Chapter Text
Winter was just around the corner. It was Enid’s first semester at Nevermore University, as well as her first time in the biggest (and only) coffee shop in the sleepy town of Jericho. She could see the cheerful and brilliant lighting of the shop as she traipsed across the street with her bones near rattling in the early season chill, passing by people with wide smiles painted on their faces and that spark in your eye you only ever get when you’re out of the hustle and bustle of an overpopulated, light polluted city.
There were tables littered outside the shop each with a brown vintage style umbrella quirked open, a heat lamp warming the few stragglers that sat with their snacks and coffees to enjoy the clear afternoon.
This particular coffee shop isn’t a cafe at all, aside the sales attribute, instead it’s a literal coffee shop. One of those that sell the finest coffee from all over the world, some notably made in a neighbouring region by a group called the Addams Family Roasters, who grow their own coffee beans right in their yard.
It also has a book corner in the left hand side of the shop where you can’t purchase the books, but you can sit and pour over them for as long as you like. Some have been noted to be original copies that didn’t sit behind glass cases, but were able to be actually held and felt like their author’s intent had been. They make the best roasts, and is an ideal spot for students and employees alike to wind down. (All of this according to TripAdvisor, where Enid frequented during her gap year).
As she made her way through the transparent glass door that chimed her arrival, a blanket of warm air carrying the rich aroma of coffee hit her, and she wanted to collapse in a jellied heap to the floor. She’d spent the better half of the week settling into her dorm room, and drilling the syllabus into her skull. She was a first generation university student, and was sure as hell going to make good on her scholarship.
The flow of conversation was steady from the nearly maximum capacity of customers, who offered her pleasantries and smiles she offered back while trying to stifle the surprise at the friendliness.
She made my way to the coffee bar at the end of the shop made of reclaimed wood, one she was steady enough in her confusion. A barista stood before her, with long slick backed hair and a charming smile that thankfully didn’t seem suggestive in the slightest.
“Welcome to the Raven House. What can I get ya today?”
Enid scans the menu with a hum. Her eyes settle wide on the delicacy. “A caramel mocha, please. Large.” She offers at his shake of a small and large display cup.
He nods, punching the order into the register. Looks up with kind eyes. “Anything else for you today?”
She shakes her head, fishing around her purse for the bill and an extra for the tip jar that he beams at in thanks. He’s fast in his craft— the coffee taking naught before it was delivered with a small bird’s feather reflecting back up at her.
Blue eyes casted around the room in search for an open spot, and gleefully took off for the comfy looking burgundy lounge chair that she all but wanted to curl up and nap in. The aged wooden floor creaked beneath heavy footfalls on her journey to the spot, her gaze flickering down to her purse that she struggled to fit her wallet back into.
And then— she’s bathed in the hot coffee. And she had never been so thankful for the thick wool she used to make it, when the steam is billowing up at her from its spill against the ground and in her purses contents. The culprit murmurs out something in Spanish— an apology or swear, Enid couldn’t hazard—, swooping down to upright the half empty cup. Enid clicks her teeth, the bitterness of coffee thick in the air a heady aroma, a frown twitching at her lips when she sucks them into her mouth.
They both sweep down, Enid gathering her things with a stammer and gasp when she sees the book pages stained with coffee.
She releases her mouth with a pop, and says “Oh my god I’m so sorry!” groaning as she hands the book to the slender palm facing up.
Lithe fingers curl around it and then
a voice like velvet, raspy and warm speaks,
“It’s my fault, cariño.”
Enid feels her eyes widen to the size of plates, her head snapping up and jelly body following the enchantress as she stands.
The culprit with a voice like sex- woman- uprights herself, eyes as deep as the obsidian pinky ring that shakes out the book, flashing. She’s shorter- two inches beneath Enid’s chin, but just has an air about her that commandeers attention, and oh— speaking…
“-The one day I decide to read while walking.” She chuffs to herself, forcing a slightly culpable smile. “How might I make it up to you?”
