WHO: Joaco & Faihan WHEN: September 1, Evening WHERE: From AzĂșcar to the Crown SUMMARY: PART ONE: An attempt at making friends. CW: N/A
Faihan thought about going home and changing. He would be so lucky to smell like flour and oil the first time he went on a date. Stubbornly, though, he reminded himself that it would not be a date. A date, he thought, should be more interesting than drinking and talking. There should be some kind of magic to it. He would not like to admit that to anyone, but he had his ideas and fancies, too.
He had taken off his button down and apron and exchanged them for a jean jacket to go over his tank top, but he was worried he might still have powdered sugar somewhere, and so he had gotten into a kind of cyclical tic of needlessly dusting off the tops of his thighs and butt every so often. Some might call it fretting.
But he would not, because as he had told Joaco, he was especially not afraid of Joaco.
He feared nothing.
He reminded himself of this and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to distract himself by considering what he should order. Maybe whiskey. That was a sophisticated and highly masculine drink that he really didnât like the flavor of, but which would look impressive to swirl around a glass. And if he could stomach it, it would definitely smooth out an edge or two.
But then, maybe beer was a better choice. Casual. Youthful, maybe. Also with a masculine feeling. A good drink for just hanging out. He had a casual sideâhe was certain of it. It might be good to showcase that; also because it would prove the overall casual-ness of the outing. But mostly because he assumed that Joaco did not believe he had a casual side, and so proving that he did might in fact be more impressive than proving that he was mature and refined, which he thought was likely a much more obvious facet.
He dusted his butt again and then looked over his shoulder, suddenly certain there must be hand-shaped flour prints all over it.
Joaco was on the opposite end of that spectrum in the sense that he was truly and completely casual about it all. He continued with his day as normal, and when it was time, he arrived at the bakery dressed in a simple if snuggly fit t-shirt and jeans. He just waltzed inside, arms spread out wide. âFee fee, Iâm here!â
The only reason to make this outing so vague was to tease and mortify the shorter man. Joaco couldnât help himself! Not when Faihan made it so easy and satisfying at the same time. Perhaps it was a little bit mean, but Joaco was doing it out of genuine interest to get to know him.
Faihan almost yelped. He restrained himself (somehow), though he did jump. And then he grimaced at the nickname, because it sounded like a poodle, and he didnât want to be likened to a poodle. Though, he suspected, there were a few people out there who might. A few rude people. He was no poodle. He wasâ
Joaco looked nice even as he blinked and stared at him. In just a t-shirt and jeans, he looked handsome, and somehow that was really annoying. Even Faihan knew it was a dumb thing to be annoyed about, but there did seemâas heâd thought previouslyâto be something effortless about how Joaco existed in the world. Perhaps he was just jealous. For a moment he wondered what it was he liked so much in that broad chest and shoulders. Maybe, he thought, he was just jealous. Maybe it wasnât attraction so much as a longing to be that person instead.
âFee fee is not going to become my nickname. You can bet on that, mijo.â He said it with as much confidence as he could muster, because it was a little hard to be entirely confident (sans anger) around good looking guys. But he reminded himself that he was older and so should accord himself as the more knowing and adult person in the room. âIt is the nickname of a yappy dog, and I am at least not that. And if you continue,â he pointed at Joaco and then raised it so he wasnât pointing so much at his impressive chest, but more rudely, at his impressive face, âthen youâre going to be Coco.â
Joaco just grinned at him. âSure,â he replied simply, not looking even slightly bothered by the pet name. âYou shouldnât point your finger at people, though, might get you bit--ah, yeah!â He patted his pockets before pulling out a pack of m&mâs. âHere, for you.â His smile was warm and kind as he held out the package in front of Faihan. âA little something to sweeten your day.â
Faihan had an idea that pointing might get him something worse than bitten. Being rude had a way of garnering greater rudeness after all. Still, he was just starting to roll his eyes when Joaco suddenly pulled out...candy? He blinked at the M&Ms, and then he looked up at Joaco.
âWhat is this?â he asked cautiously. âA whim?â He wondered if he was being toyed with. Maybe Joaco did want to set him up for a fallâbecause he had been rude and not yet done anything to make up for it. It could be a trap. Or it could just be candy. Hesitantly, he reached for the package, muttering, âThatâs cheesy.â The package felt warm in his hand, warm like Joacoâs smile, and he frowned to himself. â... ⊠....Thank you?â he said after a moment, though when he looked up, his face was full of suspicion, even if it was slightly blunted for the moment.
Joaco shrugged his shoulders, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose before smiling again. âI just stopped by the convenience store and got you something?â
Again, he looked baffled by this. Why would Joaco go out of his way� Probably he was joking. That made more sense. He just happened to have something on him and offered it out of niceness. Yes, a joke.
