Chapter Text
Sidney’s hands smell like cherries and vanilla. He’s been working the sugar mixture for about twenty minutes now, stretching and pulling it until it gradually became lighter in color. His hands are sore and his arms are starting to cramp, but there’s a kind of satisfaction behind the hard work. He lets the taffy cool and then rolls out the mixture into long ropes, before cutting them into bite-sized pieces and wrapping them in colorful wax paper. He’ll head out to the beach as the sun rises and set up his little table and umbrella to battle the weather. The cherry-vanilla taffy is a new flavor he’s testing out, and there’s no better way to receive feedback than to have dozens of hungry surfers sample the free treats in exchange for a few comments.
Sidney’s taffy store, Adélie Sweets, is his pearl. Everything from the baby blue walls with cream trim to the maple wood floors had been carefully selected. His taffy flavors, he has nineteen now, were all tested meticulously to the point that Taylor had complained she never wanted to see another piece of taffy again. But Sidney doesn’t mind her grumbling. The store, located right along the pier, is the one safe space he’s managed to carve out for himself bit by bit over the years.
He’s finishing up wrapping up the last piece when Geno walks into the store, his hair mussed up from sleep and work apron hanging loosely from between his fingers. His eyes are still halfway closed as he cards a hand through his hair and Sidney feels betrayed at the sudden lurch his heart makes. He’s wondered before, of course, how it would feel to run his own fingers through Geno’s hair. More than once he’d felt embarrassingly jealous of Geno’s friends, who occasionally come tumbling in, yelling in a mixture of Russian and English while grabbing Geno into a headlock and messing up his hair. They like to wrestle and bump into various furniture before settling down and asking Sidney with puppy eyes, “Any free samples, Sid?”
“Morning Sid,” Geno greets, barely managing to stifle a yawn.
“Hey, G. I’m about to head out in a bit.” Sidney gestures to the back of the store. “There’s some base mixture ready if you want to start with flavoring.”
Geno gives him a little salute and Sidney affectionately rolls his eyes, ignoring the sass. The sun is starting to peek in through the store’s windows and he sets out toward his truck holding that day’s samples, the cherry-vanilla and a batch of maple pecan. He’s unlocked the door and is about to pull the handle when he feels Geno’s warm hand grab his wrist. Sidney jerks back, startled enough that he drops the paper bag and manages to slam his right hand into the side mirror. He’s too busy staring up wildly at Geno to notice the taffy pieces that have spilled all over the pavement.
“Geno- What the hell? What’s wrong?”
Geno surprisingly looks just as confused as Sid feels. “What wrong with you, Sid? You okay? Didn’t mean to scare, just want to talk” Geno says as he bends down to start picking up the fallen pieces.
Looking at the ground, Sidney can feel himself beginning to blush wildly. What the hell was wrong with him? All Geno did was grab his wrist and he freaked out like a klutz. Just last week, Geno had accidentally brushed his arm while reaching for a bag of sugar and Sidney dropped an orange and the entire bowl of orange zest he had been working on onto the floor.
Stooping down, Sidney hastily starts to shove the taffy back into the bag, wanting to head out to the beach and hide under his umbrella as soon as possible.
“Sorry, Geno. I was thinking about something and you scared me, that’s all” he quickly explains. “What’s up?”
Geno, for maybe the first time in his life, looks… shy? Embarrassed? Either way, he’s worrying at his lower lip and refusing to meet Sidney’s eyes which is in turn, making him feel nervous. Oh god, what was wrong? Did he do something wrong? Was Geno going to quit? That was always a constant worry in Sid’s mind: that one day Geno was going to find a better job with higher wages and he’d want to quit working at the store. He’s about to say something, anything, but Geno beats him to the punch.
“You busy tonight, Sid?”
That’s not what he was expecting at all.
“Busy? Like in terms of the shop?” Sidney asks. He thinks for a moment. “I have some inventory to do. And I have to start thinking about some possible color combinations for the wedding order next week. Why, did you need my help with something?”
“No Sid, not what I mean” Geno sighs. “I mean, you have plans tonight?”
Plans? Sidney doesn’t ever really have plans. Sometimes, he has dinner at Flower’s or the Letangs, but Geno usually comes with him for those. They’re his friends too.
“No? Not particularly..?” Sidney cocks his head to the side, wondering what Geno is getting at.
Geno smiles briefly, but it’s quickly replaced by that same weird shyness.
“Good.” He lets out a deep breath before continuing, “Have to tell you something. Meet me at spot? 9 okay?”
