Mr. Lone Boy /BoyxBoy/

||One||

The band on the makeshift stage was pretty good, especially compared to the many others I've chosen to sit through before.

When I first moved in across the street and found this coffee shop, I thought it was the worst place I've ever been to. Too loud, too dark, so clustered...But somehow, I found myself going back in despite of all that.

My go to excuse in case anyone asked (which no one ever did) was, 'the coffee is good', but anyone who truly knew me would know that I detested anything that had to do with coffee. I figured, after a few months of lying to myself, that I kept going back because of the environment, the vibe. The service, the regular costumers, the crappy but often good bands that played there, it was almost soothing. Therapeutic, I would say. It felt near to me, like the feeling of home I'd never experienced before.

"The usual?" Asked Tom, the waiter who stood beside my table. Also a 'friend' of mine.

I nodded in response to his question.

I watched the lead singer on the stage, his fingers strummed the strings on his guitar that hung from one shoulder, his head bobbing to the sound of the music he and his band mates produced. I watched him and thought to myself if I didn't like someone already, would I feel attracted to him? Or, my eyes wandered to the drummer, who was so into his movements that his eyebrows were creased, would I develop some kind of creepy stalker-like crush on him?

Tom came back with my steaming mug of tea, which I waited for to cool before carefully taking a sip.

I clapped, along with a few other customers, as the band on stage finished their song. I saw the singer I was watching just a few seconds ago take a few steps in the direction of the counter when I heard a loud crash. Tom, typically, wasn't looking where he was going and crashed into the same singer.

I saw them apologize to each other, a little too profusely.

"I can offer you a drink, on the house," Tom was blabbering, bending down to pick up the fallen dishes.

The singer smiled, bending down as well to help Tom, "It's okay."

"No, really..."

Tom's voice trailed off in the background as another song began to play. I finished my tea and stood, leaving the right amount of cash on the table before making my way towards the exit, glancing at the two hunched figures one last time before leaving.

I walked down the street, the clouds evident even in the dark of night. The buildings lit up, cars zooming in flashes of light as people walked around doing their business. I entered my apartment building, nodding at the security guard behind the desk, before I took the stairs up to my floor.

Trudging up the stairs, I pushed back the hood of my jacket and ran my fingers through my light colored hair before breathing into my cupped hands to warm them up.

I passed a woman on my way up who looked as though she was about to cry. Someone else would've probably offered her some sort of comfort, but I was too used to such similar scenarios.

I sighed as I passed my neighbor, Rob. A thirty-something year old man who was always the reason behind the crying women.

"Hey kid, never go for the tall girls. They'll just try to be in control. Take it from me." He was leaning against his arm which was propped up against his open apartment door, his jaw dotted with a few days of stubble and his dirty blonde hair ruffled as if someone ran their fingers through them over and over again.

"I'm not interested in women, I told you already." I searched my pockets for my keys.

He frowned, "Huh, must've slipped my mind."