"Are you sure you're okay?" Darren asked, helping a limping Chris into the cafe. He pulled out a chair at the nearest table and lowered Chris into it carefully.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's only my pride that's wounded, trust me," Chris reassured.
"I shouldn't have let go of you," Darren shook his head. "If I hadn't stopped to tie my shoe..."
"No seriously, I'm just a huge klutz. I'm sure I would have slipped on the ice even if I'd still been holding your arm. At least this way I didn't take you down with me too," Chris sighed, rubbing his elbow.
"Well, in that case, you stay right where you are and I'll get the drinks," Darren teased. "I hate to drink caffeine at this time of night, but I need something warm to drink so I'm going to get a hot chocolate. What can I get you?"
"That sounds wonderful – I'll have the same," Chris replied, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet.
"No need, it's on me," Darren waved him off.
"Oh no, please let me give you some money."
"Don't worry about it. I'll get the drinks and you can always get the sandwiches if that makes you feel better," Darren offered. "I'll bring us back some menus."
"Sounds good, thanks," Chris replied. As soon as Darren was out of sight, Chris rolled up his pant leg, taking a look at the blooming bruise on his knee. "Ouch," he winced, rubbing his fingers over the knot. Next he slid off his coat so he could inspect the damage to his elbow and forearm, shaking his head at the spot of blood he could already see staining through his button down shirt. He rolled up the sleeve and took a napkin from the table, pressing it to the cut.
Chris took a moment to look around the cozy cafe, taking in the décor. It wasn't the type of place he'd normally frequent, but it had a certain charm. There was a small raised platform in one corner, with a piano and a few stools. Throughout the room were small tables and well worn upholstered chairs in a variety of brocade fabrics. The crowd was equally eclectic, but mostly twenty and thirty-something year olds – students, a few families, and young professionals unwinding after work, all (with the possible exception of Darren) surprisingly less hipster than Chris had anticipated.
Chris was startled seconds later when Darren appeared, setting a large mug of hot chocolate down in front of him. "Oh no," he breathed, eyes concerned. "That looks bad."
"Hmm?" Chris asked, confused.
"Your elbow," Darren gestured, pulling his chair over next to Chris, so close that their knees were bumping. "Here, let me see."
"Oh no, it's fine," Chris reassured, trying to wave it off. "It's just a little scratch."
Darren just shook his head, undeterred. He reached out, carefully removing Chris' hand from the wound so he could see.
"Ouch," he winced. "That's not a little scratch, Chris. It looks deep." Darren bent down, fishing for his backpack and rummaging through it for a few seconds. "Got it," he finally called triumphantly, sitting a small plastic first aid kit on the table.
"Do you always carry a first aid kit with you?" Chris asked, bemused.
"I...do? But in my defense, I teach elementary school. Occupational hazard," Darren winked. He opened the kit and quickly set out a peroxide wipe, a small tube of Neosporin, and a bandaid on the table.
"Fair enough, but seriously you don't have to do all this. I can take it from here," Chris said nervously.
"Just let me," Darren murmured, tearing open the wipe. "Okay?" he asked, gazing at Chris for a long moment.
"I...okay," Chris nodded, staring back at Darren, feeling warmed from inside out by the slow, honey-sweet smile he received in return.
Darren reached out, winding a hand around Chris' wrist and guiding his arm until it was facing him at the proper angle. "Peroxide - it's going to sting," he warned, before tentatively swiping the pad along the edge of the cut. Chris sucked in a breath, doing his best not to wince visibly. "Sorry, almost done," he said, methodically cleaning the wound.
"There you go," Darren whispered, bending down and blowing cool air across the cut, causing Chris to shiver. That seemed to startle Darren from his reverie and his eyes flew to Chris' face. "Sorry, it's a habit," he said, blushing.
Chris just smiled, waiting patiently while Darren placed a small dab of Neosporin on the cotton center of a large bandaid and carefully applied it. "All finished," he said as he smoothed down the final corner of the bandage.