But Faihan remembered Kaveh and Jomana telling him he should apologize. That if nothing else, he should do some kind of gesture to make up for being rude. But it occurred to him now that if he gave Joaco leftovers, it would feel like an afterthought. Cheap and meaningless. He wished he had thought of it first.
He was probably making too much out of a bag of M&Ms.
âWhat color do you like best?â
âOf M&Ms?â Joaco folded his arms over his chest, blinking a few times in confusion at where Faihan was going with this question. âI like the brownie ones, so purple?â He shrugged his shoulders again before glancing at the exit then back at Faihan. âAre you ready? Do you want to go to the Crown or is that notâŠâ He made a hand gesture that made little sense. âNot your environment?â
Either way, they probably should get going, so he walked over to the door to hold it open. âAfter you.â
âI donât go out often,â Faihan replied with a shrug, digging into his pocket for his keys and stepping out, though he thought it was a little strange to have someone else hold open the door of his shop for him. His tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he fitted the key to lock (because there was a little trick to it, and it required pulling the door up just a bitâŠ), locking the bakery behind them. âMy mornings start before the sun is up, soâŠâ His daily routines (and, well, his lifestyle in general), he thought, might seem pathetic to Joaco, so he decided that he should change the subject before it came up.
âBut the Crown is fine.â He couldnât remember the name of anything else anyway. Well, he could remember one or two places, but he didnât want to bring them up. They were too noisy, and it had been a few years, so he wasnât even sure that they were still around. âThatâs the one with the really, really cheap beer, right? Sounds perfect.â
Joaco nodded his head. âIt has nice decor, games, and sometimes live music?â
Faihan started to put his hands in his pockets, but the M&Ms were there, so he took them out and after a moment, opened them, pouring some into his palm and holding it out to Joaco without really looking at him. This was the hard part. Being with another person and not being at the place where it was easy to just be quiet together yet. He scoured his brain for something to talk about and railed against the blanks that kept cropping up.
âYou...said you were a little tired today. Whyâs that?â
âStayed up a bit later than usual, why?â Joaco took a few of the chocolate flavored candies and popped them in his mouth. He stood still and stared at Faihan for a moment, then looked lower to his behind. âYouâve got a bit of flour here,â he reached over to dust the side of Faihanâs thigh and part of his asss. âThere, better.â
âWhat are you!â Faihan didnât quite shout, but it was there in his tone as he jumped and spilled a few M&Ms. âBoundaries!â he barked, frowning. But it reminded him a little of the locker room back in secondary, and the easy camaraderie with his teammatesâthough perhaps easy because he was so far back in the closet...as the saying goes: âNarnia.â Or maybe...it reminded him of his mom, and he wrinkled his nose. Perhaps that was the greater offenseâthat it was a gesture meant to tidy and not an indication of interest. A mom-like gesture. Not flirting.
Joaco held out his hands in the air as if he were being held at gunpoint. âSorry, I just thought--â
Faihan did roll his eyes that time. âI donât bite, justâŠâ He thought about what he wanted to say, but couldnât quite think of what it should be.
He watched Joaco from the corner of his eye, warring with himself. That was what he wanted. Just hanging out. He was getting his wish. This was not in any way a date so far, with the exception of M&Ms (which was dubious, but since it could go either way). He couldnât say it was mixed signals, but he could say it was his lot in life. And he couldnât be mad about it, because it had been what he said he wanted. But he was a little mad at himself about it. He really hated being mad at himself. He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged, pouring out more M&Ms.
âI donât know. My sister and I had a weird dream,â he shrugged. âI think probably there was some kind of meteorological event, like thunder in the middle of the night, that affected what we were dreaming.â But the dream had left him feeling weirdly guilty about...he wasnât sure. Just guilty. It had knocked him off his rhythm. He picked out a blue M&M. âYou might have seen her around. Sheâs doing grad work at UML.â
âMaybe you watched the same movie or talked about something like that?â Joaco listened with interest, but maintained a safe distance from the other man for both of their sakes. âPeople have weird dreams around here all the time. Iâve heard it often. But anyway, I mightâve seen her before!â
âI rememberââ Faihan frowned, slowing as he tried to dredge up the memory. He hadnât thought about the oddities of Mar Luna for some time, so caught up in his daily cycle of getting up, baking, selling, cleaning, and...going to bed. I go to the gym, too, he thought to himself. That was something. But he wasnât trying to think about all that, he was trying to remember the dumb wivesâ tales his friends used to tell when he was a teenager.
âLey Lines...?â he finally said. He shook the M&Ms and held them out, an olive branch given to him by the very person he needed to extend one to (and wasnât that always the way?). âOr was it magnets? One of my teammates in high school thought the island was haunted. But it probably is natural phenomena. People like making a big deal out of coincidences, and once someone thinks theyâve found a pattern...â he said, oblivious to his own life. âBut...yeah, Jomana moved here recently. Probably you would like her. Sheâs...â Friendlier. Better adjusted. Something. He shrugged. âSheâs good at people.â
Joaco just laughed and smiled a gritted teeth smile as he shrugged. âGhosts, cosmic radiation, karma, time traveling⊠I have heard it all.â Throughout his entire life, Joaco has heard all the gossip and rumors about it all. âBut who hasnât had a strange dream before?â It was easy to get lost in all the conspiracy theories, so maybe that was what was happening now? Who could say for certain, hm?
