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A single white tablet, perched on his tongue and then swallowed with a small sip of water. Combing his hair neatly with water. Making sure his fingernails are clean and neat.
For as long as he can remember, Eugene Sledge has had a routine before he leaves the house and goes out into public but on this night, he can’t bring himself to do much more than swallow his medicine and examine his pale face in the mirror.
Too many sleepless nights spent studying, too many early mornings balancing books, too many long hours spent bent over low tables have made his cheekbones sharp and his eyes too bright. Against the eggshell colored tile in the bathroom, Eugene looks washed out and unanimated.
Babe and Dick are waiting outside in the rest of the apartment, pretending like they’re not about to try and convince him to stay in from the storm. He takes another moment, selfishly, to brace his hands with their long fingers against the sink, with it’s bar of yellow soap and lean forward, short red hair almost brushing the light blue hand towel hanging next to the mirror.
Enough making people worry.
When he strides out into the combined living and kitchen area of the apartment that the three of them share, Dick and Babe are participating in the kind of silence that happens when the person you were talking about walks into the room.
“I’m off,” he says, attempting to be cheerful and his two best friends share a look before they start bustling around the apartment like the mother hens that they are.
“It’s almost sub-zero out, borrow my jacket,” Dick orders, already draping his own heavy flannel coat around his thin shoulders. Eugene huffs a laugh and obliges by sticking his arms through the warm sleeves, fingers barely sticking out enough to add a warm knitted scarf from the pegs by the door around his neck.
“I still say he should come visit you here,” Babe mumbles from the kitchen around a mouthful of carrots. “Instead of making you go out and see him.” The this was his idea after all is unspoken but implied.
He’s cooking something flagrantly warm and predictably delicious, thick framed reading glasses perched on his nose, dish towel tucked into the side of his sweatpants.
Dick, with a ratty college sweatshirt on and a newspaper waiting for him on his armchair, looks similarly warm and casual and for a minute Eugene wants more than anything to stay here in the cozy apartment all night instead of braving the winter’s cold -and Snafu- outside.
Dick, because he’s been a father since he came out of the womb and practically bleeds paternal instincts, notices his apprehension and places a comforting hand on his thin shoulder. There is no doubt in Eugene’s mind that if he truly wanted it, he could change back into his sweats and settle down at the couch and sleep without dreaming for once, while the other two kept the rest of the cold, wide world out.
But this is Snafu he’s thinking about. Snafu who would sooner wrap him up in his own coat than see him go cold, his own arms than see him go lonely. Or at least that’s what he thought.
He squeezes Dick’s wrist and waves goodbye to Babe and slips out into the silent hallway, knowing that behind him, the two of them are desperately hoping that he’ll come out of the other end of this evening happier than he started it.
It’s a short five minute walk to the diner where they have agreed to meet. It’s close, but they don’t frequent it very often as a couple because the bakery and the floral shop are where Eugene spends most of his time and in Snafu’s opinion there’s much better food and company to be had at those places. The pie at this diner has always been notoriously bad.
The bakery. That’s where they had been when they had had The Same Old Argument yesterday during the last few hours of Eugene’s Thursday night shift.
Sledge had been trying to whip up a last batch of molasses cookies before the sun set and Snafu had been dead set on him staying off of his feet.
“You spend too many hours in this here kitchen,” he had protested, tending to the small garden of potted plants that had sprung up around the cash register. Gardenias, pansies, a sprig of laurel, a succulent or two against a wall of donuts, cakes and danishes.
On and on it went, the nagging, the comments, all while Sledge was trying to get work done, to keep the bakery afloat.
“Let Malarkey or Babe take a shift or two, let them help with the books,” Snafu had wheedled, picking apart a blueberry muffin with his fingers.
“Iー,” he had stopped then, involuntarily, to grasp his chest and screw his eyes shut against the sudden rapid thumping against his rib cage. Snafu’s mouth had opened and shut wordlessly in time with his outreached hand, gripping like toy claw, too hesitant to grab his arm.
