#feat. bea

The Jukebox Cafe was decidedly uncrowded that particular morning, but Mason wasn’t surprised seeing as most people were likely already at work for the day and it was still too early for them to be on their lunch break. He’d been practically forced from his apartment earlier that morning with a demand that he stop cooping himself up inside his room, so Mason had taken up refuge in the cafe instead. While he appreciated the sentiment and worry being expressed towards him, he did have work to finish by the end of the week and so he’d also brought his laptop with him. Currently, he was holed up in one of the booths in the back corner of the cafe, out of the way of any other patrons. 

He’d ordered a coffee -- double shot of espresso, he’d been fighting off sleep deprivation for two days already -- when he first arrived to keep the staff at bay while he worked. Now, it sat cooling by his elbow barely touched. He’d been so absorbed in his work that the drink was left completely forgotten once he’d gotten started. 

He distantly registered the sound of the cafe door opening, but paid it no attention. He only paused a few minutes later, when he heard a familiar-sounding laugh. Fingers frozen over his keyboard he looked up, glancing around the cafe for the source. It was probably nothing, he was only close with a few people in LA, honestly, but he couldn’t help but feel like he knew this person, this laugh. His eyes caught on a girl standing at the counter, talking to a barista. He blinked several times, as if that would dispel the image. Before his mind could even catch up to what was happening, his mouth was moving, “Bea?” It was said quietly, barely mutter, filled with disbelief.