âBeing good at people just takes practice, but--ah, yes, please. Introduce her to me!â He folded his arms over his chest and nodded his head. âTold you those were for you, manito.â
Faihan glanced at Joaco and then looked down at his hand, slipping the M&Ms back into their bag and the bag back into his pocket. He rubbed his hands together, frowning at the sticky residue. With his luck, Joaco would hit it off with Jomana, and it would turn out that heâd read everything wrong from the start. He vowed to never bring it up if things did turn out that way. It wouldn't even be funny as a wedding toast, only mortifying.
But he nodded at the request.
âI almost never dream,â he finally said. âAnd I donât believe in ghosts. My parents are both scientists. The first time I told them I was afraid to go to sleep because of âghosts,â my old man outright laughed in my face.â So heâd always found it somehow embarrassing to believe in ghosts or anything remotely supernatural. But, maybe because it was some kind of forbidden fruit, he had always liked the storiesâthe ones his teammates used to tell; the exploits the weird girl shared when she came by the bakery... He listened, though he pretended not to.
âThatâs very not cool of him. True or not your feelings are valid,â Joaco said as he reached over to pat Faihanâs shoulder before moving his hand away when he remembered he didnât like being touched at all. âAnyway, whatever it is, it happened, right? If it was just your sister and you, maybe thereâs actually an explanation to it.â
Faihan wrinkled his nose. How nice was this guy? Who the heck evenâŠ? He shook his head. Heâd stiffened at the motion of Joacoâs hand, but then heâd even had the decency to remember not to. No one was that perfect...right? There had to be a screw loose or something in there. Serial killer?
âLike I said...it was probably some kind of natural event that happened while we were asleep. Itâs not really that strange. We have the same upbringing, so our sub consciousness probably is likely to turn to the same ideas under shared stimuli.â He paused, something minnowing closer to the surface. ââWhy did you do thisâ...?â he mumbled to himself as the words came clearer. Was he just filling in blanks? Is that really what he dreamed? Though if it was...well, it was something his parents had said enough in recent years... He rubbed his eye with his knuckles, not wanting to get it sticky too. âNever mind. I think I figured it out.â
Though...he had never felt guilty at the question before, not in his waking life. But that was what dreams did, wasnât it? Pulled up hidden feelings. It annoyed him. Because he had every right to be angry; he had no reason to be ashamed. That he might be ashamed after all⊠He shoved his hands into his pants pockets moodily and stared at the ground.
âWhat did you figure out?â Joaco watched Faihan silently, looking at him as he walked beside him. He had to slow down his stride too much, and he was gearing to speed up, but he chose to be kind. He could see the building relatively nearby, at least. âMy abuela always says dreams have important messages in them-- though sheâs usually talking about lotto numbers,â he let out a loud and rumbling laugh, shaking his head a few times.
Faihan looked up, scowling. The words were there on the very edge of his tongue, almost escaping in his momentary irritation, but he managed to bite his cheeks and keep them in. His parents were not a good topic for getting to know anyone, date or not. But it frustrated him that they probably had got in his head, that he probably was guilty underneath it all. Self-analyzing always made him depressed, though, so he frantically tried to think of how to change the subject.
He had learned some things about Joaco over the network recently, and that felt a little stalkery, but also if it was being said publicly, he thought it was probably okay to have read it. He knew Joaco was a Cancer who thought Ryan Reynolds was cute because he was funny, which seemed to be a thing. People being funny as a turn on. Faihan, as he and Jomana had often established, tended to be the only one who ever found himself funny. So that probably wasnât in his favor. And also he remembered that Joaco liked maracuyĂĄ and...he wasnât sure he hadnât mixed it up now with what Eliâs favorite frozen fruit flavors. Maybe grape, though. Which was kind of a weird flavor to really like, he thought. Like, grapes alone were fine, but grape shaved ice just seemed like what a little kid would ask for...
That was not helpful. âAre your parentsââ But he stopped himself, remembering that when heâd asked about a father, Joaco had replied about an abuelo. âDoes your mother know you think Ryan Reynolds is cute?â he finally asked, because Eli had a crush on some old lady, but said he liked men, and obviously Faihan knew about bisexuals, but he wasnât clear where Joacoâs interests lay. If he was bisexual, too, and he met Jomana and fell in love...well, Faihan thought maybe his feelings were going to get caught by that closing door. âOr are you also...into the...old musical lady type?â
âI said he was funny,â Joaco pointed out with a tip of his head and a cheeky grin. Sure, he thought he was cute too, but--wait why was Faihan talking about things he didnât say to him? Joaco arched his eyebrow and stared at the shorter man for longer. âAre you trying to ask me if Iâm gay and if my family knows? You know thereâs an easier way to do that than whatever you are doing, right?â He laughed, shaking his head, and instead of answering, holding open the door for Faihan.
