Walk, Walk, Fashion Baby - Chapter 6: Recollection
Summary: Matt and Gilbert have their first outing!
Chapter:
Gilbert sent the arrival text and pulled down his sun visor to check his hair in the mirror. His eyes surveyed his appearance through dark lenses. He looked fine. He was looking healthier these days, his face was a bit fuller. It was a gorgeous, sunny day. He pushed the visor back up and turned his head as he heard a door opening. The door to Francis' apartment opened and there Matt stood, immediately noticing Gilbert and waving. He locked the door behind him and strode across the sidewalk to Gilbert's car. He had a sweatshirt, a flannel, faded jeans, and a pair of beat-up old hiking boots on. He also had an incredible mottling of purple, blue, and green over his left eye.
Matt slammed the car door shut. "Sorry. Thanks for picking me up!"
“Nice shiner, Superchief.” Gilbert couldn’t help but wince just looking at it.
Matt pulled down the overhead mirror of the car and looked at the bruise. “Yeah, no biggie. Kinda hurts, though.”
“It looks badass, if that helps.”
Matt shut the overhead mirror. “You know, it’s the funniest thing? That’s actually why I fought that guy in the first place.”
"Yeah, sure." Gilbert grinned to himself and turned to face Matt, his expression serious. Fortunately, his sunglasses shielded the mischief in his eyes. "Hey, I just wanted to let you know…"
Matt was buckling his seat belt. He hesitated, then clicked it in place. "Yeah?"
Gilbert did the best he could to replicate Matt's shy, soft voice. "I want to be your friend."
Matt halfheartedly whacked Gilbert on the arm. "Hilarious." Despite himself, he was laughing.
Gilbert put the car into Drive and placed a hand to his chest. "I can't believe you're laughing, this is serious. I just bore my heart and soul to you. Now, I'm shy, so don't give up on me."
"You're the worst."
"Thanks for joining me so last-minute. There was an emergency."
"An emergency? Is everything okay?"
Gilbert nodded soberly. "Yeah, my bird is depressed."
"Your bird."
Gilbert nodded.
"Like, with wings?"
"Would that narrow it down for you?"
Matt looked ahead. "I didn't take you for a bird guy. You seem more like a snake guy."
Gilbert wrinkled his nose. "Ew, no. Snakes smell. Besides, I love birds. They're so awesome!"
"What kind do you have?"
"A parakeet." Gilbert felt a sort of thrill. He loved any excuse to talk about his interests. "What's interesting about them is that parakeets mate for life. They're social creatures! When I first researched them, I thought they could bond with their owners, and they partially can. But actually, they prefer and need the company of other parakeets. I want to get him a male bird though, because I'm not ready to be a grandfather. And before you get worried, no, they're not that territorial. There can be some spats during mating season, but as long as they have plenty of space they should be good!"
"No kidding!" Matt interjected.
"My bird is yellow, so I want to get maybe a blue one. Perhaps with a yellow head. That way they can match. And while I'm there I want to get him some millet seed, because that little guy loves millet seed and thanks to me giving it to him, we're friends now. But not so much that he got sick, because I'm a responsible parent. Interesting fact, though—parakeets can't have avocado! I thought that was surprising, since parakeets are tropical birds. So I'm sitting there thinking, parakeets probably love stuff like mangos and macadamia nuts and avocados. Luckily, I looked it up, because there was a mushy avocado in the fridge—well, not mushy. I would never feed him rotten food—but still. It was on its last leg, and I figured he'd like it. But… wait. Where was I… shit… right. I looked it up before I tried to give it to him."
"They also can't have raisins, right?"
"Correct!" Gilbert looked away from the road long enough to beam at Matt. "Well, it's not that they can't. You should just avoid them because they're high in sugar so they could become obese. Or citrus! You have to look out for commercial bird treats, because sometimes they'll add both even though it's horrible for parakeets. Just goes to show what people will do for money, huh?"
"I can't imagine."
"And—" Gilbert's heart sank. "Wait, fuck. I'm talking too much."
"No you're not," Matt's voice was soft. Reassuring. "I think it's interesting!"
"Well, I can get overexcited and annoying about things sometimes, so if I talk too much just let me know and I'll chill out a bit."
Matt hummed. "You can keep telling me about parakeets if you want. I was having fun."
"No, no. I appreciate it, but I want to hear more about hockey!" Gilbert turned on his left turn signal and waited for oncoming traffic to clear up.
Matt shrugged. "Eh, not much to say. Score goals, try not to get into scraps."
"Scraps?" Gilbert turned the car.
"Uh, fights."
Gilbert smiled. "Oh, yeah. Hockey players do fight a lot. You held your own in that bar though!"
Matt groaned. "I wish you'd stop talking about that."
"Okay, that's a 'bite me' then."
"Excuse me?"
Gilbert laughed. "Oh, okay, so do you remember Antonio?"
"That's Lovino's boyfriend, right?"
"His husband, actually."
"Oh, shoot. While they're still in school?"
Gilbert nodded. "I know. Crazy, right? But yeah. When Antonio and Lovino first started dating, we were all in the same friend group. I was actually the one to introduce them, since my brother is dating Lovino's brother so I knew Lovi first. I love playing cupid. Anyway, there's definitely a learning curve to understand how to communicate with Lovino, and there are some topics he didn't want to talk about. No exceptions. So, Antonio had to explain to Francis and me one day that a good way to infer whether something was off-limits was if Lovino said 'Bite me'."
