When a new year begins, many people create resolutions for themselves to follow. I never really believed in that sort of stuff but my coworker, Benedict, told me that setting up goals and working to achieve them could help get me out of my depression. He told me to start small with 3 goals that I could probably accomplish this year, which is why I decided on these few things.
One: Move out of my crappy apartment.
Two: Get in shape (or try to).
And three, as impossible as it is…
He took a deep breath, looking at himself in the locker room mirror. He fixed his hair–medium length dreads swept to the left–before turning and opening his locker, pulling out his work uniform–a simple white button-up with a black vest and black apron–and sliding it on. The door opened suddenly, two men entering and chatting.
One of them was Benedict, his fellow chef and good friend. He had long, golden blond hair that swept past his ears. The other…
Feeling his heart skip a beat, he swallowed and looked back down, continuing to focus on buttoning up his vest. The other man was Sanga, the resident work heartthrob. He was thin, with pale skin and light, silver hair that reached down his back, tied neatly with a string. Sanga moved gracefully, his hair flowing behind him. His hands were smooth, fingers long and slender. He turned to look at his admirer, who had seemingly shoved himself in his own locker.
And three, as impossible as it seems… confess to Sanga.
He looked down at his shoes, mind wandering, when a sharp, fiery pain rushed through his skull, causing him to wince and double over. He quickly recovered, hoping Benedict and Sanga didn't notice.
"Good morning, Nate," Sanga's voice was gentle and soft. "How was your time off?"
Nate turned to look at Sanga, still half hidden by his locker door as he willed his pain away, face flushing and cheeks heating. He swallowed before blurting out: "It was great. Did nothing. How about you?"
Sanga huffed a laugh, his smile widening, showcasing his sharper-than-normal canines. "It was good. Although, I did miss working…"
"Really?"
"Of course. I love seeing you all," Sanga replied.
Nate's face turned red again, the tips of his ears feeling warm.
The problem with New Year's Resolutions is that we're already halfway through the year and I haven't done any of them!
The locker room door opened again, revealing a tall girl with messy brown bangs, the rest of her hair pulled back into a long ponytail.
"Sanga! Nate! Benedict!" her voice rang out. "Long time no see! We're finally back, aren't you all excited?"
Benedict walked over to Nate, opening the locker next to him. "Hey Anise! I can't believe you and Sanga are both excited to come to work, I'd rather be out kayaking still."
"Of course I am! All of my friends are here!" Anise guffawed. "I'd say I'm surprised about Sanga, but I know he has a little work crush!"
She said the last part in a singsongy voice, causing Sanga's beautiful, pale face to flush bright red.
"A-Anise, I told you that as a secret," he hissed. He looked over at Nate and Benedict, smoothing his hair down and turning to face them, laughing nervously. "Aha… I suppose the cat's out of the bag, isn't it?"
Benedict, vest on but unbuttoned, appeared at Sanga's side, elbowing him playfully. "So? Who is it? Is it Dom? I can see that."
Sanga shook his head quickly, opening his locker in one swift motion and hiding himself inside of it. He pulled on his own shirt, long fingers trembling as he tried to button it up.
"Alright, guys, you're making Sanga uncomfortable." A steady voice entered the room as a short, black haired girl with messy buns stepped in. "He doesn't have to say his crush out loud."
Heaving a sigh of relief, Sanga breathed out, "Thank you, Absinthe."
Absinthe smirked. "Because it's probably someone in this room."
"Hey!" Sanga's head shot up from his locker. His shirt was still only half buttoned on the bottom, revealing his bare chest. He was thin with very little muscle, but his pale skin was like marble. Each vein traced its way down his arms, twitching with each flex of his forearm.
Nate swallowed and shut his locker, having finished changing, and quickly strode out of the room. He covered his face with his hands when he was finally out, fingers ready to dig into his scalp.
Anise said that Sanga told her he already has a crush on someone here… he thought numbly. Of course… and he's absolutely gorgeous. He could get anyone he wants.
