Cafe Day
HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY TO @scampwick!!
Cafe Day
The two of you opted for a tiny cafe on the side of town. It’s cozy, not a lot of people were present, and the music gave a nice vibe to its nature aesthetic. You chose the cafe for that reason, by the way. It’s filled with various plants: hanging flowers and vines, some beautifully shaped topiaries, why, there’s even a pretty succulent resting at the center of every table. The cafe you, thought, would be comfortable for them. Coincidentally, they go by Mentha-- the scientific name for mint,-- a natural plant.
It was also something that you are only able to smell nowadays. Not that you mind, but it would be nice to sniff that soothing scent of incense again.
But enough of that. You, Gerard Pippee, feel the need to make amends with Mentha. It is your goal to prove to them that you are a changed man. If they don’t forgive you, you’ll be fine with that. Deeply wretched with guilt for the coming years, but you’ll be fine.
You’ve actually apologized before. Several times during meet-ups like these, and slowly, the bond between the two of you is mending. Of course, there are the occasional road bumps. But this time, it won’t be a brief sit-down in a classroom or a school office during lunch.
You want this to be meaningful.
For now, you wait at your table, an iced coffee in one hand, a book in the other.
You didn’t immediately recognize or see them come in because you were so absorbed into your book. That was enhanced due to their natural silence.
But you looked at them after marking your book. For good measure, you add a glowing smile to your face.
In contrast, they had a blank expression. You sensed that they saw this meetup as a chore, but not because of their childish tendencies. They're trying to be courteous.
They had such a gorgeous taste in turtleneck sweaters. They wore them all the time (even on a hot July day like this), but each and every one is unique, and you could feel a story pulsating out of them. Combined with their classy, black skinny jeans and floral patterned Vans, they looked like an adorable little pear. "Little" because they were so short.
In denial about it to others, but you could never lie to yourself that you were in love with them. They’re too perfect. They already had two boyfriends, though, and weren't searching for another one. You respect that.
… Wait. What did they say?
Distracted again. You nerd.
“Gerard?” They ask. Gosh, such a soothing voice. “Is there something wrong with my outfit? I’m sorry if it’s not formal enough-- I just woke up from a nap a-and--”
They’re perfect, and you’re convinced that you were the one who underdressed… Even though you used seven different types of shampoo before coming here.
With pure honesty dripping in every word, you say, “No, no! You look fine! Eet’s a cafe and I’d be 'appy knowing that you’re dressed comfortably!”
“Alright…”
“I theenk you look very pretty as you are right now.”
“Aha, thank you.” And they take their seat across from you.
Their stubby legs dangle. You find it adorable.
“‘Ow are you?” You ask.
They’re checking their phone. “I’m tired. But other than that, the usual.”
“Oh. Would you like me to buy you a dreenk?”
They put their phone back in their bag and look up at you. “Hot chocolate is fine, thank you. But I could get it myself.
… Ah, I should have done that before coming to the table.”
“Mentha, no. Eet’s all fine, really!” You reassure them. “I… just don’t know eef they still serve ‘ot chocolate at thees ‘our.”
“… Oh, right. Sorry.”
“I can steel check, though!”
“If you say so.”
You’re already making your way to the counter before they could finish speaking. You’ll apologize later.
Luckily, they’re still making hot chocolate at two in the afternoon.
It's worth the quizzical look from the barista, too, because you’re joyed to see their face light up when they see their favourite drink right in front of them.
And now, the conversation begins.
But you start off nice and easy.
“Do you like the decor of the cafe?” You ask. “I, uh, peecked out thees place because I thought you’d like eet.”
They smile (such cute little teeth). “I love it! It looks better than my house, hehe.”
They look at the table succulent and take a sip of their drink. Immediately after, they pause and squint at their cup.
You nervously tap the table. “Ees sometheeng wrong?”
They smirk at you and make a gesture to the cup. “… I can do better than this.”
You giggle, remembering that they used to be a barista before moving to this town. “I bet you can.”
“It’s also cold.”