"Oh, so if you don't want to talk about something it's a 'bite me'."
"Correct! With minor, fun punishments if you violate. But that's just something that Francis, Antonio and I do between the three of us."
"So almost like a jinx?"
"Yeah. You get about three a day."
"Oddly specific."
"Yeah," Gilbert felt a rush of affection for his friends. "That's my fault. If you say 'bite me' to enough topics, it loses its edge. So, three a day."
"Still pretty generous."
"Well, I'm a bit of a baby so if we don't play by my rules a bit then I don't play."
Matt laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. I guess the other night would be a ‘bite me’ then."
"Don't think you can distract me, Matt. Hockey. I want the crash-course. By the time we get to that coffee shop, I want to be able to go on the ice and skate circles around everyone else."
"How long until we get to the coffee shop?"
Gilbert hummed. "Maybe five minutes?"
"Why so out of the way? There’s a Starbucks like two minutes from my apartment.”
"Because I like their espresso roast is why, and in this house we support small businesses. Hockey. Now."
“What do you want to know?”
“I mean, fuck, whatever you’re willing to tell me. It’s like pulling teeth getting you to talk about yourself.” Gilbert almost made a joke about how talkative Matt was the other night, then remembered it was off-limits. However much he abused the ‘bite me’ agreement, it sometimes quelled his joking capabilities to an annoying degree.
“I’ve played since I was a kid. Maybe… I don’t know, but probably right after maman’s and dad’s divorce. So since I was six.”
“What does hockey even look like for a six-year-old?” Gilbert had to admit, the mental image of a tiny kid with glasses slipping around on the ice was pretty adorable.
“About like you’d imagine, but I’ve been on ice since I could walk.”
Gilbert, slowing to a stop at a stoplight, turned to Matt. “So this is your way of saying you’re… like… super good?”
“I mean, there are always better players.”
Gilbert studied his expression. “Are there positions in hockey?”
“Yeah.”
“What position are you?”
“I play center.”
“So,” Gilbert surmised, “if I were to pull up Google and ask who the best player on a team is, is it center?”
“Well there’s not a best player, every player is vital.”
“Oh my God. You know what I mean.”
Matt nodded toward the windshield. “Light’s green.”
Gilbert grunted a thanks and pushed his foot on the accelerator. “So you’re the center. That’s good, right?”
“It’s largely considered an important position, yes. If you’re going to make me say it.” Matt’s eyeroll was audible in his voice.
Gilbert couldn’t help the surge of pride, warm and delightful, in his chest. “Well then of course you’re center. Do you like it?”
“Do I like it?”
“Hockey. Do you enjoy it?”
“I mean, I’ve played since I was a kid.”
Gilbert glanced at Matt. “That doesn’t answer the question, necessarily.”
Matt laughed. “Yes, I love hockey. More than I love just about anything.”
“Which explains the scholarship.” Gilbert furrowed his brow critically. He hated street parking. “How many more games do you have this season?”
“Oh, gosh, I don’t even know. We go until April.”
“Oh, wow.”
Matt gave a half-hearted laugh. “Gosh, that’s a lot of conditioning.”
“Pumping iron.” Gilbert added, “getting gains.” He didn’t feel the need to mention that Matt’s gains, even under his sweatshirt and flannel, were obvious and made Gilbert feel things if he happened to glance below Matt’s neck level.
“No skipping leg day around here.”
Gilbert wrinkled his nose. “That's rough.” That meant Matt probably had great legs, too. Being stuck in a car with him was completely unfair.
“Eh, I don’t mind it.” Matt gasped and pointed out his window. “Wait, I think that’s a spot.”
Gilbert looked over. “Fuck yeah it is. Come on, parking spot. Come to daddy.”
Matt sputtered out a laugh. “That’s crazy.”
Gilbert cackled and finessed his way into a tiny, crowded space between the front and back bumpers of two cars. “Like a damn glove.”
“Good work, Sport.”
Gilbert smiled, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Sport?”
“Yeah, that was weird. Good times gone by, eh, Carraway?”
Gilbert checked his rearview for oncoming traffic. None. He climbed out of his seat and into the street. “Huh?”
Matt emerged on the sidewalk. “Uh, sorry. ‘Great Gatsby’ reference. I’m kind of an ultra-nerd.”
“No worries, I wish I knew how to read.” Gilbert indicated a cafe across the street. “This is the place.”
It was a lovely place, with an awning featuring alternating tan and brown stripes. Some metal tables and chairs, nearly all occupied, were shaded by hanging pots of yellow flowers. As Gilbert and Matt crossed the street, the smells of coffee and pastries were already present in the cold autumn air.
Matt, as the two got to the opposite sidewalk, rushed forward the last couple steps and got the door.
Gilbert hesitated, surprised. “Oh, wow. Thank you.”
“No worries,” Matt waved him inside. “After you.”
Gilbert led the way and slid his sunglasses to the top of his head. The place was already overcrowded. It already set his teeth on edge. The sounds hit him all at once. And it was hot in here. Already so hot that he wanted to peel off his leather jacket. He didn't want to leave, it wasn’t like it was horrible, but the place was an assault on the senses. The ringing of the bell above the door, too, added to the din.
