Pardon me for my lack of excitement,
But I'm not entirely thrilled

-- -- --

Michael lingered against one of the walls, content to watch the interactions but not join them. It was not often that he followed Chris to these monthly dinners; Michael preferred to stay home and marathon horror movies with Anita. But on the occasions when he did come, it wasn't like he found them unpleasant.

He looked around the room, trying to catch a familiar face. To the left of the room his god-father seemed to be having a pleasant enough conversation with the Head of Forensics department. Michael grabbed a flute of champagne from a waiter passing by and took a sip. He laughed quietly at the fact that he was, even at sixteen, more responsible with drinking than his guardian was. With that thought passing through his head, Michael continued his survey of the room.

Near the door stood Head General Hevlaska. Michael got along well with her and she tended to have a soft spot for kids; from what he heard she had a child of her own. The Head General was an imposing woman with dark skin and a warm smile. Michael mused over what it would be like to have her as a mother.

"Isn't it illegal for you to be drinking that?" a voice said to his right as he took another sip from his glass, causing Michael to jump and choke on the drink.

"What?" he coughed out, and turned to see who addressed him. He was caught off guard by bright eyes and blue hair. Oh , Michael thought belatedly. He took the person in: a white, button-down blouse that looked to be made of silk, dark slacks, three inch high-heels, the butterfly hair clip made up of white and pale green gemstones. He were dressed very nicely, that was for sure. Michael blinked and the other boy - who he would guess was probably the same age as Michael - laughed, high and clear.

He pointed to Michael's glass, and said, "I'm pretty sure you're underage and you're drinking."

"So?" Michael asked, thoroughly confused. His conversation partner just smiled.

"You're drinking. In a room full of cops." Ah . Yes, Michael could see how that might be humorous. He shrugged slightly and quietly cleared his throat. Michael spun the cool glass in his hand, trying to tell himself that forming any sort of attachment to someone he'd probably never see again, no matter how pretty said person was, was a stupid idea.

"Well, no one's ever seemed to mind," he said, getting a warm laugh in return.

"I'm Tae-Young," he said, as though every syllable he said didn't send Michael's heart thudding. At least he knew he was an idiot.

" Michael," he said, as he shook the offered hand. Yes, he mused, that smile was certainly dangerous.

-- -- --

St-st-stutter as I talk
Flail around as I walk
Yeah, the moment's been killed

-- -- --

As the night wound down, Michael fled to the well-landscaped, benched area on the east side of the restaurant. It was quiet and away from the chatter of the private room. He decided he would let Chris' argument with Colonel Price drag on just a little longer before Michael would pull the red-headed man away and back home. But until then, Michael found himself furiously typing into his phone, locked in an intense dispute about the ethics of killing honeybees with a friend.

He blinked and looked up as someone sat beside him on the bench. Slightly startled, he found Tae-Young smiling at him. "Bored?" they asked.

With his own grin creeping up, Michael shook his head. His phone buzzed, and he sent one more [I say kill them all] text to Jack before muting and turning off his phone. He was nothing if not polite.

"No," Michael said as he turned to better face Tae-Young . "It was just getting a little loud for me."

Tae-Young got him laughing though when they said, "Well, I was!" The two of them drifted into companionable silence as they watched both the stars and the pedestrians passing by.

Suddenly, somewhere between the dramatic fight of a couple aChris the street and the police car racing past, Tae-Young asked, "What's your favorite color?"

Michael had to think for a moment, eyes tracing Orion's Belt. "Red," he decided, nostalgic, "I like red."

"Yeah, I can see that. I like blue." Michael turned to look at Tae-Young and found their faces only inches apart. If this was a shitty romance movie, Michael thought, it would be the part where Tae-Young kissed him and the audience would clap, not caring that they had only met that day. Instead, Michael's eyes flicked to Tae-Young's bright blue hair and said, "I'd guess."

Tae-Young laughed and that wild smile was back on his face. He slid back into their previous place before standing and tossing a look back at Michael. "So, I think this is the part where you give me your number," Tae-Young said.

Michael felt the back of his neck grow warm and, flustered, managed to type his number into Tae-Young's phone. They took it back and disappeared inside with a smile and a wink.

Michael groaned and dragged a hand down his face. He was fucked. With a sigh, he unlocked his phone and began a new argument with Jack, on whether the Illuminati was real or not.

-- -- --

I'm not good at this
No, not at all
I'm not good at this
I'm a wreck and I know it
Tend to show it
Every chance that I get

-- -- --

Anita's was a small, little cafe tucked into the corner of Queen's street. Wide and numerous windows coupled with vine and flowers and plants that hung from the walls and ceilings cast the illusion of an open air cafe. And Michael loved every part of it. At seventeen, he had a habit of nestling himself in the far corner, in a happy solitude with his books.

Anita had decided that, of course, Michael would pay her back for all the tea he would down by working. Which was how he found himself working from 4 to 5, every day after school. Perfectly fine by him. Later, his pseudo-aunt would ruffle his hair and claim it fate. But for now, Michael worked.

It was a Thursday ( Michael hated Thursdays, they were long and boring and probably hated him too) when it happened. He hadn't had school that day, and Michael gladly spent the day working in the cafe. By that point, he had worked weekends and breaks enough times to know the regulars.

