Chapter Text
I'll follow you down the road
Up the hill into the dark
Past the strawberry fields
To the cemetery gates
***
Bob had learned the subtle art of pretending to be busy with paperwork long ago. These days, especially when there was almost no one in the flower shop, he could always be found behind his desk typing away on his computer. He looked hard at work, but if you leaned across the desk, you'd see him 19 levels deep into Pac-Man.
He was about to reach level 20, when an elbow was jabbed into his ribs. The high-pitched game over sound effect filled his ears as he turned to glare at Ava. She was holding in a laugh, but doing a poor job of it.
“What the hell, Aves? I was about to beat my high score,” he said, ripping out his earbuds.
“Don't look now,” she said, “but tall, blonde, and brooding just walked in.”
He glanced at the mirror on the wall behind her and spotted the back of a very familiar head. The shop didn't get many regulars, but John had been a faithful patron for the past two years now. He usually came the first and third Friday of every month, though, and today was only Wednesday.
“Two days before schedule. I wonder why,” he said.
She shrugged. “Why don't you go ask?”
He turned back to his computer and closed out the Pac-Man window just as Yelena, their florist, walked by. “No need for questions,” she said, dropping a finished floral arrangement in front of Ava and winking at Bob. “He’s coming this way.”
Bob was going to argue, but she walked off before he could get a word out. John was still perusing the flowers a few minutes later, but as if something had summoned him, he looked up and caught Bob’s eye. Bob cursed inwardly. Yelena had to be a magician with the way she always knew when things would happen.
“Have fun with him,” Ava said as she swept by him with the arrangement and headed for the front door. He heard the sound of Ava’s friend Mel’s excited voice as the door swung open and closed.
He scowled, but had to throw on his best customer service smile as John reached the counter. The smell of his cologne hit Bob square in the jaw and made his knees wobble a bit. He bit his cheek and smiled wider, wishing he could've developed a crush on literally anyone else in this stupid town. It had to be the married straight guy who had a kid and a house with a white picket fence. Well, maybe there was a picket fence, Bob had never gotten that far into conversation with the man.
“Hey, Bobby,” John said. “How's it going?”
“Oh, it's going great. Perfectly well. Business has been slow today so it's nice to see your face, er, see you here. See your face in the shop and s-stuff…” he trailed off feeling mortified.
John just chuckled and looked down at the counter. “You gotta work on that stutter man. Bad for business.”
“Don't worry. I do very well on my monthly performance reports!” He wanted to crawl in a hole and die at that moment. John actually thought he had a stutter, he'd thought it for months now. Bob didn't have a stutter unless he was talking to John. The man would probably think he was a nut if he knew the effect his perfect jaw and large biceps and golden blonde hair had on the poor flower shop employee. “But you aren't here for stuff like that. You want flowers. Same as usual?”
His usual being a small bundle of lavender and daisies that he always had tied with the same shade of green ribbon. It was for the grave of his brother, Mike. He had died two years before in the army and he'd been one hell of a man according to John, who liked to gush about him whenever he was buying the fresh flowers for his grave.
He almost rang up the order before he saw John’s smile fall. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as the older man took in a few steadying breaths.
“Actually no,” he said. “I need quite a bit of flowers, it's for an event.”
“What kind?”
“A funeral.”
Bob’s face fell. “Oh, I'm so sorry.”
“Don't be. You didn't cause it.”
John laughed at his own joke, but it was strained. Bob pulled up a fresh order sheet and waited for him to continue, ignoring how sad he now looked. Bob hated when people were upset. He always felt like it was his fault.
After a while, John shook himself out and looked back up, his face beaming. It almost looked genuine. “What kind of flowers would you suggest? I know you're good with this stuff.”
“Yeah, that's me. The flower expert extraordinaire.” He pulled up the list of what they had in stock and filtered it by what suited funerals the best. “White is a good color for funerals. It signifies peace and hope. We have a wide array of blooms in that color right now as well. You could do lilies. Those are popular, but can be expensive. We also have chrysanthemums, carnations, or white roses. Those are also very good choices.”
He typed some more, loading up another page of available flowers, before looking back at John. The man’s eyes had a haunted look to them, one that stood out prominently with his fake smile. It struck Bob deeply and he found himself wanting to reach over the counter and give the man a hug. Luckily he had some self control.
“Um, I…” John’s eyes darted everywhere, his mouth opening and closing. On the counter, his hand was twisting his wedding ring around in circles. “Can you say that again. I’m sorry I'm just out of it right now. I wasn't expecting to have to do this and, you know…”
Bob nodded. “I get it. You can never plan for stuff like this, no matter how hard you try.”
