#ft. rafferty

[maverickrojas]

Ain't today just a beautiful day? I could burst into song! I won't, of course, since I quite enjoy your company and it wouldn't do to go scarin' ya off like that!

[maverickrojas]

Maverick was tearing hair out. He’d spent the better half of an hour pleading with his landlord that very afternoon, trying to calmly explain that after their fourth day without electricity, it was totally unreasonable to expect Maverick – and his two, much younger lodgers – to live in such a condition. If there was no electricity, there was no way to get the boiler to heat up, which meant cold showers. Without electricity, they couldn’t get the oven to work, or the microwave, or even the stove which their superintendent had insisted upon switching from gas to electricity a few months back. He was just about making rent as it was without having to worry about spending money on takeout food every morning and every night. When his landlord had insisted that it wasn’t his problem, and that Maverick should go out and hire an electrician out of his own back pocket, he thought he might just cry on the spot. 

Looking back now, it somehow seemed like the worst of all his problems. 

By the time he’d made his way back into his apartment, head hung low and feeling impossibly forlorn, he’d been met with a look almost akin to his own on Santiago’s face. Only, the young man in front of him had been sporting another look, something that almost resembled fear. By the time he’d handed Maverick the note from his little sister, and explained that Bea had fled into the city and had no intentions of coming home. 

“I’m sorry you got lumped with me. I don’t mean to keep ruining shit.” 

The messy scrawl of her handwriting had been smudged, her wet tears dripping down onto the scrap of paper and marring the ink. It was a detail that made Maverick’s chest ache with sorrow, on top of the concerns he was already carrying. Alongside the note had been 300 bucks that she’d shoved haphazardly into an envelope, each bill crumpled or rolled up from being hastily shoved into a pocket, or under a mattress. He had no idea where she’d found all that cash, but he hated himself for having worried her so much with his own financial troubles. That should have never been her burden to take on. 

With barely so much as a backwards glance at Santiago, Maverick had snatched his jacket from the coat hook and rushed out the front door, desperate to find Beatrice and bring her home. He'd lost his baby sister once already, he wasn’t about to do it again. 

After a couple of hours of pacing through the city and a series of any luck? and still no sign of her texts from Santiago, Maverick was feeling hopeless. They’d searched every spot they knew was familiar to her to no avail, not to mention the fact that he’d been ignoring texts and calls from Harlow all day. The last thing he needed right now was for the handsome man he’d been seeing to see what a total screw up he was. 

But he needed to talk to someone. He needed help, and he had no dang clue where to look. 

After another half an hour of scouring the streets, he found himself slowly ambling along a vaguely familiar street, brow furrowed as it slowly dawned on him where he was. In all his fretting and overthinking, he’d landed himself right outside of Rafferty’s home. Guilt burrowed deep in his chest as the reality set in; He’d been avoiding Harlow’s texts, but hadn’t thought twice about showing up at Raff’s. It had come natural to him. 

Maverick didn’t have time to hash out his feelings by the time he felt his fist pounding on Raff’s front door. He hadn’t stopped to wonder if Helen might be home, nor if Raff would even wanna see him, and by the time he realised those thoughts should have crossed his mind, the door was slowly swinging open. 

“Aw, hell, thank God you’re home,” Maverick breathed, his shoulders sagging in relief at the sight of the other man. 

[maverickrojas]

TEXTING: RAFFERTY

Maverick: Well hey there, friend. Maverick: I sure hope you don't mind me texting. If you're busy, just say the word! I have been meaning to reach out for a little while now.

[maverickrojas]

↳INSTAGRAM: @maverickrojas uploaded a photo:

[ no caption]

[maverickrojas]

It was becoming a common occurrence now, Maverick showing up at Rafferty’s bar whenever he felt sad and lonely, or found himself to be in a spot of bother. It wasn’t deliberate, as such, but twice now in just a week he’d sought comfort at the bottom of a glass. It just so happened that his bar of choosing also happened to be where Rafferty worked. 

Maverick hadn’t had any special plans in place for New Year’s Eve – he knew all the youngsters would be out celebrating, no doubt searching for a pretty pair of lips to meet their own, but that wasn’t really his scene. He loved getting to watch Wardo flourish, but he hated the idea of burdening the younger man with his presence, positive that his company at whatever party he and his friends would be attending would surely cramp his style. 

He had been planning to settle down in his apartment with a mug of hot chocolate and a good book, a mug of milk slowly warming, when the gentle whir of his microwave had come to an abrupt stop. Initially, he assumed that maybe it had been on its last legs, cheap as it was, but then the lights slowly followed, filling the place in darkness. Maverick had sighed, knowing the night was already a lost cause, and fumbled for his phone and pulled up the torch app – Marley had taught him how to do that! 

