Spytronity ☀️

It had been a long day doing a full-day shift (thanks to three of his co-workers being absent at work), but luckily, the creamy and soft cream-filled Maritozzi that Angus gifted to Francis on his way while passing through the first floor had him whipped and refueled with energy to write one journal entry for that day before going to sleep.

Francis stared at the open journal on his table, trying his best to combine the important events of today into one single entry. In the end, there was only one thing that was really worth noting of, and Francis hurried along with his brandished pen to jot down everything:

Dear Diary, Today, Angus had been very kind and shared with me his cooking again. The Maritozzi melted in my mouth the way the Canolli from last week did, and gave me the energy to write this in my diary for today. I hope I'll get to taste more of Angus's cooking in the future.

Francis dropped the pen on the table, stretched his arms above his head, took one deep breath, and heaved it all out as his arms fell back to his sides. There was a time when this very notebook had gone untouched for far too long---it had been given to him by the company he was working for as self-therapy for the dangerous job he was undertaking in an era of human-eating doppelgangers, and the entries ranged from one word to one sentence descriptions of his shifts. Ever since Francis just got used to the dangers he was facing, the journal served no need and remained untouched, collecting dust in his desk drawer up until a week ago when a certain businessman had moved into the apartment.

Since then, almost each and every journal entry had been about the mustached fellow two floors down, each one notably longer than the last and always punctuated by Francis's wishes for more of Angus's cooking (his mother led him to believe that repeating a certain wish on paper everyday makes that wish come true after all).

Still, it was nowhere near the level of a truly passionate and romantic lover who yearn for their significant other. Francis was, and still is, not an expert in cherry-picking the words he needed for his journal entries, and they ended up reading as too flat or, in more basic terms, dry.

Well, it's not like that was a matter of concern. After all, no one but him could read his journal after all. And in some way, the feelings that he poured onto these entries---lacking as they were from a stranger's perspective---were intimate and private to him alone.

He recalled the friendly businessman's smile from earlier, how cheerful and enthusiastic he sounded, and it warmed Francis's heart just thinking about it. The only time he had felt so warm was during a cold Winter night while him and his momma huddled in front of the blazing fireplace, and… The freckled girl with different-colored eyes from college… It had been love at first sight which turned into a night that he could never forget, but she was gone, and the feelings had been long gone as well. Francis bit his lip and his face slowly warmed as the realization began to set in:

"Oh."

"…Oh."

There was no denying it anymore. The room suddenly feeling ten times hotter when Angus was around and him pretending to be sick that one time so he could get a taste of the soup that Angus made himself. Francis was hopelessly, devastatingly in love.

The image of telling Angus came to mind, but Francis shook it off as best he could with a migraine coming on.

It was far too early---they had only met each other for a week---and there was no telling if Angus felt the same way. "Mmm… Not yet…" He mumbled out loud, talking to himself. He still recalls how gentle and yet firm Angus calling him a 'friend' was in the hallways not too long ago. Of course, Francis sighed but his lips twitched upwards before giving way to a full smile. He's a friendly fellow, after all…

And for now and maybe a while more, maybe that was just the label their relationship was going to have---a so-called 'friendship' that was built on the obliviousness of a certain classy man and the understanding of a patient man who was now, truly, down bad.

"Mmm… It'll take a while, but…" Francis closed the journal on the page he was previously writing on and swept his hair back while smiling to himself. "I'll wait as long as it takes…"

Angus wasn't a stupid man, far from it. He was perfectly adept at reading people's behaviors and tones, it was an essential skill that came with his former 'job'.

Even as a retired member of the family (though not exactly retired, more like he was only doing some minor jobs here and there), Angus kept his guard up around a lot of people especially since doppelgangers now roamed the streets instead of gangsters and entered apartments guised as someone else.

This apprehension extended even to the local milkman, whose name he soon found out from two pretty chatterboxes in the same floor as him was Francis. Whenever Francis would come to his door with the milk, Angus would greet him with wide smiles and a hearty laugh to lower his guard---however, unlike other neighbors (that did visit him) who took to him warmly and greeted him back, Francis was… different.

Memories of his visitations were short and brief. Francis said nothing more than two words. "Mmm" and "yeah", all quiet and apprehensive. That made Angus paranoid; did this milkman somehow know something about him? Someone as cheery and friendly as the businessman couldn't somehow arouse the suspicion of only the milkman, right?

But that paranoia didn't last long when he saw the man doing the same to the other neighbors while keeping his door open for longer.

Curious. Is what Angus labeled it. And soon enough, he began to anticipate the milkman's visit. Every morning, he would be at the door already before Francis could knock on the door. The time that Francis arrived was always the same, his routine almost as strict as a military's morning drills.

Angus wasn't surprised, the D.D.D. must have some very strict schedules for delivery jobs like being a milkman and Francis was just following orders. But what's even more curious about that reasoning is the fact that this man consistently looked like he was only two steps to his grave, and yet he still had the energy to keep up with such a strict scheduling plan?

Impressive. Is what Angus labeled him this time. He imagined Francis would be a very valuable member in the family if given the proper amount of nutrition and training---after all, the milkman looked so thin that he may as well faint any day now.

Angus smiled to himself while he was drinking his morning coffee. Indeed, he would have made for a better partner in crime than that pathetic Arnold. He sighed and shook his head at the reminder of his previous blabbermouth for a soldier.