Nate walked around the restaurant blindly until he almost ran into their barrel chested dishwasher in one of the side halls.
"Woah, kid." He grabbed Nate's shoulder with one hand to steady him, the other hand reaching up to scratch at the stubble around his chin and jawline. "You look like a zombie. What happened? Got used to staying up too late durin' your time off?"
"S-sorry, Mulligan. I'll- uh…" Nate turned around, only to see Sanga a few feet behind him, looking concerned. Freezing up again, Nate stammered through his words. "Uh… clock in. I need to go. Yeah. I need to clock in."
Mulligan patted Nate lightly on the back, gently pushing him towards Sanga. "Clock in's back there, kid. Hey, Sanga, look after him for me, will ya?"
Nate nodded, pleading with his feet to move forward. Footsteps receded behind him, leaving Sanga and Nate alone in the side hallway.
"You seem stressed," Sanga murmured, walking closer. Nate could only stare, his mouth pressed into a thin line. When Sanga stood merely one step before him, he reached out a gentle hand, placing it on Nate's shoulder. Nate tensed up, causing Sanga to remove his hand immediately. "Apologies. I shouldn't have-"
"No!" Nate blurted. He shook his head, shaking the nerves away as well, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, I… I mean, it's okay if you touch me. I mean- I don't mind being t- ah hell, how do I say this without sounding like a freak…"
Sanga burst out laughing, an uncontrollable yet pleasant sound. His laughter washed away Nate's nervousness, finally allowing him to relax his shoulders.
"Anyways…" Sanga quickly regained his composure, smoothing his hair down. "Anise is gathering people for an 'after work reopening karaoke party to blow off steam and drink away responsibilities'. Her words, not mine. She sent me to invite you."
"I'd love to go," Nate answered hastily. His heart fluttered as he saw Sanga beam.
"Great! We're all walking over together after work. I heard from Branzino that we've got a lot of reservations tonight, so best stay on your toes and don't get too stressed out, okay?"
Nate nodded. "You too. You have to deal with customers the most and I'm sure they won't be too happy with how packed it'll be tonight."
Sanga huffed. "Yeah, definitely not. It's okay, though! We'll get through it."
"I think Caesar overstaffed us on purpose, anyways." Nate began walking down the hallway. Sanga followed, sticking so close their shoulders kept brushing. "That should hopefully make things easier."
"I hope so," Sanga sighed. "I heard even Branzino is coming in to help."
"Wow. Must be a big deal if the owner is coming in, too." Nate stopped in front of the monitor, placing his employee card against the screen and holding it until it beeped. He chuckled to himself, earning a confused look from Sanga. "Do you think Branzino knows about Caesar and Mulligan?"
Sanga shrugged his shoulders. "Probably. I don't think Caesar and Mulligan realize they aren't being very subtle, if I'm being honest."
"True…" Nate mused. "I saw them leave together one night. I think everyone's caught them sneaking around together at one point in time. Surely that means they're official, right?"
"Or maybe it's a hookup thing," Sanga posed. "Or maybe blackmail?"
"What's a hookup thing?" A voice came from behind Sanga, causing him to freeze in his tracks. Sanga turned in horror to see a wrinkled face sporting salt and pepper hair staring at him, arms gingerly folded behind his back.
"Ah… uh…" Sanga rubbed the back of his hand nervously. "Nothing, Caesar."
Caesar smiled and breathed out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I was afraid you two had caught me and Mulligan." He laughed loudly, flashing them a wink. "Of course, we aren't doing anything to be caught."
The two of them stood there in awkward silence, even after Caesar clocked in and left the hallway. Finally, Nate regained his composure.
"Do you think he's telling the truth?" Nate asked.
Sanga shut his eyes, sighing. "No idea… I can't tell with those two anymore…"
The two of them parted ways, heading to their respective positions: Nate in the kitchen and Sanga on the floor, preparing the restaurant for the oncoming onslaught of reservations and people waiting for last minute openings.
