Barley's Late Night Adventure - Part 3 (Worldwide Foodies)
The sun slowly rose, bright beams peaking through the roomâs half-open window. The sound of birds chirping and some neighbor blasting loud music at 7am brought Barley back from dreamland. He yawned as he woke up and, as usual, swallowed too much air, which swiftly hit his stomach and rushed back up in the form of a guttural low morning belch. He sighed in relief, still groggy from not being fully awake.
He rubbed his eyes with his left hand and probed the room, noticing he was still sitting on the ground. Naturally, his buttocks felt slightly funny from being in the same position all night long. However, what really startled him was that, as he looked to his left, he noticed Oliverâs paler head resting on his shoulder, and their hands intertwined with each other.
His heart skipped a beat for a second, and he silently recovered his breath before slowly letting go of Oliverâs hand, the thing he wanted to do the least at that point. He didnât stand up right away, as he could hear Oliver gently snoring and wanted to enjoy that moment for as long as it lasted. It almost sounded like a cat purring. Barley wished he could freeze time and stay like that, but sooner than he wanted, Oliver started groaning and waking up. Barley swiftly moved to the side, so Oliver would not notice he had been resting his head on Barleyâs shoulder all night.
âMorning, Barbar!â, Oliver mumbled in-between a yawn, his plaid shirt slowly lifting as he stretched his arms. Barley wished he would have held himself back, but he couldnât help but peek at Oliverâs slight bloat on his mostly skinny body. It didnât fully hide his V-cut, but it definitely bulged through the tight shirt. âBarbar, are you alright? You look a bit flusteredâ. Yeah, Barley definitely couldnât be discreet.
âWhat? Oh, yeah-yeah-yeah, Iâm, Iâm alright! Just⊠Just waking up!â, Barley turned around and rushed to the window, so Oliver couldnât notice how much blood had flowed into his cheeks. âLook! Theyâre setting up the stands for that International Food Fair! Do you-do you want to maybe go there later today?â, Barley was trying his best but he couldnât hide his anxiety at that point.
âWell, I thought you would want to take Florry on her second date todayâŠâ, Oliver grinned at Barley, in his usual jesting manner. âBut guess youâll have to decompress a little more for a while, before you can see her again, right?â, Oliver patted Barleyâs still fairly bloated belly, winking at him mischievously. âJust kidding, sure we can go together! Just gotta take a quick shower and run some errands before!â, Oliver headed towards the bathroom, leaving a blushing Barley standing by the window.
Oliver lifted the toilet seat and started taking a fairly loud piss while brushing his teeth. Although they often used the bathroom with the door open (at least for the quick thing), Barley couldnât not single out this moment as something completely unique and new in his life: feeling his heart pound quicker and quicker while looking at Oliver from behind, noticing every detail of what he looked like, from his slightly bent knees, to his left hand holding the wall, to the right arm positioned right on the lower part of his waist. Barley went as far as wondering what Oliver was holding looked like.
However, Barleyâs thoughts were suddenly blown away by a deep, very familiar sound. Unlike the ones weâve gotten used to from Barley, this was a sharp-sounding baritone fart, the one you would expect getting the morning after a night of feasting. Although it only lasted for a few seconds, it was enough to startle Barley. It goes without saying that Oliver farted and burped around Barley just as often as he did. However, this new-found feeling made everything Oliver did much more grand and meaningful to Barley. He actually thought it was kinda hot to see him let go like that, and how comfortable they were around each other.
âPhew⊠That felt good! I knew that pizza was gonna do a trick on meâ, Oliver said chuckling, as he closed the door to get undressed and take a shower, leaving a now slightly sweaty Barley once again with his thoughts.
Some minutes later, the bathroom door opened. As the shower steam spread across the room and dissipated, Barley was welcomed to another tempting sight: Oliver stepping out of the bathroom, a rather wet towel wrapped around his waist, his fairly hairy chest glowing due to the remaining water from the shower, his wavy blond hair slightly damp, touching his shoulder.
âYouâre gonna take a shower here, Barbar?â, Oliver asked, pointing his thumb towards the empty bathroom.
