Love in a Laundromat - 7/? - SaifahZon, M
Notes: Soooo with everything going on, my NaNo has kind of changed into me focusing on this fic and I'm super okay with it. Thank you for all the support on this!
Summary: Zon's favorite place is a laundromat. That is until a certain tall, handsome stranger steals his washer and seems hellbent on making Zon miserable.
Read here or on ao3! :)
Marley Coffee Bar is only a short, five minute walk away, but it feels like ages.
Awkward pauses linger, like now that they aren't in the laundromat playing music they don't know how to talk. Saifah seems like he has something he wants to tell Zon, but every time he speaks, it's something mundane that comes out. Comments on the humidity, or how classes are going. There's this noticeable space between them Zon swears wasn't there before the party. Zon is starting to wonder if he’s the only one thinking about those intense moments of touching and moving together and kissing at all. In fact, Saifah barely looks at Zon. His eyes don't linger on Zon's lips like he’s caught them doing more than once…
And that’s when it hits Zon like a brick wall what Saifah is trying to say: that night was a mistake.
Of course, Zon thinks. Of course Saifah regrets it. He’s Saifah, and Zon is Zon, and—
"Here it is!" Saifah says, yanking Zon out of the heavy thoughts starting to weigh him down.
Zon glances up at the shop beneath the white “Marley Coffee Bar” sign and crinkles his brow at the darkened building, chairs on tables and no staff bustling about inside. “Um, it looks closed."
Saifah holds the door open for Zon and gestures for him to take a right instead of a left into the other side of the entrance where the lighting is dim and soft, jazzy music plays from an overhead speaker. “It’s a bar, too. Mostly wine and beer, but they’ve got some coffee-flavored cocktails and small plates.”
The barista-bartender is all smiles as he approaches them, white towel thrown over his shoulder. ‘Ban’ is handwritten pretty in white on his nametag. Ban raises an eyebrow when he notices the guitar on Saifah’s back. “Saifah! You’re not scheduled to play tonight, are you?”
“No, I’m just here with a…,” Saifah pauses. Then, he smiles softly and brushes past, smoothing out the wrinkle of hesitation like it was never there. “With a friend from university. This is Zon.”
Still stuck on Saifah’s pause—why did Saifah pause? What was he going to say? What was he ashamed to say?— Zon’s bow and greeting comes out a little awkward. Then, he glances up at the giant menu. Written in fancy, gold script, it stretches from one side of the bar to the next. Coffee, a column of roast types, teas, a beer and wine list, signature cocktails, food. Zon’s head starts to spin as he takes it all in.
“Just a cup of coffee black," he finally says. "Whatever the darkest roast is.”
“And the usual for me,” Saifah tells Ban. Then, he turns to Zon. “I’m going to put my guitar on the stage out of the way. I’ll grab our drinks on the way back, you go grab one of the booths.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Zon grumbles out of principle, but wanders off to do what Saifah demanded, ignoring the amusement in both Saifah and Ban’s faces.
Only a few other people are in the bar: a couple conversing with each other at the bar, another at the booth closest to the stage, and a group of five girls at a table. Every single one watches Saifah as he walks to the stage, their gazes more than fleeting, innocent interest. Zon makes a face and rolls his eyes before dropping into the closest booth, tossing his backpack onto the seat next to him. While he waits for Saifah to grab the drinks, he finally takes in the coffee shop-bar hybrid.
Marley Coffee Bar is this bizarre mix of antique and modern, like a coffee shop version of those speakeasies he’s read about in old American novels. The chandelier lights are all different shapes and types, and the booths are made of red leather, while the wooden tables are rustic grey. There’s a mahogany curtain next to the line of booths to separate the bar from the coffee shop; it’s velvet and soft when he loses against the urge to touch it. The stage is the only part Zon recognizes, thanks to all those fan videos of Saifah. It’s small and intimate, while the grand black piano next to it adds another level of class he didn’t expect when Saifah invited him to a coffee shop.
Zon is finding the whole mix-match of it kind of...inspiring? His fingers twitch, craving to write. Songs, stories, a new world with Marley Coffee Bar at the center of characters' lives. And this is where Saifah plays? He’s part of creating this atmosphere, part of the reason people come here?
“Really amazing, isn’t it?” Saifah says as he finally slides into the booth across from Zon.
So are you, Zon thinks. He barely stops himself from saying it out loud.