“We can leave if you want,” Matt offered.
That was quick. Gilbert could usually hide his reactions to loud places pretty easily. It was unnerving how quickly Matt had identified the issue. “No, I’m good. Just let me get a PSL in my system and I’m good.”
“Really?” Matt asked, guiding them to the line at the counter. It was about two people deep in front of them.
Gilbert stopped at the end of the line. “I love a pumpkin spice latte. Like, look at me. I’m very obviously white, and very obviously basic.”
Matt snickered and shook his head. “Okay, Leather Jacket.”
“One of the few advantages of albinism is being able to make that joke.”
“Y’know, I was going to ask...” Matt stepped forward as the line decreased.
Gilbert glanced over. When they were this close together, Matt standing just inches away to talk over the noise, their height difference was especially obvious. And Matt’s eyelashes. They were incredibly long, and very pale. You wouldn’t even notice them unless you were as close as the two of them were. He knew it was stupid and ridiculous, but somehow the black eye was even attractive on him.
Matt’s expression shifted to concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? We can go somewhere else.”
Fuck, he’d been staring too long. “Yeah, sorry. Couldn’t hear you. Albinism. Yeah.” Gilbert looked ahead, going for a roguish grin. Something was wrong with him. He had to regain his cool. “These aren’t color contacts, you know.”
“I think your eyes look really cool,” Matt offered. “Is it offensive for me to point that out?”
Gilbert carefully fixed his glance at the back of the head in front of him. “Nah, that’s like me pointing out that you being a hockey player makes you super jacked. Just part of it.” Gilbert shrugged carelessly.
“Wait,” Matt’s tone had taken a sudden shift. “Doesn’t that barista look pretty familiar to you?”
Gilbert shifted to his left foot so he could see around the guy in front of him. Behind the counter was a pretty young lady with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had bangs hanging low over her green eyes, and as she turned around smiling to address a coffee order, Gilbert noticed a pink flowered hairclip pinned above her gathered hair.
“I mean… I guess?”
“Gilbert, that’s the lady from the bar!”
Gilbert squinted and immediately recognized her. “Wait, shit. It really is.”
“I wonder if she’ll recognize us!”
Gilbert puffed out a breath. “Hmm, let’s see. The albino and the six-foot-something blondie with a black-eye. Doubt it.”
“Oh, I hope this isn’t too awkward for her. Given the circumstances and everything.”
Gilbert shrugged. “I don’t know, she seemed pretty tough.”
The gentleman in front of them went to the other end of the counter to wait for his order. That left Matt and Gilbert standing at the register waiting.
Elizabeta was working with one other employee, and for how crowded the coffee shop was they appeared to be holding their own together. Nonetheless, it was about forty-five seconds before she turned to glance at the register. She had turned back to the espresso machine for a moment before she whipped her head back.
“Wait." Elizabeta started.
Matt smiled sheepishly. “Hi, there.”
Elizabeta poured the shot of espresso into a paper take-out cup and slid it down the counter to her coworker. “Well, if it isn’t my hero!”
“You doing alright?” Matt asked, his nervous tone unchanging.
Elizabeta stopped at the register. “Of course I am, I’m not made of sugar.” She furrowed her brow. “Oh, honey. That has to hurt.” She reached forward and unabashedly cradled Matt’s left cheek.
“Uh…” Matt furrowed his brow and leaned slightly away.
Gilbert, too, felt uncomfortable. Not for himself or how he felt, or even the context of what this could develop into. Rather, he felt it from Matt's apparent discomfort. “Personal space much?”
Elizabeta retracted her hand like Matt’s face was on fire. “Oh! I'm so sorry, I should have asked. Poor thing, order whatever you’re want. You’re drinking for free today.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Matt rubbed the spot on his cheek where Elizabeta had previously touched it. “I really don’t mind.”
“Besides, I’m paying for him. He’s helping me fix my bird’s depression.” Gilbert said.
Elizabeta hesitated for only a moment. “A good Samaritan! All the more reason he drinks for free! And you by association, of course.”
Gilbert was absolutely delighted. He had, of course, been planning on paying for both their drinks but in light of his job being at risk, he was pinching pennies when possible. “Well, if you insist! It’d be rude to refuse, Matt.”
Elizabeta jumped on the guilt-trip with a perfectly innocent smile. “Not to mention you’re holding up the line.”
“Oh, jeez.” Matt turned his head to see someone filed behind them. “Give me, uh, a small hot maple latte, please.”
Elizabeta beamed down at the screen as she punched in his order. “One large hot maple latte. And for you?”
Gilbert smiled. He admired her spunk. “One medium iced PSL please.”
“And one large iced Pumpkin Spice Latte. Head on down to the other side of the counter, I’ll make those for you.”
Matt and Gilbert found their way to the other side of the counter, Gilbert finding to his delight that there was only one other person waiting for their drinks. That meant less crowd, and less noise. Though the assault on his senses had been diminished, he found solace by removing his jacket.
Elizabeta had a short dialogue with her coworker, who replaced her at the register.
She pressed her hands against the counter and leaned forward. "I'm so sorry about that, by the way. Sometimes I get carried away."
