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There was a nagging feeling, a knot tied in Phink's stomach every time he sat down and thought about what he was doing. No, what he was doing isn’t considered stalking, but he sure as hell felt as if he was. There was a coffee shop across the street from the gym where he routinely worked out. After every session, he’d visit this place to grab a drink and a bite to eat.
It was a rather small place, sharing the bottom half of an established larger building. Upstairs was a tattoo parlor. Honestly, the contrast between the two establishments was humorous to Phinks. A cozy coffee shop with a color palette to give this cottagecore aesthetic. Low-hanging orange lamps, cute wooden tables against a cream-colored wall, and the constant smell of freshly brewed coffee. Then there was the tattoo parlor, shaped in a sleek black, contemporary style with tinted windows.
Perhaps the interesting contrast was the reason why Phinks bothered to check out the place to begin with. However, it wasn’t the reason why he turned it into a routine. The reason was something more interesting. Or should he say, someone.
It was just like any other day; after a heavy workout, Phinks came in to grab a bagel and a coffee. Over the counter, while ordering, a dark figure caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A pale, short-statured man, dressed in a head-to-toe contemporary black leather outfit. Wrapped around his waist was more leather, but purple, with a row of large grommets on his belt. He had a black facial mask on, but despite all that coverage, Phinks could tell how handsome he was. Before the handsome stranger could notice his gaze, Phinks immediately looked away, screaming internally, “What the hell are you looking at?”
It’s a shame he didn’t act on his desires at that time. Now a hot stranger lived in his head rent-free, and he doesn’t even know his name. What started as an innocent curiosity now feels like a silly crime. He often went to this coffee shop, just hoping to run into that stranger again. Luckily, it seems this coffee shop was also a routine for him, but unluckily, Phinks often got cold feet about approaching him.
“What do I even say?” He would think to himself. “Am I being creepy?” The thoughts would continue. Unfortunately, by the time he thought of something, the stranger had already picked up his order and left. However, today is the day when all of that changes. Phinks decided he was just going to rip the band-aid off and deal with whatever aftermath happened. It is what it is, he supposes.
It was now or never; he riled himself up, not as if there truly was a due date in socialization. As the man walked into the cafe, Phinks took a deep breath before approaching.
The plan was to say something smart but casual. However, as he approached, the only word he managed to utter was… “Sup.” He raised his fingers as a half-hearted wave.
The stranger barely reacted; at best, his brows subtly pinched together. Averting his gaze to the people around him. His sharp eyes roamed the crowd, perhaps expecting that this “Sup” was meant for someone else.
Phinks waited, thinking that he maybe hadn’t heard him. “Uh, hey. You with the mask?” he pointed at his face to match his words.
Whatever was brewing in the stranger’s head earlier, Phinks’s voice seemed to have stopped him in his tracks. As he refocused his vision on Phinks, it was as if a mere light bulb had switched on in his head, although he held his tongue on that thought. Narrowing his eyes, there was a hint of edge to his voice, “What?”
It was difficult for him to tell if he was annoyed or if that was just his resting face. Phinks, nevertheless, pushed onwards with a casual shrug, “I just wanted to say hi.”
“Why?” He raised a brow, confused by what he thought was strange behavior.
“Well, why not? Seen you around here a few times, and your fit looks sick as fuck.” Casually throwing in a compliment, Phinks hoped it didn’t come off creepy.
“Oh,” He says, almost in a disappointing tone. It was difficult; the man didn’t seem that much of a talker. However, to Phinks’ delight, he continued, “Not used to that.”
“Used to what?” He asked.
“People approaching and complimenting.” He looked away momentarily.
“Really?” Phinks tilted his head. The dude is attractive. Don’t attractive people get showered in compliments? Shalnark always complained about that, getting hit on by “Boring women,” as he puts it.
“They're either intimidated or stupid enough to pick a fight.” He responded, watching Phink’s reaction.
“Ah, I guess I can see that,” He bluntly responded. Granted, he was a little intimidated to approach, not because of the stranger per se. More due to his own experiences with socializing and subsequent rejection.
There was an awkward silence that befell the two before Phinks came up with another conversation point: “So, are you like a tattoo artist or something?”
His eyes sparked a subtle hint of interest for the first time during their conversation. “Yeah,” He nodded. “You like tattoos?”
Phinks smiled, “Oh yeah, I think they are cool!” It was a simple way to phrase it, but with the amount of enthusiasm, it didn’t matter how simple the word cool was.
The stranger suddenly glanced at Phinks, an overt stare from looking at his legs up to his eyes, “You got any?”
Noticing that his man was probably a tattoo enthusiast, Phinks nervously chuckled, “Got one for now; it’s something I got when I was a teenager. On my leg.” He paused, pulled up his pants, and lowered his socks. He continued by explaining, “It’s a motorcycle wheel on fire.”
The stranger looked a tad unimpressed by it; perhaps it was too childish, non-artistic, but Phinks added a truthful joke, “Don’t tell the cops, but back in the day I was a part of a loooooooot of drag racing.” He winked, hoping that would make things chill.
Surprisingly, the stranger found that humorous. “Oh, how sentimental.” He gave a witty comment.
“Yeah, it sure is,” He chuckled. “Bet you got loads of them,” Phinks added.
He nodded, “All over.” He made gestures all over his body, his arms, his legs, even his torso.
Bluntly, Phinks commented without thinking, “Wish I could see them,” Then realized how awkward that was, considering some of the places he pointed to.
However, surprisingly, he didn’t take it in a bad way. He seemed to smile under that mask of his. “Sure, just not here.”
Call it self-sabotage or anxiety, “So, you’re not weirded out by that?” Not wanting to draw attention, if it never dawned on him, however, despite everything, Phinks was an honest man.
The stranger raised his brow. “Why? Seen you shirtless before,”
“What? Since when?” He was absolutely bewildered by that comment.
Awkwardly, the strangers seemed to have connected more dots and may have slipped up. Averting his gaze, he muttered a confession, “You go to that gym a lot, right?”
“Yeah, I do.” Phinks nodded.
“You have a habit of lifting your shirt when wiping your sweat.” If Phinks focused more on the stranger’s face, perhaps he would have noticed the subtle shade of pink forming on his cheeks. However, Phinks was more focused on trying to recall if that was a habit of his or not.
“Oh, I guess I do, do that…” Phinks concluded. However, the more he thought about it, the less nervous he became. Connecting all of the dots, he realized that somehow, both of them noticed each other. So it was only a matter of time before one of them was to make the first move.
“So, uh, I’m Phinks, by the way.” He smiled, feeling a lot better about the whole situation.
“Feitan,” He responded. He pulled out his phone, tapping away before looking back up at him. “Number?”
Unable to hide his excitement, he rushed to pull out his phone, “Yeah, it’s,” After reading off his number and getting Feitan’s number in return. They spent a few more minutes casually chatting about personal interests.
“See you tomorrow,” They said to each other as they parted ways.