Chapter Text
By the time Dohalim is walking through the corridor to his apartment, having to resist dragging his feet behind him, he’s ready to be finished with the day entirely. He’s almost there at least, soon standing in front of his door.
The pearly white violin case in his hand is carefully placed in between his legs to grant him room to fish out his keys. He makes a mental note to add cleaning the case to his remaining list of tasks for the day, now turning his key in the door. Violin back in hand, he enters, only letting out a relieved sigh once the door is shut after him and he’s in the safety of silence.
“Pablo?” is the first thing he calls whilst removing his shoes, glancing around the hallway. Sometimes, a call is enough to hear a stream of meows as the ball of fluff comes running; other times, well, cats have other things to be getting on with, such as sleeping on top of Dohalim’s best bed covers or leaving fur on smooth surfaces.
Not that he minds it in the slightest, of course.
He places the violin case to one side and lifts a shoulder bag off his body. He retrieves his work diary from inside, confirming he did indeed write in the next lesson for the little boy he saw today. A great part of him wishes that the parents had not bothered. Not because the boy hadn’t shown potential; anyone can master an art with preservation, after all. But it’s clear he hadn’t wanted to, and Dohalim knows much about being forced down a certain path that is not for him.
The shoulder bag and his jacket are hung in the hall, work diary placed in his study. His arms stretch above his head as he starts his new mission: finding Pablo. It won’t take long. With nothing revealing itself from Dohalim’s bedroom by now, there’s one main contender to where Pablo will be.
Dohalim stands in a clean living room, lined with white furniture and a pale wooden floor. It's cool against the soles of his feet, then replaced with the fluffiness of the rug placed beneath the sofa and coffee table, brightly lit by a window with open curtains. There, perched on the windowsill, is a fluffy white cat with a single black ear: Pablo de Sarasate.
“Is he there?” asks Dohalim, Pablo turning at the sound of his voice and revealing the patch of black creeping over a single blue eye as well. He gives a small meow, turning back around again to look out of the window. Dohalim heads closer, pushing aside the curtain to have a better view whilst Pablo rubs his head against Dohalim. His neck cranes to peer up at a window on the apartment block opposite their own. “It appears not. I wonder how long you have been here.”
His fingers stroke the top of Pablo’s head, who leans into the touch, purring with closed eyes. When he opens them, it’s almost like he’s pleading with Dohalim: tell him to come say hello at the window.
Some days, he won’t even settle for the day until he has done so. Perhaps the little feline has a crush, which would pair amusingly with Dohalim’s own situation.
“Maybe he will appear later. Come now, you haven’t thought of pestering me for food yet.”
Pablo seems to know what some words mean—he certainly does so with food—and the mention is enough to jump down from the windowsill and follow Dohalim to the kitchen, where he opens a tin of cat food and debates what to make himself. Perhaps sushi; it’s simple enough, and by now, he’s quite good at it.
His past left little room for learning to make food. Kisara has been helpful to no end, however, and Dohalim finds it easier when he thinks of it as an art form. Sushi in particular takes a certain artistic flair to make.
It has been a long day, however, and he finds himself similar to Pablo. When he’s eventually eating, with Pablo rubbing up against his legs from the floor, he too glances at the window once or twice. It’s difficult to not be distracted with his cat as an influence.
“I will check once more with you when I’m done,” he says to Pablo. “You can't expect them to be there all the time, however. They do have their own lives to lead.”
Perhaps he’s talking to himself more than Pablo. He needs to remind himself of this too, after all. Almost yearning over someone so far in the distance is...well, it’s quite ridiculous. To think that his parents condemned the idea of him refusing an arranged marriage, wondering if it means he will throw himself at all ends of the dating scene, only to instead stare out of the window with his cat. It’s both amusing and embarrassing.
Still, he wanders over, and he knows instantly from the gentle swaying of Pablo’s tail that he sees what he was wishing for. Dohalim peers out of the window as well, up at the correct apartment, and there it is: the large black Labrador staring back at Pablo, wagging its own tail much faster.
There’s no sign of the owner this time, however, which is a little disappointing on Dohalim’s end. His hand runs down Pablo’s back. “You know, it would be quite nice to learn his name.” And like before, he’s not sure if he’s talking about the Labrador or his owner, anymore.
If only he could be a little bolder. More confident. Yet his confidence seems to lie only in other people’s love and the arts, and even there it often dwindles for one reason or another. He regularly finds himself wishing to remain alone in his apartment and drown himself in melancholy notes from his violin.