âAh, no, no, itâs fine, Iâll take a shower at home and..â, Barley stuttered as Oliver approached him, looking like a living thirst-trap. âAnd then we can meet up at the Fair!â, he hastily stood up and walked towards the door. âIs-Is that alright with you, O-Ollie?â
âSure itâs alright! I know youâll probably want to grab a snack beforehand, even though weâre gonna be eating all day long.â, Oliver chuckled at his own remark. He couldnât notice, but Barley had gone full red once again. âIâll see you later then, Barbar!â
âYeah⊠Later, Ollie!â, Barley walked out of the house as soon as he could, so as not to show Oliver how blushy he was.
The young elf walked the empty street, still too immersed in his thoughts and what all that was happening meant to him. His thoughts were quickly dispersed, as a sudden growl rumbled in his stomach. âYeah, I know, itâs 7:30 and Iâm neglecting you. Iâm sorry!â, he said looking down at his stomach, bringing his right hand towards it to rub it gently. He knew that wouldnât make the growling stop, but it felt good nonetheless. âDonât worry, buddy, Iâll calm you down in a bit. Plus, eating something will definitely help me understand whatâs going on inside my headâŠâ. That was definitely not true, but he needed to hold onto something at that point.
After a few more minutes of walking, Barley was finally home. However, before he entered, he felt there was something he needed to do. He grabbed his phone, and tapped his way to his chat with Florry. He was not sure what was going on in his head, but one of the things he knew for a fact was that he had had a great time with Florry and wanted to meet up with her again. He couldnât deny the flutters in his stomach throughout the whole evening with her, and how right the kiss on his cheek felt. Besides, she was a very nice person, and it wouldnât be right of him to ghost her just because he got caught up in a whirlwind of emotions. He wrote a quick text thanking her for the incredible evening, and asking her plans for the day, and when they could see each other again. After pressing âSendâ, he went through the door.
âGood morning, son! You made it home right in time for breakfast!â, Laurel, Barleyâs mother, said, as she finished setting up the breakfast table. Ian, her youngest, was still asleep, and Colt, her husband, had already left to work. Even so, there was plenty of food to feed a few people. After all, she knew the son she had. Especially after a date night, she knew he would probably need some extra food to calm his remaining nerves.
âHey, mom⊠Thanks for the food, it looks delicious!â, Barley replied as he sat by the table and started munching on some pancakes, bacon and eggs. He absolutely loved breakfast food, or any food, for that matter. Either way, it was very hard for him not to get a bit over-excited while chowing down the food. It didnât take long for him to polish off most of what was on the table. He licked around his lips, which were glossing with grease and maple syrup, leaned back on the chair, and rested both his hands on his now slightly bloated tummy. Emphasis on âslightlyâ, because the amount served was not even half of his capacity. However, his mother didnât want him to be too full to move.
âWow, no belching at the table, guess that date really-â, Laurel was cut short by a bassy roar coming from Barleyâs mouth. The burp sounded as if he had mixed a lion with a t-rex, and had enough length and loudness to cause a sleepy Ian to complain from upstairs after being awakened. âGod, why do I even try? Heâs definitely his fatherâs sonâŠâ, Laurel muttered to herself, as Barley sighed in relief after the much-needed release. âAnyway, mister, do tell me how the date went. I want to know everything!â
âAh, yeah⊠The dateâŠâ, Barley was so conflicted with his feelings he had totally forgotten about bringing it up. âIt went well! She is really sweet and funny, and we spent a lot of time talking, we even held hands and all. I guess Iâm really falling for her butâŠâ, he hesitated.
âButâŠ? What happened? Did you burp in her face too? If she didnât run away from that, then she is a saintâ, Laurel could tell something was off with her son, but she also knew that cracking a joke or teasing him oftentimes made him feel more comfortable to share what was on his mind.
âHa, actually⊠That did happen. Total accident. She was very chill about it, though, but I promise I behaved after that one slipped out of me! But no, itâs⊠Itâs something elseâŠâ, Barley could not find the proper way to explain what he wanted. âI⊠I donât know, I guess Iâm just a bit confused with my feelings, trying to understand some thingsâ. That was a lie. The feelings were not confusing anymore to Barley, he understood them perfectly. However, the nature of these feelings was far beyond anything he had conceived before, to the point of making it almost unbelievable and unbearable.
