TIMING: Current LOCATION: A latte to love PARTIES: Boyd Adkinson Jr. @saveah0rse & Alan Duarte SUMMARY: Alan and Boyd meet in an overcrowded café and share a chair and a chat. CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a

Having a large family often meant that there were rarely enough chairs around the table for all of them. Alan’s parents, his nieces and nephews were seated already. The elders were waiting patiently for the rest of them to get chairs, the kids weren’t nearly as quiet about it. 

It wasn’t his problem, he left the parenting to his brothers and sisters. He wasn’t precisely trying to be the cool uncle™ but it never failed to make him gloat whenever the kids went on about how Uncle Alan was less of a bore than the lot of them. Thank you very much. 

He gave the barista a glance and an apologetic smile. They’d put the chairs back where they belonged, and tip accordingly, obviously, but even he agreed that the Duarte table could have been any introvert’s definition of hell. There were 16 of them now, but as far as family reunions went, this was a small party for the Duartes. The cousins weren’t even there, you see. And their spouses, and their children. 

Looking around at the diminishing chair supply, Alan finally set his eyes on one that appeared to be free. The man who sat there might have been waiting for company. Still, Alan made his way toward him, fixing his hair mechanically as he asked : “Excuse me, is the chair free?” 

So, maybe letting himself be goaded into doing a couple shots with the regulars at the bar last night wasn’t his best idea, but the coffee Boyd was nursing was soothing his pounding head. It had been nice to get a sound sleep for once, even if he paid for it in the morning. Eventually, he’d have the energy needed to keep hunting the Agropelter he’d been looking for for the last couple weeks. For a sick animal, the thing was elusive. He was sure at the bottom of this coffee lay the energy boost he needed. Boyd had been prodding at a danish for the better part of an hour when a huge group walked in. A Latte To Love was great for people watching, and today they just didn’t stop coming. The number of people in the little cafe made him happy he’d already ordered. They made him want to duck out as soon as possible. 

Boyd wasn’t at all surprised when a member of the large party approached him to ask for the chair across the table from him. The man had kind eyes that caused a little flutter in his chest. Maybe that’s why when he tried to respond, instead of saying “go ahead,” or “take it away,” like he had intended, he blurted out, “Go away.” Cheeks flushing, Boyd cleared his throat. “Sorry, sorry. I meant to say, go ahead. Take it away,” he clarified. He tried to deflect with a small chuckle. “One of those days,” he said with a dismissive shrug. 

“I’m so sorry, I startled you, didn’t I?” Alan gave the other a bashful smile, his eyes drawn to the shade of red on his cheeks at first, then at the dark sweep of the man’s long lashes, the brush of freckles on the bridge of his nose. Right, the chair. Feeling heat rising in his own face, Alan rubbed at the back of his neck while he clarified. With light laughter, he nodded, wrinkles intensifying at the corner of his eyes while he crunched up his nose. “It’s fine, I’d also be at loss of words if I saw that walking in on Sunday morning,” a nightmare that Alan only appreciated because it was composed of people he loved dearly. 

With a happy sigh, he set his hand on the back of the chair, ready to take it away. “We all have those days. I hope it gets better,” a pause, “maybe I can pay for your next coffee cup? To pay for the chair,” right. Of course, Alan, to pay for the chair. 

The crinkle of his eyes, the light blush that lit up his cheeks–if Boyd didn’t know better, he’d say there was still some booze in his system the way he was feeling. Was this guy flirting? It had certainly been a minute since the cowpoke had been on the receiving side of any flirtation, and he was feeling rusty. “I won’t say I wasn’t a bit taken aback. You got a big family,” he said with a nod in the direction of the large party. “Always good to have your people, though.” 

The wish for a better day could be brushed off with a friendly smile, but the comment about repaying him caught him off guard. It seemed this handsome stranger was full of surprises this morning. Boyd looked down at his coffee cup and then back up to the man before him as his smile grew. He nodded with a chuckle. “Right, for the chair. I just might have to take you up on that.” 

"It's like that every Sunday," except on full moons. Alan never knew how he'd feel when he woke up, and every now and then, skipped Sunday meetings under pretext of a business trip or an important seminar. "We'll try to keep the volume reasonable," that wasn't a promise he was sure to be able to keep, though he would at least try. The key was to keep anyone from mentioning sports or politics.

"Just tell them to put it on the tab for Alan Duarte," he didn't need his family name and he was just asking to get stalked online. He'd allow it because he'd first find his business' page, then his social media pages. "Nice meeting you," he smiled. "Thanks for the chair," and with that, he left, shaking his head as his youngest sister gave him a knowing look, as if to say again?

“Nice meeting you,” Boyd repeated, watching as the man–as Alan departed. He hadn’t even told Alan his name, he couldn’t just charge the man the price of a cup of coffee for nothing. He turned back to his coffee, his danish, and questioned if it was strange to look Alan up. Maybe it was. Maybe he shouldn’t do it. Maybe Boyd would just have to come back another Sunday. The thought had his cheeks warming up again. Yeah, he’d definitely need to be back next Sunday.

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Shut the fu That's not a joke. This little stand-up routine is great, but this is starting to feel like an SNL skit; you're dragging it out a bit, aren't you?

