English is not my first language. Times are terrible.
How do you live without diminutive affectionate suffixes, Anglo-Saxons?
Alan
Okay, that's enough. That's enough. Alan has calmed down abruptly. Breathe in, breathe out, one-mississippi, two-mississippi, and:
- Nothing. I won't bother your employee again. Good-bye," to Rowan, while he looks on with that smug, triumphant look, "Sorry to bother you," to the customer who seems to have gotten into character and isn't going to stop this charade. "Well, I can continue the game. Turn around and leave the playtech. Walk out of the store, get in the car. Drive away. Before I change my mind. Till I remember that I'm an adult or I choose to be an adult and put things back the way they were. No way anymore. Since Rowan doesn't care who exactly is wearing the red shirt, and this customer took the money, let him work for a day or two. More precisely... a week. Yes, that's right, two hundred bucks I'll get for about a week's work, so let that be a little rest. After so much taunting and bullying, I definitely deserve an unscheduled vacation. Maybe my Stockholm syndrome will finally let go and I can get away from this place. Is everything going to be okay? Will Adam cope? Of course, Adam has Ellie, and suddenly this customer will make up for my role as an adequate human being on this definitely-not-the-best-team, who knows. No, I must stop thinking about it. Otherwise, I might come back. Better to think about what I'm going to do this week."
All these thoughts are rushing through Alans head as he tries to open the car. Сertainly, the keys have falled off. Сertainly Alan has turned around and looks at the store. Waiting for something. But nothing happens. The sunny is shining, a gentle breeze is blowing silently by, and the clear blue sky hints that life goes on. No one's trying to bring Alan back. - Damn it," Alan curses, flinches, shrugs, and gets in the car. Stares out the windshield for a second," Damn it," he repeats, and starts the car.
While driving he tried not to think about anything, but all thoughts has come back to the kiss. "Kissing is forbidden by contract. But Rowan has kissed… Not him. Is this considered a breach of contract on the part of the employer? Would he pay liquidated damages? Even though it wasn't him who was kissed... God, do I seriously think Rowan really doesn't know my face? After all these years?" Alan has slowed down sharply. Gathers his thoughts. Shakes his head. No, it can't be like this.
On his way home, he had to buy groceries. Instead of food, whiskey, wine, beer and scotch appear in the grocery basket. A wide variety of alcohol. And zero snacks. Alan doesn't think, doesn't have time to think about why he's doing this when he actually went into the store with the idea of what to make for dinner. The saleswoman looks at him strangely, but remains silent. Alan is silent as well, pays for his purchases, "the check comes out too expensive," and leaves the store. He throws his purchases on the back seat of the car, nods his thoughts, and drives home.
He has gone into the house with a bottle of whiskey already open, collapses on the couch, and begins to drink. The first sip is for the weekend, Alan have to make up his mind for it and not be responsible. The second sip is for freedom. On the third sip, he has remembered that he is still wearing that customer's T-shirt. He sits down, wraps his arms around himself, and begins to frantically tear it off. His fingers don't obey and shake, and Alan trembles after them. The T-shirt was soaking wet, it is disgusting and gross, making him want to rip the fabric off body and skin. He just remembered the kiss. Everything inside went cold, and there seemed to be a darkness around that began to crush, suffocate, tear. The sharp pain, spiced with alcohol, made Alan clench. He squeezes his shoulders harder and almost touches his forehead to his knees. Don't breathe. One-mississipi, two-mississipi. Inhale. Breathe in, breath out. Darkness falls away, so Alan can let himself go and slowly, carefully remove the T-shirt, trying not to touch the cloth to the bare skin unnecessarily. Not thinking about the kiss. And about Rowan. "Don't you ever fucking cross me." A fourth sip. It gets easier. On the fifth, it feels good. The tenth, and Alan flies away, no more feelings, no more thoughts, no more responsibility, no more pain. He gets up, turns on the TV, the channel with the dance songs, and lets the music carry him away.
Rowan
Rowan, of course, realized what had happened. He decided that Alan's breakdown was the right moment to tell him how much he appreciated him and, at the same time, to give him a kiss. Doing it all with the real Alan was kind of embarrassing and сonfusing, but playing dress-up like that... why not? It's okay for him, and it'll definitely go well. He'll help Alan with that, calm him down, and give him the day off. After all, everyone needs a rest, even responsible adults like Alan.