"Much better," Chris murmured, unable to tear his eyes from Darren's gaze. He swore he could still feeling the phantom prickle of goosebumps from where Darren's breath had caressed his skin.
"Good," Darren whispered, still holding Chris' forearm. He trailed his thumb up and down Chris' skin with feather-light strokes.
"So, are you guys about ready to order?" a waitress appeared suddenly, breaking the trance. Darren pulled away from Chris, flashing him an apologetic grin, and Chris tried his best not to feel too disappointed. He wasn't exactly sure what was happening between the two of them, but he knew that every cell in his body was screaming for more of it. So Chris made the conscious decision not to question it and to ignore the nagging thought that was telling him to maintain a professional distance.
"Well, I always get the same thing, so I'm ready, but what about you Chris?" Darren asked.
"Uh yeah, I'll just have the California Club."
"White or wheat?" the waitress asked.
"Wheat."
"Okay great," the waitress answered, scribbling the order on her notepad. "And I'm assuming you want the usual, hon?" she continued, flashing a smile at Darren.
"Absolutely. Thanks, Tori."
"Anytime – are you going to grace us with some of your music tonight?" she asked. "I see you brought your guitar."
"Hmm," Darren stroked at the scruff on his chin, as if in deep thought, "I don't know about that."
"Oh c'mon! Just one song?" Tori prodded.
"But I wouldn't want to leave my dinner companion all alone..."
"I'd actually love to hear you sing," Chris interjected.
"See! Well that settles it then," Tori exclaimed.
"I guess so," Darren chuckled. He leaned over to Tori. "He's my boss so I kind of have to do what he says," he stage whispered conspiratorially.
Chris just laughed, blushing.
"Excellent." Tori rubbed her hands together with glee. "It's good to know there's someone else keeping him in line."
"It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it," Chris joked back. Darren rolled his eyes fondly at both of them.
"Alright boys, I better go put this order in. And Darren, time to bust out the guitar because you're up," Tori said, pointing at the small stage in the corner.
"Yes m'am," Darren replied, giving her an overly formal salute.
"So..." Chris began, once they were alone. "What are you going to play?"
"That's a great question," Darren said, pulling out his guitar and beginning to tune it. "Any requests?"
"No, I'll leave that up to you. I'm afraid my musical experience began and ended with community theater in high school."
"So you can sing then?" Darren asked. "Any chance I can talk you into a duet?'
"Oh god no." Chris immediately responded. "No chance in hell. It's been a long time since I've sung in public."
"Maybe one day?"
"I seriously doubt it," Chris replied, laughing as Darren pouted comically, his eyes going impossibly wide and sad. "But you know, never say never..."
"I'll keep working on you then. I can be very convincing when I need to be," Darren all but purred.
"I'm sure you can be," Chris managed. He rubbed at his neck nervously. "So do you know what you're going to sing?"
"I do now... You've inspired me."
"Oh yeah?" Chris asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.
"It's a surprise – you'll see," Darren teased. He slid the guitar strap around his neck and stood, patting Chris' shoulder before making his way to the stage.
Chris turned his chair so that he was facing Darren, watching as he settled himself on a small stool and adjusted the microphone to the correct height.
"Good evening," Darren greeted the dozen or so customers in the cafe. "I've been talked into playing a quick song for you all. This one's for Chris. Thanks for believing in me."
Chris inhaled sharply, unprepared for the dedication. Several patrons turned to look when Darren gestured at him and Chris could only manage a weak smile, feeling hot and exposed. He took a deep breath, trying to slow the furious beating of his heart as Darren began to play the first notes of haunting, familiar melody on his guitar.
Today is gonna be the day
That they're gonna give it back to you.
By now you should've somehow
Realized what you gotta do
Chris' jaw dropped, unprepared for the soulful, note-perfect voice that erupted from Darren. He wasn't just good, he was great. Darren looked directly at Chris as he sang the next line and he was spellbound.
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do about you now
Chris' face was hot, but he couldn't pull himself away from Darren's magnetic gaze. He looked so utterly at home and at peace up on that stage, the guitar and microphone seeming like extensions of his own body.
