Chapter Text
You’d seen him coming in for a few days when your shift would end, and then you’d heard your coworkers talking about him. “The strange man in the glasses” they called him and you somehow instantly knew who they were talking about. You were working the closing shift tonight and just a few moments after your coworker had left to go home, he entered. He took his seat at the counter and waited with his head down. It was getting late, but the diner would still be open for 2 more hours. You hesitated a bit before going over to the man.
“Hello, what can I get you tonight?” You asked, having walked to stand in front of him across the counter. His head perked up and his eyes lifted to meet your gaze when you spoke. You undated why your coworkers had told you about him, he had quite the stare.
“Haven’t seen you here before.” He mumbled, basically saying it to himself rather than you.
“Mhm yea it’s my first closing shift in a while.” You replied, tapping your pen to your notepad trying to signal that you’d like his order.
“Lucky me.” He said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. It wasn’t in a sarcastic tone at all, he sounded like he figured himself genuinely lucky to be in this empty diner, at night, with you. He abruptly cleared his throat and bowed his head once more. “I’ll uh… just a coffee and… pie… pumpkin pie…” he told you with a quality of uncertainty in his voice, as if you would deny his order or tell him you didn’t have what he asked for.
“Alright, coming right up sir.” You smiled, trying to brush off his mumbling from earlier. I mean who orders coffee at 8pm? Obviously someone incredibly tired or with a horrible sleep schedule, maybe both. Either way, you didn’t put a lot of thought into his offhanded comments and instead retreated to the coffee maker. You set some water to boil while you got his slice of pie. It would be cold by now probably having sit in the display case for at least a few hours, you knew they usually baked the last round of pies around dinner time and that has long since passed. You decided to ask him if he’d like it heated, I mean if he expected warm pie and got cold then he’d obviously be disappointed so you’d rather avoid that in the first place. “Did you want me to warm this up for you?” You asked, gesturing to the slice on the plate you had gotten for him. He looked up, eyes wide behind his clear frames.
“N-no… thank you” he shook his head and you started to walk towards him with the slice on the plate. “Cold is fine, nice actually…” he said as you set it down in front of him with a fork. You nodded and caught a small smile on his lips as you did so. You returned to the coffee, preparing it plainly as he hadn’t requested any cream or sugar. You say that down before him as well.
“Anything else I can do for you?” You asked before going and getting started on the dishes. He hummed in thought.
“Ah… oh… I… I’m ok I’m sure I think,” he replied, avoiding eye contact and instead picked up the fork for his pie.
“Alright well if you need me just say something,” you replied, turning to go and clean. You hated closing shifts, having to wash the dishes. You hated the feeling of the filthy water on your hands, slick with soap and grime. Sure you had to clean dishes during all your shifts but at least then your coworker would have to do some of it, and honestly most of the cleaning was left for closing anyways. So there you were, up to your elbows in disgusting sudsy water for what seemed like hours. Eventually you finished what was left in the sink and loaded the dishwasher. It really hadn’t taken that long at all since today had been rather slow. You washed your hands and dried them, wondering if the man in the glasses was still there. You turned and saw that he was. Not only was he still seated in the same spot it seemed as though he still had half of his pie left. Then you saw it, something peculiar. He dug his fork into the pie, taking a tiny bit of it and submerging it into his cup of coffee, removing it from the beverage and then eating it. Where on God’s green Earth did that man learn to do that, and why did he think that was an appropriate thing to do? You hadn’t seen anything like that before and you really didn’t know what to think. I mean, who were you to judge this stranger’s eating habits? Still, you felt you just had to ask.
“I can’t believe that tastes good.” You comment, walking over to stand across the counter from the guest. He jumped a bit, obviously not expecting to receive your attention.
“I- Uh… I think… it does…” he replied, sounding incredibly unsure about whether or not he honestly thought it tasted good at all. He looked up at you, locking eyes with you. He then took another piece of pie and dipped it into his coffee again, but this time he raised it up to you. You looked at him and smiled, a large, closed mouth smile. He was strange you would admit but he was funny, and you didn’t even think he was trying to be. You opened your mouth and let the fork enter it. The taste was new and awful. You closed your mouth around it and pulled off the fork, eating the piece as you did. It was wet and soggy and tasted like someone poured black coffee on cold pumpkin purée. There wasn’t a hint of sweetness to be found in that bite. Still, you swallowed and smiled, hiding your displeasure. To be fair you weren’t the biggest fan of coffee or pumpkin pie to begin with so you shouldn’t have expected to like to two when combined. But there he was, this odd man, staring at you expectantly.
