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Charon wakes to the morning sun glaring into his eyes.
This might be a common occurrence for most others, waking with the sun eagerly (and annoyingly) beating into their eyes. But for Charon, who has woken up at five o’clock on the dot every morning for the last ten or so years, it is a somewhat surprising and unsettling thing to wake up to. The bright light of the sun certainly doesn’t help the lingering painful reminder of everything he drank the night before.
Blearily, Charon heaves his body to his side, trying to bring the dim light of his red-letter alarm clock into focus. When it finally does, he shutters. Eight thirty-five. Over three hours later than he usually wakes. Three hours of precious work time he’ll never get back.
Charon returns to lying on his back, staring at his ceiling for a minute or two while figuring out how to rearrange his day to fit his new delayed schedule. He can push lunch with his mother to tomorrow - Nyx wouldn’t mind anyhow; their once-a-month lunch is always a forced and awkward affair - but his meeting with Elysium Corp can, unfortunately, not be pushed. Luckily that doesn’t start until much later in the evening. Everything else should be able to be moved around with little hassle - maybe some complaining, but that’s it.
With his schedule mentally rearranged, Charon hauls himself from bed, stumbling his way about getting dressed and taking something for the pounding in his head. The process takes a lot longer than usual - his long white hair is tangled in all manner of knots that take forever to brush out - and by the time he is throwing on his black overcoat and heading out the door, the clock has almost ticked over to nine. And once he descends from his high-rise apartment and gets into his sleek black car, almost ten minutes past.
He sits in his car for a few minutes, staring sleepily ahead as he deliberates whether he should use some of his precious time and goes to his usual coffee shop. There is always coffee at his office - Hypnos makes very sure of that - but something about the day doesn’t feel complete without his stop at Asphodel Cafe.
Not like he can get much later than he already is, Charon thinks, scrolling through the many texts of his assistant, ranging from mild concern to outright panic. If he is going to be late, he might as well be late with some good, high-quality coffee. He responds to his assistant with his plan, then starts up his car, heading out of the garage and toward the tempting promise of a life-saving elixir.
When he gets to the cafe, it is, expectedly, a lot busier than it usually is when he gets there first thing at opening. Swinging open the door, he is greeted first by the heavenly smell of coffee, followed by the less-than-heavenly swarm of chattering voices. Each person fights to talk over all the others, rising into an unintelligible mess of a choir. He grimaces at the noise, pulling his large-brimmed hat lower to avoid contact with those pushing their way in and out. And yet, it still inevitably happens - he towers above most people, and with his eccentric way of dressing, wandering eyes are always pulled to him.
Charon sulks his way through the line that he doesn’t usually have to wait in, wanting nothing more than just to have his cup of plain black coffee in hand. But of course, just his luck; when it is finally his turn to make his order, an older woman cuts in front of him and starts a whole fiasco.
“Excuse me, but this still does not taste right.” The woman says irritably, placing down a rather obnoxiously sparkly orange reusable to-go cup. Charon vaguely remembers seeing her when he first got in line, already complaining about her first order being made wrong. Now, it seems she’s back for more - or, more likely, back for a refund.
“Ma’am, I apologize, but we made it just as we always do. We did nothing different, so I’m unsure what you want me to do.” The woman working behind the counter says - a woman named Eurydice. She is always there to take Charon’s orders when he gets there in the morning, and through their brief but polite conversations, he has learned she is the cafe's owner. Eurydice is kind and sweet, sometimes a little sassy, but there is apparently a blunt, take-no-nonsense side to her that Charon has never seen before.
“I want you to remake this or give me a refund!” There it is. “It tastes- it tastes- putrid! And I will not be drinking it!” The woman shouts; one second away from stamping her foot like a child in a tantrum, Charon can just feel it.
“Well then, if you aren’t going to be drinking anything, you are free to leave.” Eurydice replies calmly, motioning a hand toward the door of the cafe. The woman sputters, clearly not having expected such a response.
“What?” She asks, her tone wavering between stunned and furious.
