Chapter Text
“Hello, everyone. Welcome back to what is seemingly now a dramatic retelling of How I met Your Mother .” Laurent greets his audience sarcastically, “Damen will be with us shortly as apparently, ‘we’re going live in ten minutes’ was not enough of a warning for him to be prepared, even though I do this every week.”
“I’m coming!” Damen shouts from the bedroom, causing Laurent to roll his eyes.
“You were all very enthusiastic about the beginning of the story, and you seem to have some questions, and we’ll do our best to answer a few of them before we continue on.” Laurent explains to the camera. Damen huffs from off-screen, then in a matter of seconds he’s sitting beside Laurent on the floor in front of the couch.
“Hi everyone, sorry I’m late. Did I hear something about questions?” Damen smiles widely at the camera.
“Yes,” Laurent replies, then leans forward to inspect the chat. “First question is for me, it reads: ‘Laurent, what was your first impression of Damen?’ Hmm,” Laurent reads, and then leans back against the couch. “I used to pride myself on knowing every customer that would come into the shop, and when he decided to randomly appear one day, it caught me completely off guard. I wasn’t expecting him at all.”
“You forgot to mention the part where you thought I was drop-dead gorgeous and you were completely enamored by me.” Damen interjects, and Laurent turns to scowl at him.
“I was not completely enamored by you,” He huffs.
“Nothing about the gorgeous part?” Damen asks, smirking.
Laurent pauses and looks away, “That’s implied.”
Damen shouts a laugh and wraps an arm around Laurent’s shoulder, kissing his hair. Laurent goes to shove him off, but ends up just leaning into him instead.
“Read another question, you insufferable pest,” Laurent says as Damen continues to laugh under his breath.
“Okay let’s see here, ‘Damen, what was your first impression of Laurent?’ Oh, this is easy.”
“Is it?” Laurent asks, eyebrows raised. Damen nods.
“When I first saw him, it was by accident. I needed a quiet place to work on my thesis, and the libraries weren’t cutting it anymore. The fluorescent lights were bothering my eyes.” Damen explains. “So I went to Delpha, because my best friend Nik said it was close to campus and not usually very busy during the afternoons. And on that fateful Tuesday, I knew that I’d just seen the love of my life for the very first time.”
“Oh my god, that is not true.”
“It is! I stared at you for so long I thought for sure you’d notice. But you were so wrapped up in whatever it was that you were reading that day you didn’t even look up.”
“Damen--” Laurent starts, but Damen puts a hand gently over his mouth.
“He looked so good, you guys. Like imagine this,” Damen motions to Laurent, “But four years younger, with glasses on and wearing a sweater.”
“Okay, I think that’s quite enough of that.” Laurent huffs, playfully shoving Damen out of frame. “Next question, ‘Laurent, why didn’t you say anything to Damen on the first day?’”
“Because he’s shy,” Damen says, and Laurent ignores him.
“Because he was new, and I don’t like change. That’s all. Your turn, Damen.” Laurent answers shortly, keeping his eyes tied to his lap.
“Alright,” Damen answers after a few moments, looking away from Laurent and down into the chat. “Looks like, ‘Damen, why were you graduating college so late?’ Alright first of all--”
“Because he’s lazy.” Laurent says, earning himself a gentle finger to the ribs.
“No, it’s because I didn’t know what I wanted out of my future when I graduated high school. And guys, there’s no expiration date on college. You can go whenever and wherever you want. I took a couple of years off to travel the world, and then when I came home, I decided I wanted to go into politics like my dad. So, at twenty-two I went back to school and got my degree. If I hadn’t waited, I would have wasted a lot of time and money figuring it out, and I wouldn’t have met Laurent.” Damen shrugs nonchalantly.
Laurent turns to look at him, his eyes narrowed. “Well yes, you probably would have met someone your age,”
“Okay, alright,” Damen rolls his eyes. “Be quiet. You’re not that much younger than me. Read another question.”
“Next question, ‘What happened next?’ Well, I’m so glad you asked. Shall we?”
-----
Over the course of the next few weeks, Laurent pretends not to notice when the dark-haired stranger returns, taking up the same table by the window every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon like clockwork. He pretends not to notice Jord watching him, or how the stranger only orders one black coffee and never browses for books. He also pretends not to notice when the stranger looks up from his work, eyes glazed over, only to settle again on Laurent amongst all of the other people in the cafe.