What Rowan didn't expect was that Alan wouldn't come back. Not in the evening, not the next day. And nothing can even be said, the employees are three, playtech is doing fine, the customers aren't complaining. Even Ellie and Adam didn't argue with him when he called definitely-not-Alan Alan. Unbelievable. And that's his definitively-the-best-team. Rowan pondered. Looked up at the ceiling. The window. The wall. Called Alan. Called out to not-Alan. Asked not-Alan where all the pens had gone, and the impostor just took a new one out of his pocket and gave it to him! Unbelievable. The real Alan was missed. The first day Rowan just waited. The next, he rubbed off on not-Alan. He hoped that not-Alan would come to his senses and simply not show up the next day, and then Rowan would have every reason to call the right Alan.
On the evening of the second day [of Alan's leave], Rowan paced the room, dialed a number, erased it, typed a text message, frowned, but could not send. He went to the discord, looked at the gray circle and was hypnotizing it with his eyes, while at the same time thinking through future conversations and strategies for behavior. Thoughts ranged from "I'm sorry, come back, please" to "I'll forgive everything, come back, please". And the strategy ranged from "cheeky, misunderstood child" to "pathetic, in love 30-year-old man. But none of this helped. On the third day, Alan didn't come back. That's when Rowan started freaking out. At Adam, at not-Alan. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but the absence of those green eyes was preventing him from focusing, calming down, and being the best manager of the world. Rowan barely made it to the end of his shift. His inner uneasiness was growing. He said goodbye to Ellie, to Adam, looked intently at non-Alan, and, ingratiatingly: "Bye, Alan." That one shrugs, says goodbye on an exhale, and leaves the store.
Rowan is alone. He closes his eyes, goes silent, one-mississippi, two-mississippi, opens his eyes abruptly. He is going to drive to him. And then whatever happens. Rowan closed the store in a hurry, jumped into the car, drove off. He's in a hurry, afraid to change his mind, driving fast. And on the doorstep of Alan's house, he stops. He exhales. And doesn't know what to do next. Rowan puts his forehead on the steering wheel and moans longingly.
Rolan
At this time Alan ran out of the last bottle of alcohol. After three days of drinking, the darkness had figured out how to fight his main defense, and now in order to defeat it, he had to drink more. But the booze had ended, and the darkness went on the offensive. The incoherent, cheerful thoughts are gone, replaced by a swarm of thoughts of Rowan's kiss and sticky T-shirt. Alan's stomach clenches, it becomes difficult to breathe. Alan kneels down, wraps his arms around himself, closes his eyes. One-mississippi, two-mississippi. Alan opens eyes. Stagging and trembling, he stands up. He does not think about how he will drive and whether he will get behind the wheel at all, but alcohol is necessary. He gets up, confidently put on a hoodie, and steps outside. "You can leave the door unlocked, it's too late for thieves anyway," is the simple thought that makes Alan smile and, more importantly, switch gears. He staggers toward the car.
Rowan notices Alan. The first thought is, "What?", surprise, shock, realization that Alan is drunk and walking to the car for some reason. Rowan doesn't know exactly what to do, but he can't let Alan get behind the wheel drunk. He honks the horn, but Alan doesn't respond. Then Rowan runs out of the car, runs up to him. One-mississipi, two-mississipi. Rowan looks into Alan's eyes. Alan is silent, but doesn't take his eyes off. Rowan raises his hands up, showing his palms to Alan. Trust. He takes one step. Another step.
-What are you doing here?" starts Alan hoarsely. He frowns slightly, trembling a little, trying to find a comfortable position in which to stand still so the predator won't notice him and pass him by.
-I'm here to find out why you're not on the job,-Rowan defends himself, he raises his voice slightly and tries to smile arrogantly, but there's noticeable concern in his eyes, and a slightly shaky tone gives him away.
-Why do I have to be at work at twelve at night? - Alan wonders.
-New rules," Rowan hesitates. He wants to reduce the conversation to a joke, but he doesn't know how. - They were introduced while you were away," he slowly walks over, puts his arm around Alan's shoulders, and says quietly:
-Shall we go inside?
Alan shrugs and nods. He snuggle up to a Rowan's chest for a moment, but pulls away almost immediately. Staggering a little, Alan makes his way to the couch. Rowan is beside him, holding him lightly by the shoulders, making sure he doesn't fall over.
-I'm sorry," Rowan sets Alan down on the couch and kisses him lightly, casually on the forehead.
-Not," Alan frowns, and wraps his arms around Rowan's neck. They look into each other's eyes. One-mississippi, two-mississippi. Alan pulls up and kisses Rowan on the lips. A drunken, completely wrong and completely inept kiss. A touch of lips. Rowan lowers Alan, hovering on top of him. Runs his tongue over his lips, and when Alan opens his mouth, deepens the kiss. He does this insistently, not wanting to let go. As if there will be nothing left after this kiss. Alan squeezes Rowan as hard as he can. Rowan is a defense against the darkness. That kiss is a weapon. One-mississippi, two-mississippi.