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Bedman's apartment was a simple, evidently lived-in home.
There were books stacked in neat little piles, organized by size, and ranging from leatherbound to clothbound, from short to long. There were pens and pencils sitting in jars, or lined up in neat little rows, on any available writing surface. There were stacks of papers, sorted by their importance or their category, on the coffee table. Postcards sat stacked on a small bookshelf by the window, waiting to be framed or stashed away, and bills and other letters sat on the coffee table. Blankets, both small and large, were draped over the back of the living chair and on the back of the couch, and there were pillows of many shapes and sizes crowding up the space on the couch.
While Bedman was somewhat of a neatnik, he found that he liked having things within arm’s reach when he needed them. He also liked having a particular place for every little thing in his small home. Things such as blankets or cushions always sat ready for use on the couch. Books always sat on the table, in their little stack, ready to be read. Pens always sat in the jar, ready to be picked up, refilled, and to be scrawled across the paper. While some would call the home cluttered and only somewhat clean, Bedman found the way he had things to be comfortable. Besides, it was like heaven compared to the sterile environment of a hospital, or the chaos of the group home he lived in for a time, or the expansive emptiness of the dream world. And besides, it wasn't like Bedman had many guests around to entertain.
Well, besides a certain Illyrian prince. But, thankfully, Sin was never really a stickler for neatness. Despite his royal standing, Sin could appreciate the more simple things in life, like a nice, cozy, yet somewhat cluttered, apartment. In fact, the first time that Sin came by Bedman's apartment, he had been impressed with how welcoming Bedman's home was compared to the villa he lived in with his family.
“It just feels more like a home, you know?” Sin explained at the time. Sin had reclined across the couch, sitting against the armrest and stretching his frame most of the cushions. He crossed his slipper-clad feet. “Your apartment reminds me of when I would visit this little bed and breakfast place that my old man and I would stay at. They had the best pancakes I’ve ever had. You would love the food there.”
Thinking of the memory brought a soft smile on Bedman’s face. At this time, one arm was resting on the armrest of his wheelchair, and his other one was propped up, holding his head. He sat at a wooden table by the kitchen. Sitting in front of Bedman was a saucer with a tea cup sitting on top of it. A larger plate sat beside the saucer. Nearby, in the center of the table, was oat milk sitting in a pitcher, with a bowl of sugar placed beside it. There was a small ornate swan that held a pair of antique tea strainers, and another pair of teaspoons. A small pair of tongs sat by the bowl, ready to be used. Directly opposite of Bedman was an identical set of porcelain.
Save for the pitcher, all of the equipment was courtesy of one Sin Kiske. Sin had brought the tea set to Bedman’s apartment when he learned that Bedman had never had afternoon tea. Bedman could recall how he had felt when he opened the box Sin had brought him, and saw the tea set that lay inside.
“What is this?” Bedman asked. Sin had rubbed his neck and beamed.
“It’s a tea set!” Sin answered. “I told my mom that I was considering taking you to get afternoon tea at this restaurant in the square, but she had the best suggestion: treating you to homemade afternoon tea. She gave me this tea set that my dad picked up for her in Bavaria, and said to give it to you as a super late housewarming gift!”
Bedman had been surprised.
“Oh.” Bedman was caught off-guard. A flush had spread across his face. “Thank you.”
Bedman remembered inspecting each and every piece of the tea set. He felt the heft of the teapot in his hands, the cold touch of the ceramic material on his skin. The porcelain was ornate, with white and golden swans flying across the base of the cups. Each piece of the set felt handcrafted, from the intricate accents to the little ridges of glaze-covered dried paint. Bedman was touched by the thoughtfulness of Sin's gift. However, he remembered also being flustered by the thought of Sin talking about him to his family. He also remembered the voice in his head telling him that Sin gave him this gift, and was doing this for him, out of pity.
Bedman tried to shut that voice down as soon as possible. Being a pessimist brought him no enjoyment after all.