Saifah’s now sans guitar and holding four drinks. He sets them down without spilling a drop. Zon’s black drip coffee is in a mug the size of his face. The marble is a faded blue. Saifah’s drink is in a tall white glass with, “est. 1929” in golden scrawl. It’s completely different from Zon’s, like there is no consistency beyond the cups having history that customers can converse over.
“What are those?” Zon asks, pointing to the extra drinks.
“Ban made them. On the house, since it’s your first time here.”
“It’s not yours though, so why do you get one?
“VIP,” Saifah says and winks.
Zon snorts. “You’re so cocky.”
It’s one hundred percent not a compliment, and he did a great job of keeping any sort of endearment out of his voice. But it doesn’t stop Saifah from looking annoyingly proud of himself. Zon reaches across the table to smack Saifah’s head, and the taller man grunts even though Zon had put barely any force behind it.
Saifah pushes both cocktails into the center in a peace offering. “This one is basically a cold brew with rum and orange, and this one is a white russian. And if you don’t want to drink that’s fine, too.”
There goes Saifah being all considerate and annoying. Except it’s not annoying, it’s stupidly attractive, and it makes Zon all frazzled and giddy.
“Which is your favorite?” he replies.
“The white russian."
“You have that one.” Zon grabs the cold brew with rum before Saifah can accommodate him again. His head is already a mess trying to read Saifah tonight, he doesn’t need another reason to fucking swoon. Plus the drink he grabbed is so good, he has to immediately take another sip.
“So…” Zon continues, setting his cup back down on the table, enjoying the coldness against his clammy hands. “This is where you play?”
Saifah nods. “Most Wednesdays and sometimes when they do open mic nights on Saturdays. They raise the curtain and keep both sides open for those.” He glances back over his shoulder to the stage, then turns back to Zon with a trademark smirk. “You know, there aren’t that many people here. Ban would probably have no problem if we played a song or two.”
The suggestion instantly makes Zon’s stomach plummet. “No.”
“C’mon, it’ll be fun—”
“I said no, Saifah.”
Saifah seems taken aback, and Zon flinches, realizing the harshness of his tone a moment too late.
“It’s just—”
“No, I get it,” Saifah interrupts, saving Zon from fumbling out an explanation. “You’ve never even sang in front of someone before until recently. At least, not knowingly—ow!”
Saifah rubs his head again because Zon had hit him considerably harder that time.
"Stop bringing that up!” Zon snaps. “And how can I perform in front of people I don't know when I've never even practiced? If it was just us alone in your room or something, it would be diff…”
He slams his mouth shut, but the words are already out there, lingering and heavy with all sorts of implications, and Saifah definitely heard him because he looks both awed and then devious at the same time.
“Oh?” Saifah says, the word tilting like he’s singing it. "You wanna be alone in my room with me?"
“Music!” Zon rushes out. “Just to make music!”
“There are a lot of different kinds of music we can make—Zon, wait!” Saifah laughs as he grabs Zon by the wrist to stop him from storming off. “I’m kidding!”
Saifah gently tugs Zon's wrist and pulls him down into the booth next to him. The touch is so light, but his fingers burn heat into Zon's skin, and he hopes Saifah can't feel the sudden racing of his pulse. Thankfully, Saifah lets him go. Not so thankfully, Saifah slides his arm over the back of the booth, and he's so freakishly long, his hand can dangle over the edge. Saifah also has no trouble pulling Zon’s drinks to this side of the table, and now it would be too awkward for him to switch seats again, but… if he ignores the logic part of his brain, he knows he doesn’t want to.
There’s a soft buzzing against Zon’s leg. He thinks it’s his phone but quickly realizes it’s Safaih’s. In Saifah’s pocket. Which is pressing against Zon’s thigh because they’re sitting that close to each other, and now that he’s aware of it, it’s all he can focus on. When Saifah shifts to pull out his phone, Zon jolts at the movement.
“You’re pretty popular,” he says to distract from it.
“Well, obviously,” Saifah replies, meeting Zon’s snark with an amused quirk of his eyebrow. “But this time it’s just Day.”
“Day? Tutor’s friend?”
“Hey, hey, that hurts. You know who Day is but had no clue who I was when we met?”
Zon feels his cheeks grow hot which is dumb because he has nothing to be embarrassed about, just because he didn’t know who Saifah was. Maybe Saifah is popular with his music and maybe he’s a good friend of Tutor’s and maybe he’s so tall Zon would have at least noticed him once across campus. Maybe, considering all those things, some embarrassment was justified. Not that Saifah needs to know that.