"I bet we get out of here at eleven," Sanga offered before they had separated.
"Oh? Betting low, huh? I was thinking midnight."
"Mm… and what are you betting?"
"Let's see…" Nate pondered. "If I win, how about you tell me who you like?"
Sanga raised an eyebrow. "Sure. But if I win, you tell me if you have a crush."
"You're on."
─── ♡ ♢ ☀︎ ✩ ☽ ♧ ♤ ───
"How's your resolution been goin'?" Benedict piped up while manning the fryers, peeking at Nate who was busy searing steaks. Nate wiped his brow on his sleeve before he kept working.
"Well, I came up with three things. For starters, I want to move out of my apartment. Maybe somewhere closer to here?" Nate began. "And I gotta get back in shape. I lost a lot of weight when I was in the hospital a few years ago, so I gotta gain that back. And then I-"
Nate stopped himself, feeling the warmth rising to his face. He quickly grabbed the pan he was handling barehanded, moving it over.
"Woah, there bud," Benedict clicked his tongue. "Careful, don't burn yourself."
"It's fine. I don't usually feel pain and I heal fast, remember?"
"Yeah? I remember you sayin' that." Benedict then prodded, "Anyways, go on! What's your last resolution?"
Looking out at the floor above the counters and stoves of food, Nate spotted Sanga busy in conversation with a table of six. He turned back to Benedict, his voice barely above a whisper so only the other could hear.
"I wanna confess to the person I like. B-but I'm gonna do that last!"
Benedict hummed. "Why last? Why not start things off with a thrilling new relationship?"
"That's way too embarrassing, dude. My apartment is cramped and crappy, and my build is so weak right now…" Nate groaned. "Hah… I gotta get that stuff in order before I can even think about bringing someone home, let alone confessing my feelings to them!"
"Can't say I don't understand." Benedict winked, pointing a thumb across the bar at the tall man running it, dark red hair slicked back into a short braid with only a couple strands falling over his forehead. "I'm tryna work up the courage myself, y'know? But it's so hard when they're so different from you and definitely in another class. Socially and financially."
Nate nodded knowingly. "Yeah, yeah, I get that. Hey, you going to the karaoke party they're trying to set up?"
Benedict grinned. "Y'know I can't say no. I've just gotta come up with a way to convince him to come, too. Hey, don't tell anyone, 'kay? Secret between friends."
"Yeah, sure..." Nate found himself staring at Sanga again, carrying a large tray of food with poise and elegance.
"Anyways, hospital…" Benedict drawled. "What's that about?"
"You know," Nate snapped out of his trance.. "Good question. Sometime during my senior year of high school, I ended up in the hospital. When I woke up, I'd lost most of my memories and it seemed like no one around me knew what I was missing–not even my parents. Ah, and if I ever try to remember or think back, I get this… burning pain in my head. Seriously, these headaches are the first time I've felt pain."
Benedict whistled. "Phew, that's heavy stuff. Hey, Sanga said somethin' about you guys bein' classmates back in the day. Do you remember that?"
Nate winced, nodding shakily. "It's fuzzy. But I do know that Sanga was in some of my classes, I think?"
"Mm…" Benedict hummed again. "Hey, is Sanga the one you have a crush on?"
Spluttering, Nate nearly lunged at Benedict to cover his mouth as he hissed, "Not so loud, man!"
Benedict laughed, throwing up his hands in surrender. "Sorry, sorry! Seems I was right, though?"
Nate refused to answer, but Benedict took his silence as a yes. He began singing a pop song: one of those cheesy love songs about being helplessly in love, or something. Nate was too annoyed and embarrassed to remember the title.
─── ♡ ♢ ☀︎ ✩ ☽ ♧ ♤ ───
"It's packed tonight." Altair instinctively looped his arm around Asmodeus' as they weaved through people and servers rushing back and forth. They were following a tall, pale skinned young man with long white hair pulled back with a drawstring.