Goodness, listen to him. He might as well be a love-struck maiden in a classical novel by this point.
“Perhaps one day,” he says, not believing a single word.
It must have happened by chance one day, when Pablo de Sarasate was looking out of the window out of general curiosity and spotted the Labrador across the street. The dog in turn spotted the cat, and since then, Pablo has been sure to try and locate him when doing his rounds of watching the world turn outside the window. Recently, that has escalated into Pablo being infatuated with the dog, and going out of his way to check if his distant friend is there.
The situation is adorable of course, with the two pets longing for each other. Should it be a little different, Dohalim would have less hesitation to try and let them meet perhaps, because it’s clear Pablo wants to befriend the dog in person. There is one little problem though. Naturally, it’s not a dog alone who lives in that apartment.
Sometimes, a figure appears there too before Dohalim backs away from awkwardness. He’d feel a little strange waving up at a stranger he has never spoken to, after all. But he shouldn’t, because he swears he has seen that very duo out in the streets nearby, and that man… Well, he has enough friendliness to make up for what Dohalim could be lacking. That is for sure.
And Dohalim became intrigued with the man before he ever saw him through that window.
Therein lies the problem. The same man who I find my heart skipping over whenever I see him in the street, is the same who owns a dog my cat is—I would dare say—in love with.
Of course, that is likely an exaggeration, but the awkwardness it produces is immense. Because Dohalim was once able to escape the silly crush on a man he does not even know the name of, all because of that handsome face and smile and laughter that seems to light up rainy autumn mornings, by remaining here in his apartment. Alone. Until his cat decided to befriend the man’s dog from so far away, and in doing so, gave them a strange connection from the time Dohalim accidentally met eyes with him.
He might have waved, but Dohalim had backed away from the window before he could tell. And proceed to be humiliated by how his cat managed to make a friend without a single interaction whilst Dohalim struggles to speak to the man once.
Of course, these are all frivolous concerns, and he knows he should simply either make a move, or leave this behind if he cannot bring himself to do so. It’s not quite in his nature to be so hesitant. The sorrows of the past must plague him greater than he imagined, or perhaps he’s not adjusted to yearning this deeply for someone he does not know the name of; it could even be a mixture of both.
“You always want to play matchmaker for other people,” Kisara had said to him one day when he admitted his struggles to her. “So perhaps it’s time you found your own joy in this.”
Kisara is usually right in all matters. Whenever the topic is Dohalim’s own joy, however... That is when he is less inclined to believe her.
Either way, time continues to pass, of course. It always will no matter what Dohalim’s heart is doing. He might feel lost on one path, yet continues to make progress on another. Life isn’t a single one to him. There are too many different twists to take, after all. Endless possibilities, an overwhelming amount of options that lead to different results. Some are life-changing.
Perhaps that is too grand of a term to use for today, when the development is as small as can be, but it’s still a shift. A different gear turning.
“What could that be?” Dohalim murmurs to himself, squinting his eyes a little as he leans over Pablo, who is in his usual spot looking out of the window. At first, Dohalim thought he might have been mistaken in his vision, but no. A piece of paper has indeed been stuck on the window of the apartment belonging to the man with the Labrador.
It reads, This is Frank. What about yours? ⇨
The arrow points to said Labrador, who is once again wagging his tail as he stares down at Pablo, his beloved friend.
Is this...meant for me? Dohalim ponders to himself. It has to be, certainly? The man has been by the window a couple of times, and clearly knows as well as Dohalim that their pets have formed a special bond. Who else could he be referring to? He doubts this is a regular occurrence, where Frank is befriending every animal in every apartment he can see.
...And who chooses to name their dog Frank?
That’s not all Dohalim questions, of course. Should he respond? It would be embarrassing if this was in fact meant to be read by someone else, but regardless, it’s a piece of paper stuck on a window multiple people can see. If, on the off chance, it is indeed meant for someone else, perhaps the man will simply kindly ignore it and reflect on how such a public question could be answered by anyone.
“I suppose there’s nothing to lose,” says Dohalim, making eye contact with Pablo. Of course, Pablo knows little of what is going on, but the curious blue eyes are still encouraging in their own way.
And so, Dohalim’s first step is to acquire a piece of paper large enough to be seen from the distance between them. His next is taking hold of a black marker pen. On the piece of paper, he writes: This is Pablo de Sarasate, a part of him realising that Frank might be a somewhat more normal pet name than this.