Matt waved her away. "No worries, it's okay!"
“So,” Elizabeta ground some beans. “Where are you guys from?”
“Canada,” Matt answered. "Ontario, specifically."
“Berlin, Germany.”
Elizabeta smiled at Gilbert. “Hey, Europe neighbors! We’re not too far from each other.”
“Where are you from then?” Gilbert asked. “I don’t know your accent.”
“I’m Hungarian. Do you two go to NCU?”
“How did you know?” Gilbert asked, astonished.
Elizabeta packed the grounds into a portafilter. “We’re about fifteen minutes from campus, and they’re famous for their foreign exchange program. I did the math. Plus, I’m an alumni and I recognize merch when I see it.”
Matt glanced down. Indeed, there was the blue and gold NCU logo with two hockey sticks crossed behind it. “Oh.”
“What was your name, anyway?”
Gilbert introduced himself.
“I graduated a couple months ago,” Elizabeta continued, “but I like to work here on weekends. You know, New York rent.”
Gilbert felt his heart sink. Now that he may lose a steady income, the problem seemed far closer than what he expected.
“What was your major?” Matt asked.
Elizabeta pulled the espresso shot and dumped it into a paper to-go cup, pumping some syrup in. “Bachelor of Arts in Military history.” Her voice had a resentful edge. “As you can imagine, not a lot of career opportunity there. I’m an archivist for the Museum of Natural History. It’s a ton of fun, but doesn’t really pay the bills”
“Do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life.” Matt offered.
Elizabeta smiled at him before she stooped down to grab a jug of milk. “I like that perspective, Matt. I suppose I should look on the bright side more.”
A customer asked Elizabeta a question, distracting her from their conversation.
Gilbert glanced around, now free to look around and observe as his surroundings led him.
The place was incredibly crowded, with one person sitting at a table across the cafe grabbing his attention immediately. His mood lightened in recognition before falling as he gathered context.
Lovino was sat at a table in a cozy alcove of the cafe, nestled in a group of houseplants. Sat across from him was an attractive young lady. The two were in conversation. Lovino had his legs crossed, his open body facing the cafe. His attention, however, was wholly on his conversational partner. His right arm was propped on the back of his hair, his left resting on the table accompanied by an empty espresso cup. He had a charming smile on his face as he spoke easily, waving his hand occasionally to punctuate a point.
Gilbert knew that posture. He knew that look. Lovino was trying to charm whoever he was talking to.
“Is that…?” Matt began from behind Gilbert.
Gilbert nodded grimly. “Yeah.”
“He’s…” Matt hesitated, “married, right?”
Gilbert nodded again. So even Matt noticed the vibe Lovino was curating.
“That’s unfortunate.”
Gilbert furrowed his brow and ripped his gaze away from Lovino and toward Matt. “I don’t think it’s that deep. That’s just not Lovino. He’s got a rough exterior, but like… I’ve known the guy for years. He and Toni are obsessed with each other.”
Matt’s stony expression dissolved into its usual softness. “Phew, that’s good to hear. It’s just… it doesn’t look that way.”
“I know,” Gilbert turned back to the counter. “I’ll talk to Lovino. We’re buds anyway, so I’d hope he’d be honest. If I have any reason to be concerned, I’ll go to Antonio.”
“I know it’s none of my business, but he could always just lie to you.”
Gilbert shook his head. “Not well, he’s a shit liar. I’m sure it’s fine.”
Matt nodded, but his silence spoke for him.
***************************************
Matt sat in the passenger seat of Gilbert's car. He pressed a plastic bag of ice to his eye, provided generously by Elizabeta with matronly tittering and bids to come back and visit. “So do we just get your bird a friend, or is there another procedure? I doubt they have bird-sized antidepressants.”
Gilbert took another drag from his plastic to-go cup once he turned onto the next street. God, that was good. Pumpkin Spice Lattes, he was convinced, could heal all ills. “No, but could you imagine how cute that would be? All those tiny little pills?”
“With little bird health insurance,” Matt added.
Gilbert slid his cup back in the cup holder. “With little birdy deductibles and little birdy debts.”
“Well that’s just depressing.”
“Really makes you wish you had little birdy depression medication, huh?”
“But since we don’t…” Matt began.
Gilbert could catch when a joke was dead. “We just get the bird a friend.”
“What’s your bird’s name?”
Gilbert hesitated. When he had named his beloved pet, he hadn’t anticipated having to explain the name to someone he didn’t know well. “Well…”
Matt caught the tone and turned to him. “I promise it’s okay, I won’t make fun of you.”
“What makes you think I’m worried about that?”
“You just seem reluctant is all, and I know some people give their pets embarrassing names. Here, I’ll start and then we trade. When I was a kid, I had a dog. Beautiful dog. You’ll never guess what I named her.”
“Fido?” Gilbert guessed, his curiosity piqued.
“Face.”
“Excuse me?”
“I had a dog. This dog lived for seven years. Her name was Face.”
Gilbert laughed. “Why the fuck did you name your dog Face?”
“Because seven-year-old me liked her face.” Matt explained. “So there. Your name can’t possibly be as dumb as that.”
“Gilbird.”
“You named your bird Gilbert?” Matt asked. His voice, to his credit, was completely free of ridicule.