“With how many adoring fans you have, I highly doubt me not knowing who you are means much.”
Again, Saifah looks like he wants to bring something up but drops his gaze back to his phone. He doesn’t sound particularly casual when he says, “I posted a new video earlier. Day likes to screenshot some of the more… fanatic comments.”
Zon doesn’t need to see the screenshots to know what those are like; he’d read plenty of them when he was looking up Saifah that one night weeks ago. (And a few more times, but only because they were playing music together and he wanted to know more about Saifah’s style. Research. It’s important when it comes to being a writer.)
Saifah is still reading through Day’s messages, and Zon is feeling the slightest bit ignored so he asks, “Do you want my line?”
They’re still pressed together; Zon feels immediately when Saifah’s entire body goes rigid. He raises his head slowly, like a puppet on a string. “Do you… want to give me your line?”
With an annoyed huff, Zon grabs Saifah’s phone and quickly goes to the contacts. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.”
Saifah laughs when Zon hands the phone back. “ ‘Zon-Zon-Zon-Zon’ is your username?”
“If you’re going to make fun of me, then give it back, I’m deleting it!”
“Nope, nope!” Saifah hits the call button and wiggles his eyebrows when Zon’s phone rings. “Allow me to honor you with mine, too.”
After he digs his phone out of his pocket, Zon swipes his thumb, making a show of ignoring the call. Saifah’s affronted gasp makes it hard for Zon to keep a serious face, and he laughs. Apparently, regretting their make out session still doesn't stop Saifah from flirting with him. (This is flirting, right?)
“A giraffe?” Saifah says, incredulous, as he watches Zon set his contact name. “You’re using a giraffe emoji?”
“It’s the most accurate,” Zon replies with a smile, enjoying Saifah’s pout. Then, he sets his phone down and takes a long drink of his coffee, working up the courage for what he’s about to say next: “Okay.”
Despite the sudden backtrack in conversation, Saifah picks up what Zon is replying to. "Okay?"
The opening to back out is tempting, and Zon… he's scared but he wants to do this. "Let's do it. Write songs. At your place."
Zon doesn't expect silence. It stretches so long he finally has to look at Saifah to gauge the other's expression. His lips are tight and his small brown eyes are completely unaffected. "Okay. We can do that."
"Hey," Zon pouts, "why do you sound so unhappy now that I agreed?"
Saifah grabs Zon's arm and shakes it playfully. "My Zon, my Zon! I'm so sorry! Please come play in my room with me!"
Zon feels his entire face grow hot with a fierce blush, and he shakes Saifah's hand off. But before he can scold Saifah, the other unlocks his phone and opens YouTube.
“By the way, there’s a song I think would be fun to do together," Saifah says. "You know ‘Shallow’, right? I found this really pretty acoustic cover of it. Or we can do whatever you want. Maybe that Pardon Me song you wrote? I've been coming up with a bridge that I think works. I can teach you how to play guitar, too—” His excitement suddenly simmers when he meets Zon’s wide doe eyes. Like knowing he has Zon's rapt attention makes him nervous. He clears his throat and pushes a smirk. “You’ll have to ask me reallllly nice, though.”
Zon is about to remind Saifah he’s the one who brought it up. But Saifah’s enthusiasm is endearing and his closeness is a warmth Zon leans into without meaning to, and he can’t help but play along. “Oh, wonderful, Mr. Saifah. Please teach me how to play guitar with your paramount skills.”
The music video starts playing, but Saifah keeps the volume low so only they can hear. He hums and he sets his phone on the table. Then, like the coffee bar and Zon's answer have wiped away all that uncertainty he's been struggling with all night, he says, “I might need better convincing than that.”
For the first time that night, Zon catches Saifah looking at him like he did before The Party. In his eyes is that same heat he had when pressing Zon against that door before stealing his lips and his breath. A heat that holds words he isn’t saying but that Zon can read. The twisting confusion in Zon’s chest tightens while his entire being flares, burning hot and craving. He swallows against the lump in his throat and his mouth is dry as a desert. He chugs half his cocktail to try and moisten it, but his voice still cracks when he replies, "Guess I'll have to think of something."
Then, Zon presses in closer to Saifah's side, pretending he's more interested in the song than kissing Saifah until they're breathless.