Pablo’s gaze continues to follow Dohalim now he tapes the paper to the window. He feels a little ridiculous about doing so, but it would be rude to not answer if this is for him. Not to mention that it’ll be his first opportunity of technically speaking with Frank’s owner.
With Pablo remaining at the window, Dohalim at least tidies the apartment for a little while, dusting furniture and clearing any essence of clutter, before curiosity gets the better of him and he checks for a reply.
There is one, but not in words; rather, a somewhat awful, yet equally charming, doodle of a dog and cat with a heart around it.
A joke, of course, but the gesture is so adorable that Dohalim cannot suppress a smile.
Days ago, Dohalim had not truly realised how much little choices like this matter. It’s only until today, preparing to go for a walk with Pablo, that he will see exactly what he has now put into motion.
“There we are.” Dohalim finishes securing a blue harness on Pablo. “We should go now, before the route to the park is much busier.”
Rising from a crouched position, Dohalim leads Pablo out of the apartment, who waits patiently as the door is locked after them. The scent of cleaning materials drifts by in the hallway. It’s always welcome to see the better condition of this block than his last; his leap from a life of luxury to almost the opposite had been jarring.
Dohalim’s last task is to fix the collar of the shirt he wears beneath a cobalt blue jumper, before he leads Pablo towards the stairs. Sometimes, he demands to be carried, although saves Dohalim the effort of crouching this time and descends by himself.
It gives Dohalim a chance to dwell on the strange sense of nerves spiking in his chest. There’s nothing he can think of on the spot that would cause a random bout of anxiety, so whatever is the matter with him? It’s almost as though he’s anticipating something. Which is confusing in itself, when the only thing he truly has to anticipate is keeping an eye out for unruly dogs off their leashes.
Fresh autumn air greets him as he stands outside. It’s quite the beautiful day, albeit the sheen of overnight rain on the ground. It shines with the morning sun, and the leaves above his head and scattered on the ground continue to lose their green. The transition always gives Dohalim a strange sense of sorrow, knowing how long it will take for the lush leaves to return once they have fallen. But the array of colours never fails to be beautiful.
Dohalim heads on, thankful that the streets are indeed scarce. Pablo is a well-trained cat, and has faith in Dohalim; still, Dohalim enjoys the peace for both of them. A cat on a leash is quite the sight compared to a…
His own thoughts drift off, steps slowing, as his eyes land on a duo heading over to the same pathway, arriving from the apartment block opposite to Dohalim’s. A black Labrador with a wagging tail. A man with light brown skin and pale hair, flashing a smile down at his companion.
By the heavens, it’s him.
Not at the usual distance away, either. The man and dog are crossing the road, right to the path Dohalim is on as well.
By the time Dohalim has comprehended this fully, considering taking a sharp U-turn due to his lack of preparation and thinking of ‘normal’ topics to talk about with someone he has just met, the man’s eyes lock on Dohalim and his smile grows.
“Hey!”
Dohalim turns his head around, but there is no one behind him. Yes, the man is speaking to him.
“Good morning,” Dohalim greets. Usually, he would throw in a, lovely weather we are having today or any other polite phrase, but his usual etiquette is failing him from the sheer shock of being approached.
“Sorry if I surprised you,” says the man, now standing on the same pavement as Dohalim. “But you’re the one who replied, aren’t you?”
The true embarrassment of what Dohalim had done settles in, but if this man looks joyful over the prospect, why would Dohalim decide to lie? “Yes. So this is...Frank?” Talking about one’s pet is often easier than a person themselves, he notices, as he nods down to the Labrador by the man’s feet.
“That’s right! And I’m Alphen.” Frank receives a scratch behind the ear. “I’ve noticed Frank and—Pablo, wasn’t it?—took a liking to each other.”
There’s no recognition about Pablo’s name, nor does he seem to recall the entire name, meaning Alphen might not be as well informed on music. But...well, that smile makes up for it.
Dohalim has never seen it up close before. It feels genuine despite how the two are strangers, reaching eyes Dohalim can now see are a stormy blue. They match the scarf wrapped around his neck, falling against a black leather jacket. More casual than Dohalim to be sure, both in stature and what he wears.
It’s different to him. Perhaps that’s why he’s so drawn to someone he barely knows.
“Yes, Pablo is always by the window,” Dohalim says, perhaps a little too late. Hopefully it’s not clear that he became a little lost when taking in Alphen’s appearance. Since when has Dohalim’s heart beat so quickly over such regular conversation?
“So that’s Pablo, and…?”