One month after noticing the stranger for the first time, Laurent has the schedule down pat. But when he shows up for his fourth Tuesday shift since the strangers arrival, he’s nowhere to be seen. Laurent scans the shop quickly, his eyes darting from counter to table to bookshelf and back again, but he doesn’t see him anywhere.
Feeling as unsettled as he did when the stranger made his first appearance, Laurent goes into the stockroom to set down his bag. Jord is elbow deep in a cardboard box, but looks up when Laurent comes in.
“Hey,” he greets, but frowns when he sees Laurent’s face. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Laurent replies, letting his backpack fall from his shoulder and onto the table by the door.
“Is this sour mood because your hot stranger isn’t here?”
“What? No, I--” Laurent pauses, glaring at his friend. “He is not my hot stranger . He is simply a stranger turned regular, and now he’s not here. It’s unusual.”
“Maybe he was from out of town or he’s just running late? Why does it matter?”
“It doesn’t.” Laurent answers, before turning on his heel and storming out of the stockroom.
The rest of the week goes by without another appearance of the dark-haired student. Laurent finds himself checking the door, the table, the stacks, just to see if there’s any sign of him at all. By Friday, Laurent’s given up hope.
The weekend passes in a blur, and by the following Tuesday, Laurent has almost completely forgotten about the stranger. That is, until he arrives at work to see him sitting in his regular spot.
Caught off guard, Laurent almost walks full-speed into Jord as he glides around the counter with his arms full of books.
“Dude!” Jord barks as the books tumble loudly to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” Laurent replies quietly, kneeling to help Jord pick up the books.
“You sure know how to make an entrance.” Jord says, nodding towards the window. “Boy’s back.”
“I hadn’t even noticed.” Laurent replies sharply, shoving the books into Jord’s grasp and breezing past him towards the stockroom.
Frustrated with the stranger’s sudden and nonchalant reappearance, Laurent throws his backpack down and runs his fingers through his hair before tying it into a bun to keep it out of his face. It’s going to be a long night, and he doesn’t need one more thing getting on his nerves.
Laurent spends his shift checking and restocking the shelves, which keeps him tucked amongst the stacks, safely away from wandering eyes. Afternoon comes and goes, and as the sun sets, it casts the cafe into a warm winter glow. Laurent can see the dust float off the shelves as he shuffles copies around, and it fills him with a sense of calm he hasn’t felt all day. Taking a deep breath, he shuts his eyes and rests his head against the shelf in front of him, only to be shortly interrupted by a cough to his left.
Opening his eyes and straightening quickly, Laurent turns, only to find the handsome stranger, standing at the end of the stack. “Can I help you?” he asks, not unkindly.
“Yes, hi,” Dark-hair says, grinning confidently. “I’m looking for something to read, and I realized I have no idea what I like. What’s your favorite book?”
“ Anna Karenina , Tolstoy.” Laurent answers plainly, trying to keep the heat from his face.
“And where might I find that?”
“Fiction, two rows down, third shelf from the bottom on the left side. Black spine.”
“Thank you.” Dark-hair disappears then, and Laurent lets out a slow breath.
He returns to his work, making himself busy, and he’s just rearranged the shelf above him when there’s movement to his left again. He settles back down on his feet and turns, only to find dark-hair standing at the end of the stack once more.
“Did you find it?” Laurent asks patiently.
“I did.” Dark-hair replies, pulling it out from behind his back, “This is for you.”
Laurent frowns, “Do you think I don’t already own a copy of my favorite book?” He asks.
Dark-hair smiles, then says, “Not one with my name and number inside.”
Laurent, bemused, stares at the stranger for a moment. Then, “And why, pray tell, would I care for that information?”
Dark-hair smirks lazily, “Just wait,” He starts. “I’m going to be your whole world.”
Laurent narrows his eyes then, crossing his arms and staring at the stranger. “Does this usually work for you?”
The stranger shrugs nonchalantly in response. “Don’t know, I’ve never tried.”
“Well,” Laurent starts. “It’s horrendously cheesy and not suave in the slightest.”
“Thank you.” the stranger laughs, “I’m Damen. And you are?”
“Laurent.” he says, before taking the book from Damen’s hands and walking off in the opposite direction.