“No. Gilbird. As in a Bird.”
Matt dissolved into laughter.
Gilbert, upon hearing it, could not help but join.
“Oh, that’s a riot.” Matt sighed once he had finally got himself together. “So you’re getting Gilbird a roommate.”
“I was thinking a friend. Or companion.”
“Well, if all goes right. Not everyone is as lucky as I am.”
Gilbert turned into the parking lot of the pet store. “Francis is pretty great, huh?”
“Little dramatic at times,” Matt surmised, “but hey. Pobody’s nerfect. And he’s clean. Did you know he cooks and packs my lunches? Does the dishes too. Really, he just wants me to take out the trash, kill bugs, and clean the toilet.”
“Sounds pretty domestic,”
Matt laughed. “Nah, not my type. I prefer more rough-and-tumble guys.”
Gilbert brightened at this. First, this confirmed without a shadow of a doubt that Matt was into guys. That’s a win. Second, Gilbert was nothing if not rough around the edges. He pulled into a parking spot. "Which isn't really Francis' style."
“And even if he were, he’s got a thing for that bartender.”
“He what?” Gilbert turned to look at Matt.
Matt looked at him, confused, before his face morphed into mortified realization. “Oh, shoot, he didn’t tell you. Just forget I said anything.”
“Come on, now, I’m his friend too! As a new hallmark of our friendship we should have our first secret.”
Matt hesitated. “Well, as long as it isn’t harming anyone.”
“And how could it?”
“Okay, okay. So remember when we went out the other night? Francis has a teeny tiny little crush on the bartender. Arthur.”
Gilbert remembered his and Francis' conversation when they went out for coffee a couple weeks ago. Francis had been looking for someone he could have a back-and-forth with. If he really pondered it, he supposed he could see some chemistry. “Huh.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. I was like, ‘huh’.”
Gilbert grinned deviously. “Sounds like we gotta' visit that bar again soon.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a great idea, I don’t know how Arthur liked Francis’… uh… banter. Didn’t he say he found him annoying?”
“Annoyance could lead to something more,” Gilbert pointed out. “I found Alfred annoying, but then we ended up being buddies.”
“I’ll give you that, he grows on you.”
“Like a damn fungus.” Gilbert undid his seatbelt and emerged from his car. “Don’t let me forget, I also need to get more birdseed.”
“And additional waters, or feeders, or anything like that?” Matt followed Gilbert toward the entrance of the pet store.
“Maybe.” Gilbert responded, quite unsure. “Wouldn’t sharing be a bonding experience?”
“You’re the expert. So hey… how many breeds or parakeets are there?”
Gilbert brightened and chattered his ear off the entire time inside the store.
While they were in the pet shop Gilbert was very quickly distracted by the rodent display. This then, of course, led them to the rodent toys and hamster balls. Gilbert wondered aloud if it was feasible to put a bird in it, was dissuaded by Matt, and the two of them hypothesized what it would look like to put a bird in a hamster ball. This then, of course, led them to the bird toys. The weasel display was nearby, so they took a quick detour to look at the weasels, then the fish, then the aquarium supplies.
After about 45 minutes of puttering around the store, Matt gently reminded Gilbert that they were here to get a bird.
“Oh, shit. Sorry. I don’t mean to take forever.” Gilbert could feel the back of his neck flushing.
Matt shrugged. “I’m not worried about it, I actually don’t have conditioning for once. It’s nice to take a break away from the books.”
Gilbert led them a few feet back to the bird toys, where Gilbert educated Matt for about ten minutes on the different types of bird toys, which ones were safe, which ones were blatant money-grabs, and what each toy was good for.
Matt, to his credit, had nodded along interestedly. He asked some clarifying questions and exclaimed at the proper points of intrigue.
Gilbert, once they finally selected a couple of toys, food and water containers, and a small cage, was practically strutting like a peacock by the time they made it to the parakeet display.
There were about five parakeets of varying blues, whites, yellows, and greens.
“So. Which one speaks to you?” Matt asked, hands in his pockets as he observed the cage.
Gilbert hummed in response.
Most of the parakeets were sitting on a perch, preening themselves or looking at themselves in a big plastic mirror that hung from the top.
One parakeet, however, was sitting contentedly on the ground. It turned its head to the side, looking right at Gilbert. it had a lovely little beak with tiny brown nostrils and was fully, pure white.
“Him.” Gilbert pointed to the bird. “He’s perfect.”
Matt nodded. “He looks healthy.”
“I will name him… Bank.”
“Bank?”
Gilbert nodded and pointed again to the bird. “Because he’s white. Like a snow bank.”
“Bank is an interesting direction to take it.”
“So what would you name him, then?”
“I guess like… Jeremy?”
“Better than Face.”
Matt nudged him with his shoulder. “Come on, I was a kid. Jeremy’s a good name for a bird.”
Gilbert flagged down a passing pet store employee with a raise of his hand. “Yeah, I guess it is. Jeremy it is, then.”
“Oh, Gilbert, no! Bank’s great!”
Gilbert glanced over at him for a moment. “No, I have to name him Jeremy to commemorate this awesome friends’ first outing.”
The pet store employee lumbered over to them. “Yeah?”