First, at seven, just after opening, Colonel Jones would march in and order a medium black, cream and two sugars, and never anything different. He would almost always place down five dollars exactly and always told Michael to keep the extra 75 cents as a tip - not that Lukas's complaining. Then - if the Colonel was stuck on a particularly hard or annoying case - he would sometimes return and order two more coffees.

At a quarter past eight, a rush of sleep-deprived college students would bumble in, mutter about essays that were several pages too long, order anything with an excessive amount of espresso shots. Then they would wander off to whatever morning class hell they subjected themselves to.

Between nine and 10:30, it was mostly tired mothers that milled around. 10:57, precisely, was Michael's favorite customer. Jack as one of Michael's closest friends, despite being almost three years older, and having a habit of never getting the same drink two days in a row.

That Thursday, he pranced in like he knew the manager (though Michael honestly wouldn't be surprised if that was the case), followed by another man. He was taller, with long, dark hair. Michael didn't get to observe him much more before Jack's red hair and bright eye took over his sight. " Michael!" Jack said, hands reaching forward to muss up the tow-head's hair.

Michael, way too used to it, simple grabbed Jack's wrists and held them away from his hair. "Hello, Jack. What can I get you today?"

"Man, I love your hair. It's even better than Kei's!" The long-haired man growled. Jack paused. Then he grinned and said, "Large vanilla chai, one pump of caramel."

Michael nodded, hummed, and scribbled Jack's name on a cup. He turned to the other man, "And what can I get you?"

The man scowled. "Green tea."

"And can I get a name for that?"

" Yukihiro."

Michael set about making their drinks, and lent an ear to half-listen to his friend's chatter. "Kei-chan is in some of my classes!" - "What the fuck have I said about my first name, you damn rabbit?" - "Hey, aren't you looking into college, Michael?"

Michael smiled and slid the two cups across the counter. "Yeah, but I might take a gap year too. Might go back to visit Germany."

"Oh yeah, I forgot you lived there for a while." Michael nodded and glanced at the clock. 11:15, his break. With a grateful sigh, he put up his apron and happily took the cup offered to him by Anita. He took up residence in his usual corner and cracked open his book. Michael wasn't all that surprised when Jack piled into the the seat across from him. His companion seemed to stay at their table.

"Jack, I'm reading," he said instead, mildly amused and not quite annoyed. He sighed and momentarily closed his book as his phone buzzed.

[We still need to finish your math. Preferably today.]

Michael stifled a groan. All he wanted was a peace day off school, but fate seemed to be against him in that regard.

[I'm working right now. Can we talk later? I get off at one.]

Slightly more annoyed than before (he blamed it on the impending doom called math ), Michael finished his drink in one go and collected his book, sliding his phone back into his pocket. Some how, Jack had managed to stall Michael's return to work, and geared the two of them to stand near where Yukihiro sat, who was glaring at Michael for some reason he couldn't understand.

Jack waggled his eyebrows, "You texting a girl, Michael? Is she blonde? How hot is she? Is-"

"Jack!" Michael cut off his friend's rambling and rolled his eyes. "It's just my aid. Calm down. Now let me get back to work."

As he turned around to continue working and put on his apron, Michael heard Yukihiro muttering to Jack.

"So he's a bean sprout and he's an idiot? No wonder you're friends with him, damn rabbit," the man mumbled. now, there were many things Michael didn't mind, he was used to his fair share of insults. Insults of his intelligence though, was something he couldn't stand. (And something Chris found hilarious, but that wasn't the point here.) Michael's eye twitched and he spun around to face the taller once again.

-- -- --

Butterflies in the skies,
They just fly on by.
Yeah they're making me sick.
They don't flutter about,
I'd do without.
All they do is kick.

-- -- --

"Excuse you! You should keep out of other's business. Honestly, if any one is an idiot here, it's you!" Michael probably would have continued if a sharp ringing hadn't alerted him to his 11:30 regular. Turning quickly on his heel he rushed over and, as fast as he could, brewed the drink; he knew who was waiting for him. He hastily shoved it into the customer's hands. "Okay, you can leave now."

Chris glanced down at the steaming cup before squinting at Michael and looking back down at the steaming coffee. "Don't you have school?" he asked as he dropped the exact change on the counter.

"No school today, teacher meetings or something" Michael supplied and watched from the corner of his eye as Jack and Yukihiro disappeared out the door. He felt the tension slip from his shoulders. "I told you about it last night?"

"Oh. Whatever." Chris left it at that and left.

Sometimes, Michael really hated his job.

-- -- --

Mean it truly,
Sincere heart.
Why do you do this to me?
Tear me apart.

-- -- --

The next time Yukihiro showed up at Anita's while Michael is on shift, he wrote Asshole on the cup instead. After awhile, it became a habit. Then Tae-Young came in with Yukihiro once and slipped Michael the taller's number. Two weeks later, he found out Tae-Young and Yukihiro were together. Michael wasn't really sure how that happened, since he was far too nice for Yukihiro, but whatever.

But the strangest thing happened on a Saturday morning at 8:52 AM, when Michael was exactly 17 years, 9 months, and 23 days old. While handing his two friends (term used lightly for Yukihiro. Maybe.), Tae-Young leaned across the counter and asked, "Hey, wanna go on a date with us?"

Michael didn't really understand what was happening, but he grinned widely and managed to say yes. Well, small victories. Later, he'd look back at the moment and laugh. But in that moment, Michael couldn't be happier.