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The Time Is Never Quite Right

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Magnus was pretty happy with his life. Most of the time. Some of the time. Once in a while. Here he was, 26 years old, working in a coffee shop, with no clear goal for the future. It sucked sometimes if he was being honest. But it could be worse he supposed. At least he had a job, food to eat, and a roof over his head.

He had graduated art school 5 years earlier, and nothing had changed since. In the beginning, the job at Downworld, the coffee shop where he worked, was supposed to be temporary. He was supposed to get his big break and work full time on his art, but that never happened. So one year turned to two, two turned to three, three turned to four and four turned to five.

Of course, he still worked on his art. It was his passion. It was just that he couldn't seem to find any inspiration. Every time he sat down in front of his canvas, all ideas seemed to flee his mind. Sometimes he almost wished he would go through some form of trauma, so he could draw inspiration from that. Then he would feel bad immediately afterward because of course, he didn't want to go through trauma.

And when it came down to it, his job wasn't all that bad. Well, it had it's up and downs. Mostly downs. Yet, Magnus chose to have a positive outlook on it. Yes, people were rude and made messes and didn't tip very well, and yes, the pay was terrible and the hours were long, but at least he had Catarina.

She had been his friend ever since he moved to Brooklyn. At the time he was 19 and had just started art school. He spent the summer looking forward to it, after all, it was art school in New York! He would meet new interesting people and he would learn new interesting things in a new interesting city. But then he got there. It was nothing like what he had imagined. The people were bland, his dorm was gray, the classes were hard. So he was pretty brought down.

He spent most of his nights walking around in New York. That's how he discovered Downworld. It looked like the very entrance to heaven. Still open at 2 AM a random Tuesday night. So he went in. Out of the cold, gray and rainy streets of Brooklyn. And when he got inside there Catarina was. Like an angel, offering coffee, a blueberry muffin, and guidance.

Magnus must've looked pretty awful, because she took one look at him, and gave him a free coffee, on the house, she had said, with a warm smile. Magnus almost cried on the spot. He was broke and had been living off Ramen's noodles and instant coffee for the past two weeks. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen real coffee. He thanked Catarina, and pretty soon he had a part time job at Downworld. Part time had since then turned into full time.

After he finished art school he moved in with Catarina.

And his job did have other perks. He could always get free coffee, and then there were the people. Or more specifically The Mystery Man as Magnus liked to call him. Catarina still called him Tall, Dark and Handsome, like she had the first time she saw him. And he really was.

The first time he walked into the coffee shop had simultaneously been the best and the worst day of Magnus' life.

"Hey Magnus," Catarina said, "tall, dark and handsome over there, he's just your type, hm?" She jabbed her finger in the direction of Mystery Man. Magnus turned and almost passed out. That was his type alright. Dressed in an expensive looking suit, neat black hair, bright blue eyes, speaking intensely on the phone, while on his laptop. He met all of Magnus criteria. Attractive, check. Most likely unavailable, check. Undeniably straight, check. Magnus was screwed alright.

"Yeah, uh, I'll take his order," Magnus fixed his hair quickly. He didn't miss the way Catarina smirked at him.

"Hi, are you ready to order?" Magnus asked with a smile

The man looked up from his laptop.

"Uh, yeah, sure thing. A large black coffee, please? And a blueberry muffin."

"Alright, coming right up." Magnus jotted down the order, commanding himself not to faint. The guy had a deep husky voice, that was basically liquid sex. And his order seemed pretty much like a sign from whatever higher power there was.

"Magnus?" He was startled by Catarina's hand on his shoulder. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good," He swallowed a lump, "totally fine."

"Whatever you say, buddy." Catarina mused with a knowing smile. "What did he order?"

"Large black coffee and a blueberry muffin."

"Magnus! That has to be a sign! It can't be a coincidence that he has the same thing you always have!" She clapped. "It must be love."

"Cat!" Magnus almost pushed her over the counter. "Quiet! He might hear you."

Magnus tried his best not to stare at the stranger as he finished his order and brought it to him.

"Here you go." Magnus put down the coffee and muffin. "Large black coffee and a blueberry muffin."

The Mystery Man smiled.

"Thank you, uh, Magnus."

Magnus' heart skipped a beat.

"Uh, how do you, hrm, how do you know my name?" Magnus asked.

"Nametag." The dark haired man said with another smile.

"Right." Magnus felt his face burning up. "Of course. Enjoy your meal." Magnus mentally kicked himself. Enjoy your meal? What meal?

"Thanks. Actually, can I just get the check now? I have to go."

"Sure. I'll be right there."

Soon after the guy left. He tipped Magnus 20 dollars on an 8.59 bill. And that was when Magnus decided he was to far gone to be helped. He starred at the Mystery Man's empty coffee cup for almost 5 minutes, before Catarina's smirk pulled him out of his trance.

After that, the Mystery Man came in the coffee shop every day. And Magnus thanked God for it.