“I want that one.” Gilbert pointed at Jeremy, whose gaze shifted to the pet store employee.
“’Kay.” The employee lumbered off toward the registers.
Gilbert pressed his face a respectful distance from the cage. “Just wait until you meet Gilbird. You’ll love him.”
******************************
“Gilbert, watch those turns!” Matt lifted the box off his lap to help with the g-forces.
Gilbert, to his delight, could hear Jeremy’s little clawed feet scuttling across the bottom of the box. He took a moment to imagine Jeremy’s tiny eye poking through one of the breathing holes in the side and smiled. “Sorry, this guy behind me is riding my ass. Besides, we’re almost home.”
“Thank goodness. I don’t know if birds get carsickness, but I’m feeling a bit queasy.”
Gilbert felt a sudden, unexplainable pit open in his stomach. Dread. He checked his rearview mirrors to see if it was a sixth-sense sensation of impending danger, but the road behind him was completely clear. Had he forgotten something? Rent? His brain reeled through several different ideas until he recognized the familiar notes of a song playing from the radio. One song in particular. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to forget those times.
“Hey, can you switch the radio?”
Matt turned his sight from his window. “Huh? Yeah. Of course. I don’t care much for this song either.”
Gilbert just nodded in response. He hated it. Any sort of sight, smell, or sound that took him back there. He took a slow, long breath in through his nose. He exhaled it as quietly as he could.
“Gilbert, I’m sorry, I’m really not feeling good. Could we pull over?”
“Sorry. Don’t worry, this is our street.” Miraculously, Gilbert guided his car into a street sparking space right in front of his apartment. He took that time to mentally reset. He had to recover, especially with Matt around. “Score! You must be my good luck charm, because this shit never happens.”
Matt carefully extended the box to Gilbert’s reach. “Let’s hope that’s Jeremy’s last car ride. I don’t think he cares for them too much anymore.”
Gilbert took the box and, once again, was delighted by Jeremy’s light weight crossing from one side of the box to the other with small scratching sounds. The scratching sounds, to Gilbert’s relief, brought him back to the present. “I’m a great driver.”
Matt opened his car door. “I’ll just leave this alone before it becomes a woe betide ‘bite me’ topic.”
“’Woe betide’, you sound like a damn wizard or something.” Gilbert opened his own door and stepped out. “Wanna come inside and introduce Jeremy to his new home?”
“Sure. I also have to pee.”
Gilbert nodded toward a scraggly bush on the right side of his apartment steps. “Be my guest.”
“Hilarious.”
Gilbert pushed into the stairwell door and mounted the stairs immediately inside. “Come on. If we’re lucky, West is already home and has the door unlocked.”
“West?”
Gilbert blinked and cleared his throat. “Uh, my brother.”
“Oh, yeah. The scary one.”
Gilbert smiled, glad that hadn’t devolved into further questioning. “Oh, yeah. Never seen anyone else make a baby-pink polo shirt look threatening, but that’s him.”
“Feliciano seems nice, though.”
Gilbert smiled. “Yeah, he is. Balances Ludwig out well.”
“Yeah, makes sense that they’re together. The calm and the storm.”
Gilbert laughed as they finally emerged onto his floor. “Ludwig being the calm?”
“I mean, that was my impression.”
“Kind of,” Gilbert said as they walked down the hallway to the second door on the right. His door. “They kind of match each other’s energy. When one’s the storm the other is calm.”
The door opened into the apartment.
“Better stop sexy time, Daddy’s home!” Gilbert called out to the apartment.
Matt huffed out an abashed laugh.
Fortunately, the apartment was clean. The kitchen was immediately on the left, a little table and four chairs clumsily shoved into the combined living room/dining area. They had a cheap little TV stacked on an Ikea entertainment center, with an overstuffed chair and loveseat. The hallway opened on the left wall of the living room, right by the kitchen.
“It’s cozy, but it’s home.”
Matt set the empty coffee cups, bird cage, and toys on the counter. “Definitely not bad for New York. Bathroom?”
“First door on the left.”
Matt went down the hallway.
Gilbert sat Jeremy’s box on the counter. “Be right back.” Once the bathroom door shut, he hustled to his room.
He opened the door to the usual mess of half-dirty clothes on the floor, and nick-nacks covering every square inch of flat surface except for his desk. “Fuck.” He threw open the closet door and hurriedly scooped up clothes, tossing them into the closet. He knew he only had about a precious thirty seconds. Good thing his bedroom was so tiny. He cast off his jacket as he heard the bathroom door open and shut across the hall.
Footsteps down the hall and into the living room.
Gilbert emerged, lightly perspiring. “Sorry, had to tidy a couple things.”
Matt, stood by the counter, looked up from his phone. "No worries."
Gilbert shed his jacket and threw it on an empty barstool. He scooped up Jeremy. “To my room.”
“Allons y.” Matt said, scooping up the bird paraphernalia.
“Oh, you speak French?”
“French-ish.”
Gilbert opened the door to his bedroom. Cluttered, but passable. “So do you and Francis speak French at the apartment?”
“Sometimes, but there are a couple differences between what I speak and what he speaks. So we mostly just do English unless we want to talk about something private with other people around.” Matt pointed to the bird cage. “This him?”
“The one and only.”
