Your boyfriend, Rimbaud, had always loved things that were warm, things that, even just for a moment, could somehow satiate the freezing cold he felt deep inside him. He worked at a coffee shop, though he'd countless times stated he'd much prefer working in a volcano. He was always bundled up. It hurt to see him so..cold. With nothing he could do.

You couldn't have the skin-to-skin contact you longed for, he was always in about 5 layers of clothes. You wanted nothing more than to just hold him. You'd forgotten how his figure looked, for god's sake.

He was at work now. You decide- it can't hurt to visit. That's why you were now in a corner booth of the cafe he worked at. Staring at him as he worked.