"Everyone's swarming in since they've been closed for two weeks," Asmodeus noted.
Their server guided them to a table in a quiet corner: Asmodeus had specifically requested a seat away from the rush. He pulled out Altair's chair, then took his own seat.
After they ordered, their conversation was light as they exchanged stories of their days as a demon prince and an angel bounty hunter, their tales carrying on even after they'd gotten their food.
"Your childhood friend, do you still see him?" Altair asked. He ignored the twinge of jealousy in his chest, trying to keep himself from pouting.
"Oh, Astaroth?" Asmodeus tilted his head to the side. Like a puppy, Altair mused. "I haven't seen him in a while. He doesn't come up to the surface much. Not because he doesn't want to, but he's probably detained right now."
Altair blinked, all previous jealousy from before slowly draining. "Detained?"
Asmodeus laughed. "Yeah! He always had super bad anger issues and quite the temper. When I first met him, he was in a muzzle and a straightjacket. Apparently he'd attacked a demon who told him he couldn't go to the surface, and then bit another demon who tried to pull him off of the first one."
"Oh. Wow."
"Mmhmm." Asmodeus nodded, taking a giant bite of his food and swallowing before he continued almost immediately. "We became friends because I kept coming over to talk to him. He told me a lot about his backstory, like being raised in a cult with his best friend and stuff like that."
Altair took a bite of his own meal, a simple yet large portion of fettuccine alfredo, as Asmodeus spoke. At one point, he piped up, "How did Astaroth end up in Hell?"
Asmodeus' face became solemn as he spoke slowly, "Ah… from what I remember, he killed everyone in the cult, including his friend, and then himself."
Swallowing thickly, Altair found himself struggling to find a way to change the topic. Luckily, Asmodeus had been trying to do the same thing.
"So, Gabriel?" Asmodeus raised an eyebrow. "Do you know what exactly it is he wants with my brother?"
Altair set his fork down with a sigh. "No, not entirely. They were known as quite the rivals back in the day, though, according to Echinine. Brain versus brawn, equally matched on the battlefield, what with Beelzebub's stratagem and Gabriel's force. I assume Gabriel misses that competition they used to have."
"Now that you mention it," Asmodeus pointed out. "Beelzebub was always pretty lethargic and depressed, but the happiest I saw him was whenever we played chess together. He usually beat me, of course, but even when he lost, he seemed to enjoy it. I'm sure he misses that competition as well."
"Perhaps a reunion is in order, then," Altair suggested. "What do you think would convince Beelzebub to come back to the surface?"
Asmodeus exhaled, scratching his cheek as he racked his brain. "Chess tournament? Free ant farms? A war…? I'm not really sure if there's anything Beelzebub cares enough about to drop everything and come up to the surface."
"What about Gabriel?" Altair asked. "Do you think he'd be willing to come up if we told him he was looking for him?"
"Maybe." Asmodeus tapped his chin. "But unless he knows exactly what's going on, he usually isn't interested in doing anything."
"I see…" Altair sighed. "If you weren't banned from Hell, I would've suggested going down there yourself and dragging him up here."
Asmodeus chuckled at this. "He'd definitely fight back. And he's strong. Definitely not beefy like Gabriel or anything, but he's pretty lean. Although, if he hasn't worked out in a while…"
Shaking his head, Asmodeus turned back to his food. The two of them fell into a comfortable silence save for Altair gently tapping his finger on the table. The steady rhythm drowned out the noises around them, forcing Asmodeus to hear his own pounding heartbeat.
"Um… Altair…" Asmodeus' voice came out shakier than he wanted. He cleared his throat, noticing Altair watching him intently from the corner of his eye. "I still haven't thanked you for… that time in the Outer Frontier. When we were…"
His voice trailed off as he struggled to speak, words suddenly becoming strangled in his throat. Altair's gaze softened as he reached across the table, fingers ghosting the back of Asmodeus' hand.