That’s their numbness to regular temperature difference. And it also explains why they’re wearing a sweater.
You’ve never met a demon quite like this one.
They remove the lid and grab the cup with both hands. The cocoa boils within a matter of seconds. You’re entirely convinced that you were the living embodiment of Michael Cera’s face when he held that giant cactus because you knew they were going to put the lid back on and take a giant gulp of that normal human flesh melting liquid and oh, Jesus Christ, you can’t bear to watch. How in the Lord’s name are they unaffected by this and may He have mercy on their tiny, minty soul.
They’re too strong for your own good. You silently said a prayer to yourself, closing your eyes as you do so, while they drank that cocoa goodness you know as the Devil’s Kiss.
Completely unphased. You’re just a weak pea in a pod, but you are proud.
“It’s a little better now.”
“I bet it is.” That was the most pitiful squeak ever.
They giggle. “Is something wrong?”
You cough. “N-Nothing! Just… ‘Ow can you stand drinking that?”
They blink. “I’ve always loved chocolate ever since I was a kid.”
Unbelievable.
“But the water ees boeeleeng!”
“Well, I needed it to get warmer.”
You stand corrected: you are now the weakest pea in the pod.
“That makes sense." No, it doesn't.
They simply nod and get more of a taste from Satan’s Starbucks.
“You smell really nice, by the way! Strawberries-- wait, roses? Is that honey? Mmm, I love all the scents!” They must be smelling all the different shampoos you used; that’s good that they all worked.
You simply smell mint. Mint everywhere.
But you’re fine with it.
You still smile because you’re so chipper that they noticed. “Thank you! I actually used seven deefferent shampoos; eet’s a tradeeteeon, ahah.”
“I love it!”
“You smell nice, too. Nice and meenty; eet’s wonderful.” You wanted to compliment them too, and that seems to make sense because of the ever-growing mint plants on their body.
But that made their smile falter, and you immediately regret opening your mouth.
“Ah, thank you. I tried using a brand new rose perfume today, but I guess that didn’t work.”
You can fix it. Partially. You hope.
“Oh. Oh! I can smell eet now! That’s so wonderful-- and eet really matches your cute sweater!”
Please, please, Lord, let that work.
“… I’m so glad then that you’re able to smell some of it! I wanted to try something new. And I felt really good about myself today!”
Thank you, Lord. “That’s wonderful! You should feel good about yourself every day.”
Their smile is back with blushing to accompany it. “Aaw, thank you. I’m doing my best.”
“I’m so glad!” This is a good time to transition. “Say, you’ve changed a lot seence you moved ‘ere.”
They chuckle. “Yeah, I got fat.”
They’re a chubby, little pear. Yet it didn’t matter what size they are because they’ll always be adorable to you. Presently, they’re an adorable little pear.
“That wasn’t what I was referreeng to, but you are ‘appy weeth yourself, right? That’s all that matters, that you’re ‘appy.”
“Yes!” They're rotating their empty cup, that scarred cup, that became witness to defying the laws of chemistry. “I used to be so underweight for the longest time, but aah, I feel so much better about myself now. So much happier.”
You clasp your hands together. “That’s wonderful! I’m so ‘appy that you’re ‘appy! And you look so much ‘ealthier, too.”
They cup their cheeks. “Your words make me feel so fuzzy inside!”
“Fuzzy like your sweater?”
They’re laughing. So loud and so hard that they have to cover their face. It’s infectious; and you laugh with them.
You feel blessed.
Suddenly, they uncover their face and look at something behind you, pointing.
In a low voice they say, “Holy fuck, is that Summat?”
Well, that was completely out of left field.
Slowly turning your head, you notice the Mexican Donald Trump sitting at a table in the very back. He’s on his laptop, probably doing some sketchy business transactions.
Why is he here at this cafe, though?
Wait. No wonder that small hot chocolate cost twenty dollars to order. Actually, that’s good that they didn’t buy it theirself because they’d be even more angry at their drink.
And no wonder they said it tasted so bad.
No wonder this place looks so nice. You didn’t even notice.