To try to get his mind off of things, Bedman had insisted on assisting Sin with setting up the tea set for use. Though, Sin wanted to set up everything himself at first. It wasn’t that Sin thought that Bedman was unable to set up the tea set. It was far from that, really. What Sin wanted was to treat Bedman to an immersive afternoon tea experience. He wanted to prove how much he had developed his royal etiquette, and he wanted Bedman to feel like something akin to royalty. But Bedman had insisted on helping out. He had assisted in obtaining all of the ingredients in his kitchen, reaching down into cabinets and grabbing the oat milk from the fridge. Sin was the one who set the table, and had poured the milk and the sugar into their respective containers because Bedman didn't know the proper table dressing for afternoon tea. When they were done, Bedman went to go sit at the table, and Sin had begun brewing.
Back in the present, Bedman could distantly hear Sin puttering about in the kitchen, boiling water, and chattering aimlessly.
“You know, I’ve never had oat milk before.” Sin stated. “I’ve only had real milk- er, cow milk, I mean. My old man never really bought milk for our journeys. We were always on the road, and he didn’t want to just buy something that would go rancid in the sun. But when me and the old man would eat out, I would always order chocolate milk for special occasions because most restaurants don't serve sugar water.”
“Interesting…” Bedman murmured. “Have you ever had hot chocolate?”
“I don’t think so. I prefer my chocolate milk cold rather than hot, but I’d be willing to try hot chocolate with you. But I don’t know if you can have hot chocolate, since you’re lactose intolerant."
Bedman chuckled, before he pushed up his glasses.
“I can actually have small amounts of dairy. I just can’t have too much of it because my body can’t break down dairy very well. Did you know that lactose intolerance stems from when your body stops making lactose enzymes? These enzymes are present at birth, but as you get older, they stop multiplying. It gets to the point where the body cannot process the amount of lactose you consume. The lactose then gets caught in your-”
A high pitched whine sounded out, interrupting Bedman’s speech. Sin visibly perked up, and turned the heat on the kettle down. He then put the kettle on to another burner, and went to grab the teapot from where he had placed it on the counter.
“That sounds pretty cool, Remy.” Sin chirped. He grabbed a tin with a purple label on it off of the counter, and then popped it open. “Have you ever had purple tea?”
Bedman quirked his brow.
“No. I didn’t even know such a blend existed.”
“Oh. I think you’d like this blend. My dad actually got this tea for my mom because my mom’s trying to cut caffeine out of our family's lives. To be honest, I didn’t think I would like this tea because I've never really been one for tea. The old man and I didn’t have many chances to drink any tea while on the road, and when I did get to have tea, I always thought it was too bitter. But then I had this blend, and I fell in love. It’s way sweeter than the black tea Mom used to serve, and it smells amazing!”
Bedman smiled at Sin’s enthusiasm. Sin grabbed the measuring spoon sitting in the tin, and then scooped up a heaping of leaves. He narrowed his eye at the leaves, and then thwacked the spoon against the inside of the container.
“You fell in love, eh?” Bedman quipped. Sin stopped preparing the tea, and turned around to look at Bedman. “Don’t you already have a boyfriend, Sin?”
Sin seemed confused for a moment, before he widened his eye in realization. Clearly embarrassed, a blush began to bloom across his cheeks.
“Ah, I meant that I fell in love metaphorically. It just means that I really like purple tea.” Sin gave Bedman a bashful smile. “You’re still my number 1, Mimi.”
Bedman huffed out a laugh at the nickname. Sin was always one for a fun nickname, but Mimi was amongst one of the most ridiculous ones that Sin referred to his loved ones with.
“Thank you, Sin. You’re too kind.”
Things were quiet as Sin opened the teapot, and dumped the tea leaves into the teapot. Sin put the teapot on the counter beside the stove, and, with more care than Bedman had ever seen his boyfriend possess, he carefully poured the water into the ornate teapot. He emptied the kettle of its contents, and then placed the kettle into the kitchen sink basin.
“My mom says that this tea takes about 5 minutes to steep properly.” Sin stated. "Though, the tin says it's supposed to take 4. What do you think, Romy?"
Bedman furrowed his brow in thought.
"Hmmm…I don't know. Let’s go with 5."
"Okay. You don’t mind watching the tea, do you? I need to leave the tea to sit for a bit while I get the snacks.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
“Sweet! Thanks Remy. I hope you like blueberry sweet biscuits."