Enid swallows against her throat that suddenly feels painfully dry, blinking against the assault of a toothy smile. Her dimple is charming, flashing before her lips flatten again.
Because Enid had made a choked noise— and she bows her head to look at the mess of her sweater. “Do you have a teleportation device?”
An amused brow tilts. Then two snaps of her free hand.
“Matter of fact, I do have one handy. Hold this for me, please.”
She is quick to shed her black hoodie littered with purple detailing. It’s well worn, with the three diamonds from the Adventure Time movie as the portraiture on the back. Enid’s chest swells with something tangible like adoration at the cartoon.
Dark rivulets lay against her bare shoulders, her black tank top tucked into the belt of her jeans. She smiles, inclining her head to the side and pointing to the hoodie then up to a face rapidly burning, eyes dark with laughter. “Put it on and wait here.”
Enid’s shake her head, a disbelieving laugh making its way to pink-glossed lips. She nods dumbly in lieu of a response, and that’s all the other girl needs before she takes off jogging out of the coffee shop.
She doesn’t put it on, because they were complete strangers- though, absolutely breath taking in the way the leaves change, or pages of an old book felt beneath your fingertips, someone she didn’t even know the name of. So she holds it up of against the untouched part of her chest, and succeeds by the skin of her teeth to not let her knees cave in at the overwhelming scent of her.
It’s like a mix of bitter coffee, rain and ink and it’s so intoxicating. Enid’s nose scrunches at its own accord, inhaling the smell greedily and— oh my god, I’m a complete creep.
The little Christmas ball jingles above the door as she traipses back in, tapping her lip rhythmically as she pours over the menu scrawled out in a perfect chalk penmanship. She looks to the blonde who fidgets awkwardly, eyes widening.
“Oh wow, love your hoodie. Who gave it to you?”
Enid smiles toothily, tilting her head to mimic the one made of a wave of dark chocolate cascading down her shoulder.
“Some weirdo in a coffee shop who spilt coffee all over me.”
She gasps, a hand flailing to her chest where her ring clicks against the ruby garnet dangling from the necklace chain. Her face scrunches, shaking her head in exasperation.
“Ugh, disgusting. People nowadays. Have they no sense of spacial awareness?”
Enid’s cheeks hurt with the poorly contained laugh that spills from her lips, and the other girl’s eyes soften minimally at the sound. She steps forward, her brows furrowing in almost-sober show of concern. Enid ignores every instinct to gravitate closer to her, forcing a coffee table space to remain between them. For her own mental-well being, than anything else.
Because God, this girl was pretty…
“No but seriously. Let me make it up to you. I could take your sweater to the dry cleaners, pay you for it, maybe 2-6 months of being a personal chauffeur to work off my debt?”
Enid snorts, eyes drifting to a patron waffling in front of the very bored looking barista, then back to the pale features of the other girl. “No really, it’s okay!”
She rolls her eyes before the sentence is even complete.
“At least let me buy you a coffee.”
“You seriously don’t have to-“
“-I insist. Please?”
A beat passes. Enid forces herself to keep strong, until a bottom lip is jutted out in a pout, looking up through her long eyelashes like a wounded child. And then her chest aches with the barely-concealed pounding of her heart against it.
Relents, once she fears it might burst open and start bleeding like a love-sick animated character. Enid allows the hoodie that has been awkwardly resting against her to flutter down into her weak grip, that flails around in acquiescence.
“Fine, fine! But it better be the best coffee ever.”
She smirks, circling back around the shop just to launch herself over the countertop with ease, settling behind the workspace like she’s woven into the very grain of the cottage-y shop.
Enid follows, resting her hip against the lip of the counter.
“Do you work here?”
She fastens an apron on and around her waist, the little tag the other barista had voided, rocking her hand back and forth in a noncommittal tilt.
“Something like that.” She says, placing her hands behind her back. “Now, what can I get you?”
Enid’s lip twitches in a smirk. “Heavy on the mocha. Light on the sweater fluff.”