He read the list again three times before John picked something he hadn't even mentioned nor did they have in stock. He ended up picking the flowers himself and applied his employee discount to the order, but John didn't even notice as he handed him his credit card.
John didn't show up for a month afterward, so Bob was surprised to see him come in that Friday. He looked haggard. His eyes were rimmed with dark circles, his hair was messy, and he’d grown out his beard. His usual clean cut style was replaced with baggy sweats and a leather jacket thrown over a stained old high school football shirt.
He ordered the usual bunch of flowers for Mike and then a second bundle, this one made up of yellow daisies and tied with white ribbon. Their hands brushed as Bob handed him the order, and he thought he saw John shudder at the contact, but the man just wished him a good day before leaving with the flowers.
The interaction stayed with Bob for the rest of the day. He lay in bed playing it over and over again, wondering why. It was only when he was drifting off to sleep, that he realized John hadn't been wearing his wedding ring.
***
John fell back into his usual routine after that. He came in on Fridays and asked for the same two bundles of flowers, looking more and more haggard with each visit. Bob was beginning to worry about him, but he didn't want to pry into the man’s life. It wasn't as if they were friends.
Three months after the funeral order, John came in looking wrecked. He didn't even stop to look at any of their displays. He just walked right up to the counter and slapped his card down.
“The usual,” he said with a grunt.
Bob rang him up without so much as a hello. He looked like he'd bite his head off if he tried to talk to him and his eyes were unfocused and hollow as if he'd just gotten back from the warfront. Bob had no idea what to think.
He handed him the receipt before going to collect the flowers. Yelena usually supervised him when he did any floral work. Ava had worked there longer and so she had more allowances than him. Fortunately for him, both women were out on a big call with Yelena’s father Alexei. Someone was getting married and they had practically bought out half the shop. That left Bob to run everything on his own.
John stood at the counter, eyes focused on nothing while Bob worked. He didn't think he'd done half bad and smiled to himself as he tied off the last ribbon before securing both bundles in protective plastic.
“You have a nice smile.”
He jumped at the sound of a voice and looked at John. The blonde was looking at him now, but his gaze was still somewhere else. Still, had he just complimented Bob?
“Pardon?” he asked.
John sighed. “Sorry. Didn't mean to sound weird. I just think it's nice when someone is happy, I guess.”
“I know what you mean.”
Once the last bundle was taped, he placed them both on the counter before John. He took them carefully and inspected each. Bob had never had his work appraised like this by a customer, but he took it in stride. He remained quiet as John looked for whatever errors he was surely expecting with the flowers. He was prepared to redo them and offer him a discount too, before John pressed his nose into the bundle of daisies and inhaled.
He gave a small nod. “He loved daisies. You did really good with this.”
“Thank you. I’m h-happy I can—”
“His family didn't know he liked daisies until I told them at the funeral. Sometimes it feels like I'm the only person who really knew him.” Bob didn't know how to reply. He was clearly referring to the funeral he had just gone to a while ago, but he was speaking as if Bob had been there too. “I think I'd take him over the flowers though.”
“That's how it usually goes.”
“You ever lose someone?”
Bob clenched his hand into a fist under the counter, remembering all the times he’d woken up to a body next to him. All the people he had watched convulse knowing there was nothing he could do for them now. The people who went out to see if they could score and never came home.
“Too many to count,” he said.
John nodded, understanding Bob perfectly well. He held the flowers to his chest and let out a heavy breath. Bob felt for the guy, he really did. He looked like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Listen,” he continued. “You can totally say I'm overstepping, but you don't look so well, John. Is everything okay?”
“No, but there's nothing anyone can do about it.”
He was shocked by the honesty. It made him feel shy all of a sudden. The idea of John being slightly open with him made his toes tingle.
“Oh, I don't know about that. There has to be something. My friend, Yelena, always says it's not good to bottle things up. Just makes whatever you're going through that much worse.”
John narrowed his eyes as if he was waiting for Bob to drop the other shoe, but there was nothing to look out for. Bob was being genuine and he hoped he wasn't coming off as someone who was just being nosey or didn't care. He watched as John’s blue eyes looked him up and down, making him feel raw and exposed. He shifted on his feet.
Apparently John saw something there because his gaze softened and the bit of hostility in the air dissipated. He wasn't expecting the next words that came from the man’s mouth, though.
“I was going to go to the cemetery to place these. Would you be interested in coming with me?”
The tingling in his toes came back. Was it really hot in the shop all of a sudden? He glanced at the thermometer hanging on the wall beside him and confirmed it was still 65 degrees, courtesy of the flower coolers.
“Like, right now?” he asked.
“If it's an inconvenience for you, I completely understand.”