He paused. Joaco did seem like the kind of guy who pathologically held open doors for people. He wondered if he was even able to go inside a place if he hadnât held the door open for at least one person to go through first. He would have to get the door on the way out and see. Also, because he didnât quite know what to do with so many doors being held open for him in one day.
âAnd what is that easier way?â he asked, looking dubious. âAlso, you know what I am asking, soâŠ?â
Faihan stepped through into the bar, the sounds of glass clinking and buttons being frantically smacked, laughing and music, made him freeze for a moment, overwhelmed by the noise. He made a halfhearted, little creeping movement to remove himself from the doorway, but didnât press further inside.
âWhy didnât you ask that? Easier.â Joaco still didnât answer, instead, he lightly pressed a hand to Faihanâs upper back to steer him in the direction of an empty table. It was fairly early and not the weekend, so the place was lively but not completely packed, and in this situation that was a blessing.
âWhy donât youââ But he stopped. Now that it had been pointed out, it was even harder to directly ask. He decided he would try to figure it out by watching Joaco among the other bar patrons. Hopefully it would be clearer than trying to gauge through his interactions with Faihan, because that niceness felt reflexive somehow. It definitely struck Faihan as impersonal, and he had a suspicion that Joaco might possibly be a little obsessed with being liked. Not even as a point of pride or vanity, butâ
He stilled at the touch, but then continued robotically towards the table. An oasis, he thought, sitting. He squinted at the brighter hints of neon against the shadow and then pulled out his wallet and the M&Ms and set them on the table before taking out a twentyâwhich he hoped would stretch thanks to the Crownâs cheap beer policy, because he didnât have endless cash to throw around on whims and luxuries, whatever Joaco might think. (Yeyesito...Hmph.)
âItâs on me, college studentâwhat are you drinking?â
Joaco completely ignored the offer as he put a ten dollar bill on top of Faihanâs twenty. âIâll have the Raspberry 1up.â It was one of the nicer fruity cocktails that packed a little punch but were too sweet to tell from the flavor. âAre you hungry, by the way? I know you had a long day of hard work.â
âIâŠâ Faihan started, the sound catching, frustrated, in the back of his throat. âNo.â He pushed the ten away and stood. âI said Iâll get it.â So just let me! He sort of smiled, trying to smooth over the agitation that had swelled up through his words, but it looked more strained than natural, and so it was somehow more of a threatening expression than mollifying.
Joaco blinked.
Then he blinked again and stared.
âOkayâŠ?â Faihan was a truly bizarre man, so after pocketing his bill, Joaco held up his hands in defeat.
For now.
âUgh, donâtâŠâ Faihan groaned, but shook his head, muttering, âI told you, I donât bite. But you donât believe that, do you?â he asked. He put his cash into his jacket pocket and looked towards the bar before looking back at Joaco. âYou think Iâm unreasonable, right?â
Joaco shrugged his shoulders, hands still very much still up. âI just think you feel like weâre in some sort of war of attrition and I donât really get itâŠ?â He shook his head, finally lowering his hands. âIâm just showing Iâm unarmed, but you do you. Thatâs cool!â
âI think you use âniceâ as a defense mechanism,â Faihan said abruptly and then looked away, thinking he shouldnât have been so blunt. âIâm trying to tell you that...I donât know.â Iâm less of a threat to you than you are to me.
Joaco sighed, casting his gaze down and off to the side. âThis is how I am. I donât understand why it causes you so much trouble, but Iâm sorry I donât think thatâs changing any time soon?â He glanced over at Faihan with an apologetic smile spread across his lips.
â... ⊠âŠâ Faihan did not say, though he did consider Joaco for a long moment, his dark eyes moving over Joacoâs face, searching for...he wasnât sure what. Maybe he was wrong, and Joaco was just a saint after all. No. No one was a saint, not really. He had a suspicion that even saints werenât wholly saintly. But he looked away, running a hand through his hair.
âRaspberry 1up,â he said after a moment. âDonât go anywhere. I really donât bite.â Now repeating the order under his breath, he headed for the bar. Heâd found it useful at work: repeating orders to himself until they were filled. When people were watching him, or he felt watched, it was easy to blank...and then heâd have to ask again, which made him feel incompetent.
It took a moment for the bartender to spot him. He continued repeating the order to himself, so that he wouldnât say, â7up,â or âraspberry cocktail,â though he was glancing at the table to see if anyone would come up to Joaco. At the festival, Joaco seemed like he needed a stick to beat back the well-wishers...though Joaco didnât seem like heâd even bat a fly. It was a bad analogy.