The girl just rose an eyebrow in a quiet display of amusement, a hand moving to settle on her waist. Blue eyes narrow in on the fingers that rise and fall like a tiny sound wave, before they snap twice again.
Enid nearly trips on thin air, with eyes so fixated on the black polish perfectly painted that she doesn’t register the barista leaning over the counter so they’re a few inches apart. Her eyebrow twitches again, but takes pity on the flustered student as she twists around to face the coffee maker.
“Coming right up. Now go get dressed before you attract birds.”
She frowns, looking down at the shoulder-cross bag that carried a litany of books and makeup products that had survived the war of caffeine before glancing back up to the girl that’s stood, watching, with such an intensity that Enid can physically feel it crawling over her skin like little blurbs of heat.
“I-I don’t have a change of clothes.”
“You’re technically wearing my hoodie already. Go put it on.” She says in response, shaping out the espresso tamper before clicking it into its portafilter basket. Doesn’t even look, seemingly knowing the perfect measures for a brew in her very bones.
She feels that stupid blush that was slowly beginning to subside creep up again, and diverts her eyes to the syrup pumps. This girl had an affect as sweet and over consuming like strawberry syrup stuck in your gum line. Speaks once she trusts her voice’s steadiness.
“I can’t do that. Seriously— It’s yours. And it’s so nice!”
She sighs long and heavy, like there a vice clamp around her lungs, and Enid follows the noise, watching as the tamper is thumping against the side of a knock box.
“It’s the least I can do. Plus, you don’t wanna walk around these parts in a sweater with coffee on it.” She leans forward, her voice dropping to an octave that elicited goosebumps beneath a ruined ribbed sweater. “You’ll be dubbed the subsequent Stained Saint for the next ten years.”
Enid bawlks at the slight insult to her character from a complete stranger— before the coquettish lilt registers. Speaks around the flurry of butterflies that want to escape from her mouth.
“..seriously?”
She nods emphatically, pointing to someone across the shop in a booth with the frothing pitcher. “See him over there?” She follows the direction, nodding.
“That’s Ajax. He wears beanies constantly, so now everyone thinks he’s hiding Medusa snakes. And her over there? Yoko. Wears sunglasses no matter what, so she’s dubbed the Jericho James— a complete hat-tip to Twilight, of course.”
Enid blinks wildly— fictional creatures coming to life with backstories and personalities of their own.
“Oh wow. What about that guy?”
She nods to an older gentleman standing by the bookshelf- his face painted in smatters of colour that sort of looked like Day of The Dead art, a large top hat adorning his head and a purple two piece suit snugly tied around him with a bright yellow studded belt.
“Him? That’s Miles. Super chill dude.”
Enid lets out a cackle, eyes widening and covering her sheepish grin with her fist. The barista looks particularly delighted, her eyes twinkling as she points wordlessly in the direction of the bathroom.
Enid relents with a groan.
“Okay! I’m going, I’m going.”
The bathroom was as nice as the rest of the coffee shop— all deep wood and ornate features. The lights weren’t overbearingly bright as most coffee shops were, and was immaculately clean. It had the air of a fancy restaurant, and Enid did a little dance with her hands in the reflection as she shrugged out of the poor sweater she would have to put some serious effort into cleaning, slipping into the hoodie that had that intoxicating mix of rain and ink tenfold, clinging to her senses like honey. She swallowed, narrowing her eyes at the blush rapidly spreading from her neck to her cheeks. This was beyond ridiculous— blushing this much wasn’t even prevalent in romance novels, let alone real life. But it was following her like a hot lick at her heels anytime the No-named barista so much as looked at her.
She groans at her own runaway thoughts, practicing some deep breaths to calm herself, before exiting back out into the shop that was mingling with idle conversation and the soft instrumental to a Lana Del Rey song.
The barista looks up, appraising Enid with a soft smile that she steeples with a purse of her lips, drawing her own gaze down into the coffee cup that she dutifully covers with a design behind the cupping motion of her own hand, like a student hiding their answers from a mosey desk-neighbour.
Enid skips to the front, smiling and leaning her weight on her forearms to try and sneak a peak.