It wasn't necessarily an inconvenience. He had yet to take his break and he definitely needed to stretch his legs, but he hadn't been planning to do it in a cemetery. He also hadn't expected it to be with a stranger. Was John even a stranger? He wasn't close with him, that was for sure. He had thought his risk taking days were behind him, but the man in front of him was clearly reaching out in his own way.
Fuck it. “Sure, I can come as long as we keep it brief. I can only leave the shop for 20 minutes.”
Was that a smile he saw? It had come and gone on the man's face so fast he was convinced it was a trick of the awful store lighting.
John went outside while Bob closed up shop. He made sure the coolers were all secured and that the shop cat, Alpine’s, water and food bowls were filled. He wouldn't be gone that long, but he loved that puffball like he was his own. They all did. After locking up and flipping the open sign to closed, he climbed into John’s truck. He never said he wouldn't be the first to go in a horror movie.
They didn't speak for the short ride. Quiet music played from the radio while Bob fidgeted with his hands in his seat. The flower bundles had been placed in the cupholders between them and they had filled the truck with their sweet smell. The AC was blowing fresh cool air at him. This was surprisingly nice? He could have even relaxed and enjoyed himself if he wasn't on his way to see the graves of two men he didn't know. He briefly wondered if he was insane for doing this. His father had always thought he was stupid and weak. His mother had insisted that his soft heart was going to get him killed one day. It had sure tried, but he hadn't been good at keeping it out of those situations. But he’d lived this long, hadn't he? If John was going to do something, he'd find that Bob wouldn't be an easy victim.
He felt his jaw unclench as they drove through the cemetery gates and found a spot to park. He was still fiddling with the seat belt by the time John had gotten out of the truck and walked over to the passenger side. He opened the door for him and even helped with the buckle, reaching his arm over Bob’s lap to unlatch it.
“Sorry, it sticks sometimes,” he muttered.
Bob was too stunned to reply, his brain short-circuiting at the feeling of a hard bicep pressing into the tops of his legs. That was the last thing John said to him as they trudged through the grass. He looked at the stones they passed. There were all sports of shapes, sizes, and colors of rock, but they all did the same thing. He wondered what color his would be when he died and if anyone would leave flowers by it each month like John did.
They stopped at Mike’s first. He stood there rather awkwardly and watched as John brushed off some dirt from the stone and fixed the little American flag where it had fallen in the grass. There was a picture of the man on the stone. He looked like John, but with a wider face and darker hair. He was smiling in the photo, completely unaware of what was awaiting him. He couldn't imagine what it had been like for John to lose his older brother like that. Once the old flowers had been switched with the new ones and John had whispered a few words over the grave, they moved on.
It was easy to spot their destination. The grass hadn't begun to grow over the plot, marking it as fresh with a large brown rectangle. John replaced the flowers and stood over the plot, the old flower bundles in his hands getting crushed by his grip.
“His name was Lemar,” he said. “Best damn man I ever knew. Funny as shit and quick to help out whenever you needed it. I… I miss him, Bobby. I miss him a lot.”
Bob walked over to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder, not really knowing what else to do. The gesture comforted him for a bit, before his face scrunched up and the tears started to fall. Bob tried to catch him as his knees gave out, but ended up sitting in the dirt with him. John cried and cried, while Bob leaned into him and rubbed his back. They were heavy tears too and joined by guttural sobs. He could feel John’s pain just by hearing him.
“It's okay. It's okay,” he said soothingly. “Let it out.”
He stayed by his side whispering comforting things. Above them the birds chittered in the trees as if they had no idea what was happening below them.
“It was a car accident, you know?” John said after the tears had lessened. He was still sniffling and his body shivered, but Bob kept his hand on his back. “We served together for half our lives. He was on every tour with me. We survived explosions, bullets, you name it. He was a fighter, more than I ever was, and he did it with a smile on his face. We were having a party for his sister. She had just graduated high school and it was her big send off before college. I forgot the fucking burger buns and Lemar said he could go get them. I didn't even try to fight it. He was so helpful and he was always doing things for people.”
“He sounds like a great guy.”
John nodded, sniffing almost violently. “He got in a car accident. Some motherfucker ran a red and t-boned him. He was gone before they could even dial 911. After all that, he got taken out in the place we least expected. The guy didn't even get time, just probation and a fine.” He sneered, ripping the remaining stems in his hands. “Says a lot about this fucking country.”
“My wife left me soon after the funeral. I just spiraled, thinking about how it should've been me. She was so supportive and I didn't deserve it. I hadn't been the best husband even before that, but then I started drinking and paying more attention to my phone than her or our son. She put up with a lot of my bullshit, more than she ever should have. Fuck, I'm sorry for just telling you all of this. You must think I'm crazy.”
