Sarcasm Is the Lowest Form of Wit; Not.

Jake walked home from his late night shift at whatever fast food restaurant it was. He really thought he should know the name by now; after all, it was stitched into his cheap, disgustingly colored shirt that he had to wear every time he worked. It wasn’t even a color, just a mixture of… shades that had been discarded from nature.

“Hey, Italian dude!” beckoned a man from behind him. Jake turned around and raised an eyebrow as he, for once, recognized the man coming towards him. He did not really know anyone around here, so it always came as a surprise to him if he recognized someone, even more of a surprise if that person actually bothered to talk to him.
“Me?” he asked quietly, a skinny finger pointing to his chest.
“Yeah, you.” he smiled and caught up to him. “Hey there. Remember me at all?”

Jake scanned the man, looking up and down quickly to try and make an image appear in his mind of the man that was in front of him. It suddenly clicked when the word ‘Italian’ flowed through his brain, Italian man? Of course. This was the Bear Man, or Masimo if he remembered correctly.

“Masimo.” he said contently, satisfied with himself for remembering the name.
“That would be the one. I just wanted to thank you for helping me the other night-”
“Day.” he corrected.
“Day, whatever. Thank you, anyway. As a token of appreciation, I wondered if you’d like to go for a drink?”
“It’s 4am.” he said bluntly. “Nothing is open, and the places that are, you wouldn’t want to go in.”
Masimo chuckled quietly. “Perhaps you’d like to invite me in to your humble abode, so we could have a drink there.”
“I don’t want you in my house again.” he frowned, pressing a thumb in between his eyes, as if he was ironing out the frown, his thumb gliding down his nose. “And how would that be a thank you, if you are drinking my alcohol?”
“I don’t… I don’t know. Surely some company would be nice?”
“I don’t like people.”
“Really? Or is that your pathetic attempt at trying to be rid of me?”
“If I wanted rid of you I would have said by now, I’m not particularly good with, well, anything, me inclusive.”
“Are you awful at people skills, or is there some underlying reason?”
“I’m autistic.” he said, pushing through the doors to his apartment complex, holding open the door for Masimo.
“Thank you.” he said.
“No problem.”
“So you only think things are good, and that kind of thing?”
Jake chuckled, running a hand through his weak, brunette locks. “You could say that. But way to sound condescending, Masimo. You could make it up to me by telling me something about yourself. Not your name, I don’t want to know that.”

The two men soon arrived in front of the apartment door, and Jake didn’t think to not let his companion in. Instead, he tapped it in the right places and barged right in, making sure the door wasn’t to hit Masimo in the face as it swung back. The other man thanked him and closed it delicately behind him. The lights were already on, and he sat down on the dying couch whilst Jake rifled through the cupboards.

“As you don’t want to know my name, what would you like to know?”
“I don’t mind.” shrugged Jake, taking two stained pint glasses from the nearest pint cupboard and pouring some warm red wine into them both. His fridge had broken down a while back, and like the rest of the apartment, he hadn’t bothered to fix it.

That’s what he liked to think, anyway. It was more of the fact he was so fucking poor there was no way he could even hope to afford to fix it. The pint glasses were from a charity shop and the wine was stolen from the back of a van that was unloading supplies to sell in the local grocery shop. Sometimes he had a job there; unloading. He’d found a uniform in a near by dumpster, cleaned it a little and wore it when things got so ludicrously bad he could die from being so malnourished. He’d ‘accidentally’ drop a few items of food, so they were broken or not good enough for sale. That would be his food for the next few days. It was always done in the early hours of the morn, so no one was awake enough to realize he didn’t actually work there.

“I like to suck cock.” said Masimo, finally, taking small sips from the pint glass carefully as the rim was sharp and pointed. Jake quickly apologized and swapped glasses, so his guest had the one that wasn’t a potential threat to his life.
“Pardon? I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.” said Jake, honestly.
“No worries. I said I like to suck cock.”
Jake smiled, sitting on the counter, swinging his spindly legs from side to side. He liked this man, he was blunt, and his autism meant that he couldn’t understand people when they were anything less that pure fucking blunt.
“So you’re gay?”
“That would be the one.” smiled Masimo.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Not currently. The slums of Toronto aren’t exactly the best places to find quarter-decent men.”
“Quarter-decent?”
“Half-decent is too much to hope for.” he nodded, taking a few more sips.
“Oh. Well, I’m sure there is someone out there. But you are quite odd; if you wear that bear suit often then I’m not surprised you’re single.”

Masimo laughed quietly. “You’re a beautiful freak of nature, Roddy.”