You didn’t even notice.
You must be so neon black right now, if that’s even a colour. It’s a colour now, because that’s you. It’s painted all over your face. You should tell them that; they’ll get a kick out of it. It’ll be their lucky colour number seventeen.
Your apology can wait again. You’re a patient man; it’ll be fine. It’s not like they’ll forgive you anyway--
What in God’s name are they doing with that fork?
“Mentha, what are you doeeng?!” You whisper to them.
They have that table fork trained on Summat. They throw it like an Olympic javelin. Right at his head.
Your screeching could be used for their brother’s death metal songs.
You two are going to die. And you’re going to be fired. You will be dragged to hell with that adorable little heathen. Just look at their face: eyes lit, their sharp teeth are out now, and you have never been more scared in your entire life.
You shrivelled pea.
They have too much power.
Everything feels like it’s in slow motion. Did that fork make a whizzing sound when they threw it? You have no idea. Just look at that thing go as you mentally write your will.
The fork has grazed the top of the unidentified mass that’s supposed to be Summat Summus' hair.
Some of those “hairs” are actually embedded into the wall with the food instrument.
The dying sound in your voice is inhuman, and only grows sadder and sadder with each lowering octave.
They stare at you with their big blue eyes and put their finger to their smiling lips. Your mouth is shut.
Summat locks eyes with the two of you. Your dying whale song blew their cover.
This is not how the Book of Revelations begins.
“VORPOS!” He screams. His voice is slimy like an eel and he becomes the living embodiment of a pile of dead fish. Which you’re sure that’s what his hair is made out of. And nasty kelp.
One theory is that it dragged itself out of the deep trenches of the ocean only to rest itself atop of the heads of the most disgusting compilations of the human body and soul.
But what’s worse is hearing the voice of that dreadful beast.
Yet the call is not for you.
It’s for Mentha fucking Vorpos.
Who, quite frankly, looks like they don’t give a shit if their job is terminated or not. They’re still grinning with those sharp teeth.
Calm in the face of death. You can respect that.
You've given up on your will and now you've begun mentally reciting a prayer.
“Mentha.” You whisper through gritted teeth. “Mentha, we need to leave.”
They don’t care. They’re standing up now with both of their hands on their hips. “How’s it going you little pu--”
You’re already sprinting out the door, carrying them over your shoulder. You don’t care that they’re yelling at you to put them down.
You really need to get away from that puto.
Running down the blocks consisted of confused bystanders being pushed out of the way by you, and who you immediately apologized to, as well as dodging objects that blocked your path with ease. Thanks, fencing. At one point, you even jumped over a hedge. What's a hedge doing in the middle of the street? You could care less now. You have to find a place to hide, fast. Running all over His Felonious Town while carrying a human is not ideal. The thirty degree celsius heat did not help, either.
If only your car was here, but no, you walked to the cafe because it was nice and breezy an hour ago. What the hell is wrong with California?
Did they drive here?
“‘Ey, deed you drive ‘ere?!” You yell back to them.
“FUCK YOU, I WASN’T DONE WITH HIM YET!” They scream back.
“I don’t care! Deed you drive ‘ere?!”
“No, Ana dropped me off!”
The first boyfriend. He’s charming, but not your type. Quite a funny ham, though.
“Where ees ‘e?!”
“At the pet store probably-- OH FUCK, HE’S RUNNING AFTER US!!!”
Lord.
“WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU TWO I’M GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE!!” The beast roars his mighty call in the background.
You beeline into an alley.
Both of you are equally demoted to the position of screaming thirty something year olds.
“GO EENVEESEEBLE! GO EENVEESEEBLE!!” You cry.
If they could just do that, then you’ll both be fine, and you’ll be able to catch your breath.
“WE’RE INVISIBLE! WE’RE INVISIBLE!!” Thank you, Jesus Christ.
Slowing down to a jog first, and then you stop. You gingerly set them down on the ground and help to wipe off any dust that you see on their sweater.