Bob laughed at that. The idea of him thinking someone else was crazy. Hilarious. He was the last person on Earth who should be judging anyone.
“I don't actually. Seems like you had a lot on your mind and needed to get it all out. People tell me I'm a great listener.”
John looked at him and his expression softened. “You are.”
Bob felt his face heat up and so he looked away, his hand still on his back. John let his head fall and started messing with the old ribbons. Bob watched from the corner of his eye as he unraveled the thread, turning it into a pile of green and white.
“How about you? What's your story?” John asked a while later.
Bob's mind went blank. What the hell was he supposed to say after all that John had revealed? Did he want something equally personal? That his dad beat him as a child? That he'd been a meth addict for years and almost wasted away because of it? That he'd almost been killed in a seedy motel room by a guy who picked him up off the street once? Fucking hell, this wasn't the trauma olympics. He didn't need every skeleton in the closet.
“Don't really have one,” he said. “I came here from Florida. Life didn't suit me very well there, not like it does here. I work in a flower shop, I have a pet guinea pig named Cucumber, and I love chocolate milkshakes.”
He mentally smacked himself. Really? Milkshakes? As if he couldn't sound stupider. Thankfully John did not mention his drink of choice, instead choosing to talk about how he'd had a guinea pig when he was in high school. He tried to ask Bob about his high school experience, but he deftly steered the conversation toward something else, not wanting to get into the fact that he was a dropout. The words flowed easily and John’s countenance became brighter as they talked. The walk back to the truck and subsequent ride was filled with enough words to make up for the silence on the way there. Bob found himself enjoying John’s company. He was seeing more of the man in one morning than he had in years. It was nice.
When the truck pulled up to the shop, Bob couldn't help but feel like he was a teenager again being dropped off after a date. He glanced at his watch to see he had made it with two minutes to spare. He almost chuckled, Alexei wouldn't care if his break lasted a little long. The guy was a big teddy bear when it came to everyone. It was his daughter Yelena who ran things like the Navy sometimes. Thank goodness neither of them were there.
John cleared his throat, making Bob turn to look at him. He scratched the back of his neck and gave Bob a sheepish grin. He couldn't help but think it looked cute.
“Thank you for coming with me. I really appreciate it,” he said.
“Of course, man. Everyone needs a little support now and then. I’m happy I was able to be there for you. See you next month, yeah? Friday?”
“Yeah.”
Bob started to get out of the truck, but paused with his hand on the door when something touched his shoulder. He looked back just as John yanked his hand away like Bob had burned him. His cheeks looked like they were tinged with pink. It must have been the heat even if the truck’s AC was on full blast.
“I really want to show my appreciation. It's not everyday a guy lets you cry and vent to him like that. Do you want to grab a drink with me sometime?”
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Oh, like at a bar?”
“Um… yeah?”
John looked like he was regretting saying anything, but Bob didn't hate the idea of going somewhere with him. It wasn't a date anyway. It would be nice to make a new friend. He didn't have many of those here in Georgia, except for the people he worked with.
“I'm sorry, I don't drink. I've been sober a few years now actually.”
John’s face went even more pink. “Oh.”
There was a tinge of disappointment in his voice that struck Bob right to the bone. He raised his hands and waved them around frantically. “I'm so sorry.”
“Don't apologize for something like that!” John countered, putting up his own hands in a placating gesture. “That's awesome. I'm happy for you. We could go to a cafe then, if you want. Maybe get food? I know a place with great milkshakes.”
He almost choked at the mention of milkshakes. John had actually been listening to him? “I… yes. I would love that. Food. Love food!”
“Okay then, I'll um…” John reached across the seat for the glovebox. He pulled out a random scrap of paper and quickly scribbled down his number. “Just text me and we’ll set a date.”
Bob took the paper with a nod and quickly got out of the truck. He had John’s number. They were going to go on a not date. What the hell was he getting himself into?
***
A week later, he found himself sitting in a booth across from John. His phone buzzed again and he looked down to see seven new texts in the work group chat. They were probably all from Ava. She'd been the most excited of the bunch when Bob told them about his not date with the newly single hot guy who he liked to make eyes at sometimes. It wasn't like he hadn't dated before, but the entire shop was treating this like something it wasn't. Yelena had even given him a big speech about taking it slow with John since he was probably dealing with a lot of emotional stuff and just getting back into the dating game. She had just laughed when he insisted it wasn't a date. He hadn't told any of them about the cemetery trip.
“That important?” John asked.
He tapped the screen to see a block of text in all caps in the notifications. He turned off the phone and shook his head.
“Nothing I can't get to later.”
“You sure?”
The waitress came by and gave them their drinks, lemonade for Bob and sweet tea for John. She took their orders in one breath and was gone in the next. Bob took a sip of his drink and smiled. It was homemade and it had just the right amount of sugar.
