My phone dinged in my pocket as I pushed out the swinging glass door of the coffee shop. The two large iced caramel macchiatos in my hands inhibited me from checking the notification, but I already know it's Marco, impatiently inquiring as to the location of his morning caffination.
"Jesus, Marc. Give me like two seconds, please," I say out loud to the phone in my pocket.
When I reach the bench on the curb, the same picture of my mom's weird political half-smiling face with a purple penis spray-painted on it, is staring up at me. Beside her mug it reads:
Re-elect Glenn Rossi
For Galaxias Committee Chairman
"Don't you start too, mother," I spit at the bench.
I sit the two sweating drinks in front of her face and pull out my phone, checking the message.
Marc: Dude, where are you? it's been like 45?
James: Sorry boo. Tht I met my futur Mr. Rossi.
Marc: Another ONe? Hurry!
James: He wasn't. You like Macchiato right?
Marc: -_-
I clicked the lock button and deposited my phone into my back pocket, snatching up the coffee once more, blowing a kiss to mom, and rushing across the street, much to the chagrin of a passing car, who laid on the horn for about five seconds longer than necessary.
"Finally," Marco cried, as I flung the door of his apartment open with my foot, "I swear, you can't go anywhere without you trying to pick somebody up."
"Hey, you try being thirty, flirty and single. My beauty isn't gonna last forever, mama," I retort, scrunching my nose at the awful floral punch his apartment always gives me nasal cavities.
"Yeah, yeah. So macchiato this time?"
"He said it was his fav," I reply, closing my eyes and giving a smug wave of the hand.
"That doesn't mean you have to order the same thing, you know that right," he laughed at me.
"Ugh, Marc, what am I gonna do without you to keep me grounded?"
"Don't you start! We agreed, no tears, no sap. We're just friends, hanging out. It's just like any other day," he said, grabbing one of the drinks off the marble counter and jumping onto one of the very modern looking swivel bar stools.
"I know, I know. It's not everyday your best friend leaves you to go to an alien planet to be with his hot alien boyfriend though," I say, giving him a sad smile.
I notice him start to absentmindedly twirl the ring on his finger. Please don't start crying again. I hate the crying.
"You could come with me."
"Hell no! I have absolutely no desire to go to space. Let alone to hang out with murdering space wolves."
"Hey the murder-y one is dead. My wolf is the emperor now. Things are peaceful on Adastra. Or they're more peaceful than they were. When I left anyway, that was eight years ago. Surely by now things are prospering," he waves his arm around as he talks, trying to convince me to give his future wolf hubby a chance. I don't know if it's the fact that the guy kidnapped him, or that Marco died twice in his care, but it just doesn't sit right with me.
"I'll take your word for it, Marc," I say, rolling my eyes like usual, "we're not here to talk about Amicus, or Adastra, or any of that nonsense today. We're here to hang out and enjoy the last day we have together. As best mates."
"As best mates," he replies, mocking my posh English accent, poorly.
"I do have to ask first though," I say, narrowing my eyes a bit at him.
"What?"
"The lavender again? Really?"
"What, Lavender smells good!"
"You know exactly what, Marc. Last time I came over here you had five different lavender candles burning, at the same time, and you were cuddling with a bottle of wine, crying," I say, laying a hand on his knee.
"It's not like that. I'm fine," he gives me a genuine smile, "in like a week, I'll be back in the arms of my wolf. Where I'm meant to be."
We spend the afternoon just chilling in his swanky DC apartment watching movies, and gorging ourselves on pizza and ice cream. It's become a staple in both of our lives. When Marc approached me about a position at Project Galaxias for my knowledge of human history and culture, it was honestly quite a shock to the system to learn all about the galaxias, and the parents and siblings. I still think it's some sort of prank half the time, but I've seen the tech they're building. The world governments have united thanks to Marco, and his work. It's honestly awe inspiring.
