Chapter Text
Sophie was in deep, deep, deep shit.
She scrubbed at her face and sighed, her eyes burning a little from the contrast of her bright laptop screen in her dark room. She felt pathetic and miserable and pathetic, again. She wondered what one was to do after a horrendous rejection like the one she received a few days prior— Definitely not scour the internet for every available interview of the perpetrator in question as well as check his Instagram routinely on the hour (without actually following him, of course, Sophie isn’t a psycho). She really couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation as to why she was torturing herself like this: spending her well-earned free time just to hear his laugh through her laptop speakers? Pathetic! She was better than this! She had already cleaned her entire apartment in an early fit of rage. Not a single speck of dust could be found on her newly scrubbed floors, her closet was arranged and tucked away to perfection, and the side of her bed that was currently unoccupied (as it had been for quite a while now) was neatly made.
She slammed her laptop shut and glared at her dark ceiling. This is horrid, she thought. Really and utterly horrid. She hated the feeling of weakness and desperation that the mere thought of Howl constructed in her. Hated wasn’t strong enough. She despised it, she loathed it, she abhorred it. Every time she would watch an interview where he would laugh sunnily and throw a charming smile at the pretty interviewer, her heart broke a little more and her anger grew. It didn’t matter how long ago the interviews or clips were, they felt personal to her. They shot her directly in the chest and rage began to grow right where the wound was formed. She snorted and turned to her side, listening to the busy street below her apartment and allowed for her mind to drift. She absentmindedly traced the small star patterns that covered her sheets and realized that this crush was taking up too much of Sophie. It followed her to work and right back home— out with her sisters, in the shower, at the grocery store. It was infiltrating her life in a way that wasn’t beneficial or even quietly entertaining anymore. It’s past the point of ridiculous, she thought. He very obviously expressed how he feels, I need to move on. She spent the rest of the night coming to peace (well, as much peace as an angered Hatter sister could convey) with this notion and told herself that tomorrow would be a good day, so help her God, and she soon drifted off to sleep.
And the next day had started off well. She allowed herself to sleep in an extra hour and took her time getting up: stretching, humming absentmindedly, basking in the rays of sunshine shining through her drapes. She brewed her morning coffee with a soft smile and sang to herself in the shower. It seemed her notion of moving on was coming true. She felt as if a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.
Yet, reality has a way of breaking down carefully built walls at the worst time.
Sophie walked down the three flights of stairs to get to work, wearing her favorite outfit and feeling quite content with herself. She was thinking of the new salad they had added to the menu the other day and how she had been dying to try it. Maybe today’s the day, she thought. She briefly was concerned over the fact that eating a salad would be the most exciting part of her day, but then again, Sophie had always lived a relatively mundane life. Had she wanted something more adventurous? Exciting and unpredictable? Yes, of course she did, but it just wasn’t realistic. She was the eldest of three and had the cafe she inherited after her father’s passing to look after. Martha was already heavily involved with the theater up on the second floor and Lettie was shooting campaigns with various companies, slowly rising to her destined stardom. Both of her sister’s were very talented indeed. And Sophie, well she actually really loved her little cafe. She looked forward to opening and seeing the various familiar faces, who she’d dare say could be considered her friends, as well as discovering new recipes and perfecting her latte making abilities. She also loved the opportunity to see her sisters so much and the freedom to play whatever music she wanted (Today was feeling like a 1989 by Taylor Swift day). All in all, Sophie loved her job. But a little excitement now and then would also be appreciated, she supposed.
Walking into the kitchen from the stairwell door, she took note of the various dishes that were sitting by the sink and was surprised to notice the lack of anger she normally would have felt at whomever (most definitely Lettie) left them there instead of doing the proper cleaning. Instead, she just sighed softly and made her way over, apparently paying no attention to the three people standing just outside the kitchen window, watching her do so.
She started clanging around the in the various dishes, finding the biggest one first which happened to be quite a large metal bowl and placed it in a vacant basin. Just as she grabbed the sink sprayer, she heard a too, too familiar voice from behind.