Due to the drilled in politeness seeping away by the minute, it takes Dohalim a moment to realise what the small gesture towards him means. “My apologies, my name is Dohalim. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He at least remembers to reach his hand out for a handshake, only to realise that this is possibly a little too formal for a random encounter on the street. At least Alphen returns the gesture. He has quite a firm handshake, meets the eye, and that smile remains.
“Looks like it’s also a pleasure for these two.” Dohalim’s gaze follows Alphen’s down to their feet, where their pets are in the process of sniffing each other. Frank is gentle doing so, patient with a swaying tail, which puts Pablo at ease. It’s clear that they know who the other is after all the yearning gazes through the window. “They get along well!”
“Well, Pablo has wanted to see Frank for quite some time.” And I you, Dohalim adds in his mind, but he manages to hold back such an embarrassing add-on. Instead, he musters up the courage to say, “I shall be heading down this way towards the park. Would you care to walk with me?”
With Alphen’s friendliness and the way he was the one who approached Dohalim in the first place, the latter has expected a yes—regardless, when Alphen nods, it still brings a small sense of relief. “Yeah, of course! I’m heading down that way myself. Gotta take this one to the vet.” His voice lowers a little with the last few words, as though Frank would understand and Alphen is hiding this from him at all costs.
“Nothing serious, I hope?” Dohalim queries whilst the two begin to walk.
“Nah, just a regular old check-up and shots. He doesn’t actually mind it all that much. Seems like he’s connected the temporary discomfort to a bunch of treats and love after it.”
“Pablo receives quite the same,” says Dohalim. “He is admittedly rather dramatic when I first have to put him in the carrier and take him there. Once home, however, he is rather indifferent to what has occurred.”
“Typical cat I suppose, huh?”
“I also find them relatable,” says Dohalim, to which Alphen laughs. It’s a sound Dohalim has heard before, from a distance when Alphen is talking to another, yet this is the first time Dohalim has done so whilst this close. It’s difficult to describe what kind of emotions it brings to Dohalim. The way it seems so hopeful, bright, and could fight away despair if Dohalim heard it during darker moments.
Or perhaps that is merely the dramatic romantic in him talking.
Their walk continues on, and Dohalim remains thankful that their pets give the opportunity to have a ground for conversation. It’s easier to start with that than mentioning anything about themselves. Dohalim is also acutely aware of how much he can go on tangents about matters which the average person might not care about. People like animals, their own pets even more so. So it’s a good starting point.
Alphen soon shifts the conversation, saying, “I’ve noticed the two of you once or twice, by the way. It intrigued me as you don’t exactly see people walking cats often.”
“No, not frequently,” says Dohalim, shaking his head. “Living in an apartment on that level means having an indoor cat is most suitable, especially with dangers in the area. So to allow him fresh air still and give him exercise, I decided to leash train him.”
“How much of a nightmare is that with cats?”
“I'm sure it varies, but Pablo was still a kitten, so it was a fair amount easier.” Dohalim reflects back on Alphen’s words from moments ago; about how Dohalim has been noticed, not just Alphen. “I have seen the two of you as well before now. I never quite had the chance to greet you.”
By ‘had the chance’, of course, he means feeling too hesitant to approach, but displaying that lacking confidence seems unnecessary. “Ah, same with you! You were always quite far and heading in another direction or something. But then I saw Frank looking out the window a lot, recognised Pablo, and you were there as well one day. It looks like it all worked out in the end."
Dohalim could not agree more—perhaps for more reasons than Alphen has himself.
The two soon arrive at the place they will separate, with a path leading down into a park and the vets not too far ahead. Alphen must be familiar with the park himself, for he turns to Dohalim with a smile once they arrive at this spot, as though knowing this is where Dohalim has been heading too.
“Well, looks like this is where we part ways,” says Alphen. “It was nice meeting you though, Dohalim!”
“I feel much the same. Take care of yourself, Alphen.”
A strange mixture of relief and disappointment follows Dohalim once he is in the park. The former because he has a chance to process what has occurred and let his guard down enough to have his calm, composed expression grow a little less so; the latter for obvious reasons. Dohalim has only had speculations when it comes to observing what Alphen is like, yet it is clear that those have been right on the mark, and being in the man’s company is a pleasant experience.
Pablo meows, bringing Dohalim’s attention down to him, and Dohalim crouches down to pet him with a smile. It’s mostly down to Pablo that they got to meet after all. Perhaps, if they can speak to each other once, they will do so again.
