Twenty-ounce espresso with cream but no sugar. It's a very simple order, really.

It's not too expensive, either.

So Ludwig orders it, but does not drink it, because it is intended for the young man who always shows up at five past four and sits in the corner under the heater and has frankly amazing hair.

He leaves it at that table, with a note that says paid for, don't worry, and sits across the room with his tea and waits to see him.

He shows up, as usual, drinks the coffee, and cracks out the sketchbook, as usual.

Every day except Sundays.

Ludwig can pay for it, really, he has a bit of disposable income from running deliveries after classes, and the coffee shop isn't terribly expensive.

So every day except Sundays he buys twenty ounces of espresso with cream and a small cup of nondescript tea and then waits and never has the nerve to talk.

He gets an idea from Arthur, actually, which is odd enough, but the man who shares his flat keeps a lot of flowers and Ludwig manages to beg a few roses off him in exchange for promising to cook dinner for a week and keep Francis out of his hair.

Ludwig knows it's trite, but he binds up the roses with part of an old hair ribbon that Eva left behind after her last visit and leaves them with the coffee that Monday.

The man smiles, and it is…Well.

That Friday, Ludwig leaves a few cookies with the coffee.

The next Wednesday, a tulip.

And so on, a little irregularly (which grates on Ludwig, he should set up a schedule), a slice of cake here and a flower there, and he knows Gilbert would laugh and possibly swat him upside the head but still.

Maybe one day he'll sign the notes he leaves with them too, have a nice day sorts of things. Put his name at the bottom. Then, it's not as though the man knows who he is.

…which is also an issue.

So one Thursday in May Ludwig heads down to the coffee shop with a prewritten note that says have a nice day also my name is Ludwig and I sit by the counter I'm the one in the blue shirt and—

—something's at his place.

A cup of tea and a small drawing of him, not terribly detailed, but it's him staring at his old laptop with the tea at his side.

Ludwig looks around in confusion and—the man who sits under the heater waves at him sheepishly.

Oh.

Oh.

And then the man gestures something that's probably come sit over here! and Ludwig tentatively does, and hands him the note along with the spray carnation.

"I—I didn't have time to get you your coffee," is all he can think to say.

But the man smiles bright and wide, and maybe that's not a pressing concern.