“I’m sure,” he said, trying not to notice John’s smile at that.
Conversation came easy between them. They spoke about the differences in the weather where they grew up. John complained about the humidity and Bob one upped him with his tales of having to drag sandbags into the yard as a young child whenever they had a hurricane on the way. They talked about John’s ex-wife, Olivia, who had moved out to California of all places. He also had his son whom he had not seen in a while, something about letting Olivia have her space as she navigated the separation.
At one point Bob left to use the restroom and when he returned, there were two men talking to John. He recognized one of them as he neared the table, but John introduced him before he could say anything else.
“Here he is,” John said happily. “This is my friend, Bob. He works at that flower shop downtown. You know the one, Romanoff Roses? Yeah. If you ever need flowers, he's your guy. Bobby, this is Sam Wilson. He volunteers at the VA and he and I get together for luncheons sometimes.”
Sam gave him a strong handshake. “Nice to meet you, Robert.”
Bob blinked. Barely anyone called him Robert. “Do we know each other?”
Sam laughed and pointed at his own chest. “It's on your name tag.”
He looked down and felt his face go red. “Oh, yeah,” he said sheepishly. He had forgotten he was still in uniform. He'd taken off lunch to come here before Alexei gave him the rest of the day off.
John laughed goodnaturedly and then gestured to the quieter man at Sam’s side. “And this is James Barnes, Sam’s partner.”
Bob had seen him before at AA meetings, but they’d never spoken. He could tell he recognized him from the knowing glint in his eye as they shook hands.
“Call me, Bucky,” he said in a deep voice. “I don't think anyone besides my mother calls me James.”
They talked for a short while before John made plans to come to the next talk they were having at the VA. An offer for Bob to attend was even extended, though he had no idea where he'd fit amongst a bunch of vets.
As the pair walked off to find a seat, John shook his head and clicked his tongue.
“That there might be the saddest case I've ever come across.”
Bob was going to ask what he meant, but then he turned to look at them again. They both sat at the counter and Bucky shrugged off his coat, allowing Sam to take it and hang it on a nearby rack. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt that showed off his entirely metal arm. Bob’s eyes went wide. Bucky was very quiet in their AA meetings and rarely spoke. He knew the man had a prosthetic hand, but he never knew he was missing the entire arm.
“Do you know his story?” he asked, trying not to sound like he was being nosey.
John nodded. “He was in Afghanistan. They were doing recon in the mountains when the convoy hit a landmine. The car in front of him was obliterated while his was only partially damaged, unfortunately the damage was near him. I'm a little fuzzy on the details, but the car door came off and he fell from some ungodly height. He was missing for about two days before they found him half frozen.”
“Frozen! He should be dead.”
“He should, but miraculously enough he survived. The doctors had never seen anything like it before, but the icy conditions seemed to keep him in some sort of suspended state while he was down there. He lost an arm, but I think he's grateful that he kept everything else.”
Bob looked at him again and watched Sam rub his back with a gentle hand. They seemed good together, but he wondered how long it had taken for them to get to a place like that. It couldn't have been easy for Bucky after going through stuff like that.
“Did you serve with either of them?” Bob asked.
“No. I met Sam after I got out. I was really struggling and he helped me through some shit. He still offers to help even now, though I've admittedly been avoiding all of them down there.”
“Why is that?”
John took a drink of his tea, taking his time to gather his thoughts. Bob worried he overstepped—when was he not worrying?—and started wishing he'd just kept his mouth shut. He was halfway convinced John was about to walk out of there and leave him when he replied.
“I was given an other than honorable discharge,” he said.
Bob chose his next words carefully. “Isn't that bad?”
“Well, it's not the worst. It wasn't dishonorable but I still lost my rank and other things.”
“What happened? I-if you don't mind me asking.”
John waved his hand like it was nothing. “I was on tour in the Middle East, we were supposed to be extracting some of our men from a mission that had gone sideways. We were told to not engage any enemies unless absolutely necessary, but I didn't listen. a man I had known for a really long time—came up from basic training with him—got killed right in front of me.”
“Oh no…”
“He was shot in the back like a damn dog. I saw red and all my discipline went out the window. I ran after the guy and found one of his partners. I um… I didn't have my gun so I got creative. He died and I didn't know I had done it right in front of a civilian. They caught the whole thing on camera and it went viral overnight. Wasn't a good look for the military, regardless of who my victim was. That's just not the way we're supposed to do things, even if I knew guys who had done way worse and never gotten in trouble since no one filmed their asses.”
Bob tried to think of a news story like that dropping. An American soldier going crazy on a foreign enemy like that would probably be front page news, but he couldn't recall ever seeing something like that. “I've never heard of anything like that happening, though I am kind of offline these days.”