Partner… His mind repeated. It wandered into other definitions of the word; of something that went beyond companionship and imagined capability for crime. His mind traitorously flashed an ultra-filtered rosy image of Francis's face---eyes that brood with bags underneath telling a story of sleepless nights, thin lips that were always frowning but would look so good pouting, and bushy brows (the opposite of his own). All of a sudden, his face felt hot.

…

Angus realized what he was just thinking and almost spat the coffee in his mouth when a loud DING DONG! rang out.

Already? Angus's face flushed and he swallowed the rest of his beverage quickly. He looked up at the clock---strange, Francis was supposed to arrive a little after five o'clock, it was only 4:51. But Angus was also certain that he wasn't expecting any visitors this early in the morning, and it's not like the other tenants were that close with him to be knocking this early.

Well, it's not like him---a gentleman---to be refusing early guests now, was it? He began dusting his lap with his hands and stood up straight before striding towards the door where his mysterious guest waited patiently behind the wooden frame.

Before opening the door, he made sure to look through the peephole first---verifying that it was, indeed, the local milkman. Angus nearly yelped as he struggled unlocking the barrel bolts on his door like he usually did. He wondered if the milkman's patience was already running thin behind those deep set of dark eyes and he hurried faster to get the rest of the inconvenient locks that the D.D.D. had implemented on his side on top of a face scanner and finally, voila, the door swung open.

Francis stood there, looking the same as always, but Angus sensed something else was up in the air.

"Early morning today, Francis," Angus greeted in a jolly tone. His teeth were bared as he smiled a fraction wider than he usually did for these encounters. "I'm surprised, you're not going against work rules by deviating from your routine a little, aren't you?"

"I guess…" Suspicious count number one; Angus raised his brow at that---he didn't know until now that this man had a wider vocabulary.

"You guess, Francis? My, my, you must be quite the rebel."

"Mmm…" Francis scratched the back of his neck. Angus thought hard about whether or not that should count as suspicion count number two considering the fact that he had never made any other gesture with his arms other than to deliver the milk before. "Yeah… I'm not actually here to deliver milk…"

Nevermind, that raises the suspicious count to a hundred!

But then again, what would Francis be here for? Surely the man who did not say more than two words to him until this day and managed to slink away like a slippery worm every time he tried to engage in longer conversations wasn't really thinking of him as a friend, right?

His face almost fell at the thought of Francis's indifference, so he had to fake a cough and straighten himself once more before continuing. "What is it then, Francis?"

"You've been…very kind to me…" That made Angus confused. After pausing just to yawn, Francis continued, "I know we didn't start off on a good foot… Trying to sell me an ancient spoon was…something…"

"Ancient spoon?" Angus's forehead scrunched up, then finally, his eyes blew wide open. Not too long ago, he tried selling a very handsome man some bullcrap about an ancient spoon out of a necessity to talk to him. It was still embarrassing even for the charming and confident businessman who had far more embarrassing business deals to tell. So that was… "That was you?"

"Yeah…" The corners of Francis's lips slightly upturned and it made Angus's heart skip a beat. Santo cielo, he has a dimple! "It was ridiculous, but… I think you meant well…"

"I promise you that spoon was indeed quite ancient, I would never lie in that regard. But I'm just glad you can forgive me for that, Mr. Mosses, it really was embarrassing. Your striking features captured me rather intensely, I just couldn't help but act a little silly in that moment." Too forward! Angus chastised himself as his smile became tighter.

"Mmm… A lot of people say that."

Angus's eyes softened. At the very least, the man was seemingly oblivious at his flirtatious comment and spared him the embarrassment, but Angus just couldn't sit with that statement from Francis.

"And on top of that, you're a very courageous man. You must have a lot of stories to tell, don't you?"

"Yeah, but…"

Angus cuts him off before he could go on to make---what Angus guessed was---a self-deprecating comment. "I assume since you were never here to deliver milk, you must be on break. Come inside and have some coffee! You look like you need it."

Francis raises a brow at that and---Lord Heavens above, was that a red tint on his cheek? Angus excitedly---somehow---smiled wider than he already was.

The brown-haired man grabbed his milkman hat and held it close to his chest. "Why not…"

"Wonderful!" Angus clapped his hands once as they stepped into his apartment and went into his kitchen. While preparing coffee, Angus looked towards his refrigerator that had been sitting next to one of the counters near the sink and remembered something.

"Actually, Francis, it's still early in the morning, but I have been meaning to give you something I've been working on for the past few days. It's definitely not on par with Nacha's works, but---" Francis perked up "---it's a local dessert that I'm sure you'll love. My mama used to make these even for breakfast! But of course, you shouldn't do it on an empty stomach."

Angus opened the freezer, took out a tub of what looked like ice cream and presented it to Francis with the flourish of a five-star restaurant server in movies. "Voila, my family's homemade gelato! Made with the milk you've been courageously delivering to my apartment. This would not be possible without you, Francis."

"I'm just doing my job…" He replies sheepishly. "It looks like ice cream…"

"On the contrary, Italian gelato has more flavoring than your typical ice cream and it is creamy and thick! Just like how tap water and mineral water tastes different, ice cream and gelato are distinct. Try it out for yourself one of these days, Francis."