âI see⊠Well, sweetyâŠâ, Laurel gently grabbed Barleyâs still slightly greasy hands, and pressed them softly. âYouâre young, and feelings are something we will never completely understand. But talking about it normally helps. You donât have to do it with me, though, if it would be awkward for you. You could talk to a friend about it⊠Are you seeing Oliver again today? Maybe it could be good to talk to him about it.â
âOliver?â, Barley felt his heart racing a little at the sound of his name, the image of his blond wavy curls, dark brown eyes and cheeky smile forming in his mind, freckles peppering his rosy cheeks and straight nose. Barley didnât know why he took so long to realize how beautiful Oliver was, but he definitely wanted to appreciate his beauty as much as he could now. And maybe talking to him could help him feel better. "Yeah, we're going to the International Food Fair that's happening today. I might talk to him, mom⊠Thank youâŠ"
Some hours later, Barley was ready to meet Oliver. He had spent most of the morning playing video-games and thinking about what he would do next. Talking to Oliver about his feelings was not a bad idea, but the thought of potentially ruining their friendship was unbearable. Barleyâs feelings were genuine, but they could be one-sided, and there would be nothing worse for him at that moment than having Oliver feel weirded out or make things awkward between them. He was already part of Barleyâs daily routine, embroidered into the elfâs daily thoughts. The mere thought of not being able to talk to him about each otherâs day, complain about the annoying clients who would give them shit, share a meal together, pull all-nighters playing games and chatting, share their biggest dreams and fears with each other was too much for Barley to handle. Therefore, he decided that, for now, the best thing was to enjoy his time with Oliver, and keep things platonic.
âYou can do this, Barley!â, he tried to reassure himself while checking himself out in the mirror. âYou like Florry too, and you know sheâs also into you, so you can always latch onto that. Plus, if the feelings for Ollie become overwhelming, then you can open up to him. Just donât get too ahead of yourself⊠And who knows? Maybe the feelings will fade away and you wonât be in this tricky situation anymoreâŠâ, Barley grinned, a bittersweet look on his face. The thing is, he didnât want those feelings to fade away, nor to hold them back. He sucked at holding back either way. What he wanted was to feed and nurture this love for Oliver as much as he could. However, his fear greatly outpowered his courage, leaving him with the simple, but definitely not easy, choice. âNow, forget about this mess in your head for a moment, and try enjoying the day with your lov-I, I mean, best friend!â, he chuckled nervously.
Barley stepped out of the house in his black Bermuda shorts, sneakers and an underground rock band t-shirt, which hung pretty loosely on his waist. For now. He knew he would need the extra room with the amounts he was planning to chow down at the Fair, so the fairly old shirt would come in very handy today. Even so, he had a nearly empty bag of chips he had already been chewing on before heading out. He walked for a few minutes, crossing the side of the park gate, where the event was being hosted, multinational tents and visitors coloring the green space. After a few more steps he saw Oliver standing by the park gate. His hair was gently being ruffled by the summer breeze, as he calmly typed on his phone, unaware of Barley coming his way. He wore dark sweatpants, and a tie-dye tank-top, which he had styled himself. Oliver was definitely not the kind of guy who would spark your average personâs attention, but, to Barley, there was no one else he could pay attention to at that moment.
âHey, Ollie!â, Barley greeted, as he got closer to Oliver. The short blond looked up, a dear smile shaping his lips as he swiftly put his phone in his left pocket.
âHeyo, Barbar! Ready to make all these restaurant stands go on food shortage?â
Barley's immediate response was a deep belch, as he threw away the empty bag and wiped his hands clean. âYou betcha! Sorry I didnât save you any chips, thoughâ, Barley chuckled, scratching the back of his head.
âOh, well⊠Wouldnât be the first time that happened. And not the first time I forgave you for it eitherâ, Oliver winked. âNow letâs go, donât want us to miss any of the stands!â, he gushed, taking Barleyâs hands and pulling him into the park, so they could start exploring.
The two youngsters started off with the French booth: Barley got a thick croque monsieur, loaded with cheese and ham, and a chocolate croissant, whereas Oliver ordered a cheese crepe and a strawberry eclair. Each stand had a different mini-challenge you could try completing to win a prize and, in this one, they had to recite a French tongue-twister as fast as they could. Although Barleyâs attempt was chuckle-worthy at most, Oliver did a little better and earned himself a strawberry-chocolate macaron. Unraveling the wrapping, Oliver bit off half of the sweet, and tenderly offered the remaining half to Barley, who was genuinely sad he hadnât won free food. The burlier guy felt his cheeks rosing at the gesture, but still gently took the sugary treat to his mouth.