“Hi, Gilbird.” Matt’s voice was gentle.
Gilbird stirred on his perch.
“Time to introduce the roommates. Want to set the other cage on the desk?”
Matt plunked the cage there and set the bag on the other side of the desk. “Want the toys in there, too?”
“Sure.”
Matt attached the perch and rope toy, as well as the food and water containers. Gilbert brought over a little scoop of birdseed from the seed bag on the floor and dumped it in, then filled it with water from a kitchen cup.
“Want to do the honors?” Gilbert asked.
Matt looked down at the box on the desk. “Oh, I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can! Just open the box and put it in the cage.”
“Okay.” Matt grabbed the box slowly and opened the cage. He set the box inside and gingerly opened it with his muscled, callous hands. “There you go.”
Jeremy poked his head above the box, but seemed content to just walk around the inside for now.
Gilbird, in his cage, scooted down his perch until he was at the very end of his enclosure. He turned his head sideways to look into the box.
********************************************
Gilbert sat on his bed, the room now dark from the evening, observing the two birds. They had seemed very social, chirping at each other from their respective cages and watching each other move. He knew this was a good sign. Maybe he could scooch their cages closer together tomorrow.
Once Jeremy had been put in his cage, Gilbert had driven Matt home so he could do his homework. It had been strangely difficult to separate. Already, he enjoyed Matt’s presence immensely. He realized, on his way home, that his time shared with Matt was the longest he had gone without thinking of cigarettes since he quit.
He heard the front door open, with Ludwig announcing his presence.
Jeremy startled in his cage and retreated down to his box.
“Yeah,” Gilbert stood. “He’s always that loud. You get used to him.”, He emerged from his room and out to the hallway.
“Gilbert. How was your day?” Ludwig shed his jacket as he shut the door.
“Fine, got another bird.”
Ludwig grunted.
“Feli still upset at you?”
Ludwig passed Gilbert with his school bag, heading back to his room. “Not upset, he was never upset. Everything is fine now.”
Gilbert leaned in Ludwig’s doorway. The wood was cold against his bare shoulders. He was in his pajamas of choice - no shirt, basketball shorts, and chicken slippers. “What did you end up telling him?”
“That Model UN is just taking more of my time,” Ludwig hung his jacket on one of the three jacket pegs by his door. He set his bag underneath his jackets.
His room, as always, was meticulous. After a few years together, his wall had been decorated with Feli’s paintings, photos of the two of them together, and photos of the entire friend group. Before they met, his bedrooms had always looked like perfectly clean stock photos. Now, at least, there was some personality to it.
“He believed it?”
“Of course he believed it,” Ludwig responded, passing him to go into the hallway. “It’s completely true. Are there still leftovers?”
“There are always leftovers, you’re not around to eat them.” Gilbert responded. “Where have you been, anyhow?”
“Proposal. Planning it.” Ludwig opened the fridge to all the tupperware dishes.
Come to think of it, Gilbert was hungry too. “Do we still have some of Feli’s pasta left over?”
Ludwig looked up to answer him, then his eyeline fell to Gilbert’s torso. “You’ve gained weight.”
Gilbert looked down. Come to think of it, the waistband of his jeans had felt pretty tight lately. “Cigarettes are an appetite suppressant. I guess I’ve been rather hungry lately.”
“It’s good!” Ludwig’s tone was approving. “You were unhealthy before, I’m glad to see you better.”
“I guess I do feel a lot better. Haven’t really noticed how I look though.”
Ludwig withdrew a plastic container that, indeed, contained pasta. “Don’t overthink it. This is probably the best that I’ve seen you.”
A pang of guilt, unwelcome, in Gilbert’s chest. “Yeah, well, bar’s on the floor.”
The slightest stiffness in Ludwig’s movements spoke volumes. “Come get something to eat.” Ludwig reached into a cabinet and grabbed two bowls.
God, what was wrong with him today? He needed to get a grip.
Change the subject. Now. “What is there to plan for the proposal, anyhow? Isn’t it just getting on one knee? It’s none of my business, but Feli doesn’t seem like the ‘extravagant proposal’ type of guy.” Gilbert climbed onto one of the bar stools. He hated eating at a proper dining room table. Left a bad taste in his mouth.
Ludwig served some pasta into a bowl and popped it in the microwave.
“Unless I’m missing something…?” Gilbert leaned on the counter. “Not that you have to tell me.”
Ludwig turned to face him, looked away, then looked back at Gilbert. “So… do you remember last year?”
“Like, in general? Or…?”
“Valentine’s day. Specifically.”
Gilbert had. Ludwig had taken the time to get cleaned up, wearing a suit and tie, flowers, the whole nine yards. He’d said something about a dinner reservation and walked out the door with a deep breath and a bid for Gilbert not to wait up. When he had come back a couple hours later, he had completely ignored Gilbert’s inquiries and shut himself in his room. It had been a day and a half before Ludwig emerged long enough to have a conversation, and even then he had determinedly avoided what had happened.
“Yeah.” Gilbert responded.
“So…” Ludwig grunted, apparently searching for words. “There was a… misunderstanding. Between him and I.”
Gilbert raised his eyebrows.
“Where I… okay, so… I misinterpreted. What he had said, I mean. And I proposed.”
“What?!”
