Espresso in The Rain

Noah wasn't sure how it happened, but somehow, he ended up back at The Roasted Heaven that night.

Elias had driven them back after their late-night meal, but instead of dropping Noah off at his condo, he had casually parked in front of the café.

"You can come in," Elias had said, like it wasn't a big deal.

And stupidly, Noah had followed him inside.

Now, he sat on the worn leather couch in the corner, watching as Elias moved behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he poured them both a drink.

"You look nervous," Elias observed as he set a cup in front of Noah.

Noah scoffed. "I'm not nervous."

Elias tilted his head, amused. "Really? Because you've been staring at your coffee like it's going to bite you."

Noah exhaled, wrapping his fingers around the warm ceramic. "…I just don't know why I'm here."

Elias leaned against the counter, watching him. "Maybe you just wanted to be."

Noah clenched his jaw.

He hated how easily Elias saw through him.

Hated that he was right.

Because being here—being with Elias—felt good. Too good.

And that was the problem.

"I should go," Noah muttered, standing abruptly.

Elias moved before Noah could, stepping into his space and blocking his path.

Noah's breath hitched. "Elias—"

Elias' voice was quiet but firm. "You always do this."

Noah swallowed hard, pulse racing. "Do what?"

Elias reached out, fingers brushing against Noah's wrist—just a whisper of contact, but it sent a shiver through him.

"Run."

Noah's lips parted, but no words came out.

Elias' eyes darkened. "Tell me you don't feel this."

Noah felt everything.

The heat between them. The tension that had been simmering since the day they met.

But he couldn't say it.

Because saying it meant crossing a line he wasn't sure he could come back from.

Elias' gaze dropped to his lips for a fleeting second before he exhaled and stepped back.

Noah felt the loss of warmth like a shock to his system.

"…Go home, Noah."

His chest ached.

But he did what he was told.

And as he walked away, he hated that a part of him wanted to stay.