“Sophie?” Howls voice was meek and sounded incredibly nervous. She felt paralyzed for a moment, her entire body going stiff. For a good second or so she had absolutely no thoughts, her mind was completely blank. Then suddenly, an onslaught of various snapshots of Howl during those numerous interviews she watched flashed through her mind. She felt butterflies in her stomach and chest causing her to almost turned and run into his arms. But then she remembered what had taken place just four days prior, and finally her anger came back in full force. Good, she thought, he should be nervous!
“I just wanted—“ Sophie chose that moment to begin her washing, pointing the sink sprayer directly at the noisiest part of the large bowl, making a loud chhsskkkk that echoed throughout the otherwise quiet room and blocked out whatever it was Howl was trying to say.
Sophie allowed the harsh water to continue for a moment or so before releasing the lever. Thick silence followed and Howl cleared his throat in an attempt to cut the tension and try his speech again.
“I wanted to say that—“
Chhsskkkk
Sophie pulled the lever again, but this time with a smile. She could almost imagine his face, screwed up in annoyance at his failure to dramatically present his soliloquy. His eyebrows furrowed, creating a little crease between them; his mouth pointed downwards and jaw tense. Of course, Sophie could just turn her head a mere 90 degrees and she would be able to see this as the truth, but she was far too stubborn for that. Instead, she happily cut off Howl’s speech another two times before finding the game repetitive and turning around.
“Oh Howl, I didn’t know you were there. Huh.” She attempted to move around him and make way to the front counter, but was stopped by two large hands on her shoulders.
“My accent!” Howl burst.
Sophie, eyebrows instantly drawing together in confusion, heard a distance tsk and sigh coming from somewhere by the kitchen window and shoved Howl’s hands off her person, attempting to make her way around his broad body again.
“What in the hell are you talking about? And don’t touch me! Get out of my way, I have an actual job I need to do—unlike some people—“
Howl ignored her dig at his professional life (which was much much more glamorous and exciting than Sophie could ever imagine, which is why she felt so petty) and stood in her way for a second time.
“My accent. You asked the other day why my accent was different. It’s because no one can understand a bloody Welsh accent in the States and I have to pretend to be,” he grimaced, “English. English in the roles I play, English in interviews—but, I mean, that’s not what I really wanted to tell you.”
Sophie just stared at him in utter confusion, trying to figure out the importance and relevance of information like this, feeling like she perhaps was getting pranked. She quietly glanced around the room for hidden cameras or even her sisters, but she found no one. Just a younger boy standing at the register glancing casually around the cafe.
She opened her mouth and closed it once. “I’m so confused.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know, I know, just—“ Howl scrubbed at his face, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry, Sophie.”
Sophie, again, was at a loss for words. She stared blankly back at Howl. His hair was almost black now and dark rings sat under his red-rimmed eyes. She noticed he didn’t care to shave this morning as a dark stubble was present his face, and a new, red dot sat just above his left eyebrow. He looked like shit. This really must be a joke, she thought, glancing around the room another time.
“What are you looking for?” Howl asked impatiently, eyes scanning the kitchen along with her.
“Cameras.” She said plainly. A beat of silence followed. “I’m getting pranked, right?”
Now it was Howl’s turn to stare balefully at her, until he began to cackle.
“Holy shit!” He cried, grasping her face gently turning it towards himself one last time. “God, I like you so, so much. Horribly! Desperately! Dear lord, you might be the most insane woman I’ve ever met and I can’t get enough of you. Cameras?! Why in the world would you think I’m pranking you?”
“I don’t know! You’re probably friends with Ashton Kutcher or something and you’re doing a Punk’d revival for all I know!” Sophie’s anger was coming back, strong. She hated feeling stupid or ridiculous.
Howl just pressed his lips together and nodded slowly. “Right,” he said.
Sophie scoffed. The gall of this man! Wasn’t he just profusely apologizing to her a mere minute ago, telling her he liked her— and now he’s standing here, mocking and making fun of her.