“Sshh! Neighbors.” Ludwig admonished.
“What?”
The tips of Ludwig’s ears grew red. “He said something, I thought he meant something else, so I took us out to dinner and I proposed and he was horrified.” Despite Ludwig’s initial embarrassment, the corners of his lips turned up. “Because we hadn’t been together long. The point is, he said it wasn’t off the table, but to wait a little longer.”
“Do you know if you waited long enough?”
Ludwig furrowed his brows. “Of course I did. We talked about it.”
“Like, recently?”
Ludwig nodded.
“Seems unconventional, but good for you guys.”
“The proposal in itself shouldn’t be a surprise, just where and how it happens.” Ludwig broke into a rare, full smile. “And he’s ready.”
Gilbert, too, smiled. “That’s awesome, West. Wait, so why’s it taking so long?”
“It just… it has to be perfect. Better than last time.”
“Come on, Ludwig. It’s Feli. He’s like… all romantic lovey-dovey and stuff. He doesn’t care how it happens, he just cares that it’s you.”
Ludwig startled at the beeping microwave and pulled out a hot bowl of pasta. He grabbed a fork from a drawer and slid it across the table to Gilbert. “I know that. But it still…” he flushed again. “It has to be special.”
“Well, what do you mean?”
“I’ve been everywhere,” Ludwig pulled his phone from his pocket and showed Gilbert a list. “That we have ever been on a date. And down here, on this list, everywhere we have had a significant moment.”
“Fuck.”
“Indeed.” Ludwig turned the phone to face him. ,em>“I’ve visited about half of these places and thought about, logistically, how I would do it. What the ideal time of day would be for scenery, or the least amount of traffic. I just don’t know the best place to do it. He’s just a very romantic person. Since I am so bad with romance, I have to work extra hard to make sure it’s perfect for him.”
“West, you’ve compiled a list of every fucking place you two have ever held hands or whatever. That’s pretty romantic.” Gilbert gently touched his fingers to the top of Ludwig’s phone and pushed it down.
Ludwig tore his gaze from his phone screen.
“Just be who you are, broha.” Gilbert said, “he fell in love with you. Not some Casanova. He fell in love with a freak who makes weird, freaky lists. Just be that guy.”
Ludwig nodded, then served himself some pasta.
All Gilbert could hope was that something he said had struck a chord.
********************************************
His heart pounded, quick and erratic, in his chest. His shirt was completely soaked through with sweat and he could even feel it permeating the fabric of the lumpy old couch, held together with duct tape and hope. Something clawed at his subconscious, and as he looked around at this room full of people it was incredibly - painfully - obvious that no one liked him. Nobody wanted him there. Fuck, he was thirsty. Why couldn’t he move?
They’d all laughed earlier, danced. He had controlled the entire room. it had bent and moved to his command, everyone looking at him
He needed water
But did he even really know these people? He didn’t know what they had in their pockets
Knives Guns
Would he even be able to defend himself? If it really came down to it
Fuck, his tongue is sticking to the roof of his mouth
His jaw hurt. Why does his jaw hurt? Did one of these fuckers punch him? Manhandle him?
His teeth grind. Uppers against lowers, they grate upon each other. He stops
He is so, so unbelievably hot. Fuck, he’s hot. He’s roasting alive
Where’s the kitchen?
The guy next to him on the couch - when did he get there? Stirs
Gilbert winces. Uses all his energy to inch away, but he feels so, so fucking heavy
His teeth grind. He stops
Water
He peels his tongue from the roof of his mouth. it sticks
Christmas is coming. Fuck, Christmas is coming. He needs to get West a present. How many days until Christmas?
He summons the strength remaining in his arms and pulls out his phone. Dead. Fuck
His teeth grind. He can't stop
Someone, he doesn’t see who, starts playing music. he knows the song. it’s their favorite when they’re coming down and more than that, it sounds even more familiar than usual . Like. Like it.
A car
Company
Driving
Christmas is coming. How many days until Christmas
Fuck, his mouth is dry
************************************************
Gilbert’s eyes opened. He was in his room. Today. He kicked off the covers. He concentrated on slowing his breathing and sat up. He swung his legs off of his bed and concentrated on his toes on the carpet. Let the feeling of it absorb his attention as he counted his breaths in, and out. Slow and deliberate.
Once his breathing had calmed down he peeled his shorts off and sat in his underwear. His elbows propped on his knees as he stared down at the carpet. He slowly, blissfully, inhaled. It didn’t smell like it did back then, here it was fresh. There was a slight, not unpleasant musty smell from all his clothing. It didn’t even smell like cigarettes anymore. A faint smell of birds. Birds who were asleep. He wasn't alone in here.
He stood and crossed the room to the other side of his desk. He unlocked and pushed the window open. Even though he knew it was against the rental agreement, he grunted as he removed the window’s screen.
He rested his arms on the open, screen-less window and stuck his head out. Felt the breeze on his sweaty forehead. From the neck down he was in the apartment he shared with his precious brother. Five years away from it all. A whole new country. He had a degree and for now, though it wasn’t clear for how long, he had a good job. From the neck up, he faced the city that never sleeps.
He was here now. He had worked hard to build it all. Here, his own life. With his own friends, and his own sense of well-being.
He really, really hated that song.