“If you aren’t going to drink or eat anything here, that would be loitering, dear. And you are holding up the line for other customers. So you may leave.” Eurydice explains, pushing the woman’s cup back toward her.
“Why, I-” The woman starts - but Charon decides he’s had quite enough of that. He steps up to the annoying woman's side, glowering down at her from beneath his hat. Whatever indignant rage the woman was about to put upon poor Eurydice putters out when her eyes slide up, up, and up to meet his, swallowing nervously at the sneer on his face. Face colored red as a tomato, she snatches up her cup and leaves the line, muttering this and that under her breath.
Relieved to finally be able to get this coffee, he steps up to make his order with a grinning Eurydice.
“Why, Charon, dear, I should hire you full-time! You scared her off faster than I ever could.” She says, tapping a few things on the tablet in front of her. Charon grunts, waving his hand in the air to show that what he did was really nothing.
“What’s got you in here so late, anyhow? I almost didn’t recognize you not lurking outside our door in the early morning dark.” Eurydice teases, looking up with a bright grin. Charon huffs.
[Woke up late.] He explains simply, hands forming the signs lazily as his body begs for any crumb of energy.
“That’s a first. I don’t recall a time in the last few years you haven’t been here before the sun was up.” Eurydice pulls away from the tablet and walks over to the other counter as she speaks. “Just the usual, I assume?” She asks from over her shoulder. Charon grunts in affirmation, staring straight ahead as he patiently waits for his coffee. It is a simple order, at takes three minutes exactly, just like always.
“There you go, sugar - just how you like it.” Eurydice says, placing a white porcelain mug in front of him, filled to the very top with black liquid. No room for any sugar or creamers or syrups - indeed, just how he likes it. He nods in thanks and quickly pays, picking up the cup to go to his usual spot-
Ah, right.
His usual spot - tucked in the corner, away from all other tables - is taken up by a couple seemingly on a first date, based on the awkward glances around and stiff postures. And as he looks around, he realizes all other tables are also taken up. Inwardly, Charon sighs. He always takes an exact fifteen minutes to sit down and enjoy his coffee before leaving, but apparently, this is the universe's way of telling him he needs not to dawdle and get going to work.
He turns back to Eurydice. [Sorry, I will just get this to go.] He says, sliding the cup back towards her. But before she can respond, Charon feels a tap on his arm. Charon’s whole body stiffens, not used to being touched so freely out in public - or ever. His pale eyes slide down to the culprit - a short man, short by even most people's standards, dressed in the flashiest workout clothes Charon has ever seen, with dark hair and even darker eyes.
Charon’s poor old heart stutters in his chest, unsure why this young, very attractive man is so freely tapping on him. Is Charon in his way? Does he need to talk to Eurydice? Why is he smiling so pleasingly up at Charon? He doesn’t seem at all scared of Charon’s general dark aura, as most people are, and Charon isn’t sure how to handle that.
[You can sit with me if you’d like.] The man offers with a bright grin - though Charon doesn’t register that at all, more taken aback that this handsome man is now signing to him. Even as he stares at the man with his everyday expression of vague disinterest, sirens are going off in Charon’s head. He stares at the man for a long while, likely longer than is socially acceptable, definitely long enough to make the man start looking a little uncomfortable, before swallowing and dipping his head in a shallow nod. The man’s face lights up beautifully, smiling toothily and gesturing for Charon to follow him to where he is sitting. He can feel Eurydice’s eyes on them as they walk, but he tries not to think about that too deeply.
The man leads them to a small table in front of the large window at the front of the cafe, right in the middle of everything. He plops down on the chair he had already been sitting at, gesturing at the chair opposite him for Charon. Slowly, very slowly, just to give the man enough time to change his mind, he slides into the chair, back straight and stiff as a board.
The man’s smile never drops. [My name is Hermes.] He signs, then reaches across the table, offering a tanned hand to Charon. For the first time in quite a while, Charon feels intimidated. Thrown off course by this bright sunshine of a person who is not put off at all by Charon’s darkness.
[Charon.] He responds, quickly shaking the man’s hand before getting into his coffee. He sips at it, hoping the scalding liquid will take his mind off the man - Hermes - sitting before him. He keeps his eyes anywhere but on the man, but despite this, he can feel Hermes staring at him.