“That's because the government did their best to scrub it, but you can still find stuff if you know where to look.”
By his tone, Bob could tell he knew exactly where to look and did so often. Their food came soon after and their conversation was halted as they ate. It was just as good as the lemonade and Bob was kicking himself for never visiting this place before. He walked right past it everyday on his way home from work.
“Lemar wasn't with me when I killed that man,” John said, breaking the silence. “He was always the anchor that kept me grounded and he was the only person I talked to about that day. I haven't felt the same since he died. I almost beat up the guy that hit him, you know? I was this close to killing him, but I was able to talk myself down from it. It's been hard though. The only other person I've felt a connection like that with, besides Lemar and my wife, is you.”
Bob choked on the fry in his mouth and coughed. “Me?”
John handed him a napkin, that same damn soft smile gracing his features as he watched Bob try not to die before he could finish his delicious meal.
“It sounds insane, I know. We barely talk outside of flower orders, but I just feel something with you. You’re different. There's something about you that makes me feel safe, like you won’t judge me.”
“Well, ah, you know.” Bob thought about how much he should say and decided to play it safe. “I don’t have the best past either. I can't judge you for the things you did in situations that were not ideal. I'm not saying I think it was right to do what you did, but I can understand you losing control in the moment. Looks like you learned from it too if you were able to stop yourself the second time.”
John shrugged. “Isn't that the bare minimum? The first guy… I don't know. I was wrong to kill him, but I don't think I fully regret it. Does that make me a monster?”
Bob let out a shaky breath. What a heavy conversation to be having over lunch. He thought back to his childhood, to dark days filled with screams and pain. “Monsters don't know when they’ve done something wrong,” he said, suppressing a shudder. “They don't question their actions or debate their morals. They just hold their head high and keep on walking as if they aren't leaving a path of destruction in their wake. That's not you.”
John smiled at that and he returned it. It wasn’t hard to notice some of the darkness left John's eyes after their talk. Bob found he quite liked the look on him.
***
The rain was pouring when Bob stepped outside of the flower shop. The keys in his shaking hand jingled as he tried to lock the front door. He hated being the one to close. It was rare that he had to, but today was the anniversary of Yelena’s sister’s death so he’d volunteered so she and her father could have some time to themselves. Ava had only left a few minutes prior and he'd been feeling perfectly fine when she said goodnight. It only took a few minutes of quiet for the dread to set in.
All he had done was sit in his chair behind the desk and stared at the empty shop. Everything had been put away and the computers had been powered down. No one came in for flowers late at night so his only job had been to keep himself occupied for the last half hour of his shift. Unfortunately, he let the thoughts in his head entertain him. At first it had been John that entered his mind. Something had changed between them ever since their not date. They met up often now, hanging out at different spots after work.
They learned a lot about each other. Bob told him about his time spent traveling the world, albeit with his drug use omitted, and John told him about his high school days. They talked of football and pep rallies, with Bob having to pretend he had gone through four years of high school like a normal person. John never seemed to notice and actively told Bob more and more personal things, all leading up to when he let it slip that he was into men. It was such a casual comment too, just him mentioning how he'd never explored it since he married his wife so young. Bob had to bite down on his tongue so he wouldn't say something he'd regret in return.
All they ever did was talk and Bob was fine with that, but he couldn't help the little voice in the back of his mind that asked if this was all he would ever get. The voice grew larger, its tone twisting into something darker and monstrous. It was the voice that had lain beside him on the floor after his father had punched him and told him he deserved what he got for having such a big mouth. It had followed him through back alleys and crack houses, egging him on as he prodded his arm and tried to find a viable vein.
You really think that man would ever want anything to do with you?
“He likes my company,” he muttered under his breath.
His wife just left him. He's desperate for a warm body he can talk to. That's all.
“We’re friends.”
A laugh so close to his ear, he could feel the breath tickling his skin.
You're easy, Robert. You always have been. The only difference is that you stopped charging men for the privilege of talking to your blank face. I'm sure John would feel honored to know he gets your high quality services for free.
He shook his head, shutting his eyes tight enough to make his eyes water.
If you don't put out soon, he will leave you.
“It's not like that.”
Isn't it?
Above him, the fancy wall clock struck 9pm and the shop was filled with chimes. He stood up so fast the blood rushed to his head and made him dizzy, but he stumbled to the door anyway.
Outside, it took him three tries to finally get the key in the lock. He twisted it weakly and cursed when the key fell out and landed on the ground. The rain was soaking through his thin hoodie, but his body wasn't shaking because of the cold.
