It wasn't uncommon not to see colors. They were something that this society simply didn't accept.

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Blaine opened his wardrobe to find something to wear. It was getting closer to Christmas, something that everyone celebrated and never questioned. Blaine had never understood what was so special about it. It was just another birthday just not personal, an excuse to get drunk and party. He picked up a random shirt, a pair of trousers, a bowtie and a belt. He put the clothes on and looked in the mirror. Grey, dark grey, light grey. Everything was always those colors. It was if he was living in a grey movie. But it was normal. Blaine sighed, grabbed his bag and a piece of paper and went downstairs.

The house was still asleep. Carefully, as if to not wake it up, Blaine went to the kitchen and put the note he had prepared already on the counter. He then grabbed his coat, scarf and proceeded outside.

The fresh air engulfed him in a crispy hug. Everything around him was grey, boring. He nuzzled into his scarf and kept on walking. It was snowing lightly, a few flakes here and there. Occasionally, a person would pass, looking straight through him. Not that it bothered Blaine, but sometimes he wondered how life would be if it was different, say if he were able to chose the person he married, or even when he would marry. Shaking his head to clear it of the thought, he turned right and stumbled upon a café. The sign on the door said open. Blaine pushed the door and entered. The smell of grinded coffee and cinnamon greeted him with open arms. He walked towards the counter and took a look at the menu board hanging above him.

“Cinnamon Bokeh café, what would you like to order?” a loud voice asked from a counter. Blaine turned, taken aback by this and looked at the girl behind the counter. She smiled, brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face and held up a cup, waving it slightly. “So, what would you like?” she asked again. Blaine unfroze from his previous state of shock and looked up at the board once more.

“I think I'll just take the medium drip,” he answered hesitantly. The girl, Rachel (judging by the nametag), nodded and picked up a nearby sharpie.

“Name?”

“Blaine.” The girl scribbled the name on the coffee cup.

“Rachel.”

“Pardon me?”

“My name. Rachel. It's your fist time here, isn't it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then you have to try the cinnamon rolls. It's the bomb.com.” Rachel put the cup into the coffee machine and skipped over the counter to pick up two cinnamon rolls. She put them on a plate and pushed them to Blaine. “That'd be two fifty,” she said. Blaine took a glance on the menu board.

“But that's only for the coffee,” he said.

“The rolls are on the house.”

“But I couldn't-”

“Shush. Here's your coffee,” she said, pushing the cup and the rolls toward Blaine. He sighed, paid and put a five-dollar bill in the tip jar, hoping that it would cover the cost of the rolls. Blaine grabbed his order and looked around. He felt a little like in a school cafeteria, not knowing where to sit or who to talk to. He decided with a little secluded place at the deeper end of the café. As he walked towards it, the doors opened hastily and a clear and almost shrill voice rang through the café.

“Rachel, I'll have my usual and quickly please!”

“Coming right up!” Rachel answered, already busy at the counter. The owner of the voice, a young man who looked about Blaine's age, fidgeted nervously, tapping his fingers on the counter's surface. Blaine took in his appearance – he looked neat, with perfectly coiffed darker grey hair and a non-wrinkled outfit. He kept on biting his lip and checking his watch, which rather amused Blaine, because for his 16 years of life, he had not seen anyone in such a hurry. As soon as the young man got his coffee from a smiling Rachel, he was out of the café with the words “see you later”.

Blaine shook his head in amusement and bit into one of his cinnamon rolls. The taste was something completely new – it wasn't sickly sweet, as if he would have expected it to be, judging by the amount of glaze thing on top. It was rather playful to his taste buds, not too sweet, but with a hint of spiciness and something different. They really were to die for.

After he finished both of the rolls, he took his coffee cup and, after saying goodbye went home.