Hermes signs, the words just seen from the corner of Charon’s eyes. [I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before, Charon.] He says, his bright smile still yet to have dropped. Charon swallows a gulp of bitter coffee, nervously fidgeting with the cup in front of him.
[Normally, I’m here earlier.] He explains, even though he doesn’t necessarily need to. He could ignore the small man and take his fifteen minutes - now twelve - in peace. But something other than common courtesy compels him to answer.
[Fun night?] Hermes comments, smirking as his eyes roam over Charon’s figure. Charon winces. Does he look that haggard? He knew he shouldn’t have drunk so much last night, but Hypnos and Thanatos’s hyperactive boyfriend had pressured him. They were both bad influences - Hypnos especially, who wields his younger brother privileges against Charon more than he should rightly allow.
[Something like that.] Charon responds, taking another sip of his coffee. There is silence between them for a good few minutes, Charon’s fifteen minutes dwindling to ten.
“How you boys doing over here?” Eurydice’s voice startles Charon from his nervous stupor, the woman suddenly standing beside them where she definitely hadn’t been a moment earlier. She has a sly grin on her face that Charon isn’t sure he likes.
“Doing excellent, Miss Eurydice; the coffee is perfect as always,” Hermes speaks, and somehow, someway, Charon only gets more flustered. The man’s voice is accented and fast-paced, the sentence spoken in a rush, and yet, each word is crystal clear and coherent. It is mesmerizing to Charon. But not just that - Hermes doesn’t stop signing while he speaks to Eurydice, still translating spoken word to gesture. Even if it isn't needed, something in that small courtesy warms Charon’s heart.
“What about you, Charon?” Eurydice asks. Charon’s hand clenches and unclenches around the handle of his cup before signing a quick agreement with Hermes.
“Good! I’ll leave you both to it then!” She sings, already making her way back to behind the counter. Once she is gone, Hermes turns to him with a curious expression.
[Do you read lips?] Hermes asks, leaning towards Charon with interest. It takes everything in Charon not to pull away from him, the man’s intoxicating cologne wafting over to Charon’s nose as he leans closer in.
[Not deaf, just mute.] Charon clarifies, eyes looking for something, anything outside the window that will take his attention away from this man that has gripped his attention so fast.
“Oh! That is good to know! I will say, I haven’t signed in many years; I’m definitely more than a little rusty.” Hermes says, hands still flying as he speaks in that fluidly soothing voice once more.
[You did fine.] Charon responds, glancing up at the wall clock hanging above them, the face of it decorated with cartoon cups of coffee and tea. Five minutes left.
“Hmm, y’know, I really love your hat. I feel most people would look kinda weird wearing something like that, but you pull it off very well.” Hermes says, sipping at his own coffee. The compliment takes Charon off guard, reaching up anxiously to run his fingers along the rim of his hat.
[Thank you.] He responds, lowering his hand back down to his cup.
“Where’d you get it? Maybe I’ll get one and see if I can pull off the intimidating look.” Hermes jokes, and Charon lets out a small huff of a laugh. Even in just the few minutes he has known Hermes, he can tell he wouldn’t. The man’s smile is too bright and infectious, his clothing too warm and flashy.
[Got it traveling in Italy.] Charon replies, even still. Hermes' eyes light up.
“Italy! Oh, I love it there. Been there loads of times with my family. We always do all the standard touristy things there, but the art is just amazing. It was always one of my favorite places to go vacationing, though my older step-brother Ares would say differently. Says it is boring - isn’t that crazy?” Hermes asks. Charon nods, unsure how to answer that. Still, Hermes is unbothered and undeterred by Charon’s lack of answers.
“Glad to have you on my side, coffee buddy. Because, get this, since he complained, we haven’t returned to Italy. Parents claim they don’t play favorites, but I’ll just say when I said I was tired of going to Greece, we still kept going. And that’s all I’ll say on that.” Hermes rambles between sips of coffee. Charon finds himself leaning closer to the man, clinging to each fast-paced word.