The two of you look back at the alley entrance. Summat pauses in the middle of the alley entrance; he looks around for a few moments before stomping his foot on the hard pavement, yelling an expletive, and storming back in the direction of the cafe. You catch your breath as Mentha sighs in relief.
You can’t help but feel a bit miffed at that fork stunt they just pulled.
“Mentha, I’m deesappoeented een you.”
“I’m not gonna let the bastard stomp all over me for an entire school year, will I?” They have a point. But you don't want to get fired.
“You’re right, but ees eet worth getteeng fired over for?”
They cross their arms and think it over. "Honestly, I don't care about myself. But I'll explain the situation to Summat, so you can keep your precious Chemistry."
It's sarcastic; they dread that science class. "'Ow cute."
“Because I'm "so cute.""
They got you there, despite sarcasm.
They sigh again. "So… What now?”
You left your book on the cafe table, you remember. You’ll get it later. “‘Ow about ice cream?”
“I love eet!”
Did they. Did they just.
They turn red and cover their mouth. You’re crying and dying from laughter. It allows them to lighten up and laugh along with you, too.
Everything is great.
So, you get your ice cream from Saturn and Hermes' ice cream shop. You always love going in there because the design has a nice aesthetic to it. Every flavour is named after a crystal. It was Saturn's idea-- and what made the shop so unique. You didn't want to admit it because of your Christian faith, but you felt a very strong connection to the crystals strewn around the place. Do you dare admit that you'd like to buy a few of them? Only to yourself, that is.
You chose the Quartz ice cream (vanilla) and they chose Axinite (chocolate). The taste is as marvelous as viewing the crystals up close.
You didn't want to ruin the Holy atmosphere from this blissful moment, but you still need to apologize. Or at least say something. Maybe a compliment could settle.
You clear your throat. "I, uh, wasn't done talkeeng at the cafe."
They perk their head up. "Really? ... Oh, right! Sorry, I cut you off back there, heh."
"Eet's fine." Your insides are being torn apart from the anxiety this conversation, you feel, will become. "What I meant by changeeng ees that... I theenk your 'eeps really sueet you-- and your makeup ees really gorgeous. Your entire body, actually, ees really wonderful...
"I'm really proud at your transformateeon and what you've become? That's what I'm tryeeng to say.
"And eet's my seenceerest apologeees that you 'ave to deal weeth my bullsheet, and Summat's, and other people's-- but especeeally mine. You never deserved that. I deedn't realize 'ow eemportant thees meant to you.
"Mentha, I'm sorry."
Their mouth is agape, and now they're the one turning neon black. Their little hands are visibly shaking.
"Th- Thank you." They stutter. "It r-really means a lot to m- me.
"I h-hope you ssaid the same th-thing to Helena. A- And Apollo. And C- Calico. And everyone else y- you hurt. Because they deserve your a- apologies, too."
They're right; it's something you haven't done yet, but you need to. But if you can apologize to them, you can apologize to everyone else.
"I weell."
"Thank you."
Their forgiveness is ambiguous, but you take back what you said earlier. You're fine with it if they don't. It's rude to expect forgiveness every time. It's something that has to be earned.
There's silence between the two of you. But they break it.
"Do you... Actually like my hips?" They ask.
"Yes!" It's said without hesitation. "I theenk they're adorable and make you look like a lovely pear."
A tiny smile appears on their face. "I’m very happy, then."
"I'm very, very glad. Do you like your ice cream? I 'ope eet's better than that 'ot chocolate."
They take a bite from it. "It's very, very good! And a hundred times better than that hot chocolate. I can’t believe it was twenty dollars!"
The price must have been written on the cup, too.
You smile back. “I can’t beleeeve eet, eeether; some companeees are real penny-peenchers.”
They nod and take another bite of their ice cream.
The rest of the time went without a hitch-- no sightings of the beast were reported. And you were even offered a ride home with Ana and Mentha, which you gladly accepted and thanked for. The ride was peaceful, and you felt like you were finally beginning to make amends with the people you cared about-- even if it was only one person to begin with.
You felt like you were finally changing, and you welcomed it wholeheartedly.