"There's no need to thank me, Azzy," Altair soothed, taking Asmodeus' hand in his and massaging a thumb across it. "There is no need to relive it yet, either. Take your time. I'll be here no matter what."
He nodded, his brows furrowed and his bottom lip trembling. Asmodeus quickly wiped a tear from his eye, gulped down a swig of water, before slamming the cup down and shooting to his feet. Altair's eyes widened in surprise as Asmodeus took two strides–one out from his seat, the second so he was standing in front of Altair.
"You were there for me," Asmodeus said firmly. "You always have been, ever since we met. You're attentive and kind, levelheaded and sweet, you're… hah… you can get angry over small things and you cry over cheesy love movies.., and you were really scary when you first held your blade to my throat, but… I… I love all those things about you, Altair, I can't help but adore everything about you. And… when you smile… when you laugh like it's just you and me in the whole Frontier, I…"
Asmodeus dropped down to one knee, reaching into his pocket before pulling out a small, black box. He cracked it open, revealing a silver band with a small cluster of opals that shone in the light–the color of his eyes. He bit his lip nervously, tilting his head down.
"I can't help it, Altair. Everything you do makes me happy. Makes me feel loved and… and warm inside," Asmodeus continued. He locked eyes with Altair, whose eyes had widened in surprise. "I want to make you happy too, if you'll have me for the rest of our eternity."
Altair stood, too, grasping and gently squeezing Asmodeus' hands before pulling him into a quick kiss. He laughed, before breathing out, "You're never gonna believe this, Azzy…"
The angel reached into his own pocket, pulling out a similar shaped box the color of dark velvet. He knelt down before Asmodeus as well, opening the box to reveal a ring. It was gold with intricate engravings woven around four small diamonds surrounding a bright blue turquoise.
Taken aback, Asmodeus stammered, unable to force a coherent word out. Instead, the two silently traded rings, taking turns sliding them onto their partner's ring finger. They got back in their seats, shamelessly admiring their rings.
Suddenly, Asmodeus straightened up. "I forgot to give you my response!"
"I forgot to give you mine, too," Altair laughed. When he stopped, he gazed at Asmodeus fondly, a smile creeping up on his face. "But I think we already know the answer."
"I know! But I still wanna say it out loud," Asmodeus said eagerly. "Altair, I want to marry you. I will marry you."
Altair laughed again, bright and warm, making Asmodeus smile wide. "I want to marry you, too. Let's do it, let's get married with a big celebration."
"How about after the Eve of the Rime festival? Before the New Year."
"So soon? Why, that's… five months away!"
Asmodeus leaned his chin onto his hand, staring sweetly at Altair. "Don't worry, I'll pay for everything."
"I'm… not worried about money, it's the planning! Oh, the venue, and the catering, and the guest list… Do we have a guest list? Maybe I can ask Selaphiel to build us a venue…" Altair's stress melted into calculation as he muttered under his breath. "Oh, and suits and alterations… I can ask Jegudiel for flower arrangements."
"Hey, hey… don't worry about it. We can always push back the wedding." Asmodeus took Altair's hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze. "I just said after the Eve because imagine entering a new year with a new marriage!"
Altair blinked, his eyes looking off to the side in thought. "I see… let's do it then. I'll plan it."
"Ah, hold on, I can help plan, too."
"You do enough." Altair pointed out. "You work at the hospital and you cook for us, so let me at least help you out in this way."
Asmodeus looked hesitant, before he relented after a minute. "Okay, okay… but first, I want to finish our dinner. Don't worry about the wedding until after, okay?"
"Agreed."
─── ♡ ♢ ☀︎ ✩ ☽ ♧ ♤ ───
"It's loud in here. Do you have any quieter seats?"
Branzino, a large man with equally large arms and dark hair streaked with white, turned to see a lone girl with choppy black bangs digging into their ginkgo nut salad. He scratched his forehead with his pen, before shaking his head.