Your own parents didn't love you. Why is this stranger any different? The voice was calm and yet it managed to be louder than the thunder overhead. You are a means to an end, Robby. He will chew you up and spit you out like everyone else. Why don't you at least get something from him in return before that happens? I'm sure he'll jump at the chance if you give him a discount.
“Shut up. You aren't real,” he said.
The door finally locked. He backed up and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the windows. He looked like a drowned rat. He looked pathetic and he knew the voice in his head wasn't wrong about everything. No one wanted him and he had known that his entire life, even if he tried to think otherwise. Even the life he had now was fleeting. Alexei had been kind when he broke down and told him about his past addictions, addictions that had been the reason he'd been unable to find a job before that. The man was a saint, but Bob knew that he would eventually realize that he was just using him and that he could find someone who did a much better job than him and didn't come with his baggage.
He thought he was crying, but he couldn't be sure with how wet the rain had made his face. He walked a few steps toward home and then turned around and went the other way. He only wandered for a block before ducking into the darkness between two buildings and sitting against a brick wall.
We always end up back here, don't we?
“Shut up,” he said.
All you need is a rock and pipe and you'll be back to the Robert I know you are. Don't you want that? Don't you miss the high? The feeling of invincibility?
He pressed his hands to his ears and curled his knees up to his chest.
“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!” he repeated.
Don't you remember feeling like a god? You once told someone it felt like you had the power of a million suns at your fingertips. You need that again. It's all you're good for.
He shook his head, pressing his hands harder as if he were trying to crush his own skull. The sky above him lit up with lightning and soon after, thunder pounded in his ears.
“I don't want that anymore,” he whispered. “I'm better. I changed. I made something of myself. I have worth. I deserve to be happy.”
He couldn't even remember the last time he had repeated that mantra to himself. A guy in Malaysia had told it to him two years ago, some therapist lingo he had found on a pamphlet in the trash. He thought it sounded good and so did Bob.
We will always be alone.
“I'm better. I changed. I made something of myself. I have… I have…”
You can't outrun the emptiness.
He dropped his hands and hugged his knees. It was hopeless wasn't it? He thought everything was going well and then he had to go and fuck it up again. One episode would turn into another and then another and another. He'd go back to being homeless. He'd fall back into his old habits. His father was right. He was nothi—
“Bobby?” a voice called out.
A groan escaped his lips as he tried to escape the voice. It sounded so real that time.
“I'm worthless,” he said into the drenched fabric of his pants.
“Oh, my God. What are you doing out here?”
There was suddenly a hand on his shoulder and the smell of cologne filled his nose. When he looked up, his vision was blurry and there were two of everything.
“What?” he asked, slurring his words.
“Are you okay? Ah, fuck, that was a stupid question. Come on, let's get you somewhere dry.”
The last thing he remembered was the feeling of a strong arm wrapped around him and a soothing voice in his ear reassuring him.
When he came to, he was laying on a couch in front of a blazing fireplace. His head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it and his body was sore as all hell. He sat up, though it was a challenge with the myriad of blankets he had been cocooned in. He looked around to see he was in a living room, but not his own. His hoodie was gone too and when he finally freed himself from the blankets he saw he was wearing someone else's clothes. Panic started to set in naturally, but it was cut short when John walked into the room.
“You're awake!” he said happily. “I'm sorry about all of this. You passed out in the truck and I couldn't ask where you lived.”
He walked over and placed a cup of tea on the coffee table. He kneeled on the floor and placed a hand on the arm of the couch. His eyes raked over Bob, but not in a hungry manner like he'd once been accustomed to. No, John was only looking at him with worry.
“Are you okay, Bobby?”
“I…” he croaked. His voice sounded awful. He took the cup of tea and gulped half of it down, relishing in the burn as it went down. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”
“Don't be. Who knows what would've happened to you if I hadn't found you.”
Bob took another drink of the tea, this one less frantic. It was good. The mug had a funny cat meme on it and looked like something you'd get someone as a gag gift. It was very domestic, something he'd never associated John with. He looked around the room. There were family photos on the wall and knick knacks on every shelf. The place had a nice lived-in feel that was only accentuated by the warmth coming from the fireplace.
“This is your place?” he asked softly.
John nodded. “Sorry it's a bit messy. I wasn't expecting a guest.”
“It's fine.”
He looked down into his now empty cup. There were a few tea leaves on the bottom of it. He had once learned how to read them, but that had all been left behind across the sea. It was good he didn't know what they said anyway. They were probably telling him his life was about to go back to being the hell he had tried so hard to drag himself out of.
“I, erm,” John cleared his throat, twisting his hands together nervously. “I wasn't stalking you or anything, if that's what you're thinking—Sorry, you just had this look on your face—I was just going for a walk.”
“In the rain?”