The sun sets, and the night gets dark. I know it's time for me to leave, but I don't want to. I want to walk over to my friend and hug him and never let go. Why does he have to leave me here? Why can't he just stay? He's the only person I have, except mom, but she's the freaking Chairman of Project Galaxias and the new World Security Council. She's not exactly free to hang out all that often. Not that she'd even want to.
"I've got to get some rest. Big day tomorrow. Final tests for the Stretch before liftoff on saturday," he says, giving me a sad smile.
"Alright, I'm gonna head out then," I turn and start gathering my things, trying not to cry.
"The offer still stands. You can come with me. Amicus would love you, and you'd love Adastran culture. Hell, even Khemian culture."
"Thanks, Marc. Sadly, I have to decline. I can't keep all these boys waiting on me, they'll simply lose their minds," I give him one of my signature, James is fabulous and everybody knows it, smiles.
"You go get 'em, Tiger."
We hug, and say our goodbyes, but neither of us cry. After all, it's only going to be six weeks. Then he'll be back for the big Siblings United Summit he and I have been working on for the last year and a half.
I take the bus to my smaller, much less swanky apartment, in the not so greatest neighborhood and when I close the door behind me I slink down to the ground defeated. I let the tears I've been holding in all day out.
While I know Marc's trip is only for six weeks, once the summit is over, he's probably gone for good. He gets his wolf back. He gets to go off and get married and live the rest of his stupid happy life being worshipped as some savior of the galaxy, or whatever.
I'm bitter. I've wanted for so long to feel love like Marco feels for Amicus. The way his eyes light up whenever he mentions the idiot. His smile when I know he's reminded of something about him, or Adastra.
Every guy I've ever been with here on earth is just… not good enough? I don't know if that's how to explain it. I'm just always left feeling like I have to give up more of myself then is worth it, and don't get enough in return. All my relationships have ended catastrophically.
Maybe there is a little part of me that's jealous simply because of the fact that I'm a furry. I've been crankin' it to yiff on the internet for as long as I can remember and this normie gets to go off and meet a big strong space wolf. No fair.
I know it isn't in the cards for me to ever go to space myself. As much as Marco offers, I think he knows deep down, I could never handle the stress of it it. Hell, I can hardly handle the stress of talking to regular people on earth.
I open my fridge and pop the cork on a bottle of rosé I've been saving for a special occasion, and drink it straight from the bottle. I don't remember finishing it. I don't remember falling asleep either.
We're sorry in advance.
"What?"
There has been a… deviation.
"Who are you?"
A small course correction, that's all. Minimum interference.
"What does that mean?"
Go get 'em Tiger.
The 5 a.m. alarm is jarring on my hangover. I reach over and slap my phone until it shuts up.
I make it to the office right on time, passing a few interns sipping at their coffees, chipper attitudes all around. I hate them.
As I reach the frosted glass door of my office, with the silver nameplate reading: James Rossi, Historian & Project lead, I notice the silhouetted figure pacing across the room.
"Ah, good. You're here," mom says as I enter the small office.
"Mom? What are you doing here?" I ask, blinded by her unexpected appearance.
"Something happened last night."
"And you couldn't call? Sit down," I offer her the chair across from my desk.
"Well it's a conversation I wanted to have face-to-face," she said, taking the seat and crossing her legs and placing her hands folded in her lap.
"I mean, usually the boss just calls you into their office, but you came all the way down here to my lil broom closet?"
"I figured you'd be less likely to cause a scene down here around your coworkers then upstairs with mine."
"Well, on with it then," I say, sitting on my own side of the desk, and starting up my computer.
"Sometime late last night, the system did an auto-update. It's routine, but there were some changes in the flight manifest for Saturday."
"Okay, that's odd for an auto-update. It shouldn't make changes to an already finalized and published flight manifest, three days before liftoff, right?"
"No it shouldn't. I have to believe there's some working from the parents involved, given that the documents are now in an unchangeable state," she says with all the confidence in the world. Ugh, the parents. Why is everyone jumping on this silly space god train.
"Okay, parents aside, what exactly was changed that was so important that you had to come see me, specifically?"
"You're going to Adastra."