The world was a cold place, an empty cesspool of desperation as other people desperately clawed at the walls that trapped them in their own personal hell. Matthew knew it all too well, and although he rose above the rest with the help of his parents' wealth and fame, even he could not escape the clutches. At the end of his life, he will die in the same way he had lived, hopelessly alone with his own thoughts in his head.

The bite of cold on his nose was the only feeling he relished in anymore. The bundle of the coat against his skin, cold but slowly warming as he breathed into the scarf that provided the thinnest of barriers for his face. The wind still cut through the fabric, but he didn't mind, allowing the frosty chill to touch the soft warmth of his lips, leaving them dry.

Matthew stepped through the street, the buildings around him mostly deserted as strangers sought the warmth of the inside. Not him. He didn't like people, didn't want to be around them. If he had his way, he would never go outside, never interacting with anyone else. He could read, or paint, or even just stare out the window of his bedroom that overlooked the ocean. Anything could be better than walking through this town of dead tourism and people struggling to make a living. Still, even when someone was out on the street, they ignored him, maybe even avoided him. Matthew might even have felt a look of disdain from some of the passersby, which he was perfectly fine with.

His parents may be famous, but so was he.

Matthew turned the corner, his gaze automatically searching out the coffee shop that he always went to. Coffee was about the only thing he could stand the taste of, everything else being ash in his mouth. Coffee was strong. Coffee gave him the boost he so desperately needed to feel even the slightest bit. He had no energy without the bitter bite that almost felt like it was clenching his jaw for him.

The shop itself looked, no, was deserted without a single person inside. The lights were out. The chairs were gone. And now that Matthew was focusing on it, there wasn't a single coffee scent that he was used to flooding the street. His eye twitched, his gloved hands clenching into fists, and he let out an almost growl. Kicking the side of the brick wall, steel-toed shoes were a smart choice after all, he clicked his phone on, hitting speed dial and pulling it up to his numb and red ear.

"Matthew," Claire, on the other side, spoke, not even bothering with a greeting or a fake cheerful tone, "What can I do for you today?" 

"You know everything in this town. The fuck happened to the Cold Drip?" He spat, his tone coming back several times more vicious than Claire's. To the woman's credit, she didn't even seem to notice as typing faintly took over the sound on the other line.

"Closed down. It seems they weren't making a lot of money in the busy hours. Wonder what could be the reason for that?" Claire replied, her blank tone as accusing as ever, "Would you like me to find you another business that you can run into the ground?"

Matthew snorted, leaning against the wall of the coffee shop and tugging at his sleeve with his free hand, "Just find a coffee place that doesn't suck. It's all that you're good for anyway."

Claire didn't respond, simply beginning to type again as Matthew waited. At minute two, Matthew was going to give her a few choice words when she shushed him before he could even get the second syllable out.

"The Steamed Milk coffee shop is highly rated, even better than the Cold Drip. Two blocks on the left." Claire finally said, hanging up right after. Matthew pushed his phone into his pocket, grumbling as he forced himself off the wall and began trekking down the street once again.

Claire was not wrong about the Cold Drip. Matthew, although a well-paying customer, was not a welcome one in most stores. He had a habit of driving other people away from the stores he frequented, usually with his biting words and lack of control over others. He hated people, hated them more than he could hate anything else, and he couldn't even stand being in the same room as most of them. Hell, his closest friend was Claire, his parents' manager.

Matthew didn't care that he was an absolute dick, though. He would rather be clear that he was not someone to be friends with rather than force politeness that didn't exist within him. It was easier that way. He didn't have to pretend, and no one else had to believe that the world was full of rainbows and sunshine.

Because the world was cold, and Matthew simply embraced that icy touch.

Still, it was frustrating that the Cold Drip closed down out of nowhere. Matthew would have to be more careful about how he goes about getting his fix. He could change his schedule to be later in the night or right in the morning. No, late at night would probably work best. Less chance of others being there. Regardless, he could always ask Claire about their slowest times. It's not like he had to worry about a job or anything to workaround.

Though, when he got to the coffee shop, he wanted to tear it down right away. Where the Cold Drip had conciseness about it, a strong font on the door with neutral colors that gave it the feeling of a no-nonsense atmosphere, this Steamed Milk shop was softer, a round font that made Matthew want to vomit. It was so... lively feeling, and he absolutely hated it.

Still, he wanted to just grab some coffee and leave so he could go on about his day. He'll find a place less disgusting when he was more awake.

The door chimed when he opened the door and it grated on his ears, but the flood of chatter that followed about drove him mad. The store was too loud, too bright. Fuck. He regretted walking in here.