“Fuck you!” Sophie growled. She reached around and grabbed the sink sprayer and aimed directly for Howl’s chest. A loud squawk was heard over the roar of the water as Howl’s chest, stomach, and arms became soaked through.
“Sophie!” cried Martha as she raced through the swinging kitchen door.
Sophie released the lever in surprise, “Oh… hi.” Her face felt warm and she dropped the sprayer like a hot pan. Howl stood frozen in the exact position he was in when she drenched him—drips and drops sounded throughout the room.
“What the hell is going on? You guys were supposed to kiss and make up, now there’s water everywhere and he looks like a wet dog!” shouted Martha.
“Thank you,” said Howl, quietly, but Martha wasn’t finished.
“Shut up,” she told him, “Sophie what happened? Are you okay?”
Howl’s eyebrows, if possible, raised higher on his forehead. “Is SHE okay? Am I not the one quite literally standing here, drenched in sink water?”
Martha just rolled her eyes, when a boy around the same age slowly crept into the kitchen from the storefront. Sophie recognized him as the younger boy glancing around the cafe earlier, and was perplexed at what his involvement in all this could be. The moment he took in the disastrous state of Howl, sopping wet clothes clinging to his broad frame (something Sophie definitely did not take notice of at all) and his dripping hair, he sprang up in surprise and rushed forward.
“Howl! Jeez! What happened here?! I thought we had a plan!”
Sophie whipped her head to the man in question, “A plan?”
Howl held a hand up to his eyes and mumbled many different curses as well as some phrases in a language Sophie couldn’t understand, before taking a deep breath.
“You two—out. Now. I need to talk to Sophie alone.”
Michael glanced between the two, then gave the sink sprayer a pointed look. “Are you sure?”
Howl gave a soft laugh, “Yes. I need to clear my conscious to this beautiful woman before she attempts to dissolve me again.”
Michael shrugged and looked back at Martha who had a death glare fixed heavily on Howl, but she followed the younger boy out of the kitchen without a word.
Howl and Sophie stood facing each other in the now quiet kitchen. Neither of them wanted to speak first. With their eyes fixed on one another, the room began to feel warm to Sophie, and she crossed her arms to feign annoyance. It seemed to work.
Howl spoke first. “Sophie, I’ll say it again and I’ll say it a hundred times over: I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything that happened the other day. I was scared and acted on impulse. I said things I didn’t mean—Never in a million years! I would let the paparazzi take thousands upon thousands of terrible pictures of me, splatter it into every crevice of the internet, if it meant I could take you out on a date.”
Sophie smiled at this, imagining what the worst photo of Howl would look like, if such a thing was even able to exist.
Howl smiled too. “I wish I could go back and say yes to you. More than anything. But I can’t and that’s reality. But I’m standing here now, asking you to forgive me.”
Sophie stood a long while, staring up into Howl’s eyes once he finished his long awaited speech. His eyes seem to convey his every emotion, and right now, they were full of yearning and anxiety. Sophie felt some of the same.
After a period of thinking and mulling over, she came to her answer. “Why don’t we start over?”
Howl’s grin lit up the room, “I think that’s a grand idea.” And with his still sopping sleeve, he extended his hand to Sophie. “Hi there, my name is Howl Pendragon—well, actually, my real name is Howell Jenkins, but that can just stay between the two of us. I’m an actor here in LA, and I hate any type of seafood.”
The grin that Sophie produced following Howl’s introduction gave his own a run for its money. She reached her own, dry hand out to grasp his.
“Hello, Howell, pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Sophie Hatter. I’m the eldest of three and the owner of Hatters cafe. It’s located down in Central LA, not really the place you big shots tend to hang around in, but it would be worth your while if you can stand the location.” Howl snorted out a laugh. “Oh! And I hate tomatoes. Despise them, honestly. Have to pick them out anytime they’re in my food.”
Howl’s grin somehow grew, as did Sophie’s, and he reached out and grabbed her other opened hand and took a step closer. And closer. Eyes locked on one another.
If the two had any attention to spare, they would have noticed Michael and Martha observing from the kitchen window, smiles on both of their faces. Their plan had worked.
Somewhat.