"Sorry, miss. Everyone's comin' in today since we've been closed for the past two days, so we're fully booked," he replied. "Bah, you can thank that no-good queen of ours for that, closin' the trade routes down like a heretic! Hah, if I were fit as a fiddle, I'd march over to the palace right now and give her the ol' what for, y'know?"
The girl only narrowed her eyes at this. Branzino shuddered at her glare, when he was pulled aside by the receptionist, letting him know he had guests.
─── ♡ ♢ ☀︎ ✩ ☽ ♧ ♤ ───
"Hey, Branzino, got any spots open for me?" Gordon peered at the packed restaurant, wincing a little at all the people crowded in. "I see it's very busy, so there's absolutely no worry if not."
"You know I've always got an opening for you, Gordon," Branzino winked. He reached a hand out, scratching the snakes that had appeared to greet him. "It'll be a long wait for food, but a couple just left at one of the more secluded tables. Give me a second to clean it off and it's yours!"
"You're the greatest, Branzino."
"Anything for my regulars. Usual as always?"
Gordon nodded, before pointing a thumb at David, who had been peering over Gordon's shoulder and clinging to his arm. "He wanted to try your tomahawk ribeye."
Branzino raised an eyebrow, looking David up and down. "Really? It's forty ounces. You sure?"
David nodded eagerly, still holding tight onto Gordon's arm. Branzino chuckled, writing it down.
"I'll get you rolls, and an appetizer of au gratin. On the house, of course, for the new couple!"
"Oh, we aren't-" Gordon's voice trailed off, as Branzino had already walked away. He groaned to himself, when David piped up behind him.
"Couple of what?"
Gordon silently cursed Branzino in his head. "Don't worry about it."
Eventually Branzino returned, ushering them over to a quiet table. A small vase with roses surrounded by mini candles and petals. Gordon cursed again, fully aware the tables had never been decorated in such a fashion.
"Come, come. Sit down, relax."
"Thank you, Branzino, but I feel like I must tell you…" Gordon brushed a few scattered petals away. "Me and David aren't a couple."
"David?" Branzino's eyes flicked towards the aforementioned person, who was in awe of the candles flickering away. "Ah, well. Consider it my best wishes towards your blossoming relationship, then."
"We're not-"
"Here are your rolls! And au gratin, fresh from the oven," Branzino cheered. "86 made it personally."
"That's very nice, give 86 my thanks."
"Of course, of course," Branzino beamed. "Waters as well, but is there anything else you'd like to drink?"
"I'm okay, is there anything you want David?" Gordon watched David twirl a petal in his fingers.
"I'm good."
"Great! Food will be out soon." Branzino patted them both on the shoulders before shuffling away. Gordon had to resist the urge to tear his own hair out in embarrassment by burying his face in his arms, only looking up as David and the snakes began digging into the rolls and au gratin.
He rested his cheek on his hand, elbow propped up on the table as he watched them eat, eyes filled with delight. At one point, David stopped shoveling food into his mouth and pointed at Gordon's arm.
"Your elbow," he said.
"Huh?" Gordon replied.
"It's improper etiquette to have elbows on the table," David had explained.
Gordon removed his arm, staring dumbly. Right, he realized. David had been reared up as a royal. Even if he'd been in the frontier for years, it seemed he still remembered his princely training.
David let out a satisfied burp.
…some of his princely training.
Eventually their food was brought out: a giant steak for David, a large tray of chicken wings for the snakes, and beer battered tilapia for Gordon. A silence fell upon them as they ate, broken only by David when he finished eating his entire steak–much to Gordon's disbelief.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Did you just eat that whole thing?"
"Yes. Now, am I allowed to ask you…" David tentatively pointed at the Serpens vitae. "You said they are constantly rewinding our conditions. Mine's the miasma flare ups, but… what is yours?"
"Death." Gordon set down the fish he was eating, finishing his chewing and then swallowing.
"How did you die?"