“So what do you do, Charon? Your style and coffee choice say “reclusive millionaire,” but the fact that you are, well here, not hiding away, says otherwise.” Hermes says, taking Charon aback by just how forthright the smaller man is. Charon dresses with his wealth in an immediately obvious way, with hundred-dollar coats and pants and thousand-dollar rings and necklaces, but he’s never had someone call it out so plainly.
[Unreclusive millionaire.] He replies - and Hermes throws his head back and cackles, causing Charon’s heart to skip a beat or three. The man’s laugh is loud and boisterous, echoing loud above all the other racket in the coffee shop.
“Unreclusive- ha! Why, Charon, there’s a bit of jokester under that large hat, isn’t there? Who would have thought!” Hermes exclaims, eyes sparkling with delight. Charon feels the corners of his mouth quirk up in an unwilling grin, the smaller man’s enthusiasm for everything unfairly infectious. “Still doesn’t answer my question about what you do, though. Don’t think I’ve forgotten, now.” Hermes says, resting his elbows on the table. His right-hand covers the top of his left, his chin resting on his hands as he stares at Charon with a slyness that flusters Charon.
[Business owner.] Charon responds hesitantly, unsure how to explain what he does for a living in whatever amount of time he has left. He’ll check on that in a second.
Hermes pouts, his bottom lip sticking out dramatically, immediately drawing Charon’s attention to it. “Aw, fine. I suppose that’s as good of an answer I’ll get.” He says. Charon nods firmly. Hermes smirks and leans in closer to Charon, the taller man’s heart speeding up in ways that are certainly unhealthy. “Don’t you worry, though. I’ll get it out of you yet; just wait.” Hermes all but purrs. Charon freezes in his seat, battling the tiny hint of rising hope that this young - seemingly very young, compared to Charon - handsome man might also find Charon attractive. But no - he couldn’t possibly.
“Well, anyways, I just have to ask - is that just, like, plain black coffee?” Hermes asks, leaning over to inspect Charon’s half-empty mug. Charon, too, looks down at the liquid, black as tar and untarnished by any sugars or creams. He glances over at Hermes’ cup, grimacing at how closely it resembles the color of milk, barely any coffee color left. He looks at the man with an unimpressed stare, sipping happily at his plain, bitter, perfect-how-it-is black coffee. Now Hermes is the one who grimaces.
“Gonna be real with you, boss - don’t know how you can do that. If there is even the slightest hint of a hint of a hint of bitterness in my coffee, I don’t want it. There must be at least enough cream in there to kill a horse, and then maybe just a little extra for good measure.” Hermes says, happily swirling the contents of the cup around.
[That’s just a heart attack in a cup.] Charon says seriously, though the slight grin pulling at his lips betrays his teasing. It brings that bright, alluring smile back to Hermes’ face.
“Well, now, you see there, my mysterious table companion - the secret is to keep your heart healthy in other ways. So that when you drink your “heart attack in a cup,” your heart is none the wiser.” Hermes says. “And for me, that’s running.”
[Running?] Charon asks, surprised at how curious he is to learn more about the sunshine of a man before him.
Hermes nods excitedly. “Yep! Love me a good run. I wake up every morning and do a nice long jog. I like to start when it's still dark out and then don’t stop until the sun has long since risen. Then I’ll come here and get my coffee. Best way to start the day, in my opinion.” Hermes says. Charon glances down at Hermes's exercise clothes - for no reason other than simple curiosity, of course. Not at all because of the way the spandex exercise shorts cling to his thighs or how his loose tank top shows off a good amount of tanned skin-
Charon quickly pulls his eyes away, taking a long gulp of steadily cooling coffee. How rude of him to ogle at this man he has just met, who so kindly lent him a place at his table.
“Back in high school, I used to do a lot of track. Not to brag - though maybe to brag a little - I won a lot of races for my school. I loved being on that team with all my heart.” Hermes says, looking past Charon and smiling gently like he is caught up in a good memory. “I lost my love for it a little when I graduated, but I got it back, eventually. Took a couple of years, though.”