Joaco, of course, spent a few minutes chatting up and waving at people he knew. It was hard not to when he knew so many people.
Faihan supposed it was none of his business. If he didnât want it to be a date, it didnât matter who Joaco might want to date. But he was curious now. Soon enough, he returned with the red cocktail and a beer, which he felt proud of (even though he didnât love beer), because it had a nice masculine edge next to the cocktail, and he felt he should assert that
âWhy is it called a â1upâ?â he asked after a moment, making it immediately clear he had touched any of the games in the Crown nor possibly even been close enough to them to notice.
Joacoâs reaction was to laugh, shaking his head a few times as he reached over for his drink. âThank you--it fits the theme, I guess?â He motioned towards the machines with his free hand. âArcade for adults, 1up-- an extra life? And I think it has 7up in it or something citrusy, anyway.â He immediately took a sip because he needed it.
âAn extra life?â he asked, pulling off his jacket at last and revealing delicate stems of red poppies inked across his inner arm. He put the jacket on the back of the chair and sat, trying not to think much of how Joacoâs face crinkled when he laughed. He cleared his throat. Already his hands, cupped around the beer, had started fidgeting, and his thumbs were already prying the label from the bottle. âI donât drink often,â he said after a moment, looking at the neck of the beer before carefully lifting it to his mouth. It was the yeast flavor, he thought. It stuck out too much. Still, like Joaco, he took a long drink to steel himself. âWill you at least pretend to be surprised if I say I hate small talk?â
âVideo games! Though the term is a bit old school. Like this whole place! But I think the owner likes vintage stuff? Anyway, itâs one of the signature drinks here so thereâs multiple flavors now.â Joaco was too susceptible to breaking into unnecessary trivia--it was a quirk he carried from work to his day life or maybe it was the other way around? Oh well.
âMe either--well, thatâs a lie. I do it, but Iâm picky about flavors.â Beer was a particular point of contention, so he was a bit impressed with Faihan, nodding his head as he took another sip. âYou canât get better at it if you keep avoiding itâŠâ That was obvious, right? âWhat would you prefer to talk about?â
âIâd rather talk about you than me. For someone so open, youâre kind of mysterious,â Faihan said, taking another drink. It was easier after the first one, though he still kind of wished he also had a fruity â1upâ drink. âYou like games and...you canâtâŠâ Have shoulders like that. He cleared his throat, politely looked away. âBe that athletic if you donât like sports or working out. What do you play?â
âMe? Mysterious?â Joaco broke up into a very loud and carefree laugh, holding his stomach as his head tipped back. It lasted a few seconds, leaving his glass on the table as he scratched his cheek. âIâm like an open book, manito. You just havenât asked?â And to be fair, Joaco had been reserved about asking questions but that was because Faihan was like a porcupine who rolled up at being poked.
âYou think Iâm athletic?â There was an attempt at looking serious before snickering and grinning. Faihan rolled his eyes. (Men who knew they were attractive were always trouble. AlwaysâŠ) âI go to the gym, swim, run, everything? I also played football--soccer? a lot in school. Well, I'll still do it with friends from time to time.â It made him feel bad talking so much about himself, but once again he didnât want to scare the little woodland creature.
Faihan paused, wondering if his effort to start small talk was good, because it felt forced to him, the way small talk always did. Thatâs why it was hard to meet new people. With Kaveh or Jomana, he could just start talking about anything. Stars. Philosophy. Social discourse. He could launch straight into heavier topics, and it was easier to talk about those kinds of things than weather and hobbies, though he guessed hobbies were a good way to get someone talking passionately enthusiastically about themselves.
But he was a little worried that Joaco would find his hobbies dull, would find him all in all dull, if he looked too close. He was aware that he might well seem boring to someone as busy and social as Joaco. He leaned forward, hand in his hair and elbow on the table, but not looking at Joaco, instead wondering what might be even remotely interesting about him besides that Joaco just didnât know him yet.
It still felt weird, so Joaco gave in. âWhat about you? Whatâs behind the singing breadman?â
Faihanâs nose wrinkled at âsinging breadman,â and a frown started to form, but he controlled it with another long drink. The beer was tasting okay now. Not great, but it was okay. He had always liked it more on someone elseâs tongue, but it was now his life vest, so he clung to it and kept sipping.
Joaco did look like someone who did it all. Swimmerâs shoulders. Soccer playerâs legs. Faihan had made certain not to notice anything else.
âI used to play baseball...back in secondary and a little in primary, too,â he said after a moment. âAnd...I started boxing this last year. I guess I like hitting things?â He huffed softly at his own joke.
The beer in him suggested he say more, but what was he going to say? I like reading at home with my cat! If his appeal was that he was yet unknown, he thought he should not spoil it with his everyday habits. Also because it might make him seem lonely, and he was okay with being alone for the most part. He was self-sustaining, just like he should be.