His brows furrowed as he searched for the words, running his thumb over his other hand repeatedly.
"Let me finish my food, first," Gordon finally spoke, slowly raising the rest of his fish to his mouth. He chewed slowly, but not stalling. Rather, he was deep in thought and memory, taking his time to truly think his words over.
The candle began to dim, yet David remained there, silent and still, patiently awaiting his answer. Their empty plates and dishes had long since been carted away, leaving nothing but a heavily discounted check in their place. The snakes had gone silent, content and sleeping, curled snugly around Gordon.
At last, Gordon offered his short answer, merely three words yet filled with ages of trepidation and sorrow: "I killed myself."
─── ♡ ♢ ☀︎ ✩ ☽ ♧ ♤ ───
When the lobby had at last cleared out and the restaurant had been cleaned, the workers finally shuffled out, exhausted and unkempt after changing into their casual clothes. The mood was silent and heavy until Anise finally cheered.
"Who's ready for some karaoke!"
This roused all of the workers, uplifting their spirits as they talked about singing solos or duets, and what kinds of drinks or food they'd order.
Well, almost all of them.
We got out at eleven, so Sanga won the bet. Nate gnawed on the inside of his cheek. I think I'd embarrass myself at karaoke… and it sounds like they're planning on drinking. I've never gone drinking before, and I have no intentions of doing it no matter what, but… Sanga's going, and it would be nice to see him sing. But what if he doesn't sing? Or what if he gets drunk?
"You coming?"
That elegant voice broke through Nate's wall of swimming thoughts, his head jerking up to look into Sanga's crystal blue eyes. His heart pounded as he willed his trembling body to speak.
"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Sanga added quickly. "I'm not much of a singer or drinker myself, but I figured it'd be fun to see everyone."
"I'm down!" Nate perked up. Maybe me and Sanga can talk with each other the whole time…
"Really?" Sanga lit up. "Excellent! Let's go join them, then. We can walk together."
Nate groaned inwardly. Talk? Talk about what? You don't have any memories, and if you try to think of them, you-
He suddenly doubled over, massaging his head as the fiery pain split through his skull. Sanga quickly rushed to his side, holding his shoulder gently.
"You okay?" he asked. "I have painkillers in my bag, you should take some and if you aren't feeling well, maybe you could-"
"No, no, I'm… I'm okay," Nate muttered. "I just… I lost most of my memories a long time ago, and if I try to think about what I've lost, it starts to-"
Nate winced again, cursing through the pain. When he finally opened his eyes, Sanga's expression had tightened into something unreadable. It was only there for a split second, however, for when Sanga noticed Nate opening his eyes again, his expression softened.
"Do you remember school?" Sanga asked carefully.
Nate nodded, then shook his head. Sanga tilted his head in confusion, long hair falling over his shoulder with the movement.
"I don't remember much, but I do remember bits and pieces. We… we had History together right?"
Sanga's expression once again lit up. "We did! I'm so glad, I thought you'd forgotten about me."
Nate chuckled, still reeling from the pain. His finger brushed against the eyelet on his hood, feeling where the string was missing. "How could I forget you? You were so popular in high school. I'm just wondering how you remember me. Although… We did sit near each other in History, right? With Mr. Doric?"
Again, Sanga's expression changed, his smile falling and eyebrows dropping back down. It changed again, just as quickly, as Sanga forced out a laugh.
"I remember Mr. Doric. Remember that project he made us do? We had to design a new type of pillar and then write an essay about our design choices," Sanga said wistfully. "We called him Mr. Dork for a week after that."
"Haha… yeah…" I don't actually remember all that much about history class, just that Sanga was there. Should I tell him…? Or should I-
"Oh! We're here. Look, they're already heading inside. We've been lagging behind a little, let's catch up. And don't forget: I won the bet. I won't make you tell me who you like until you're ready, though."
Sanga held the door open for Nate, bowing elegantly as they walked inside. Their coworkers were mingling about as Caesar–a tall, thin man with peppery hair–paid for the room with the company card, Mulligan leaning over his shoulder the whole time.