*
Dohalim’s hopes were correct, and on a few occasions following their meeting, the two of them have ended up finding each other out and about on walks or outside their apartments, proceeding to them walking together for a little while. Nothing too deep of conversation. Dohalim has never been adequate at small talk, but it comes more naturally with Alphen. Perhaps because it always feels like Alphen actually cares about anything they talk about. Comments on the weather are more than simply that, where he also ponders about upcoming plans and questions Dohalim of the same.
He genuinely cares. Wants to know. Dohalim has met a fair amount of people in his life who care only for important connections, where conversation and friendship are a means of gaining something. From what Dohalim has observed from Alphen thus far, those conversations and friends are a reward in themselves already.
Are they friends? It feels as though they are. Dohalim’s friends have admittedly been few, and for some time he has only truly felt like he has a friend in his long-time companion, Kisara. Sometimes he even wonders if this supposed crush might be mixed up with the joy of befriending someone again.
Until Alphen laughs or gives one of his casual compliments, that is. Then Dohalim is back to square one with the ridiculous pining.
“So, Halloween is right around the corner,” says Alphen. Today, they walk through the local park together, Frank and Pablo by their side. “Are you doing anything?”
“Heavens no.”
The blunt reaction causes Alphen to laugh, and Dohalim cannot suppress a chuckle himself. “Not your thing?”
“There is not much about it that will appeal to my tastes, I’m afraid. I didn’t quite do anything when I was a child, and I find myself too introverted now to wish to attend parties or go downtown."
“Not horror movies either, then?” questions Alphen, gaze flickering to Frank, who is off his leash, returning from some bushes on the side of the path.
“I either find them ridiculous or I am kept awake at night. There is hardly a middle ground for me.” He smiles as Pablo walks up to Frank now the dog has returned, and the two bump noses. “How about yourself? Something tells me you’re quite the opposite to me, here.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m going out with my friend Shionne. She likes to make costumes by hand—it’s incredible, truly—and Halloween is the perfect chance for her.” Alphen grins somewhat sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “As for me, I’m a huge nerd when it comes to having a cool sword or whatever. So Halloween gives me the opportunity to have a fake one.”
“What will you be dressing as, then?”
“A pirate. Kinda wanted an eyepatch too. Shionne is going for a whole fallen angel look, and I swear, she might as well use this for a cosplay competition or something. I’ve been trying to encourage her not to stay awake all night to perfect it.”
Dohalim smiles, wondering if he would get along with Shionne. He tries to be sensible, after all, and he cannot exactly play his music in the early hours of the morning. Exploring the fine arts however, or studying compositions… It can be rather easy to lose hours to his passions without realising.
“I hope you both have fun. Perhaps I can try and get in the Halloween spirit myself, create or learn an eerie composition…”
“Composition?” Alphen echoes before Dohalim loses himself in the thought of music.
“Oh, yes, have I not mentioned that I’m a musician?”
Alphen shakes his head. “What do you play?”
“Mostly the violin, although I do play some piano and sing as well.”
Out of any reaction possible, Dohalim hasn’t expected a flash of recognition to appear on Alphen’s face, as though realising something. “So that’s you!”
“Pardon?” Dohalim blinks.
“Sometimes when the window is open, I can faintly hear a violin coming from your apartment block. Never enough to pinpoint what place it’s from exactly, though. But now I know.” Alphen’s bewilderment is replaced by a wide smile. “From what I’ve heard, you’re really amazing!”
“Oh, I still have much to perfect,” says Dohalim, a little taken aback. “But I thank you.”
“No, really, it’s awesome. You could do that professionally.”
“I technically do.” Dohalim smiles, unable to not be charmed by Alphen’s enthusiasm, nor the light in his eyes. “I’m a teacher, and I have taken part in performances from time-to-time.”
“Yet you ‘still have much to perfect’ apparently. I’ve never really been able to get much of a grasp on musical stuff, so that’s really impressive to me. You kinda seem like the artistic type in general.”
“Oh yes, I also have an interest in poetry and fine arts. Culinary arts too in fact, although I’m still learning to master cooking myself. I never much…” Dohalim clears his throat before he can finish the sentence. Usually, he doesn’t show this much self restraint when it comes to gushing about his passions, although he doesn’t want to scare Alphen away by doing so. Even if one glance at his face suggests that this would not be the case. “That is enough about me, anyhow. You might have contemplated why Pablo de Sarasate has such an…interesting name.”
“Oh, some kind of musician or something?”
“Precisely that. And Frank?”