âAbuelo loves baseball! He taught me from very little.â Joacoâs thoughts and words were a free stream. âWe should play sometime? Iâm a pretty good pitcher even if I say so myself.â A wink and a charming smile.
âI played second baseman,â Faihan said, and he did light up just a little at that...though he had been expecting a âshortstopâ joke. He wasnât sure that was off the table just yet. He paused, considering Joaco the self-proclaimed pitcher who winked while saying he was good at pitching. Faihan wondered if he was supposed to make a catcher joke. He had not been a catcher, though, and he had been and still was serious about baseball. But only so much. âYou do like to throw curveballs,â he said after a moment. Another lame joke, but he almost smiled at his own terrible punâŠ
Joaco found it amusing, so he laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
Faihanâs almost smile grew just a little. Still not quite a smile, but close nowâhappy that Joaco had laughed. He looked up, scratching his cheek. âI was studying astrophysics in school, but then I decided it wasnât for me and dropped out.â Not exactly true, but close enough. âWhat are you studying? Besides the bartender.â Which was perhaps not true, but he still couldnât get a read on Joaco, so he persisted in probing in a roundabout way.
âWas that because of your parents? Bread does seem to suit you much better.â Faihan seemed very passionate if modest about his work. âComp Science--it, uh, kinda just happened and--â It was his turn to look at and blink at Faihan in confusion. âWait, did you think I was checking out my buddy Diego?â Joaco laughed, shaking his head and barely containing his grin. âDo you think heâs cute? I can get you his number.â
âN-no!â Faihan spluttered. âI donât⊠Thatâs notâŠ!â He took a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course Joaco knew the bartender, knew him by name, and probably even was actual friends with him. Maybe Joaco really did want to force him to ask outright. He decided he would not just because of that. They would see who would come out on topâ Er...win, in this battle of wills. âHeâs not my type,â he said instead. âSo...I guess heâs not yours either?â
âOh, guess you donât like athletic guys with dark hair, then?â Joaco took a sip, looking over at Faihan before addressing his second question. âWeâve been buddies since we were kids, so heâs like a brother to me.â His glass was almost empty now, but he told himself he would only have one.
Faihan pulled a face, exasperated. âEveryone likes athletic guys with dark hair,â he muttered.
Honestly, there wasnât anything wrong with Diego. He was really attractive. And he was probably the right age. That was the problem. Faihan had never let himself seriously consider anyone under the age of 40. It was a good way to ensure that his chances were slim. The one time he had, fueled by rage and betrayal, told a man that he was interested in him...he had known heâd be rejected before it was all the way out of his mouth, and so it had been. That man had been very kind about it. They were friends, after all. But he had known it was impossible. He had simply wanted to⊠Well, it was hard to explain now, only that in the moment, he felt like he was experiencing some kind of violent metamorphosis, and he wanted it to be over as fast as possible, so he threw himself at every wall, hoping to shed his skin and be new already.
âWell,â he said after a moment, nearly at the end of his beer. âMost people anyway. Tall, dark, and handsome. Isnât that supposed to be the perfect man? Do you want another drink?â
âBut what about you?â Joaco arched his eyebrow. âIâm good--I can get you one if youâd like?â He motioned over to the bar with a faint smile adorning his lips. âAnd Diegoâs number if you change your mind.â It was a joke, but he was already bracing himself for Faihan to take it the wrong way.
Faihan knew he shouldnât. He still had to get up early. But it seemed like the conversation would end when the drinking did, and it didnât feel like theyâd been talking all that long. Or maybe they had? But like the fair, he found himself wanting to extend the moment just a little. Of course, at the fair, he had been off-putting and chased Joaco off, which was not unexpected, but it had been a little disappointing. He wondered if he should bring that up, but then decided against it, because he didnât think heâd done anything so very wrong, just...said it in the wrong way. It was better not to apologize unless you really needed to.
He tipped back the rest of the beer. If he got up to get his own drink, would Joaco look? Did anyone ever check him out? He wasnât sure they did. But he also wasnât sure how to measure the weight of unwanted attention against desired attention.
âDonât ask for his number,â Faihan warned, still holding the empty bottle and pointing it at Joaco.
âNo need, I already have it,â Joaco laughed and flashed a wink at the other man.
âYou know what I mean.â What was with the winking? And why was Joaco so good at it? Just the one eye and everything⊠But Faihan wondered if this meant that Joaco was done hanging out. In a way, Faihan hated it when people were nice about things that were not necessarily nice. To be cruelly rejected made it easier to move on. And if Joaco was busy...well, he was busy, too. It wasnât like he needed babysitting.
