Work Text:
The smell of fresly-brewed coffee will take Augustine back, when he’s tired enough to forget why he doesn’t drink it anymore. The café was always open, no matter the hour. Often Lysandre would have his order ready before he said anything, a neat cup of espresso, smoky and caramelised; a sweet smile, and smouldering eyes.
Of course, he later found out that their opening hours were in place so that Flare could access their headquarters beneath the cafe at all times. Lysandre was there to hold meetings. It was a foolish dream. Alone, Augustine dreams of Lumiose and of light.