XI. Mundane Mornings

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Patch's soft meows and little purrs modestly fill the room as streaks of sunshine peek slyly through the closed curtains, rendering a quiet ballet of morning warmth. Hector Berlioz had the morning shift today at the café so the man had gone off ahead, leaving only Fryderyk and Franz lying on the floor.

As Franz' eyes flutter open, welcoming the little bursts of light into his eyes, he gets up and looks around, taking in the fact that he had spent the night over at Fryderyk's. It wasn't much of thing really, considering last night's events.

"I like you, Franz!"

The echo of Fryderyk's voice plays around in Franz' head, and boy does that do the trick. Franz is a red-hot mess, shoving his face into his palms and trying to jump around soundlessly in Fryderyk's living room like a worm on dry land. He had to maintain composure.

"Okay, okay." Franz whispers, besting himself to calm down. "There isn't too much to it yet. Nothing else has happened and we aren't anything...

"...Right?" And there it goes. The word that ruins. "Right?" he asks himself once again. "Then what are we?" Franz thinks, slowly turning his head to look at Fryderyk who was still sleeping like a baby, all curled up on the soft carpet.

A long heavy sigh is what Franz lets out. "I shouldn't think about this yet. Everything's happening too fast, even for me!" he says, not minding his volume anymore, "I better go get ready for work." Franz decides.

It was almost lunch time and Franz had the afternoon shift that day (which started at around 3 pm because they had a six-hour shift rotation, opening at 9).

He had never woken up this late before, Franz was always more of a morning person. But seeing how Freddy would never enter the café 'til late in the afternoon, he assumed Freddy wasn't the type to get up early and thought of just letting him sleep.

Franz carefully grabs his coat, shoes, and other belongings, and walks quietly to the front door to get back into his rightful room. But just as he takes hold of the door knob, only a second away from turning it, somebody lets out a cough.

Franz immediately turns his head like an owl to see Fryderyk sitting up on the carpet, his side leaning on the sofa for support as his other hand clenches at his chest. At first, he coughs once, twice, and the next thing you know, it's starting to sound a little bad.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's going on? Are you sick?" Franz says, dropping all of his things and running towards Freddy's side, kneeling down on one knee to his level, gently patting his back. "Should I get you some water?" he offers.

"If you'd kindly." Fryderyk says, "Please." in between coughs. And Franz gets up, runs towards the kitchen grabs him a glass of water without missing a beat.

"Drink slowly." He tells Fryderyk in the most comforting voice he could muster.

"I know." Fryderyk replies coldly however.

It wasn't an unusual manner of his - the cold and bitterness in Fryderyk's words. He was more often than not cold and mean towards everyone. But recently he's been softening up to Franz a bit more, so this behavior was a bit... odd?

After the drink, Fryderyk suddenly does a poor attempt at getting up, wobbling on the journey. "Woah, slow down. Where are you going?" Franz asks, offering an arm to hold, which Fryderyk pushes away in rejection.

"What's it look like?" The old scowl that Franz had seen him wear on his first day working at the café was playing along Fryderyk's face.

"I'm going to my room. I feel horrible." Fryderyk says, ending in a fit of coughs.

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