But...probably asserting thoughts like that was what made things uncomfortable at the fair. He tapped the glass with a fingertip. âAnother drink would be goodâŠâ he said quietly, not looking up; not drunk, but feeling it. Trying to soften his edges as best he could. He decidedâperhaps because he had drunk that beer too fastâthat it was okay to let Joaco get the next round, even though he didnât seem to want to drink another, because then Faihan could look and not worry about being looked at or not. It was win-win. âUnless youâve got somewhere to beâŠ?â
âIâve got nowhere to be,â Joaco offered with a shrug as he pushed himself to stand up, staying by the table for the moment. âWe could hit the arcades too, if you wantedâ With a roll of his shoulders, he sauntered off to the bar, making a few brief stops to say hi to people. His time talking to Diego was a bit longer, and they both eyed the focus of their conversation, laughing and smiling.
After a moment, Joaco returned, a ginger ale in one hand and a sweet drink with just a little bit of alcohol for Faihan. âHere, you should try this one.â
There were enough people in the bar that his look was not long lived. Bodies passed between his line of view, but not before he noted that Joaco also had a footballerâs butt, too.
Joaco was so perfect that somehow Faihan found it imperfect. There wasnât a fault line that he could perceive, and that was frustrating. So he decided to chalk that frustration up as a bad point, just so that there would be something. Kaveh would say he was being unfair, he thought. There was no need to invent bad points for other people, especially if the bad point was based on someone being nice to him.
But letting people be nice to him was dangerous. Because letting people be nice to him would inevitably leave him open. He wouldnât be in control of what was shut and what was vulnerable anymore, and it would be used against him. He just knew it would somehow, somewayâŠ
Also he thought Joaco and Diego might be laughing at him. He tried to disguise that he had been watching them, turning his head, he thought, very casually the other way and putting his cheek in his hand to hide his face until Joaco returned with the sweet smelling drink. âOh, okay.â He lifted it, as they hadnât before, and muttered a quick English, âCheers,â before sipping it. It was good. It was better than beer. But a little stronger, too, as liquor tended to be; heâd need to nurse this one.
âWeâve set a record,â he said after a moment.
âWhat record?â Joaco was confused but intrigued. He also wondered if Faihan would notice Diegoâs message and number scribbled up on one of the spare napkins he brought. Their conversation about Faihan had been nothing but nice, and Diego did indeed find him attractive.
It was just the problem of how to breach these topics with a skittish man like Faihan.
âMinutes getting along,â Faihan replied, mouth quirking. He took another drink, longer this time, his expression softening into amusement as he studied Joaco across the table. âYou havenât run off yet, so maybe Iâm better at this small talk and friends thing than anyone could have imagined.â He put the drink down on the napkin, oblivious to the number.
For now.
But that time bomb was ticking.
âUhhh⊠yeah,â Joaco laughed, a bit sheepish as he stared at the napkin for a brief moment. âTo be fair, I only left last time because you wanted me gone.â Or at least it felt that way. âBut see, if you practice it, you get better at it! Makes perfect sense.â
Faihan was kind of smiling, as close to it as he got in public, his cheek resting on his knuckles as he (more relaxed now) looked at the people around them. This was a pretty nice little bar, he thought. Though any bar where the drinks were cheap while not just being straight up bottom shelf liquor with a tablespoon of punch thrown in was pretty good in his estimation.
âI didnât want you gone,â he said, turning his eyes but not his face to Joaco. What he had wanted was not entirely clear to him. He had wanted Joaco to just...not baby him, he supposed. âI think you're probably a little naive about some things...even if you know everyone on the island and probably in PanamĂĄ too. Itâs annoying to have someone do things for me without asking...because it feels like theyâre underestimating me. Like they donât believe I can do it myself. But everything I have right now, I did on my own. Well...most of it. Rui did help. But only so much.â He picked up the drink, swirling it a little to punctuate the thought. âI didnât have anything but my pride, so you know...being allowed to keep that is important to meââ He glanced down at the table and paused. âIs that your number?â He looked up, actually laughing. âNow whoâs being obtuse?â
Joaco scratched behind his head. âNo, no-- itâs from the guy behind the counter who thinks youâre very cute.â His laugh was sheepish as he brought his drink to his lips. âHonestly, I think itâs you who has it all wrong. You donât need to prove anything to me--I can see it with my own two eyes how passionate you are about your bakery. That was obvious for anyone to see, so you shouldnât be so wary of kindness?â He tapped his fingers over his arm as he tried to arrange his thoughts.
âMe helping you has nothing to do with your capacity to achieve whatever you want. It just means I want to help you.â He hoped he finally got his point across.
Faihan put the drink down, picking up the dampened napkin. The condensation had made some of the numbers blurry. He stared at it, and his expression flattened. This was the problem. It wasnât nice to assume things for him. It didnât help him to have Joaco get the bartenderâs number, because if he had wanted that, he would have lingered at the bar longer before, or insisted on getting the drinks himself the second time, too. He would have at least hinted at an interest⊠And more than that, he had expressly asked Joaco not to do it.
