Blue Dream (Kreuzberg Dragonshifters Book 1) #Wattys2016

Blue Dream Part 1

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Paul shuffled across Alexanderplatz, yawning slightly beneath the weight of tiredness that seemed intent upon pulling both his shoulders and eyelids down; his sleep the night before had been less than restful, and the late spring warmth was making him feel drowsier still. He smiled, despite his weariness, and squinted against the sunlight, as he dodged out of the way of a pushchair toting mother, who seemed intent upon ploughing him down, instead of manoeuvring the baby's vehicle around him.

The paper bag he carried wrinkled and crinkled with his sharp and jagged movements, sending the smell of freshly baked soft pretzels up into the air in a welter of warm yeast and the heavy scent of cinnamon and sugar. His stomach grumbled with the promise of his sweet snack, and his mouth watered with the promise of the same; although he'd eaten the baguette he'd also purchased, filled with chicken and red onion relish, whilst he'd walked from the bakery to his own shop, he still was hungry. He gave some serious consideration to ripping hungrily into Flake's ham and tomato baguette, yet knew that that would be the cruellest thing to do to the other man, despite his ongoing hunger; Flake undoubtedly needed his own lunch and so, was quite likely as hungry as Paul himself was.

Neither man had eaten since earlier that morning, and even then, the breakfast they'd snatched had been scant and perfunctory, the smell of toast and vaguely melted cheese filling the air around them as they rushed to leave the apartment they shared to reach the shop in time for opening hours. The shop itself was a business they co-owned together, and they both were the only staff that worked within its walls; they sold and bought comic books, both old and new, and they read as many themselves as they sold to their customers. Paul had often said that it was called 'Comic World' for a reason; comics literally were their world, for the most part.

Paul sighed as he finally reached the door of Comic World, and slid inside, the familiar ringing soft chime of the bell hanging above it dinging with the sounds of his ingress. He closed the door softly behind him, and inhaled sharply, in the way that he always did upon entering; the smell of paper and books always made Paul feel oddly comforted somehow. He smiled as he passed the generously stuffed racks of comic books, brightly coloured front covers seeming to leap and to leer out at him, proclaiming odd titles, and odder storylines, and the usually-kept promises of action and adventure held within their thick paper covers.

Flake appeared from the gloom of the staff room out the back, hands wrapped around the handles of a couple of mugs of coffee; the freshly brewed scents of the coffee itself filled the air as redolently as the aromas of the comic books themselves. Paul dumped the paper sack of food down upon the counter, before he swung through the employee's gate to join Flake behind it. He nodded towards the sack, feeling some of the guilt and second-hand shame for being impatiently hungry seep through him, to settle upon his face and twist his mouth down into a soft and worried little pout.

"I already ate my baguette," he said. "I almost ate yours on the way here."

"You'd better not have done," Flake said, darkly, as he set the mugs down upon the counter, using a spare piece of paper to shield the wooden surface from accruing two coffee mug rings.

In that he was more studious than Paul; Paul himself was a little more slapdash and happy-go-lucky, slamming his things everywhere and leaving messes that Flake cleared up and continuously complained about. Paul also was notoriously accident prone, which made Flake's complaints and sarcastic comments grow ever louder; those acerbic asides always fell inevitably on deaf ears. Paul knew that despite it all, Flake didn't mean it; his complaints always were meant as a sign of friendship and affection. The more that he complained, the more he cared about a person, or so Paul had found in the years that he'd known the other man.