âYou know chocolate and strawberries are aphrodisiacs, right? You could feed them to a certain someone youâre trying to charmâŠâ, Oliver winked playfully, cleaning crumbs off his light-colored mustache with his right thumb, drawing Barleyâs attention to the shape of his ruddy lips. So much for trying to take his mind off of how attracted he was to Oliver. Now he was even more puzzled than before. But nevermind that, they still had a lot of exploring to do.
The next stop was the German booth, where the two companions shared a bacon-and-onion-filled flammkuchen (this sort of flatter rectangular pizza) and had a bratwurst hot dog each. The protein-heavy food quickly settled down on Barleyâs stomach and, even though he did try to go to the more secluded corner of the stand, the beefy and warm ripper rattled out of him in such putrid strength that caused the booth to be quickly emptied. Barley, likewise, got much needed emptying relief from the powerful flatulence.
âGod, Barbar, you couldâve at least warned me!â, Oliver complained in-between laughs, his eyes twitching from the sulfuric smell.
âHeh, Sorry sorry Ollie, I needed the room for the challenge!â, Barley chuckled with glee, gently scratching his lower stomach below his shirt. He excitedly showed Oliver the boothâs flier, which stated that whoever chugged a pint of beer faster than the boothâs assigned chugger, flown straight from Bavaria, would win a box filled with German goodies. For the big elf, an opportunity to earn free food should never be missed!
Barley confidently asked for a pint of non-alcoholic beer to the sturdy Bavarian, who quickly brought out two one-liter mugs, one for each. Oliver couldnât tell who was going to win. Although he knew Barley could give vacuum cleaners a run for their money when it came to polishing off food (a skill he still wanted to see put to the toughest of tests), the older man donning a dark-leathered Lederhosen looked like he had been raised with a beer bottle instead of a baby bottle. Nonetheless, he was ready to give his best friend all the support he needed.
âCome on, Barbar, you can do it!â, Oliver shouted as soon as the bell was rung by the lady working the stand, announcing the beginning of the challenge. The two contestants quickly moved the pints to their mouths and started guzzling. For a few seconds, there was not much action other than the loud gulping sounds coming from both men, and the golden liquid slowly being inhaled like oxygen.
14 seconds later, with a loud clink, the Bavarian misterâs victory was announced, being followed a few milliseconds later by Barley. The victorious dude used his girthy arm to clean the foam off his walrus-like dirty blond mustache, a loud and deep beer belch casually bolting out of him with much gusto, the kind youâd expect someone who looked like him to let out. The eruption, though strong, caused little to no reaction from his fellow workers, given how often he had let out similar ones throughout the day. However, what did garner a few head-turns and jaw-drops was the much more impressive guttural emission of air that bursted out from the counter.
Barley could be seen in a state of pure bliss, both hands tightly clutching his bloated stomach, jaw outstretched and slightly slanted to the side, as the monstrous burp flew out of him with so much strength the Bavarian man could feel a couple of mustache strands being blown away. After over 20 seconds of non-stop gassy release, Barley tilted his head down, letting out a satisfied, yet disappointed, sigh. It was pretty noticeable that, no matter how impressive his belch was, he still felt beaten down about losing.
âAw, Barbar, donât be sad! You did your best, and what matters most is-â, Oliver couldnât finish his motivational speech, as the sound of loud ovations filled the stand. Barley looked up and saw all the workers applauding him with much enthusiasm.
âOho! Zat vas definitely ein winner belch, Junge! Here, have mein hat for finally giving me zome competizion!â, the challenge winner congratulated, putting his tyrolean hat on Barleyâs head, who couldnât help but crack a thankful and proud smile. Oliver adjusted the traditional hat, thanked the workers, and took off with Barley to their next foodie adventure.
âThat was so cool, ri-uuUUURRRRRRRRRrrr-ght?â, Barley smiled at his own belch, a couple of smaller ones escaping him as they strolled around, trying to find the next stand they would visit. âGeez, Iâm so carbonated nowâŠâ, he remarked cheerily, tapping the top of his bloated gut a few times, easing off another decently-sized exhale of gas.
âNOW? Youâre ALWAYS carbonated, mister. Itâs your default modeâ, Oliver teased, pulling down Barleyâs newly-earned hat. The walk-around helped his own body digest what theyâd been eating, causing a smaller yet impressive belch to come out of him. âPhew, guess Iâm carbonated now too. Weâd better make some room now, cuz we still got many places to go!â
And thatâs how the rest of the afternoon went: amidst lots of munching, cheerful reactions to the delicious food and the occasional expelling of upper and lower gas, the two friends traveled around the four corners of the park, going through Italy, India, Morocco, Colombia, and many other countries.