“Okay this is seriously the most comfortable thing I’ve ever worn.”
The barista looks at her out of the corner of her eye, skillfully finishing her late art with a swoop of her wrist.
“I knew you’d love it.”
Enid’s picks at the laminate on the counter out of habit.
“And it smells really good too… what perfume is this?”
Stops herself at the disproving noise the other barista makes, which is abruptly shut off at the disparaging gaze the ravenette girl sends his way.
“Sorry, Willa…” he mumbles, but rolls his eyes as he winks and whisks a tray of four steaming mugs to a table of students pouring over their textbooks.
Enid’s eyebrow cocks, curious despite the nearly-murderous glare she sends in waves to the boy. “Your names Willa?”
“-Wednesday. Never Willa.” The barista— Wednesday— corrects quickly.
Enid’s eyes crease as she fights back the smile that seems to constantly prevail regarding the broody barista. “That’s an eccentric name! I love it. What was the inspiration?”
Wednesday shrugs, absentmindedly running a rag over the already-pristine counter. “I was born on Friday the 13th— hence my middle name being Friday—“ She laughs dryly at the open shock on the blonde’s face. “Yes. I know. My mother favours a nursery rhyme called Monday’s Child, the line Wednesday’s Child is Full of Woe sticking with her throughout the entirety of her pregnancy. And don’t get me started on my brothers Pugsley and Pubert..” she makes a noise torn between a sigh and a grunt, and Enid files it away for questions to ask later.
She stands upright, thrusting a hand forward that Wednesday eyes warily before taking limply. Enid ignores the sparks rushing through her body at the contract, beaming. “Nice to meet you, Wednesday. I’m Enid.”
The other girl squints, her head inclining as she gazes unblinkingly at Enid. She would feel uncomfortable— if it were anyone else. But rapidly, Wednesday was becoming the exception in her entirety.
Never before would she have been so eager to continue speaking to someone that ruined her favourite sweater, nor would she have ever put said person’s clothes on because she smells good.
The coffee cup breaks the second runaway train of thought, gliding across the counter.
“Order up. Any drizzle, whipped cream?”
Enid wraps her hands around the warm cup, shaking her head softly. Wednesday’s dark gaze follows the wayward curls that escape her flower barrettes. “I’m good, thank you.”
The barista boy— Xavier, his tag , scrawled in sharpie sloppily reads— saddles up beside Wednesday, untying the loose knot of his apron with a nod in greeting.
“Hey boss, I’m clocking out. Need anything before I go?”
“Yes. Clean up that coffee spill before it sets.”
“But it’s your mess!” He groans, but it lacks as he looks between the two of them, a smirk etching across his face. “Happily will do, Willa.”
A flurry of words in Spanish follow him, that he barks a laughter at.
Enid watches as he all but twirls around the shop to grab a mop, before turning with raised brows to the raventte.
“So you’re the boss then?”
“Hm. It’s the Addams family business, so I suppose I am the owner of sorts.”
Enid tries not to let that startle her- because she couldn’t be older than Enid herself, who sat bordering 18– and was no where near as accomplished. Hell, she barely knew how to cook eggs without burning her dorm down, let alone run a coffee shop under the namesake of one of the most world-renowned coffee roasting companies.
Clears her throat, when Wednesday looks like she might start smashing her head against the table in palpable annoyance.
“Okay, Miss. Big Shot, how am I getting the hoodie back to you?”
Wednesday shrugs, looking almost dissapointed at the familiar chime of a new customer. Flashes a soft smile- the first one that’s actually real, and not teasing— at Enid.
“Use your eyes and I shall appear.”
Enid watches as she stalks off to the register, confusion etched into her brow. She looks down at the cup that’s burning the tips of her fingers red when it starts to fry her skin, to gape at the intricately designed raven made with micro foam. She releases one hand to rub at her jeans, and rolls her eyes tenderly at the perfect scrawl of numbers revealed on the side, and a little note jotted beneath.
Keep my hoodie. It looks better on you, mi sol.