two of a kind. [blane & k] (Patreon)

synopsis: Blane and K get coffee while waiting for the others to arrive. they don't hang out often.

It's not that they don't like each other, it's that they're too similar. Both are quiet, both preferring to stay out of the spotlight and listen, rather than be the one speaking, both blunt (though Blane often errs on the side of rude) and, most of all, both widely uncomfortable in new surroundings.

Blane didn't have much of an opinion when they first met K. They admired their powers and their will, but they never saw K as more than a temporary companion.

Of course, that's what they thought of everyone.

A lot of things have changed since then. Since The Event. They never thought they'd be glad to be roped into something so ridiculous, but Blane can't deny that their life has gotten livelier since.

Still, they can't say they're exactly close with everyone. N will always be their best friend, Devereux will always be a pain in the ass (though Blane can begrudgingly admit they now tolerate their presence), Rylan will always be way too much and K…

Well.

K sits across from Blane in the café. They claimed a table for themselves, expecting other company, but after the rest of the group made various excuses as to why they were going to be late (did all their subways get delayed?), they moved to seat a booth.

K taps their nails on the countertop, staring aimlessly out the window. "Any updates?"

"No." Blane turned on their phone again, staring at the blank wallpaper. "Rylan might get here first. N is still caught up in line and God knows where [the Hunter] and Devereux are."

K's lips lift into a small smile. "It's amusing that you still call them by their surname."

"The fact that I willingly spend time with them is enough," Blane answers. They meet K's gaze, emerald eyes steady as the warlock's hazel ones search them. K does that a lot, Blane finds, but rarely do they ever share their findings. Sometimes Blane thinks K is seeing something different from everyone else.

K nods towards the menu board. "Have you decided what you want?"

"I'm just doing an americano with coconut milk," Blane answers.

K gets up, grabbing their wallet as they leave to join the line. Blane starts to protest, but the warlock shoots them a stern look. "It's on me, I insist. It's the least I can do to apologize for Rylan's lateness. They're the one who put this together, after all."

Blane can't find the words to argue. Here's another reason why they never spend much time with K. Being a group of six, they're all split equally into three pairs: [the Hunter] and Devereux, Blane and N, K and Rylan. Perhaps the others have branched out more, but Blane has always felt they'll stay the closest to N. They suspect it's similar for K with Rylan.

They spend time outside those pairings of course—A and Rylan have grown quite close (much to Blane's fear) and N and [The Hunter] have definitely become better friends—but in the end, they naturally gravitate toward their initial duos.

Or maybe that's just Blane. They never make individual plans with anyone except for N. They know N has gone out with K a few times and [The Hunter] has been with Rylan, but Blane has never been brave enough to ask. They're only part of this group because of happenstance anyway—they don't want to push their luck.

"Did you need any sugar?"

Blane blinks, glancing up. K's hand is just retreating from their mug. "Brown, please."

K nods again, leaving to grab some packets while they leave their drink on the table. It's iced, to Blane's surprise, sprinkled with cinnamon and something that resembles crystalized sugar.

"An iced espresso," K explains when they come back. They sit down, sliding three packets across the table. There's an unspoken sentence of 'I didn't know how many you needed' but K never says it aloud. Blane is grateful for it.

"I thought you liked hot coffees?" Blane replies.

K wrinkles their nose. "Rylan. They told me I had to get it. Tastes like a cinnamon roll apparently."

They say the sentence like they just proclaimed the drink tastes like sewage water. Blane bites their tongue so that they don't laugh. They bite even harder when K takes their first sip of the drink, coughing as it washes down their throat.

"That bad?"

K shakes their head. "Too sweet." They slide the cup over. "Try it."

"I don't—"

"I insist."

It's the second time they've said those words and, both times, Blane finds that they can't refuse. They take the cup gingerly, hands adjusting from burning hot to ice cold. K doesn't seem to mind that Blane will be drinking from the same straw, so they bend down and take a sip.

K laughs at their reaction. A strange and rare noise, but not an unpleasant one. "Not a fan?"

"Too sweet," Blane answers, repeating K's words.

"We'll leave it for Rylan then."

K checks their phone absently, looking for a text from the mentioned half-vampire, presumably. Blane hesitates before pushing their americano over. K's eyebrow raises ever so slightly but waits for Blane to speak. Again, they find that they like that.

"Try it," Blane suggests. "It's only fair."

"Thank you for the offer, but I'll pass."

Blane hums. While K declines Blane's offer, they don't feel bad about it. Rejection is an ugly feeling. A couple of months ago, Blane would have been embarrassed and remained silent for the rest of the day. The one time they spoke up, only to be shut down.

Now, Blane only pulls the mug back to themself. They know that K was only being honest. It's taken them a long time to get to this stage—taken a long time for the K and them, Blane thinks—and though there're still steps to be taken, for now, this is progress.