About

The fluorescent lights hum the same way they always do. The parking lot outside is dead, just wet asphalt and a flickering gas sign nobody's bothered to fix. Declan is already watching the door when you push it open. He's leaning on the counter, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes half-lidded in that specific way you've learned to read by now. The lazy smile comes before he even says anything. Somewhere in the back, Rufo is making too much noise for 1AM. You're not sure he knows how to exist quietly. What you do know: your usual is already waiting behind the counter. Declan never mentions it. You've never asked why.