There seems to be more to that than Hermes is letting on, but Charon isn’t one to pry, so he doesn’t respond. Hermes takes it in stride, though, moving right along to another topic without even a second thought.
“This will always be my favorite place to go after a run, of course. Something about Eurydice’s coffee makes the morning feel just right, y’know?” Hermes comments, pulling himself from what he had been recollecting. Charon nods sagely. He does know, in fact. Something about Eurydice’s coffee always makes the day much more manageable. When he travels and has to find other coffee for himself, it just isn’t the same. It’s a silly notion - after all, coffee is just coffee, right? - but also full of truth. It’s why he has yet to venture to any other coffee shop in the area since he found Asphodel Cafe.
“Of course you do. How long have you been coming here?” Hermes asks, reaching over and pouring another creamer cup into his mug. Charon makes a face, noticing the absolute stack of single-serve cream capsules sitting to the side of their table for the first time. Hermes takes notice, sticking his tongue out at Charon before gleefully sipping at his even whiter cup of coffee.
[Three years. Since the first day it opened.] Charon says. Hermes’ eyes widen.
“Whoa - me too! On my morning run, I saw the crowd it was drawing, even on opening day. Haven’t changed coffee shops since!” Hermes says. Charon smiles at that. “That’s just so wild! I mean - isn’t it? We’ve both been coming to the same coffee shop for years, since the very first day, and yet we’re just now meeting. Isn’t it crazy how things happen?” Hermes asks, leaning increasingly more forward as he talks excitedly. “That two people can go to the same place every day for years and just never encounter each other?”
For some wildly unknown reason, Charon signs, [Must be fate], even though he certainly doesn’t believe in things like fate or destiny. But if Hermes was smiling wide before, his grin now is wide enough to be a painful stretch.
“Exactly! I knew you’d understand what I meant, Charon, my friend.” He exclaims. Once more, Charon doesn’t know how to respond. Friends? Within the span of their short conversation, Hermes already considers them friends? That’s... Charon doesn’t know how to respond to that. Charon can count the number of friends he has on one hand, and more than half of them are his siblings. And yet, this stranger already considers them close enough to label it friends. Perhaps that should be weird for Charon, but something about it makes his chest feel warm.
Maybe it’s just the coffee, though.
The two sit in a few moments of silence, Charon glancing nervously between his nearly empty coffee cup and Hermes, who is happily watching the people outside the window. Occasionally he waves to them when they glance their way.
The two of them couldn’t be more different from each other if they tried, Charon realizes. While Charon hides away, Hermes puts himself front and center, greeting mere strangers with a friendly smile and wave. Charon’s face always rests in a place of neutrality, whereas Hermes never stops smiling. Even their clothes and coffee orders are starkly different.
Hermes is everything Charon isn’t, everything Charon thought he didn’t like. Loud. Vibrant. Overly-friendly. And yet, there is something alluring about Hermes and his unrestrained nature. It pulls Charon in.
[What do you do for work?] Charon asks, unable to stop himself from trying to learn more about the man no longer sitting quite opposite to him, as Hermes keeps scooting closer and closer to Charon from around the table.
“Oh, ho, ho! How the tables have turned - now you want to know what I do for work, mister mysterious?” Hermes asks, nudging Charon with his elbow. The contact flusters Charon, his eyes darting nervously away from Hermes. The shorter man only laughs at his obvious stress.
“I suppose I could tell you what I do - but in return, I want to know more about you. ‘Kay?” Hermes says sweetly. Charon supposes that is only fair, though he can’t resist making a comment about blackmail that Hermes cackles at.
“Blackmail, bribery, ‘only proper,’ call it what you want, as long as I get some answers back.” Hermes says, holding his hand out for Charon to shake on it. He does without hesitation, his eternally cold hands meeting the pleasant warmth of Hermes’.
“Alright, we have a deal.” Hermes says, settling back into his seat and beginning a very long, very drawn-out story about working for his family - but Charon is entertained by it the whole time.