Nate looked around, murmuring, "Did Branzino not come?"
"No, apparently 86 started malfunctioning. Think Branzino found leaves in his filter, or something. He's working on repairing them tonight, so he'll be busy," Anise answered. "But hey, Branzino gave Caesar the company card, which means we can go all out on fancy booze and desserts!"
A voice, light and on the verge of laughter, startled Anise. "I heard that, Anise. Don't drink too much."
Anise spun around, staring up at Caesar's face, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes turned upwards in amusement. Her mouth gaped as she stumbled over her next words.
"Crap! I mean, uh, you didn't hear anything? I'm perfectly innocent!"
Caesar and Mulligan burst out into hearty laughter as Anise darted past everyone, shoving her way into the karaoke room. Benedict and Dom were already in there, as well as Dom's twin sister, Chianti, and one of the patissiers–a blonde, bodacious and loud woman named Chantilly. Benedict held the karaoke tablet in his hands, holding it so Dom could see as they scrolled through songs. Chantilly was loudly gossipping to Chianti, who sat quietly with her back straight and arms folded neatly on her lap.
Benedict turned to see Nate, quickly passing the tablet to Dom and waving, striding over. "Nate! You made it. What song should I sing? Something romantic maybe? Dom agreed to sing a duet with me, can you believe it?" Benedict winked and tilted his head towards Dom, who was dutifully looking through the song choices with the same seriousness and dedication he gave to mixology.
Nate snickers, playfully elbowing Benedict in the side. "A love song is always good. You sang one when we went camping with everyone, right? Why don't you sing that one?"
"Oh, that silly little tune?" Benedict's face turned red, running a hand through his hair nervously. "This place won't have it–I wrote that one myself, after all! It's a long story, actually. See, I wrote it about the guy I like-"
Benedict trailed off, realizing Dom had appeared behind him, holding the tablet out to show the song he chose.
"Oh! But that story isn't interesting at all, and we're here to sing and drink, haha! Maybe some other time. Let's just get started!"
The karaoke started in full swing, Benedict finding himself forced to sing a heavy metal song alongside Dom (killing it regardless), with Anise inviting Absinthe to sing a rock song as well. No one knew how Anise managed to convince Absinthe to come to karaoke at all, let alone get her to sing a song, but they didn't dwell on it for too long as they sang, drank, and ate food.
Nate and Sanga remained seated most of the time when they were suddenly handed the tablet.
"Go on, pick a song, you two!" Benedict urged. "You guys are the only ones who haven't sung yet. Please, I cannot listen to any more sea shanties from Mulligan, and my voice will be gone if me and Dom keep singing rock songs!"
Sanga gingerly took the tablet from Benedict, typing in a song. He turned the screen to Nate, a soft smile on his features. "Do you know this song?"
Your Mystery On My Mind. It was familiar. Nate knew he'd heard it at some point, probably during his school years, and he knew he'd heard it multiple times. The lyrics and most of the tune had escaped his mind, however, but he did know the chorus at least:
Your heart, so sweet and kind,
The taste of your love on my lips.
Your mystery always on my mind,
How you could love someone like this.
Nate nodded tentatively. He reached over, grabbing his cup and downing the rest of his water, before he began to cough violently, fighting the urge to expel the drink he just downed.
"Woah, Nate!" Mulligan grabbed his shoulders. "Slow down and pay attention to the cups, kid."
"Wh-what was that?" Nate coughed.
"Vodka."
"That tastes… horrible." He wheezed, before slapping his hands on his thighs and shakily rising to his feet. "D-don't worry, Sanga, I'm almost- almost ready."
Sanga shook his head, setting down the tablet and placing a warm hand on his shoulder. "You should really sit down. Need me to walk you home?"
Nate shook his head. "No, I… I take the train, I can-"
His vision went blurry, the room spun, and then…
He blacked out.