Decembers

“Well, I obviously don’t know what you mean.” Bailey spoke gently, his mouth carefully forming each word, trailing over the syllables like a sled over a mound of snow.

“I’m honestly not expecting you to, Bailey.”

“I don’t even really know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Bailey, closing his eyes slightly, lowered his head in defeat. Anyone from miles away could smell the scent of agony that was clinging to Devian’s figure like an exoskeleton. At the same time, one look in his direction would render feelings of a young man who was at an extremely difficult point in his life- and struggling with it, carrying it like a corpse in a sack over his shoulder.

“Even if I don’t have to say anything, I’m sensing that you need to.”

“Why do you say that?” Devian leaned against the wall, attaching his eyes to the gaze he now received from Bailey.

“I-“

He was cut-off by the bell over the door sounding and walked behind the register to wait on the few older women who walked in, covered in white.

All three of them ordered grande caramel macchiatos, smiled, paid, tipped and left- sounding the bell again. Devian never so much as moved a muscle but twisted slightly upon their exit because he was more of a door than a window.

“Go on.” Devian yawned, muffling it with his hand.

“I figured that you need to talk because you came back.”

“Maybe I wanted more coffee.”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me.”

“Maybe I just did.”

Bailey’s mouth twitched like he was going to say something, but then didn’t mutter a single word. He was tongue-tied and figured that he’d be like this more often if he was around Devian much.

“Do you want coffee or are you trying to make me look like an idiot to make yourself feel better?” A hint of sharpness lingered in Bailey’s tone, more than he planned on instilling.

“Sure, fucking lay it on me.”

“Seriously?”

“No, of course not. What the hell do you think?”

“I’m being like you.”

“No you’re not.”

“Why aren’t I? I’m purposely being a cunt toward you for my own emotional betterment.”

“Where do you find this shit?”

“Spewing from behind your lips like a useless faucet.”

“Look, Bailey. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Okay.” He turned and started pouring coffee into two cups. “It’s on me. What’s a chit-chat without coffee?”

“A chitchat without coffee is two things- a chitchat without coffee and agonizing.”

“Ha, that’s great,” Bailey laughed, snapping on the lids. “Take a seat. It’s been slow today because of all the snow. Want a muffin or something?”

“That’d be lovely, dear.”

Bailey nodded to himself and got two banana nut muffins from the display case, balancing them on the tops of the coffees. His cheeks were flushed a cotton candy pink as he sat across from Devian at one of the many tables. “Here.”

Devian took his coffee and muffin, placing them in front of him. “How are you liking the area?” He pinched off a bit of the top, popping it into his mouth. It simply melted behind his lips.

"Er, it's pretty good I guess. I haven't exactly seen much of it. The people are interesting, that's definite."

"You're going to love school."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You'll never see so many rude people in one place in your entire existance."

"Well damn, Devian; can't wait."

"I'll assist you on day one. People never really cared for me, hopefully they won't bother you."

"I haven't even seen my classes yet or any of that shit. They're obviously a little slow."

Devian nodded, taking note of how his troubles were slowly melting like the muffin. His initial reason for a chat hadn't passed through. At the time being, though, it didn't appear that it needed to. He was definitely weakened, but working on mending the walls around his heart that only a body could fill.

"Devian?"

Devian snapped out of his thoughts, jerking back into concious reality rather than his tretcherous mind. "Yeah?"

"I thought I lost you there for a second. You alright?" His eyes flickered with pretentious concern.

"Yeah, I um, I'm uh, I'm fine." 'Fuck' shot like a boomerang, bouncing off his brain.

"Okay, pretty boy." His throat almost heaved up a mouthful of coffee in surprise and accordance with his actions. His cheeks started to fingerpaint.

"You're not half-bad yourself."

Bailey started to have an allergic reaction to the paint; he was going up in flames inside. Why did he always seem to let stray sparks light fires?

A little heat in an icy December never hurt anyone. Burn, baby, burn.