Judging from the faint touch of pink on his cheeks, it was safe to say that the stranger caught him staring. And the longer he stared – which was probably longer than appropriate for normal people – the more obvious the blush on his cheeks were. And by the time the other man blinked and managed to tear his eyes from the adorable creature before him, the pink has climbed its way up to his ears, peeking from strands of blonde that looked soft and silky.

He knew it's cliché, he knew it's cheesy, he knew it's utterly inappropriate but he couldn't help the thought of running his fingers through the stranger's hair.

"Just a touch." He wanted to say. "Just one."

He chuckled despite himself, and lifted the paper cup to his lips in hopes to not seem like an awkward and creepy . Not that it worked, but he stole a glance at the guy through the steam rolling off his drink.

The cute stranger reached for his scarf - it was red, red like Poppies and it reminded him strangely of a Cardinal, which of course came out of nowhere in that strange, pitiful head of his - and slowly removed it, giving him a view of his delicate jawline and exposing a pale, elegant neck. And for the nth time since the stranger came into the coffee shop the man had to force himself to stop ogling at the poor, attractive stranger.

Stranger, was the boy really a stranger? Ever since he laid his eyes upon the man, there was a sense of familiarity around him and he could not shake away the feeling that he knew the guy - from somewhere, some time - maybe he'd seen his face in a crowd before, but that wouldn’t be possible, a face like that would’ve stood out amongst a crowd like a drop of ink on white paper. And despite his lack of skills in remembering faces he would’ve definitely remembered him.

Or maybe he was a celebrity, was he? Has he been on TV shows or starred in prime time soap operas or TV series? The guy could be, definitely, with looks like that. Or maybe he’s a model. His mind suggested. Maybe he saw his face on some billboard sign when he was driving on the highway, or maybe it was on the advertisement wall on the bus-stop booth, how about in the pages of a magazine? He didn't know, he couldn't have known since he never paid attention to well...anything other than his work. Plus it’s not like he read magazines and watch prime time TV shows on channel one every night. So being the awkward idiot he was, he spent the next two minutes sitting on his stool with his lips to the rim of the paper cup which was getting too hot for the skin of his hands but he didn't care. He spent those minutes flipping through every unturned stone or whatever it was that his brain held and searched through his memories - not that he had a good memory but to hell with it - just to figure out from where or when he has met the stranger before.