Sin walked out of the room, leaving Bedman to his own devices. When Sin was out of his field of vision, the young man let out a heavy sigh. While part of Bedman savored the time he was able to spend with Sin, another part of him, the more cynical part of him that lingered on, seemed to think that Sin was far too good to Bedman. Why would the prince of Illyria go out of his way to make him tea on a crummy little stove in a shabby apartment? The more cynical part of Bedman’s psyche seemed to believe that Sin was doing this out of mere obligation. Though, a more optimistic part of his psyche tried to put Bedman at ease. Sin clearly enjoyed spending time with Bedman, he rationalized. No matter if Sin was making tea, or was going shopping with him, or was playing a game with him, the blond always seemed to have a good time when he was with Bedman. Bedman never heard Sin complain once about the time he spent with him.
“I found them!”
Bedman was knocked out of his train of thought by Sin rushing in with a paper bag. He placed the bag on the table, and pulled out a square box of pastries. He laid the box on the table, and then reached further into the bag. He pulled out a stack of somewhat crumpled napkins.
“Here, take a few!” Sin held out a napkin for Bedman to grab. Gingerly, Bedman grabbed some napkins, and laid them on the table in front of him.
“Oh, thank you, Sin.”
Sin then took a napkin, covered one of his hands with it, and started to distribute the biscuits amongst him and Bedman. On Bedman’s plate, Sin placed a pair of biscuits on them. Sin then laid out two biscuits on his plate. He then grabbed a tea strainer from the swan-shaped holder, and then placed it on the brim of his teacup. Bedman reached over to do the same, though he only grabbed one biscuit.
“Do you want to save these for later?” Sin asked.
“No thank you. I’m not really one for sweets.”
“Okay! More for me, Elphelt, and Ram later on then.”
Sin went to set the box on the counter, and Bedman made a mental note to remind Sin about the treats for when he left. Sin grabbed the teapot from where it sat nearby, and held it by its thick, gold-enameled handle. Walking ever so slowly so as not to spill the tea, Sin approached the table with the teapot. Sin went to his side of the table, and while holding the lid of the teapot with his other hand, tipped over the teapot over the teacup. Bedman watched as the tea, which was red in color, was poured into the cup. Sin seemed to be dead set on this task, his eye trained on pouring the perfect amount of tea. Bedman found the sight to be intriguing, and, if he was honest, adorable. He'd only seen Sin have this level of focus in a select few things, like combat training or playing mancala with Delilah or adding the perfect amount of gravy or sauce to his meal.
Before Bedman could stare for too long, though, Sin finished pouring. Sin then approached Bedman's side, careful as not to bump into the metal frame of his lover's wheelchair, and leaned in very close. In fact, Sin leaned in so close that Bedman could feel strands of his hair tickling his ear, his blond hair contrasting against the lavender of Bedman's own. Bedman could feel Sin's warm breath on his neck. The sensation sent chills down Bedman's neck, and a red blush bloomed across the pale skin on his cheeks. His brown eyes went from Sin, to the teacup, and then back to Sin. Steam rose from the teacup and began to condense on his large eyeglasses. Sin, now seemingly just a cluster of bright colors and wobbly shapes in Bedman's eyes, stopped pouring, and backed away.
"Oh, Mimi, your glasses!" Sin exclaimed.
Bedman, too caught up in the moment, seemed puzzled for once.
"What about them?" Bedman asked.
"They're covered in steam." Sin explained.
Bedman took off his glasses, and then lifted the collar of his large sweater to wipe off his glasses. A feeling of embarrassment crept into his body, the emotion coiling around his insides, and curling into his stomach. How could Bedman have gotten so worked up over something tame like Sin pouring tea for him? Bedman put his glasses back on, and pushed them up his nose.
“Thanks for, uh, letting me know, Sin.” Bedman stammered. He was pointebly looking away from Sin, who was cleaning out the teapot in the sink. “I really do appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem!” Sin replied. He turned off the sink, and dried off his hands. Then, clasping his hands together, he beamed brightly. “Now, let’s drink some tea!”
The afternoon tea in itself was rather uneventful. Bedman still wanted to study how everything was done though. While Bedman stared silently at his steaming hot cup of tea, Sin was eagerly pouring cream and sugar into his tea. Bedman watched as Sin dropped the sugar cubes into his tea, one by one. While Bedman would never admit it to anyone, he could watch and observe Sin all day, studying each and every single movement he made. Bedman was an inquisitive person, and he wanted to understand anything and everything about the world. And in this world, there was Sin, and everything he represented.