Their “spot” refers to a picnic bench, flanked on either side by tall palm trees. The picnic bench itself is old and worn, far enough down and isolated on the beach that neither tourists nor locals really bother setting up there. Going to the spot means that whatever Geno tells him tonight, it’s important. It’s where Geno, about a month after starting to work for him, first told him about his family, shedding a few tears about how guilty he felt at leaving them behind. Their spot is where Sid, drunk on a few beers, had let it slip that as a child he’d been on track to play professional hockey, but a bad injury ended his chance immediately. He even told Geno about how he set up his life at the beach, so that he would never have to see ice again. And Geno had listened to all of this and simply put his arm around Sid’s shoulders, smoothing down his back as he cried little hiccups into Geno’s growingly damp shirt.
It was obvious that Geno could tell what Sidney was thinking because he gave a little crooked smile.
“Nothing bad Sid. Just… really important. That’s why I want meet at spot. Okay?”
And what else could Sid do but nod?
The rest of the day passed by too quickly and too slowly at the same time. Sidney hardly paid attention to any of the feedback he was receiving from people. He was pretty sure someone mentioned the maple pecan being too sweet? But he was too busy trying to imagine what Geno was going to tell him later that all of it sounded muddled in his ears. He hadn’t even bothered to open the notebook that he brought to write comments in.
Was it something about his family? Did Geno finally talk to his parents? Or was it about the shop? Was there something Geno didn’t like? Something he wanted to change?
There was a small part of Sidney’s brain, a very small part, that he allowed to fantasize about Geno. And that part was whispering daydreams of Geno feeling the same way about him. Geno brought Sidney to their spot to tell him that he wanted to be together, that Sidney wasn’t alone in feeling unwanted and lonely, that Sidney was worthy of being loved. And Sidney would hug Geno hard, the way he’d always wanted to, and tell Geno that it was worth it. It was worth waiting all this time, if it meant that Sidney could have this part of Geno.
No way though was Sidney going to their spot empty-handed. His mom had raised him better than that. He quickly returned home, Geno and his part-timers having closed up the shop for the night, and showered off the sweat from the afternoon sun. He changed into a nice button-down and shorts and headed to his kitchen. Originally, he wasn’t planning on showing Geno what he was working on until it was perfected, but going to the spot meant this was serious and either way, sweets would be comforting to have.
For about a month, Sidney had been secretly working on a new flavor of taffy: pryaniki. The spiced honey cookies were Geno’s favorite childhood snack and ever since Geno mentioned craving some homemade ones, Sidney had been testing to see whether he could get the flavor right. Going off only the ones he had managed to buy from a Russian supermarket, Sidney had been trying different ratios of spices with varying levels of success. His latest batch was the closest he’d ever gotten to the flavor and even though he was worried about Geno’s reaction to the taste, he figured he would bring some tonight anyway. He wrapped a bunch of taffy pieces in cellophane and tied it all together with a gold ribbon before heading out.
The entire way from his car to their spot, Sidney could hear nothing but the dull roar of the waves in his ears. There were still a fair number of people swimming and drinking by the beach, but all Sidney could focus on was the general direction of the picnic bench. He had planned some responses and appropriate reactions in advance. Like if Geno told him he wanted to see his family again, Sidney would be nothing but reassuring and helpful. He could manage the store with his part-timers for a while. If Geno was having thoughts about having another job? Sidney would be the best supportive friend he could possibly be.
But nothing could have prepared Sidney for what he saw as the bench grew larger and larger in his field of vision. Underneath the beautiful violet sky, scattered stars winking, Geno sat with a woman. She must have been a model, Sidney thought absently, with her long blonde hair and curves barely hidden by her red bikini. She was smiling at Geno as if he had plucked the moon for her, and Sidney wondered if he ever stared at Geno like that. He must have at some point, considering how he couldn’t even blame the woman for the way she looked at him. Her hand was resting gently against his arm and she said something lowly that made Geno tilt his head back in laughter. Geno looked relaxed and loose, his crooked smile on full display.
For the second time that day, taffy pieces scattered to the floor.
And his heart broke in a knowing way.
This hurt wasn’t one of unfamiliarity, of shock or confusion. This was the hurt of shame and embarrassment. That he had allowed himself to fantasize and to dream. That he had made the mistake again of loving, and hoping that someone loved him in return.
Before Geno had a chance to spot him, Sidney turned around and headed to his car, his fingernails digging little half-moons into his palm.