Chapter 2 - Jesus, Raimundo, You Made Him Cry.

Omi opened his eyes groggily. It was a week after they'd met Elijah, and even by his standards, this was an ungodly hour in the morning. He wondered if something was amiss…ah, yes. The new boy, Elijah. Omi rubbed his eyes and looked into Elijah's cubicle.

Elijah was not there.

Omi sprang up, worst case scenarios popping into his head. Perhaps Jack Spicer had strangled him, or Wuya had locked him up, or Chase had kidnapped him to get to Omi once again! Omi ran into the kitchen, smack, into a pair of legs.

"Oof!" said Omi as he fell.

"Omi!" said the legs. Omi heard a tray being set down, then he felt himself being picked up and put on the counter. "Omi, are you all right?"

"Yes, I am fine," said Omi, shaking his head and opening his eyes. He saw Elijah standing there, one hand on his hip, a wooden spoon in the other. He was wearing a long white apron over the traditional robes. Elijah took the dish next to Omi and walked over to the stove, setting it down there. "What's new, bucko?" he asked as he opened a cabinet and began searching for something.

"What are you doing up so early?" asked Omi. He rested his hands on the counter and swung his legs back and forth.

"Cooking breakfast," said Elijah, finding a bottle of olive oil and pouring some of it into the pan. As it began simmering, he crossed over and smiled at Omi. "Why?"

"I do not even get up this early. Normally we wake up and Gregory has already made some soup for us," he replied.

"Who's Gregory?" asked Elijah.

"A monk," said Omi, shrugging. "He is old and cooks soup for us." He sighed. "One grows tired of soup. I hope that is not what you are making."

"Nope," said Elijah. "I'm making a vegetable rice pilaf with a delicate lemon sauce. Your garden is surprisingly well stocked."

Omi noticed the basket of vegetables on the floor and a pile of chopped up ones on the counter. "So, do you like to cook?"

"Very much so," said Elijah as he put the vegetables into the pan. There were squash, zucchini, and carrot slices. They began giving off a good smell. Elijah sniffed it and smiled in a slightly drunken way. "Smell that?" he asked Omi. "That's the smell of greatness."

"I did not realize greatness smelled like vegetables," said Omi.

Elijah giggled and rubbed Omi's head. "Silly, it's a joke. That's not greatness, it's breakfast." He poured the dish of rice into the pan and covered it with a lid.

Omi grinned at him. "Oh, I see!" he said, laughing a bit. "It smells good!"

They chatted for about half an hour while the pilaf and sauce simmered. Elijah gradually grew more and more fond of the little fellow, and Omi was happy that he'd made a friend as socially inept as he was. Eventually, Omi said something so cute and grinned that big grin of his, and Elijah simply couldn't contain himself.

"You're so cute!" said Elijah, picking Omi up and kissing him affectionately on the head.

The other three chose that moment to enter.

Raimundo stared at them for a moment, then let out a wolf whistle. "Dang, Elijah, you don't waste no time, do you? But why Omi? I mean, jeez, is it true what they say about shorter men?"

"Wa—" said Elijah, dropping Omi and putting up his hands. "No—it, it wasn't like—oh, God," he whimpered, tears coming into his eyes. He covered his eyes with his hands and ran blindly outside.

"Jesus, Rai, you made him cry," said Kimiko, punching Rai before running after Elijah.

"Rai—Raimundo?" asked Omi softly. "Why did…why did you make Elijah cry?"

"I—I didn't mean to," said Raimundo, looking down at Omi. "He was totally over-reacting."

"That, pard, you are wrong about," said Clay. "I think you just finally pushed him over the edge. You been heckling him all week."

"Like what?" asked Rai defensively.

"You've been calling him a name all week…" said Omi.

"Fag?" suggested Clay.

"No, the other one he's been calling him."

"Queer?"

"That's it!"

"And you painted his room rainbow," added Clay. "Said you wanted to make him feel more at home."

"And you asked him what he was in the parade last year."

"And your askin' him constantly how hot he thinks you are."

"And you destroyed his musical theatre CDs."

"All right, I get it already!" said Raimundo. "I don't get why he's all bent out of shape, he laughed each time I did that stuff!"

"Maybe it's because he wants to look like it doesn't bother him," said Clay, crossing to the stove and turning it off. He sniffed. "Smells mighty good."

"If he wanted to look tough, why didn't he just say so?" mumbled Raimundo.

"Because he's shy, Raimundo, you know that," said Clay. "He probably wants to be your friend, but he's too shy to get to know you. You know, you don't have to be a gay guy to be friends with one."

"Well, then why aren't you friends with him, you hypocrite?" demanded Rai.

"I haven't gotten the chance to know him yet," said Clay. "But don't try to turn this around. You know that you've hurt his feelings."

"I—I know," said Rai. "I just…I just am a little bit nervous around him." He grabbed his hair with his hands. "I mean, what if he likes me?!"

"He doesn't," said a voice from the door. The boys turned and saw Kimiko standing there, looking at Rai furiously. "Raimundo, you insensitive jerk, of course he doesn't like you, you would have figured it out by now if he did." She grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him close to her. She hissed, "He's up in a tree, crying his eyes out and he refuses to speak to me." She let him go and sneered, "I hope you're happy."

"I—" started Rai, but Kimiko didn't listen. She just walked out the door.

"Raimundo, I think you should say you're sorry," said Omi.

"No way," said Rai, turning vehemently to Omi. "He never acted like this, so I have no need to say I'm sorry. He shouldn't be so freaking sensitive!"

The silence hung heavy in the air before Clay sighed. "That pride is gonna get the better of you some day," he whispered before heading out the door, Omi following him. Raimundo sighed and seated himself cross-legged on the counter, burying his head in his hands. The kettle let out a long, piercing whistle and Raimundo sighed, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this one.