“Gonna be real with you, I had no idea what to choose,” Alphen admits, chuckling, “so I just thought about a book I liked, and how a character called Frank was my favourite. I thought it was kind of a cute name as well, so there we are.”
“That’s as good of a reason as any,” says Dohalim. In fact, naming a pet after a book character also seems like something he would do, although he has a long list of artistic figures to get through before moving onto fiction.
“True, true. Do you want to take a seat for a moment, have a sip of water maybe?”
Dohalim wonders if Alphen questions this to be considerate over Dohalim rather than himself—not that Dohalim is looking, of course, but he appears rather athletic. “Yes, we might as well.”
He welcomes having more opportunity to speak with Alphen for a longer time, after all. The two take a seat on a wooden bench. Soon after doing so, Pablo jumps up and sits on Dohalim’s lap, happily inviting a scratch behind the ear from Alphen. By his legs, Frank settles down, and Alphen prepares some water for him as well.
“I feel as though we’ve talked about myself a great deal,” says Dohalim. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a therapist,” says Alphen, which comes as no surprise at all. “Classic story of having hardships and wanting to give others the help I needed myself, you know?”
“I completely understand.” They might be entirely different occupations, but there’s something about this reasoning that resonates with Dohalim. Bearing struggles and wanting to give others something you needed, and perhaps didn’t have yourself—Dohalim remembers those times in his life where he was chastised for his choices continuously, and now, it’s in his hands to help those who want to follow the same path.
The two linger for perhaps a little longer than needed. Talking as always, watching the leaves fall around them and resting by their feet. Occasionally, another dog walker comes on by and glances at Pablo perched in his lap curiously.
Dohalim swears Pablo soaks up the attention.
Meanwhile, Dohalim observes Alphen as much as he dares. His handsome features are as pleasing to the eye as ever, although today, Dohalim soon grows intrigued by his clothing. Today, Alphen has opted for a denim jacket. It has been customised with patches and studs. With the neatness of the arrangement, Dohalim wonders if Shionne is the person who did this, only to have his heart skip a little over the bisexual flag that has been sewed on the shoulder.
How did he not notice it sooner? Perhaps it’s how the hues of the flag are a similar value to the denim. Either way, he finds himself a little more hopeful than before, that perhaps his nonsensical crush is not completely irrational after all.
It’s now that Alphen spots him looking, and just a flicker of uncertainty creeps on Alphen’s face; but Dohalim smiles his reassurance, and Alphen smiles in return, and a sense of belonging falls upon them both.
“I’m going to have to head back now, unfortunately,” says Alphen after a few minutes, clipping Frank’s leash back on his collar. “Really have to make sure I get some chores done before I work tomorrow.”
“Yes, I should do the same.”
Still, disappointment follows as the two leave the park, not assisted by the way Alphen has grown somewhat quiet. They’ve talked today more than ever, so the contrast leaves Dohalim feeling somewhat anxious. Perhaps he didn’t stop himself going into passionate ramblings enough.
This is, at least, what he believes until Alphen speaks again, his voice slightly more awkward than it has been until now. “Uh, Dohalim?”
“Yes?”
“It’s been nice spending time with you lately, and I’m really glad we’ve met. But I kinda want us to have a reason to do so that doesn’t involve our pets, as loved as they are.”
Dohalim glances down at said pets, then to Alphen again, taking a moment to process that Alphen actually likes spending time with him. "I quite agree.”
“Ah, that’s good. Really good.” Alphen clears his throat, and after doing so, stands a little straighter with seemingly newfound confidence. “I was thinking I could take you for lunch at a place I like.”
Oh.
“On a date, maybe.”
Oh.
“Or just lunch in general. I’m not picky.”
“No, a date would be wonderful,” Dohalim blurts out, made urgent by the prospect of Alphen going back on the exact scenario Dohalim has wanted.
Alphen blinks, first met with surprise but then smiling all over again. Dohalim can see Alphen grow visibly more relieved, his shoulders lowering. “Oh, great! God, I thought I was reading everything wrong. Should I give you my number, then?”
“Of course,” Dohalim says, trying to not dwell on the fact that his behaviour has had reason to be read in any romantic sense. He’s always been quite the romantic for others, for stories, but not so much for his own personal dating experiences. Perhaps that means he’s also awful at hiding it.
Not that there is much to regret over that when it has led to this. The two exchange their numbers, and once they part at their apartment complexes, Dohalim walks away not with disappointment and fear that it might be the last time, but with excitement and hope instead.