Phil turned the keys in the ignition of his car off, feeling the gentle purr slow down and flick off completely. He stood up, bones creaking as he slammed the car door, yawning from another day at work. Wilbur's car wasn't in the driveway, but that was normal.

It was 10 pm, the street lamps on their street the only light besides the shiny white moon.

Phil dragged himself to the doorway, fumbling with his rough, bronze key that glinted in the glowing lamplight, moths flying into the glowing orb next to their doorway.

"TECHNO!" The keys jangled in the doorway as Phil shut it behind him. "YOU THERE?"

"YUP!" Techno's deep voice floated down from his room, classical music thumping through his laptop, the clink of piano threading down into the kitchen as Phil flicked the warmish orange lights on.

The deep growl of the coffee machine started, Phil placing a cup of Wilbur, Techno, and him from Wilbur's nursery school graduation. His thumb rubbed over the missing space before placing it under the spout, dark liquid sputtering, filling white with black. The strong scent drifted into his nose, dark and rich, Phil alone at the granite counter.

It was silent in the kitchen.

It was always silent.

The last drips of the coffee dropped into the cup before the machine heaved a great sigh, falling silent.

The door swung open.

"Dad?"

"Hey Will!" Phil turned, trying to smile tiredly. He noticed the stage makeup highlighting Wilbur's pained eyes. His smile dropped.

"Oh, Will, was that performance tonight?" Phil held his head, searching his pockets. "I swear I wrote it down on a different date-"

"Yeah..." Wilbur adjusted his guitar over his shoulder, rubbing the maroon strap. "I-I kept on looking out in the crowd for you. It was my solo performance."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, sunshine." Phil looked genuinely sad as he crossed his arms in guilt. "I promise I'll come next time-"

"You always say that." Wilbur tried desperately to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes. "I-I really just wanted someone there. Even Techno."

"Will, I'm really sorry." Phil's eyes pleaded. "Techno's been studying for university, you know that. It completely slipped my mind-"

"Just forget it." Wilbur turned away, trying to hide the tears streaming out and his skin lighting hot red.

"Will-"

"FORGET IT!"

Phil watched, his soul sinking as Wilbur's light grey car pull out of the driveway quickly.

The coffee was cold.

He swirled it dejectedly with a small teaspoon, watching the dark liquid swirl.

He really was trying his best.

But sometimes his best just wasn't enough.

---

Red spotlights blurred in Wilbur's teary eyes as he turned up the stereo, trying to drown out his sobs. The radio spiked with static before turning to a Christmas channel, the slow tunes making him sob even more. He pressed his foot lightly on the pedal, urging the car forward through empty streets glossy with ice. The lamppost lights webbed together with water as he leaned against his steering wheel, white snow being dirtied by dark gray, piling up in banks on the side of the road.

He knew he was maybe being slightly dramatic, but he really did expect his dad to be there.

And it really did hurt a lot when all of his friends got handed fresh cut roses, and he stood waiting out in the cold.

He waited for half an hour outside the school auditorium, hands stiff from strumming the guitar and the frost, assuring his friends that his dad would come, that he had a dad.

But his dad never came.

And he knew that it was stupid, but he was angry. His friends hadn't even seen his dad before. He doubted his dad had even ever seen him perform before.

And now here he was, on the last day of school before the winter holiday, the night of his solo performance. And he was fucking crying at 10 pm when all the rest of his mates were out at pubs or at houses celebrating.

Fucking crying at 10 pm in his car.

He stopped suddenly, not recognizing the intersection or the stop signs.

Great.

Now he was crying and lost. At 10 pm. In his car. On the night of his solo performance.

Alone.

He drifted along for a bit, yellowed street signs swinging in the wind in front of closed store-fronts before pulling to the side of the road, sighing. He slumped against the car's steering wheel, his curly hair pushed up against the hard plastic.

Honk!

The car horn suddenly sounded, making him jump. He sighed again. In the corner of his eye, a small orangish light lit up a windowsill, and he turned his head towards it, fascinated. A small Christmas tree decorated in cheap reflective silver balls sat slumping in the corner, chairs stacked a top of tables. The hanging electric bulbs glared in his eyes as he tried to wipe away the tears.