“It’s uh- I’ve never had anything like it!” You grinned and tried to make that sound like a good thing.
“Hmm… an acquired taste I suppose,” he dropped his head back down to his plate and cup, having seemingly seen through your statement.
“Yea I’m not sure I’ve acquired that taste quite yet,” you said lightly, and you heard him chuckle at that. It wasn’t a sound you expected. It was higher than you’d imagined for such a soft spoken man. It was almost that of the giggle of a teenage girl. Having concluded the interaction was going well you wanted to leave it on a high note and went back to closing the diner. You had to wipe down the windows, the displays, the counters, wrap any left over food and maybe take some home if there was anything you’d liked since you knew your boss wouldn’t mind. Then you’d have to wrangle the dishes from your guest over there and wash them by hand since the dishwasher had already started. You got to work taking out the various baked goods in the display. You wrapped them up, one by one, until you’d gotten to the pumpkin pie. There was only one slice left and that really wasn’t worth saving for tomorrow. You looked over to the man sitting at the counter. He was nearing the end of his slice.
“Can I interest you in another? On the house?” You asked, holding up the slice on the pie server. He looked up and his eyes darted around the diner as if you weren’t talking to him and instead to some other nonexistent patron. He then nodded, fervently, and moved the remaining amount of his pie to the side of the plate to make room for the other slice. “Thanks, honestly doing me a favour. I’d take it home but I can’t stand the stuff!” You said, setting the slice down onto his plate.
“Really… that’s too bad. It’s really good here, it’s why I come in the first place,” he said in turn. That’s the most you think he’s said since he came in. He sounded a bit more confident, or maybe just more comfortable.
“Well I’m glad to know I’m baking good pies regardless of whether I like them or not,” you smiled and leaned on the counter. It wasn’t usual to have a customer in so late and your shift ends when the diner closes. Usually late comers weren’t very talkative in any case but your coworker had mentioned that he was an unusually silent one. Apparently not so silent tonight. It piqued your interest, that and his comments from earlier. “You thinking of making coming here a habit then are you?” You asked, and he took his time thinking about an answer.
“I wasn’t… I thought tonight… would be the last night… I come in here but… I think… there’s something here… besides the pie… that’s worth coming for as well,” he replied, speaking with his unique cadence, almost to the tune of a song.
“Oh really? And what might that be? The dismal atmosphere or maybe the plain hot coffee?” You jested in turn. You began wiping down the display case.
“No… the coffee is… fine…” he said and you laughed at that. He raised his head to look at you when you did. You couldn’t see this however, busy wiping down the glass case.
“High praise, thank you,” you said laughing a bit. You turned and began wiping down the counter he was sitting at.
“You,” he stated. You looked at him expecting him to say more, to ask for something. He didn’t. You hummed and returned to wiping. Then you thought about it. You? Did he mean… you were what he thinks is worth coming back for. No… that couldn’t be it. But you felt it, his eyes on you while you cleaned. He was staring at your skull, boring holes into it with his gaze. You peeked up quickly and caught his feverishly averting his eyes and starting on the second slice. He had been staring, he had meant what you thought he did, he must have.
You began to think about it. He was maybe 30, around 10 years older than you were. That’s not the worst thing in the world. I mean he’s a bit weird, but who in this godforsaken city isn’t? He’s nice… enough. Funny at least. A bit intense sometimes. To be fair he wasn’t bad looking by any means. Just fairly average if not a bit nerdy. Truthfully that was your “type”. He seemed and looked socially awkward. It was honestly kind of cute- no no uhh endearing? He’s a customer for goodness sake! Snap out of it man!
You still couldn’t believe that this guy would be saying that you’re a reason to frequent this establishment. I mean you were just some guy in an apron working at a diner while going to university. There wasn’t anything special about you and you definitely weren’t as… appealing as some of the women who worked here, that’s why your tips were never as good. You decided to see if he were interested in you, test him a bit maybe.
You came out from behind the service counter and began spraying down and wiping the tables in the diner. You leaned over, making sure to bend as far as you could while cleaning up the tables. Back and forth, wiping, bending over and over. That’s when you heard it, the chair at the counter squeaked. Barely audible, but you had worked here long enough to recognize it especially with the surrounding silence. You looked into the reflection of the window which acted almost exactly as a mirror in the darkness of the night. You saw him, his body turned slightly so he could just barely see you out of the corner of his eye. Oh, he was interested alright.