That had set off another round of Snafu’s famous attitude that flared up when the flower shop had rude customers or when Sledge was being particularly difficult. One thing had led to another to another and...
“Go home Snafu,” Sledge had snapped. “Just go home, I’ll talk to you later.”
Snafu had slunk off across the street and Sledge’s heart had twinged in a way that had nothing to do with his heart condition.
That wouldn’t have been a major, relationship ending concern by itself. They were adults, they could work through arguments.
Now, he finishes trudging up the last few feet of sidewalk towards the diner and it’s easy to make out where Snafu is hunched in a booth, chipped mug full of coffee in front of him. Barely an hour had passed after their fight before Snafu had texted him, a simple meet me at the diner tomorrow with an attached time.
Now he was worried that this was it. That Snafu had finally had enough of taking care of someone as difficult and messed up as Sledge and he was going to find someone else to bring lilies, daisies and chrysanthemums.
The incident yesterday hadn’t been the first time Snafu had been on edge lately, come to think of it. It was easy to tell when a man like Snaf was concerned with something, he couldn’t stop fidgeting and teasing, the edge of his anxiety sharpening on goofing around and smirking.
As Sledge yanked open the door to the diner and entered the narrow restaurant, he couldn’t help but replay the most recent examples over and over in his head, his teeth worrying his winter-chapped lips relentlessly. What could be worrying Snafu so much that he constantly seemed on the edge of blurting out something horrible?
This line of thought twisted his stomach so much that when Snafu caught sight of him and gave him a customary look-over with the same usual satisfied grin, he could barely muster up a decent smile. Instead, he just nodded his head like some ninny who hadn’t spent the last nine months learning to return those smirking looks.
Snafu, hardly flappable for all he had been anxious about recently, took it in stride and gestured for Sledge to take the seat in the booth across from him. As soon as he had, Snafu snatched up a cold hand and gave it a quick kiss right on the knuckles before laying it carefully back down on the tabletop.
“Hiya,” Sledge mumbled, windblown cheeks staying pink due to the blush slowly creeping up his face. Damn this man and his easy charms, he could be so hard to figure out.
“Have ya been takin’ care of yuhself?” Snafu probed, head bent and fingers tapping away at the greasy tabletop. That constant mantra that he always, always asked Sledge, even if he had seen him mere hours earlier, did nothing to assuage his nervousness.
Luz swooped by with a cup of decaf especially for Sledge, the one saving grace of the rundown greasy spoon. Instead of his usual banter, he took one look at the two of them hunched over and had the decency to realize that this was a conversation he did not want to interrupt.
“I’ve been fine,” Eugene answered, nonchalantly once Luz had fled, refusing to meet his boyfriend’s eyes until he couldn’t stand it anymore. When he finally did, it had the effect he had known it would. All of the tension in his shoulders melted like slush in the spring sun along with any residual anger or bitterness. As hard as it was to leave, it was by contrast extremely easy to come back.
“You know I worry, Sledgehammer,” Snafu drawled, a tiny smile peeking in the corner of his mouth. He reached out and placed a gentle tan hand on Sledge’s thin pale one. “Too much going on in that head o’yours.”
“Well I can take care of myself,” Sledge shot back, maybe a touch too harshly, a reminder that they had unfinished business, like the fact that Snafu had something he had been keeping in.
“You don’ understand Eugene,” Snafu drawled, eyes liquidy green and glinting with pure affection, sweet like syrup and shining gold like it too. He glanced down at the tabletop for a moment, and then having collected himself, continued. “How much we all worry. How much poor little ole me worries.”
His mouth cocked in a rakish half grin, flashing a few white teeth.
“It’d be rude to tell us not to.”
He was teasing with the last bit, unable to hold his smile back. What could Eugene, who had always had walls made of spun sugar, do? He melted under Snafu’s sweet words and warm hand covering his, improving it’s poor circulation. Snafu was all apple spice, tart and otherworldly but with just enough home mixed in. In just a few months he’d managed to take Sledge’s damaged heart and make it his own.
“What do you propose then?” Sledge sighed, offering an olive branch, a promise to listen in spite of what he feared he might hear about breaks and changed attitudes.