Still, he wasn't going to leave now, not until he had something to calm his nerves. He carefully walked up to the counter, a scowl on his face as he looked at the store around him. The walls were fucking pink cream. At least the wood details on the wall and floor were dark, giving the shop a warm feel. Matthew could feel it instantly, sweat beginning to form on his skin. The shop itself was warm, but not above 22 degrees. Still, it was too fucking warm, and it felt like his skin was prickling with all the noise that surrounded him.

"Can I help you?" He heard someone say, but he was too busy staring at the counter. White?! Why the hell would anyone put a white countertop with pink swirls for a coffee shop. Fuck, he truly was going to vomit. 

"Why is this shop so disgusting looking?" Matthew snarled, looking at the woman working in front of him with such venom. They had... they had fucking pastel green uniforms, with pink aprons. Matthew was going to kill Claire when he got home.

The worker looked taken aback, looking around the shop for a few seconds before looking back at him. She at least looked like a normal person in the face, with somewhat sharp features that gave him some respite, "I'm sorry, sir? I can assure you we clean every day," She offered, but he let out a scoff, his frustration turning his cheeks and the bridge of his nose red.

"That's not what I meant. You all look disgusting. I can believe you could roll out of your miserable bed and put on that uniform. Miserable life," Matthew huffed, looking away from her. He didn't want to be served by that. Screw coffee; it wasn't good enough for dealing with this.

"Everything okay over here?" He heard another voice say, that soft tone setting the hairs on the back of his neck straight up. It was so bubbly, just like everything else in this shop, and he turned towards the other worker to verbally tear him to shreds.

His voice died in his throat at the man, the surprise slacking his pinched expression as he stared.

The man was...well, for lack of a better term, absolutely adorable. He had sharp eyes, dark brown in color, but the rest of his face was pillowy in softness. His cheeks were chubbier, but they fit well on his rounded face. His nose was button-like, small, and slightly upturned. His lips... god, Matthew could stare at his lips all day. Two rose petals had been joined together to make his top lip while his bottom lip was almost pouty from the softness that left them smooth even with the cold. His hair was textured, probably from the bleaching process as it was platinum blonde, almost white, but it fell over his forehead in delicate clumps.

"Hello, sir! I hope everything is to your liking in this shop. We work hard every day to ensure that our quality is top-notch," The man said, his voice carrying a slight lilt to his tone, almost like he had the smallest of lisps. Maybe it was a combination of accents, Matthew didn't know. He took a slight step back, his mind absolutely blank as he stammered out some kind of response.

When his gaze finally managed to tear away from those inviting and warm eyes, he managed to read the name tag across the man's, no, Taylor's chest.

Taylor's patient smile - that Matthew was beginning to become convinced would never disappear - greeted him when he looked back, "Have you decided your order? Maybe I could suggest something for you if you'd like?"

"Uh, s-suggest," Matthew managed to mutter, completely forgetting what he normally ordered as Taylor's smile widened. The worker let out a small 'hm,' looking at Matthew's face with intense focus for excruciating seconds before turning to the woman Matthew had been growling at earlier.

"Could you fix a Spiced Christmas coffee, Ashley?" Taylor asked with his warm tone, turning back and giving Matthew a small wink, "Don't worry about a thing. It's not very Christmassy, in my opinion."

Matthew's mouth felt dry, so he could only nod in response as Ashley hurried off to the machine. His hands were clenching and unclenching, looking at Taylor and back to the counter. What was it that he hated about it? Oh, yeah, the pink swirls. It was hard to feel anger right now, the overwhelming softness coming from this man soothing his jaded hatred.

"Why?" Matthew asked, sticking to his one-word responses. Taylor looked at him for a second before tipping his head like a dog would when thinking. Matthew swore this is what dying actually felt like.

"I always imagined that the Spiced Christmas was like a hug," Taylor finally said, giving a small shrug in response, "And you looked like you could use a hug."

Matthew's mouth fell open just a little as he felt his cheeks inflame with red, splashing across his nose and under his eyes with a blush that wasn't in frustration, "O-oh. I see," Was all Matthew could say, his eyes following Ashley as she brought over the warm steaming cup and placed a lid over the tantalizing smelling liquid.

"I got more than one word out of you. I call that a success," Taylor said, sliding the coffee across the counter, "Take this one on the house, as long as you come back again."

Matthew's mouth clamped shut, nodding shyly and taking the coffee in his hands. He back up two steps, looking around the shop at all the content and happy customers before turning and almost dashing towards the door. The bell chimed cheerily behind him, and he took a deep breath as the frostiness cut into his skin and filled his lungs.

The magic was broken, and the world was dark and bleak once again. Matthew took a couple of breaths, looking at the doorway before turning his eyes to the cup.

The little cup looked like it was glowing in his hand, the warmth a reminder of what the shop felt like. He blew on the hole and took a tentative sip, letting the spicy but delicate flavor rush over his tongue. He let out a sob, rubbing his arms over his side.

For the first time in his life, he cried.