finn walks alongside with me. A faint gust of wind lifted his hair, and he immediately adjusted it, tucking it back with a nervous tug. I couldn’t stop the soft laugh that slipped out, and he froze, eyes wide, pink creeping across his pale cheeks.
When we finally reached my door, Finn paused
"I enjoyed our....meeting"
“Same place next time?” I asked softly, letting the words hang between us.
He blinked, then exhaled softly, the smallest of smiles tugging at his lips, “If… if you want,” he murmured, hesitant, nervous, eyes flicking up at me before dropping down again.He shuffled backward slightly as if the moment was too heavy. I smiled faintly, giving him a small wave goodbye before walking into the corridor.