“Take a break with me, this spring,” Snafu proposed, barely waiting for Sledge to finish speaking. Sledge sat back in his seat, surprised beyond words. Snafu took that as an invitation to explain and took it, eagerly.
“Come down to the bayou with me for Easter, we can stay in my home, Maman would love to fill out those skinny bones o’yours,” Snafu pleaded. “You can meet my friends, learn how to make beignets. Louisiana will treat you good.”
While Sledge processed the sudden change, Snafu reached into his worn canvas jacket with it’s plaid lining and pulled a beautiful sprig of heather that he gently pressed in Eugene’s palm. This was how all the flower shop boys showed their affection. Babe recieved a bright yellow sunflower every week they were in season and Dick never failed to have a packet of herb seeds on hand.
It was vibrant, a nice purple with a healthy green stem. Eugene immediately wrapped it in a napkin and put it in his pocket carefully. It would go in an old cigar box he kept beside his bed with the other dried sprigs. Tangible fragments of their devotion to each other.
“What do you say?” Snafu asked, more than a hint of hope in his voice but also...was that nervousness? “Come see my home?”
Eugene took a deep breath, hardly able to believe how differently the night was going than he had expected. Here he had been thinking that Snafu was waiting to ambush him, to tell him that it wasn’t worth it, that he had been thinking about it and they weren’t right for each other. Instead, Snafu had simply been trying to work up the nerve to ask him to take the next step, meeting the family.
“Could we-” He started, gathering his thoughts carefully to try and keep the little tremble of excitement and other strong emotions out of his voice. “Could we maybe stop by Mobile on our way back? I know some folks there that would sure be glad to meet you.”
Snafu’s reaction was that of unadulterated and childish joy as he threw his head back and laughed unabashedly. Eugene smiled out of pure habit, admiring the clean lines of Snaf’s throat and his shaking shoulders as he shook his head.
“Lawd, I’ll take you anywhere you want Eugene,” Snafu told him, grabbing his hand again and squeezing it tight. “I’m sure Dick and Babe will want to know what I said, go ahead and call them.” Snafu directed this last part with a knowing wink but no malice.
“I’ll make the call,” he told Snafu, blushing at being caught and retreated to the payphone in the corner, ringing the phone number he knew by heart.
“Everything’s fine,” he said in a giddy rush as soon as the line clicked and Winters had answered. “Nothing bad serious, but good serious stuff. He wants me to meet his family.”
“Fucking fantastic!” Someone that sounded a lot like Babe cheered from the background. “I’m makin’ cookies, just you wait Sledge!”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Dick said, the smile in his voice evident. “Come back soon and Babe will make you both hot chocolate too, I’ll make sure of it.”
“Will do,” Sledge hummed. “Be back soon.”
“Oh, and Gene?” Dick said, making Sledge pause before he could hang up. “You picked a good one.”
Sledge smiled into the mouthpiece and said his goodbyes. Feeling the evidence of how loved he was, by his friends, by his boyfriend, always made him feel as sweet and hyper as eating a plate full of sticky buns did.
“Well now Sledgehammeh, what do ya say?” Snafu chuckled when Eugene had returned to the table and reclaimed his hand with a happy sigh.
“I’ll go wherever,” Sledge promised, squeezing the hand clasped in his, dirty fingernails and scratches from rose thorns and all. “I’ll follow you, I guess.” He shrugged, but adding a sincere smile in so Snafu knew he was for real.
“In the meantime, the pie here is shit,” Snafu stated matter-of-factly in response, not making an attempt to hide his happy grin. “Do you know where we can get somethin’ better to eat? Preferably someplace where we can warm you up?”
Eugene grinned and shook his head, staring down where the spilled packet of sugar had scattered across the dark tabletop like a million constellations.
“I think I might know a place,” he told Snafu and they giggled like fools. Any stranger passing by would be able to peek into the diner window and see their silhouettes caught in perfect clarity by the hanging light above them. Two shadows, nose to nose, forehead to forehead. Perfectly in sync.