His car's engine slowed to a stop as he opened the car door, snow drifting off of the edges. He slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing in the cold air. Snow rested atop the weathered, striped awning, and it piled up on the sidewalk as he pushed open the frost-covered doorway, the alarm twinkling.

"Hello?"

"Oh! Hello!" The girl that was sweeping the ground, her green apron swishing with her, turned towards him. "I was about to close up shop, but I still have 5 minutes left before we officially close so-"

Wilbur's eyes widened.

Wow.

Wilbur didn't believe in love at first sight or any of that bullshit. His mates would show him pretty girls on their phones, but he shrugged them away. Sure, they were pretty.

But this girl was beautiful.

Really, really beautiful.

She looked like one of the fairies from the old stories that his mom used to read to him. Twinkly and light. 

Wilbur realized that he was staring a bit too long, and he cleared his throat suddenly.

"I-uh-"

The girl tilted her head slightly, tucking a strand of her fiery red hair daintily behind her ear.

"W-what type of coffee do you sell?" Wilbur burst out, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

"Well, uhm we have macchiatos, flat whites-"

Wilbur silently cursed at himself for being so awkward as the girl drifted towards the coffee bar. He sat down, dragging the glassy wooden chairs against the floor as quietly as possible as he watched her nimble fingers dart easily over the machines.

"So what'll it be?"

Wilbur was jolted back to reality, stuttering out. "Uh- w-whatever you like the best- I-I mean whatever's your recommendation-"

"Hmmm," She tilted her head, hands on her hips. "You seem like the type to like your coffee black."

"I- yeah. Black coffee." Wilbur grinned, giving an awkward thumbs-up, the girl heading back to start drumming up a black machine that purred like a cat.

But Wilbur could only look at the girl as she moved around like a fairy, reaching on her tiptoes to reach the top of the shelves.

"One coffee, black."

The white ceramic mug slid across the black counter.

"That'll be 2 pounds, please."

"Oh- uhm-" Wilbur snapped out of his trance, patting his pockets. He'd forgotten his wallet. Of course. "Uh-"

"Do you play the guitar?" The girl's voice lilted with interest.

"Me?" Wilbur's head snapped down, finally noticing the guitar still strapped across his chest. "I- yes. I play guitar."

"You're silly." The girl smiled softly, making Wilbur's heart jolt."Look, I'll give it to you on the house if I get to hear you play."

Wilbur patted his jeans again, looking for his wallet desperately. "Oh, I couldn't possibly-"

"Oh, c'mon. I don't want to waste a perfectly good coffee." Wilbur's nerves were on fire as she floated over to him, sitting down quietly. She set down a steaming mug, bubbles popping at the dark surface, and pushed it towards him.

Wilbur's heart melted with happy butterflies as she smiled at him, quiet and exuding. The small teaspoon clinked against the side of the cup of her own latte, soft and fluffy with a golden center.

"Just one song. I really wanna hear one."

"Ok then," Wilbur fumbled with his guitar, finally finding his voice again. "If you insist."

His fingers plucked across the strings, feeling the vibrations through his fingertips as music filled the quiet cafe, the tilted plastic star on top of the petite Christmas tree shining. Snow fell outside as the girl rested her hand on her cheek, listening to the music. The strums of the guitar revigorated Wilbur's courage as he forgot about the argument with his dad, about the skipped performance, about the missed moments. The only he felt was the warmth from the lights, the kind stare of the girl, and the rough guitar at his fingertips.

He strummed the last chord, and the girl clapped excitedly, her eyes shining once more.

"What's your name?"

He smiled at her softly. "I'm Wilbur. What's yours?"

"Sally." The word leaped off her tongue like springtime and dancing spirits.

"T-That's a very pretty name." Wilbur blushed as soon as he said it.

She smiled sheepishly, cheeks going pink. "Thank you."

"You're a very good guitar player, Wilbur."

Wilbur's heart blossomed with pride. "Thanks."

"Could you play me another song?"

"It would be my honor."

And Wilbur would play another, and another. He could play forever, looking into her eyes.

And the snow swirled in the empty night air as he strummed once more.

---