"I lied to you," Blaine admitted, the words barely escaping his lips as if they were forced out. The admission seemed to have scraped his throat raw.
The illumination of a nearby streetlamp cast its glow upon his green hair, deepening the color to an almost artificial degree. His face was stiff with anxiety — his lips a thin, compressed line, his eyes fixed on his interlocked fingers in his lap, as if he dared not meet Rava's gaze. Or, perhaps, he dreaded the reflection he might see there.
Rava frowned in response.
"What are you getting at?" he questioned, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Did somebody give me a call or not?"
Blaine offered a slow nod.
"Yeah. I... I deceived you."
For an instant, there was a wave of relief. Transient, insufficient, and passing swiftly — akin to a gasp of air before a towering wave crashes down. And then, anger surged. Intense. Weighty. Erupting from his chest as if it had been awaiting the opportune moment.
Rava swiftly pivoted, aligning his entire body with Blaine. His eyes widened. His breaths became rapid, as though he was restraining a yell.
"What on earth gives you the entitlement to toy with me like that?!" he snapped. "Do you understand what I might have endured because of your dumb, irresponsible fabrication?!"
"Then tell me!" Blaine retorted, his voice no longer soft, but stressed, vibrating with pent-up feeling. "Tell me what's transpiring! I need to know you're alright! I realize we've known each other for a single week, but I care! I care, Rava! I can't just sit here beside you pretending I don't notice while you completely fall to pieces!"
Rava recoiled slightly. Not from the heightened tone, but because of the actual words themselves.
That wasn't some kind of defense move. It was pure feeling. Raw and not modified at all.
Sure, Iris and Ivi held some measure of feeling as well, each in their way. A tired exhalation, a warm cup of coffee, the granting of an extra five-minute break tucked behind the counter. But no one had ever stated it aloud like this. Nobody had ever raised their voice specifically because of, or even more, because of him.
He felt heat creeping onto his cheeks. And that merely enhanced his rage — furious with himself for blushing, for not screaming in reply, for the unbidden warmth that was emerging right in the middle of all this. It felt both out of place and puzzling.
"That's not how friends behave..." he murmured, almost unaware that he was actually vocalizing the words.
Blaine, however, did hear him. He expelled a lengthy, yet steady, breath.
"Yes, it is. That's exactly how friends do things."
He said the word "friends" deliberately. Plainly. Like a persistent reminder. Like a carefully placed pin meant to prick at a sore spot. A word he didn't desire, yet perhaps one he sorely required.
And instantly, the redness subsided. Vanished. Popped like an easily destroyed bubble.
The tension between them ought to have dissolved then. It felt like the exact sort of time when honesty is revealed. When one approaches a little closer. When the absolute truth is laid bare. When you finally allow yourself to be open, just once. Just long enough to be genuinely noticed.
But it failed to materialize.
Something within Rava recoiled once again. Just like it had done previously.
He stood up from the bench. His movements were rapid, sharply edged. His shoulders trembled ever so slightly, but he didn't turn around to glance at Blaine.
"Stay out of my own concerns," he stated in a soft tone. "And next time... ask if I even want any of this helping, you're giving me."
He waited for no response.
He simply turned away and strolled off into the shadows, leaving only a subtle reminder of some alcohol in the surrounding air.
"One americano with milk, please."
No reaction. Nothing.
"...?"
"One americano with milk!" Iris echoed, raising her voice this time, tinged with a kind of impatience that emerges when one's self-control is getting thin.
Only then did Rava flinch. His fingers, paralyzed mid-air, shot back to life as he hurried towards the machine, fumbling with the beans and the filter like somebody just waking from an extremely vivid dream.
"Tsk," Iris clicked her tongue, distinctly irritated. She switched her attention to the next client with no further exchange but delivered a brief, exhausted look in Rava's direction.
Rava took almost no note. Scarcely.
For his mind was not actually in the café. Not connected to the orders, the scent of coffee or the gradual rhythm of a tranquil morning. Instead, it was enveloped in the weight of something else — shame. Dense, adhesive, sharp-tasting shame.
And also, guilt.
Guilt directed at Blaine.
The only person who, by all appearances, genuinely tried to do something right.
To make an effort.
To remain in place.
To offer assistance.
At the very least, he made an attempt.
And Rava… Rava ran away.
Like a kid.
"God, I'm such a fool..." echoed deep within him. Distant and hushed, like a sound heard underwater, but completely unavoidable.
His hands persisted with the tasks, preparing the order on pure autopilot, but his thoughts drifted somewhere else — into that gooey fog where regrets are irreparable, where even great intentions become acts of betrayal, and where the one you end up disliking most… is yourself.
He had absolutely no clue what he was going to tell Blaine when they met again, once his officially scheduled days off were over.
"Hey..." Iris called softly once the cafe was fully cleared and the door's familiar chime was heard one last time.
Rava stood behind the counter, cleaning the same glass for a third time. Iris walked closer, resting her forearm on the edge of the bar.
"If you need to leave early... you can. It's really a quiet day, anyways."
Just then, Rava's cell buzzed in his apron pocket, the same ringtone playing like a cruel joke. Iris paused for a beat but did not even look at him.
She kept talking as if she hadn't heard a thing.
"Ivi and I can wrap everything up. Not too much left, in truth. It is practically tidied up," she remarked, gesturing around the mostly empty cafe.
Rava offered a nod but gave no reply immediately. He put down the glass and started wiping the portafilter without raising his gaze.
"Iris, I've... um, there's something. Not related to work."
"Okay," she replied calmly, though her brow twitched ever so slightly. "I'm listening."
"I have this... friend," he began, keeping his eyes fixed on the cloth in his hand and not on her.
Iris raised an eyebrow ever so slightly.
"Definitely speaking about himself," she assumed, but maintained silence.
"And?"
"And... well, this friend — he's fallen for someone. Someone he's barely known."
"Understood," Iris stated slowly. "And?"
"And the person he's fallen for... views him purely as a friend. Which is fair. They've hardly known each other. However..."
"However?" she questioned, continuing to be patient, yet observing him.
"However, my friend doesn't really want to go through the 'let's be friends first' phase. He just wants to fast-forward. Straight to the real thing. To... you understand. A relationship."
Iris watched him a little longer than usual, then presented a subtle nod.
"Then he should tell them. It could feel a little awkward, but it's easier in the long run."
Rava removed his mobile and examined the screen. The call had already finished. He tightened his lips and put it back into his apron.
"He... my friend... he screwed things up somewhat not too long ago."
"I gather," Iris said gently this time.
"He uttered some fairly tough things. Just went away. No explanation."
"Stuff happens."
"And now he's not sure there's any friendship left to salvage."
She did not respond straightaway. She merely stood beside him for a second, silent, and then stated:
"Well... then possibly he ought to start by reclaiming that first. Everything else can appear after."
Rava didn't know what to say. So, he merely nodded. Hesitantly.
"Thanks," he murmured.
"You're welcome," she said with a shrug, then proceeded back toward the sink. She glanced over her shoulder at him with a slight, restrained smile. "I wish your pal sorts it out."
"Undoubtedly spilling the beans to Ivi about this."
"I hope so too," Rava said, his voice somewhat raw. His face seemed weary, and something in it made Iris feel a little sympathy for him.
Nevertheless, he stayed to assist the women. Following the last cake being secured in the fridge, the familiar bell above the doorway rang once more.
Rava looked up.
"Huh?"