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Shut the fu That's not a joke. This little stand-up routine is great, but this is starting to feel like an SNL skit; you're dragging it out a bit, aren't you?

No. It's called reading comprehension. I read what you said to me and I stated it back to you. I understand that you're going through it because I just told the town that you're a murderer, but at least pretend you can keep up between your PTSD flash backs.

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Don't do this to me. Do you really Are you actually Who are you? What, do you got a copy of my resume there, Elvira Jr.? This is all real cute, but I really got no free time on my hands, pal.

Because you were always a farmer working at a bar. Because free time doesn't exist. Because one singular moment can't end someone's life forever while you get to keep on walking. It only took a second.

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Okay who How the fu What do you I feel sick. Those are some big accusations we're throwing out, here. I'm a farmer, and I work at a bar. You think I got any hours in the day to murder folks?

Oh. You want me to announce it where everyone can see? What about the time you murdered someone?

Oh yeah? What do I need to repent for, oh fearsome beast?

I'm the monster that hides in your walls. I've witnessed your sins. I seek retribution from you.

Hey, finally! We agree on something. I'm super shitty. So what's your deal, then?

Actually, someone hired me to be a shit head to you specifically. You must be super shitty.

Is this your job? Are you a professional internet shithead? You seem really dedicated to the life, so if you aren't being paid, I think you should consider it. You're doing great.

Calling a stranger twelve? You really had to delve deep into the annals of google to come up with that quip. What? No? You saw it in the comments of a How To Wipe My Ass youtube video? Amazing. I just want to say, sir, I'm impressed you're willing to try hygiene. You'll get there buddy.

[pm] Hard, isn't it?

I'm not I am Sort of. Mostly Sort of not. It's complicated, you know? Living in this town nearly all my life has made things really complicated. Increasingly so over the years, as it turns out.

There you go, you're doing the damned thing. I think that's a very respectable position. You could provide some real help to people. I think that weighs more than whatever guilt you seem to also have. I get it, though. I do. It's not easy with that on your shoulders, I'm sure. Life is too short to weigh your soul against the feather with every action, though, ain't it? I think so.

[pm] Yeah, I'm trying.

I get you. Really hoping you're not talking about yourself in the context, though. And it's not your spiral dragging me in, just a bit of intertwining happening.

Funnily enough, I'm a nurse. Definitely trying to balance shit out with that but now I'm wondering if that's even a safe the best place for me anymore.

Ah, you have taste. Cinnamon Toast Crunch is clearly the superior cereal, but Life gets the job done.

Okay, I noticed that. They all have the little stories now. Sorry for the earworm. It's been living in my head "without rent" as the kids say for the past couple weeks. My curse is your gift.

Can't say I'm a fan of Life ha regardless if there's milk or not- I've always been more of a Cinnamon Toast Crunch person myself. That does sound miserable, though, so fingers crossed.

Yeah, it's all the same, even more so now because all of the apps are copying each other's features. I hadn't heard that one before, but it is definitely going to be stuck in my head forever now. Cheers.

Hello. Are you friendless and alone?

I genuinely do not know how to answer this.

I mean, no? I have some friends. I'm not the most popular guy on the block but I wouldn't call myself alone.

Why do you want to know?

[pm] Well, then that's good. It's nice to have something to believe in. Hold onto that.

You're sweet, but I don't need any convincing anyway. I think some people can escape it. I just don't exactly know how. There has to be some point where all the good outweighs the bad. There's a difference between being just a regular everyday person and [...] someone living in Wicked's Rest who isn't necessarily trying their best. Do you kind of get me? Don't let my downward spiral pull you in with the same kind of thinking. What do you do for a living? Who are you outside of this moment? That can make up for whatever you think you did, I'm sure.

[pm] Not optimism, more just what I was taught and still try to believe.

[user really wants to give this stranger a hug now]Have you talked about this with someo I don't think anyone can convince you you're a good person and since you're the only one that knows the thoughts behind everything you do... But yeah, guess we all fuck up enough to be the bad guy sometimes. I thought maybe some people could really escape it if they tried but guess not. It just happens anyway. Maybe we're all just different levels of bad and try to make up with it by doing good things too? I don't know...

I admire your optimism.

[pm] I don't think I am. I know I am. What else could I be when all I've done is kill and kill and kill? It never bothered me when I thought it was all morally fine, but now? Now that I think about it every time I close my eyes? It's all hypothetical, isn't it? I know I've been a lot of things. A bad kid, bad boyfriend, bad husband, bad employee--the list could go on. Does that make me a bad person? Feels like it some days. Hard to say, though. We do what we feel like we have to, right? Sometimes someone has to be the bad guy. I've just really fucked up and I can't make him be alive I can't take back

Everyone deserves redemption either way.

[pm] You really think you're a bad person?

I hope for your sake they don't either. Nothing worse than a dry bowl of Life cereal.

Just feels like a repackaged version of the same handful of social medias. The long dog song gets stuck in my head. Like the Miss Piggy song?

Oh, fu jeez. I just found myself a few new roommates. Hopefully none of them have that particular habit.

I mean, it's just people posting dumb short videos. I mostly see them posted on other sites. I feel you on the songs, though, some of them haunt me.