When the two least expected it, dusk started falling upon them. The bloated duo sluggishly made their way to their favorite tree in the park, which faced a lovely small lake. They sat down below it, hands resting around their beyond full bellies. The rockstars on Barleyâs shirt felt slightly deformed as the fabric did its best not to tear at the seams, whereas Oliverâs tank top was close enough to become a crop-top.
âGod, Barbar, Iâm soooo full! Guess I wonât be eating for the n-uuUURRrp. Gosh, for the next weekâŠâ, Oliver sighed, feeling slightly sleepy from the copious amount of food they had taken down.
âGuess all my gluttony is rubbing off on you, huh?â, Barley pointed out, poking Oliverâs stomach.
Although he could play it cool on the outside, his heart was almost beating out of his chest, being so close to Oliver and touching his body. He calculated every move as to not weird him out or anything like that, as he felt his feelings could seep out at any moment now. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a tight brassy sound that rippled the grass, echoing through the empty surroundings. By the time he looked to the source of the sound, all he could see was Oliver adjusting back to his original position, a relieved look hung on his face.
âAw, wow, that one came out of me like a volcano!â, he laughed, fanning the air around his face, trying to get rid of the spicy stench that was now lingering in the air. âMust have been that curry! Spicy food never agrees with me!â
âOh God, that one put me to shame, I gotta admitâ, Barley chuckled as he joined Oliver in trying to fan the smell away. He looked to the side, and stared at Oliver for a few seconds. âThanks for spending the day with me, Ollie⊠I had a lot of fun!â, Barleyâs voice sounded mellow, which caught Oliver off-guard.
âBarbar, are you alright?â, Oliver turned to the side as well, studying Barleyâs sweet yet mysterious face.
âYeah, Iâm more than fine actually, Iâm just really happy I got to spend some time with you again⊠I know weâre always hanging out, but I donât think I tell you that much: I really enjoy being with you⊠Youâve become such a close friend of mine so quickly, and it feels like sometimes I just take our friendship for granted and donât really show you how important you are to meâŠâ, Barleyâs eyes were now locked on Oliverâs, who couldnât hide the shy smile emerging on his face.
âYouâre very important to me too, Barbar⊠And you show it to me, more than you could know, actually. I mean, sometimes I wonder why you took the time to get back to my message all those months ago⊠I could be a crazy psycho for all you knowâ, the two of them took a moment to laugh heartily at the joke, â... Still, you did reply to the message, and youâve always been so friendly and so much fun to talk to⊠You helped me through some of the most anxious moments Iâve experienced recently⊠And you just always make me feel safe and validated⊠So⊠Iâm the one thankful, really. Youâre the best friend I could wish forâŠâ
The word âfriendâ lay bitterly in Barleyâs ears. Not because he didnât appreciate it or because the feeling wasnât mutual. He felt that the word didnât fully embrace what they were to each other. Or, at least, what he felt Oliver was to him. But he was happy to learn how much Oliver appreciated him. It made the situation of loving him less unbearable.
The pair basked in the silence that followed the heart-to-heart a little longer, until Barley was caught off-guard by a familiar experience: a warm, fuzzy feeling on his shoulder. His eyes hovered downwards to find, once again, a sleeping Oliver resting right next to him. However, this time around, Barley didn't shy away from his instincts. Instead, he gently nuzzled Oliver's soft hair, taking in the sweet scent of his lavender shampoo, probably the nicest scent to come out of their bodies today.
Barley gazed at the blooming stars being reflected by the lake's crystalline waters, feeling ever so thankful for the moment he got to experience with Oliver. Regardless of what their companionship became after that, he had that day. He had that moment. He had the soft touch of Oliver's skin on his. Nothing could ever ruin that.
"B-BarleyâŠ?", his eyes spread wide, as he hastily surveyed the scenery, trying to locate the source of the familiar, sweet voice. After a few seconds, his eyes finally found it, though he wished he was wrong. The rising moonlight seemed to give her skin an extra glow, her brown hair gently flowing with the summery zephyr. She still looked beautiful, despite the puzzled frustrated look on her face.Â
"Florry?" was all Barley could utter when his brain processed what was happening, but it was too late. The young lady had already turned away in disbelief and started walking.