His mouth twitched, but it didnât seem like it was trying to form a smile. He put the napkin down, smoothing it but not really looking at it or the table or Joaco. He was trying very hard to bottle the feeling welling up in him, but like so many of his bigger feelings, it was messy and contradictory and confusing. He didnât want to make a scene, but it was a very big feeling that had come upon him. His mouth turned flat, and he swallowed dryly, sitting very still. There was something wrong with Joacoâs thinking, and he couldnât figure out what it was, or why it was, but his fingers had gotten pinched in the door heâd allowed to open, and that was why he kept those doors closed.
Well, as it was plainly obvious, Faihan was once again in a bad mood, and the point he was trying to make was, well, down the drain. It was inevitable, really, and now he truly didnât know what to say or do other than letting the awkward silence well up by finishing his drink first before speaking again.
âYour face is telling me you want me gone again, do you want me to do that?â The very least he could do this time before taking any actions, he supposed. Joaco truly didnât know what to do with people like Faihan, but he didnât want to give up just yet.
âI donâtâ Iâm not...mad.â
His beloved pride was the only thing standing between him and the anticipated eruption, because if Faihan admitted that he was angry, Joaco might want to know why, and admitting why was worse than swallowing his feelings.
âI just thinkâŠâ Faihan stared at the napkin again. âYou are kind ofâŠâ He breathed, because his words were coming out tight and spiky. âYou areâŠâ Unbelievably oblivious. â...It doesnât matter.â
He closed his eyes and tried to smile, but it was closed-lipped and strained. âIâm not mad.â
Joaco reached over across the table to take Faihanâs hand between his own. âLook,â he smiled apologetically. âIâm sorry if I offended you, but if it makes it any better, I didnât convince him--he just asked me if you were single.â Probably not helping much at all, but anywayâŠ
âI still had fun with you, so itâs not like Iâm trying to ship you off to the lowest bidder.â He figured that was a point of contention, so after squeezing Faihanâs hand, he let go.
It had been a point of contention, which only made Faihan feel more confused, because Joaco was aware of these things to some degree, but not a full degree, and he couldnât seem to guess what Joaco would or wouldnât pick up on. He stared at Joacoâs hand on his and remained still, not exactly reciprocating, but he didnât jerk away. All in all, he felt a little stupidâall the more so because Joaco didnât seem to be actively trying to humiliate him. The only good thing was that Joaco didnât seem to have realized what exactly about this had made him so mad; Faihan would rather not have realized either, and so he shoved it deep into the closet of his heart, trying to forget heâd ever known it was there.
He wasnât really sure what he wanted out of this; he still didnât entirely know what he had wanted from Joaco at the fair, except to get along, maybe eat shaved ice, enjoy some quiet friendly hanging outâŠ? Something like that, he thought. Because being near Joaco was nice somehow. And that was even further from explanation. Just that part of him, while frustrated and angry, also felt comfortable. But comfortable was dangerous, because comfortable was how a person ended up in a situation where someone else was in control; comfortable got people hurt. Or at least it got him hurt.
Joaco had already released him before he could rethink pulling away. So he slowly retracted his hand to his lap, rubbing it so that the feeling of Joacoâs fingers would go away faster, and he wouldnât feel so stung, and nodded, not really meeting the other manâs eye anymore.
âYou said we should play the games back there. That seems like fun,â he said in an even tone, glancing towards the game area. He squinted at the signs. âI guess no drinksâŠâ So he threw back the rest of the drink and tried not to make a face as the warming alcohol at the bottom ran over his tongue. When he stood, the room did feel a little glittery and soft, or his head did at least, but he didnât sway. He didnât make any indication that he was going to take the napkin with him, but he did pick up the M&Ms. âOne game? But then I should go home and sleepâŠâ
âOne game, and then Iâm walking you home,â Joaco looked over at Faihan with a smile before he pushed himself back up to his feet.
Faihan was smart enough not to say it: I should be the one walking you home. It felt like a rude assumption to say that Taboga Town was somehow more dangerous than Mar Luna. But he supposed he did have some internalized classism, because it had been his first thought, and he was lucky that while tipsy, he didnât actually blurt it out. He wasnât sure that it would make Joaco angry. He might just look a little hurt or perplexed and say Faihan had had too much to drink, which would be mortifying, so he kept his thoughts in his head and his teeth around his tongue, preventing any stupid remarks from escaping.
âOkay. But...whoever wins,â and though he wasnât swaying, his words were slurring juuust a little, âgets to hold open all the doors.â
âI can work with that. Iâll even let you pick the game,â Joacoâs smile was warm, happy to know things got patched up a little bit.
Even if he did feel bad for Diego whose number lied crumpled up on the table, but maybe he can set that up at a later time. One way or another he was going to fix it. He always found a way to fix things, it was just a matter of time.
As it happened, and perhaps because of the game choice, Faihan won.