Bedman wished he could understand how Sin kept a spark of hope in his eye, how he maintained his perfect, bright smile, and how he always sustained a warm and friendly demeanor. A part of him, a romantic and sentimental part, felt like that if Bedman could understand what it was like to be Sin, then their relationship could truly develop further. If he and Sin could truly, and deeply, understand what it was like to be each other, then a higher level of understanding and trust could be achieved. But the more rational part of Bedman knew that such a thing was nigh impossible. Even if it was possible, though, neither Bedman or Sin were spiritual enough to commit to such rituals.
"How do you like your tea, Romy?"
Bedman glaced up at Sin from his cup of his tea.
"Honestly, I've never really had enough tea to know how I like it. I can tell you that I like my coffee with only a smidge of cream. The dash of cream makes it cool down faster, and keeps it on the bitter side. Drinking coffee with no sugar is better for the body, and it gives a more subtle boost to your energy."
Sin made a face at the thought of drinking coffee without any sweetener.
"You really drink that crap?" Sin asked.
"Indeed, I do." Bedman smirked.
"Then, why won't you drink the tea? You haven't even taken off the strainer."
Bedman looked down, and found that indeed, the strainer was still lodged on the rim of the cup. The red tea had begun to cool down, with the only heat coming from the residual heat from the cup. Bedman's smile wavered, before it faded completely. If Bedman was honest, he had been rather distracted by looking at Sin, and studying him. Though, he'd never admit that to anyone. It was embarrassing enough to admit that to himself. Bedman grabbed the strainer, and laid it to rest on his napkins on the table. Maybe it wasn't the most well-mannered way to take off the strainer, but it was certainly a way to be rid of it.
"Ah, I was letting the tea cool off before I was going to take a drink." Bedman smiled nervously, before he carefully grasped the cup with one of his hands, and lifted it up to his lips. He tipped it over, and took a drink.
The first thing Bedman noticed about the tea was that it tasted like citrus. Bedman couldn't quite put a pin on what citrus fruit the tea exactly tasted like, maybe lemon, but there was certainly an acidic undertone to it. The second thing Bedman observed was the notes of fruitiness in the blend. Though, again, Bedman couldn't put a name on the other kind of fruit the tea tasted like. If Bedman had to describe it, he could say that the tea tasted quite magenta, which wasn't quite purple, but wasn't quite red either. When Bedman pulled away the cup from his lips, he looked up and found that Sin was staring at him with a wide, curious eye.
“It tastes fruity.” Bedman stated. “It’s sweet, yet has a note of bitterness. It tastes like magenta.”
“What do you mean it tastes like magenta?” Sin asked.
“I mean, it doesn’t taste quite like purple. It’s not cool enough. Yet, it lacks the spice to quite make it taste like red. It’s curious, unique, and interesting. I like it.”
There was a moment of silence, where Sin looked at Bedman with an expression of confusion. Then, a wide smile spread across his face.
“You really like it?” Sin asked.
At that question, the tables turned for Bedman. It was now his turn to be confused.
“Why wouldn’t I like it?” Bedman asked. “I’m not really much of a tea person, but this blend is great. It’s fruity, flavorful, and it has the perfect balance of sweet and tart. I think you did a great job on brewing it too.”
At the compliment Bedman gave, Sin seemed to be teeming with joy. His toothy smile was reaching from corner to corner. His eye seemed to be gleaming with joy.
“I’m so glad you enjoy it!” Sin exclaimed.
Bedman couldn’t help but smile too. Sin’s happiness appeared to be contagious.
“Yeah. I’m glad I enjoyed it too.” Bedman responded. “However, would you like to know what I enjoyed more than this tea?”
“The sweet biscuit?” Sin asked.
Bedman snorted out a laugh, an undignified, genuine laugh.
“No, Sin. What I really enjoyed was spending time with you today. I really do enjoy your company.”
Sin appeared to be caught off-guard by the compliment. He was caught between confusion and joy for a moment. However, the mood he settled in was happiness.
“Wow, Romeo. That was sweet of you to say. Truly, very sweet.”
Bedman averted his eyes from Sin’s unwavering smile.
“It’s no problem.”