It wasn’t entirely uncommon for his landlord to cut off his power – the two had a somewhat tumultuous relationship. Which was to say; Maverick did as he was told, paid his bills on time (or as best he could) and never asked for anything, not even the basic maintenance that he was legally entitled to – and Jerry called him every name under the sun, the F slur being his choice favourite, and deprived him of basic lighting and central heating whenever he saw fit. 

All the same, nothing could be done for the night, so Maverick figured it was the Universe’s way of telling him to quit being such a bore and go out and have some fun! He knew the temperatures in his apartment tended to run cold, so he wouldn’t have much luck sitting around and wallowing in his own self-pity if it meant freezing to death, so’d he shrugged on a jacket, slipped on some boots, and decided to make his way to the bar instead. 

“My oh my, you sure do have the worst of luck, don’t ya?” Maverick teased, a warm smile on his face as he pulled up a stool across from Rafferty. “Always havin’ to put up with silly ol’ me over the holiday season!” 

As much as he hated to see that the other man was working on yet another busy holiday, he selfishly was pleased to see him there. If he had to spend his evening stuck in a bar, surrounded by drunkards who didn’t know their ass from their elbow, he was happy to know that he would be in good company. Rafferty wasn’t necessarily the most cheerful guy in New York, not by any means, but Maverick didn’t think that was any of his business. Everybody had their struggles, and whether or not they wanted to share them with other people was up to them. Maverick wouldn’t push, but he’d be as much of a friend to the other man as he could be, so long as he’d have him. 

“Still, better here than my apartment,” he laughed, keeping his tone light and jovial. He didn’t need to be burdening Rafferty with his own problems, not when the New Year was about welcoming new beginnings and a happier mindset. “At least y’all have central heating, huh?” 

He paused, brow furrowing as he shot a cursory glance over his shoulder, taking in the ramshackle pub that he currently resided in. 

“Well, I sure hope, anyway.” 

[maverickrojas]

↳INSTAGRAM: @maverickrojas uploaded a photo:

I still don’t quite rightly know what a ‘photo dump’ is but Marley told me I needed to share one. I told her she could go through my cellphone and choose the photos if I could write the caption! She says I’m a little confused but I got spirit and that’s all a guy can hope for. I hope you like her picks!

[maverickrojas]

When Maverick had texted Harlow to invite him out this evening, he hadn’t actually expected the man to say yes. Despite the other man’s overwhelming kindness and deeply charming personality, Maverick still had an unhealthy tendency to assume the worst in himself. It was the sort of self-deprecating behaviour that he’d spent most of his life trying to untrain in others, but he never seemed particularly good at listening to his own advice. He’d never had a whole lot of friends and, while he had a knack for talking the ear off of just about anybody he encountered, he wasn’t always great at maintaining normal, healthy friendships with other adults. In truth, one of Mav’s favourite things about teaching children was knowing that, without fail, he could always rely on his kids to be honest with him and knock him down a few pegs. 

Despite his fretting, however, Harlow had agreed to spend the evening with him, and Maverick was thrilled to pieces at the thought. There was something about Harlow Charlton that just seemed right. He was like a breath of fresh air, bringing with him a healthy dose of nostalgia and homesickness, with Maverick marveling in the familiar cadence of his accent. Of course, it probably hadn’t gone unnoticed to the whole, wide, spectacular world that Maverick Rojas was sporting quite the crush on the cowboy-turned-bookseller that he’d recently become acquainted with, but he was sure hoping that it wouldn’t get in the way of them sparking up a dandy friendship. He didn’t want to make the man uncomfortable – certainly not after everything that had unfolded with Rafferty. 

Maverick’s mood suddenly soured at the thought of his friend. He was making his way to the very bar that Rafferty worked at, ready to meet Harlow outside in the next ten minutes or so, and he found himself with a sudden case of the jitters. In truth, Maverick hadn’t heard from his friend since New Year’s Day. While Rafferty and Helen had been so kind as to let Maverick stay over, he’d been so embarrassed by both their hospitality and his own behaviour that he’d slipped out early the next morning, keeping his head low and barely sparing their home a backwards glance. He wasn’t much one for texting unless something took his fancy, so he hadn’t had the courage to reach out to his friend and, truth be told, he’d been avoiding the bar at all costs. He could swear black and blue that he was just much too busy with work now that the new term had started back up again, but he was saving himself a whole heap of embarrassment and rosy cheeks by simply tucking himself away in the safety of his dark apartment, with the occasional glass of scotch to drown his sorrows. 

