He was in a coffee shop when he saw him.
He tried to cover the dried paint stains on his hands so the beautiful man wouldn't think he was pyscho, or a hobo, or worse, a wannabe indie painter.
Oh, wait. He was.
But there was no point in hiding his hands, because those blue eyes didn't happen to glance his way once.
And that disappointed him. A lot.
So he came back the next day.
He had never been to the shop. He usually went to Starbucks, always needing to grab a quick coffee because he was always late to something, always needing to get back home to finish a project or an assignment. But he happened to have time, so he had decided to enter an urban coffee shop, one his friend had once mentioned. He wasn't disappointed, he's not very picky, but it wasn't the coffee that caught his attention. It was the Adonis that sat in the left corner of the shop, tucked away in a big gray hoodie and hidden behind huge black glasses frames, much too big for his face. His hair was disheveled in...