He tried not to sound accusatory when he asked the question, but it came out like that all the same. He hadn't thought John was following him at all, but he did wonder how the man had come to find him.
“It sounds crazy, I know. I was at the cafe, the one we went to all those months ago. I was just… I was thinking of you. Needed to clear my head so I just walked outside. I was so lost in thought that I barely even noticed the weather.”
“But you noticed me.”
“I did.”
Bob nodded slowly and placed the mug back on the table. “If you were thinking of me and then you actually found me, it must have been an act of providence,” he said with a short laugh. “Divine intervention and all that.”
He looked at John and gave him a smile, but it wasn't returned. John looked serious to the point of anger.
“What were you doing out there?” he asked.
Bob straightened up. He had never told anyone everything about himself, but John felt different. He didn't seem like the type to use his past against him or leave him entirely because of it. At this point, if John couldn't handle him, he didn't think anyone could.
So he opened his mouth and let his past spill out. He told him about his childhood, sparingly, and how it led to his mental issues. The drugs and alcohol that clouded his thoughts and kept the voices at bay. The nights spent in the company of strangers, all for a wad of cash to keep up his habits and sanity. The fight to stay alive. The endless travelling in search of a place he could call home.
“I haven't had an episode that bad in a long time,” he said. “Usually they happen when I'm at home. I just get these awful lows that feel like they're dragging me into the darkness, like I'm falling into some kind of void. My medicine is supposed to keep the worst from happening, but I recently switched my dosage and I guess it didn't agree with me. God, this is embarrassing. I'm sorry I intruded like this.”
He tried to stand up, but promptly felt a wave of dizziness wash over him and fell back onto the couch. John leapt up from his kneeling position and gently guided him back against the cushions. He took a seat next to him, his hands clasping Bob’s.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Bobby. I wouldn't just leave my friend out in the rain to suffer. Besides, I'm a soldier. I’ve seen it all when it comes to mental shit. It kind of comes with the job.”
“I don't want you to think I don't try. I swear I've tried. I'm on the meds, I have a therapist, and I even go to AA. I would go to NA too, but they don't have one here.” John leaned forward, his hand cupping Bob’s face. He was so warm and his palm felt rough against his cheek. He couldn't help but lean into the touch. “I don't want to mess up whatever this is.”
John chuckled and when Bob’s gaze drifted up this, he felt like he was looking at the sun.
“The circumstances aren't ideal, but I'm happy to hear you feel something too. Though I hope I'm right in thinking you're talking about a little more than friendship.”
“Maybe.”
They both closed the distance between them until their foreheads were pressed together. John smelled like his cologne mixed with fire and cinnamon. It was intoxicating, but it also reminded him that he probably smelled like a sewer.
“You don't smell like a sewer,” John said. Bob felt his cheeks heat up. Of course he'd said that out loud. “You smell like you usually do, sweet like flowers.”
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed.”
John moved closer, his hand falling to Bob’s shoulder. He couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him so gently.
“Is this okay?” John asked.
He replied by pressing his lips to John’s. He kissed him back softly, as if he were afraid Bob would break. It made Bob want to cry.
“God, this is not how I imagined this going,” Bob said when they broke apart. “I at least hoped it would be over dinner and not in your clothes on your couch after a depressive meltdown. We skipped a few steps.”
“My life has always been rather conventional. You're a fork in the road, Bobby. One that has changed my life in ways I could never have dreamed of.”
“Are those good ways?”
They kissed again and John wrapped him up in his arms. He was so safe and warm, it made Bob want to melt into him.
“Only good,” John said. “The best.”
“Even though I’m all fucked up?”
“I’m just as fucked up and if everything I've told you up until this point hasn’t chased you away, then you can bet your ass I'm going to fight to keep it that way.”
They sat on the couch and kissed for what felt like forever. He kept wondering when John was going to do something more like slip his hand under his shirt and finally give him the bill. It never came though. John was content to hold him, kiss him, and run his fingers through his hair. Bob wondered if he had hit his head in that alley and gone to heaven. It was too good to be true.
John eventually glanced at his watch and his eyes went wide. “Do you need me to take you home? What about your guinea pig? Is it too late to go feed him?”
“Cucumber?” Bob sat up slightly, his head still fuzzy with kisses. For a moment he forgot where his pet even was. “Yelena is watching him this week. I'm just waiting for the day that she steals him for good.”
“Before I have the chance to meet him?” John asked. “We can't have that now.”
Bob buried his face in his hands. “Oh, my God. You haven't even met my guinea pig.”
John's chest rumbled as he laughed. He tightened his arms around Bob and pressed a kiss into his hair. “Like you said, we skipped a few steps, but I'm okay with it.”
“I… I think I'm okay with it too.”