A part of him hoped that maybe, with a bit of luck, Rafferty might have the day off – but, as soon as the thought had entered his mind, Maverick banished it, guilt eating away at him over the mere thought. It felt unkind to wish that he might not see his friend; Strange as things might have panned out for the pair of them, Maverick still considered Rafferty to be his buddy, and he sure hoped the man returned the sentiment. It simply wouldn’t do for Mav to be letting a silly, schoolyard crush get in the way of whatever friendship remained and he was, quite frankly, a master at repressing any romantic or sexual desires he might be harboring. It shouldn’t be too difficult for him to set his feelings aside. 

Upon arriving outside the bar, he gave the area a quick scan, before finally spotting Handsome Harlow just a few short yards away from their meeting point. Maverick smiled to himself as he took a moment to just watch the other man, quietly endeared by the way he was adjusting his collar in the window of the store next door. He thought for a moment that in an alternate reality somewhere, he might quite like to take Harlow out on a date – but for now, he’d have to settle for simply going for drinks with his good pal. 

“Why, fancy seein’ you here,” Maverick called out, a wide smile lighting up his face.  

He felt a twinge in his heart as the reality of having not one, but two crushes on two lovely yet unattainable men caught up with him. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind, though, and simply clapped a hand on Harlow’s shoulder as he finally reached the other man. He sure did look mighty handsome today – Maverick was starting to wish he’d made more of an effort past his favourite jeans – Simon once told him they made his booty look spectacular! – and his collared shirt with ducks on it that Ellie had gotten him for Christmas. 

“You all set for a night of cheap drinks, delightful company, and tryin’ to pull me away from the karaoke machine?” Maverick joked. 

[maverickrojas]

A sunny disposition only got you so far in life, particularly when the world was hellbent on tearing you down and reminding you how unwelcome you were. Maverick’s work over the years accounted for him being switched on, so to speak. Working with teens and underprivileged kids, largely those belonging to minority groups, meant knowing just what it was that made the younger generations tick. If he needed to connect with a 15-year-old queer kid from Alabama stuck in a Juvenile Detention Center for possession of a weapon or drunk and disorderly conduct, he needed an understanding of what might have strayed them off the beaten track to begin with.  

This meant that Maverick was all too aware of the statistics on LGBT+ hate crimes, for example. In 2022 there’d been an increase in LGBT+ hate crimes by a whopping 19% from the year prior. His heart had been crushed upon learning the statistic, a shudder down his spine sending him catatonic for several minutes as he’d tried to process the information. And yet, it somehow got worse; another increase this year of 13.8% based on sexual identity, a 32.9% increase on attacks based around gender expression. Every single day Maverick thought of Abigail, of what he could have done, how he could make the world safe for her, and then numbers like these would drop and shatter every last bit of hope he had. If Abigail had thought the world too cruel in 1997, what would she think of it now? Would she see the good? Would his sister embrace the small changes, hold them up and magnify them in whatever way she could, holding out for more in the future? Or would she read stories of Brainna Ghey and O’Shae Sibley and feel as though they’d taken twelve steps back, the same way that Maverick felt today. 

He couldn’t know, of course. It was no use dwelling on and ifs and maybes, pointless trying to imagine what could have been. Which is why Maverick found himself sitting in a bar on Christmas Eve – Abigail’s 45th birthday to be precise – drinking himself silly by way of distraction, and talking the ear off of the very pretty bartender where Wardo’s curious friend Ivy worked.  

He had never been much of a drinker, which meant that any time he happened to indulge he ended up either talking incessantly at some poor stranger until their eyes fluttered shut and they fell into the deepest sleep of their lives or stumbling into bed with a nameless, faceless gent who’d have him out the door before the clock struck midnight. Tonight seemed to be the former, the gorgeous man behind the bar currently staring at him with unmasked confusion, an arched brow directed at Mav as he absently wiped a glass with a dishtowel.  

“And so, the long an’ short of it is, I don’t know who li’l Ivy’s big, bad boss is,” he mused, his words slurring, cheeks flushed. “But I’ve been led to believe that Wardo – that's my kid... of sorts – supposedly had an affair with Ivy’s boss's wife. Her name is Helen.” 

Mav shook his head, as equally perplexed by the information he was sharing as the man staring back at him. Truth be told, as naughty as it was, Maverick enjoyed a good ol’ gossip. And while he wasn’t one to be airing people’s dirty laundry, his inhibitions went out the window ever so slightly when he’d had a drink or two, and Ivy had been sharing her drama all over twitter, for reasons he couldn’t fathom. It seemed lost on him, in his tipsy haze, that he was currently spewing gossip to Ivy’s coworker, in her workplace, where Helen’s very own husband could be lurking just around the corner. 

“Twitter, my friend, is a confusin’ place. But how else is an ol' timer such as m'self meant to keep up with the kiddos these days, hm?”