Before long, Charon finds himself settling into their conversation. The two talk and talk and talk long after they have both finished their coffees. Hermes goes on mostly about himself, but occasionally, Charon will open up to the young man - only more so as the conversation continues. He finds himself smiling more than he has in a long time, likely since he was a young boy. Once or twice, Hermes’ witty sarcasm even pulls a chuckle from him.
Occasionally, Hermes will do something Charon desperately wants to hope is flirting, though he can never quite bring himself to believe it. Even when the smaller man winks at him, or compliments his style, or rests his hand on top of Charon’s - which nearly caused his poor heart to give out - he tries his best not to get his hopes up.
Even still, the conversation and company are good. And for the first time in many, many years, Charon finds himself content in only a way that human connection can provide. That always present empty hole of loneliness lifts for just a brief moment, filling in with the warmth of companionship. Charon would bask in it for hours if he could.
They are in the middle of a conversation about running versus weightlifting when Charon’s phone rings with a familiar ringtone. He sends Hermes an apologetic look as he fishes his phone from his pocket. A picture of Thanatos’ scowling face lights up his screen, taken by Hypnos at a party many years prior. He answers the video call, waving a quick hello to his brother.
“Charon, where are you?” Thanatos asks, eyebrows furrowed even more than usual. His tone is as flat as always - though underneath it, there is an edge of alarm that Charon very rarely hears in his brother’s voice.
[Getting coffee.] Charon responds, trying to disguise a smile when he sees Hermes playing idly with his large stack of creamers, accidentally knocking them over. The younger man’s face contorts in comedic panic, hurriedly trying to restack them as if nothing had happened.
On his phone, Thanatos’ face creases in confusion. “Still? Your assistant informed me you went for your coffee hours ago. We’ve been waiting for you so we can start going over everything for Elysium.” Thanatos says, eyes narrowed in suspicion and bewilderment. Now it's Charon’s turn to feel confused. Hours ago? He glances up at the clock. Certainly, it has only been-
Eleven-ten. Charon’s eyes nearly pop out from his head when he reads the time, realizing that he has been sitting there for two hours.
[Sorry. Have to go. Be there soon.] Charon signs rapidly.
“Charon-”
Charon hangs up the call before Thanatos can continue further, quickly standing.
“Oh... are you- needing to go?” Hermes asks, confused and possibly the slightest bit disappointed - though that might just be Charon hoping for something that isn’t there. Charon nods and points to the clock. Hermes’ eyes follow his finger to it, eyes widening as he reads the time.
“Oh! Oh my, I- I hadn’t realized we had been sitting here for that long!” Hermes says, standing as well. Charon nods, fixing his coat and placing his hat back on his head, which he had long before set aside. Mind focused on all the work he has built up for himself, Charon turns quickly to leave, but he’s stopped by a hard on his arm before he can.
“Wait, Charon-” Hermes calls out, holding a brown napkin out for him. Charon takes it with some confusion, before flipping it over and seeing a phone number written on it. Hermes smiles up at him, though there is a hesitation there.
“If you ever want to, um... do this again. Let me know.” Hermes says, fiddling nervously with his fingers. Charon’s eyes flick back and forth between the number and the blushing man in front of him.
He raises a hand to sign something, then pauses, uncertainty taking over. He eyes the man carefully, then takes a leap, hoping that he is right. [For a... date?] He asks. Hermes’ eyes widen, and for a moment, Charon fears he has misread the situation - but then he smiles wide.
“Yep. A date.” Hermes confirms. Charon's heart leaps in his chest, though he tries to disguise his excitement with a quick nod, carefully folding the napkin and putting it in his pocket. He waves goodbye to Hermes, then to Eurydice - who gives him a sly smirk and a wink - before leaving the coffee shop.
Charon walks to his car with the smallest of bounce to his steps, the mountains of work waiting for him no longer at the forefront of his mind. He finds himself smiling as he slides into his car, and it holds all the way on the drive to his office. The conversations between himself and Hermes run endlessly through his mind, the man’s grinning face becoming a permanent fixture in his thoughts.
And Charon wonders if maybe... maybe sometimes waking so much later might not be such a bad thing.
Maybe he’ll do it more often.