Coffee

Claire's breath misted in front of her as she vaulted her gaze over the massive looming tree.

Her mittens did little to keep her fingers from feeling like they'd fall off any coming second so she bunched her hands together, glaring at the tree as if it was somehow its fault she stood rigid like a human popsicle.

From it hung ornaments from all possible motes of decoration canon: baubles and glittering lights and sunken, years-old carvings of elves and holly and wreaths, and god, she wouldn't be the smallest bit surprised if-

Yes, there it was, poised precariously near the top, just short of the styrofoam star: a tactless, haphazardly sewn angel, stitched complete with a faded yellow halo attached by a small but painfully visible wire.

Really, she didn't mean to be so cynical, but was it really, truly necessary to have it up a full three weeks before Christmas arrives? It was only the other day Serah had dragged her over for Thanksgiving.

To its right sprawled a complex, arrayed with dangling mistletoe over shop thresholds, empty benches with filmy dew misted over their crevices, a throng of people, cheeks glowing with both cold and excitement for the coming holidays.

"Shi-"

She nearly sprawled to the floor. Whoever had walked into her was already there.

Her vein throbbed with the discomfort of coffee, slimed and freezing, dripping down her covered ankle.

Her first irrational thought - of course, before the biting nasty earful she was about to dispense with this incontrovertible moron who couldn't be bothered to look where he was going - was who the fuck would order iced fucking coffee on a day like this, when he'd shot up with the blistering speed of a blaring alarm, emerald eyes panicked, teeth chattering with at once horror and cold.

"Oh- Oh my god, I am so sorry," he clumsily ducked under again to try to wipe at her soaked boots with obvious anxiety coloring his every movement, which of course made the stain worse, and Claire was actually beginning to feel pity. Beginning to, at least.

"Up," she seethed, tugging at his elbows remorselessly. "Come on, up."

When he complied, he did so averting his gaze - she caught a flash of squirming emerald - his cheeks positively crimson as he shivered with ill-disguised distress.

"I'm sorry," he babbled again. "Sorry. I-I didn't mean to- I mean, I- I'll pay for the...the…"

She rolled her eyes. He was so wound up she was getting nervous.

"Calm down," she said slowly, making sure he'd stopped fidgeting before continuing. "Just forget about it."

"But-"

"Forget about it."

She was past caring. She just wanted to go home, curl up by the fire, and forget Christmas existed until it was no longer physically possible because Serah would have inevitably hung stockings and forced Snow to buy a tree from Costco and dragged Claire up to help prop it up.

If she was quick, she could maybe raid the fridge before they got home and be drunk enough to blot this night from her memories permanently-

"Wait, p-please," a gloved hand at her elbow.

She frowned.

Turning, she saw him, teeth still clattering, arms folded over themselves self-consciously, knees bent in that slight way of indicating one would rather be anywhere than where he was, which made them have one thing in common, she dreaded to realize.

And yet he hadn't removed his hand.

"Please," he muttered. "I can't leave without- just let...let me at least make it up to you."

If he were any other stranger who fed her that line, she would've scoffed, swiveled on her feet, and been on her way. Maybe left him with a punch in the gut for good measure.

But she took in his trembling visage. Heavy breathing, nails biting into palm, eyes still darting in every direction but hers.

He really, actually didn't want to be there.

Claire wasn't as savvy with people as her sister, but even she recognized that this man had the social grace of a catfish.

Yet, he was here. A quivering, sweat-soaked mess, but he was still here.

The only explanation left was that he genuinely wanted - or, at the very least, needed - to make amends.

She sighed, hand scrubbing her face vigorously as she tortured him with silence for a few further moments.

"There's a Starbucks," she snapped, startling him. "You know the one in the complex?"

He nodded without speaking, perhaps having used up his verbal communication quota for the day. Honestly, Claire could relate.

"Buy me something and we're even. Not coffee, since I've had my fill if you've noticed."

He gaped.

She turned towards the gate, towards the wreaths, the twinkling lights and crowds and benches with seeping dew that earlier she had wanted so desperately to avoid.

"You coming?" she didn't check to see if he was following before beginning her slow, measured tread.

She heard the crunch of boots on asphalt behind her and shoved her hands in her pockets.

"What's your name?" her eyes were half-lidded against the chill.

"H-Hope."

"That so?" she hummed.

As they walked, she wondered if her family was home yet.

With any luck, she wouldn't get back until Snow had already done all the work.

Author's Note: Idk. I was just lamenting the fact that ff13 archives hadn't had much going for a while, in no small part bc I was also not posting anything but yea. I just had to write like

Something. The ending sux but at this point it doesn't matter bc i just gotta start writing, no matter what it is i write.

For now it's a oneshot but it might be a thing? I know how bad I am with stuff like that, but if I did continue it'd most likely just be a whole bunch of other short ficlets of things i come up with on the spot solely bc i need to have something to write every day. Maybe among those (if, say, I decided to keep going) will be a second part to this. Maybe I'll start a new story entirely dedicated to oneshots. Unsure lol

Feedback is love!