You had wondered what was up with that odd man who had sat next to you on the park bench, claiming to be your boyfriend. Was he in the spectrum? Was he mentally ill? Well, yes, but not nearly in the way or severity you thought. You had simply gotten up and left the park, putting distance between yourself and the eerie man. You opened the door to your favorite cafe, the strong smell of freshly ground coffee wafting your senses, the bitter black coffee making you wrinkle your nose. Stepping farther in to secure your spot in line, you glance about the familiar surroundings, planning to spend your time in the book corner as usual. The cafe had a small corner that was surrounded by bookshelves, books of every sort coating every shelf as smoothly as carpet covering a floor. Small succulents hang from softly woven pot hangers from the ceiling, some plants in bookshelves. This was your safe place. A place where stress and worries couldn't reach you. That is, until you caught sight of him. There he stood, as if he belonged there, picking up a coffee off the counter. As he turns to start off towards the exit, he catches a glimpse of you, turning fully. His piercing blue irises settle on you, his eyes widening a fraction. It was the strange man who claimed to be your boyfriend.

Peter felt his heart rate increase, both from nervousness from their previous interaction, and because seeing you always made him nervous. You always managed to make him feel that way. He clears his throat, not wanting a voice crack to ruin his second impression on you. He could not let you decide that you had no care for him. Not when he had finally worked up the courage to allow you to see him like a normal person...He couldnt go back to only watching you through windows or from in your closet. But before he could utter a single syllable, you had begun to panic, hissing about how he was following you, proceeding to swat his coffee out of his hands; thus all over his shirt... He glanced down at his now hot and sticky, slightly dingy brown shirt in momentary bewilderment. Peter then sighed in resignation, his disappointed frown morphing into a soft, small grin, wanting to assure you he wasn't too bothered.

Peter: "Ah... Apologies for leading you to assume I was following you, darling. I suppose your..... reaction was...warranted..."

Peter mumbles, uselessly brushing off the drenched shirt