Backbeat the word is on the street
That the fire in your heart is out.
I'm sure you've heard it all before
But you never really had a doubt
Darren's eyes sought him out again as he sang the line directly to him.
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do about you now
Chris looked around the room, noticing that everyone in the room had gone still, their eyes on Darren as well. It was a quiet, unassuming song, yet Darren still managed to command the attention of everyone in the room effortlessly.
And all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead the way are blinding
Still, Chris could swear that Darren had eyes only for him.
There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don't know how
That was a sentiment that Chris could definitely relate to. He couldn't put a name to it, but he was sure that something was happening. It was big and scary, and despite his vow not to question it, his doubts and fears were knocking at his brain, just begging to be let out and heard.
Darren was studying his face, Chris realized – searching his face for a sign as he sang directly to him.
I said maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall
That's why Chris thought the melody sounded familiar, he realized. It was a song he'd listened to probably hundreds of a time before, but had never really heard until now. Something about Darren's quiet, stripped back arrangement was really connecting with him, not to mention the way Darren was singing it to him as if his very life depended on it.
Today was gonna be the day
But they'll never bring it back to you
By now you should've somehow
Realized what you gotta do
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do about you now
And all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead the way are blinding
Darren's eyes found his once more as he sang the final lyrics to him, a shy, private smile on his lips.
There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don't know how
I said maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall
You're my wonderwall
You're my wonderwall...
Chris sat in reverie as Darren played the last few notes on the guitar. The whole room was still in hushed silence for a moment before erupting into applause. Wow, Chris mouthed to himself, as he joined in the enthusiastic applause, grinning as Darren bowed before making his way back to their table.
"So yeah..." Darren said by way of greeting, looking nervous for the first time all night, possibly the first time since Chris had met him. "Sorry to leave you on your own for a few minutes." He fussed with his guitar, taking his time to put it back in his case while avoiding eye contact with Chris.
"Are you kidding me?" Chris asked. "That was seriously amazing."
"Yeah? You liked your song?"
"No, I loved it, you idiot," Chris scoffed.
"Well then," Darren laughed. "I'm glad – even if you did just call me an idiot."
"Do you seriously not know how good you are?"
"Stop it," Darren preened. "You're going to make me blush." Chris rolled his eyes fondly. "But in all seriousness, I think I'm exactly where I belong, teaching music to my kids. I doubt a solo career was going to happen for me."
"How'd you decide? Did you always know you wanted to teach?" Chris took a sip of his hot chocolate, barely suppressing a moan at how good it was.
"Eh, it's kind of a long story..."
"...And we've got all night. Continue," Chris demanded.
"So bossy tonight," Darren teased. "Well, I always knew I wanted music to be my career, yes. I got my first guitar at four years old, because I wanted to be just like my big brother. It came easily, all instruments do for me really. But it's more than that... I guess I've always just loved how music is such a communal experience - the way it's a language of all its own, you know? I wrote my first song when I was twelve and going through puberty and just generally feeling like an idiot who couldn't do anything right. I needed a way to put all of the complex emotions I was feeling into something. So I wrote this song called Human and that was kind of it for me - I was hooked."
"Would you play it for me sometime?" Chris couldn't help but ask.
"If you play your cards right, maybe..." Darren joked. "But yeah sure, if you really want. I still think it's the best song I've ever written, because it's pure, you know? There was nothing else influencing me except for a desire to get all those emotions onto the page."
"So how'd you end up deciding on teaching?"
"Well, I stayed with music throughout high school and college – solo gigs at open mics, played with a band a bit, kept writing music, and theater. I majored in Music and Composition, which gave me a broad base in everything. But honestly? It didn't feel like enough to just make music for myself and a small circle of friends and acquaintances. As cheesy as it sounds, I wanted to be able to inspire people. I always loved working with kids – there's just something about their energy and their honesty, you know? So I decided to go back to school and get my teaching certification while I played smaller gigs for extra cash. I've been at P.S. 21 for four and a half years now and I've never looked back."
"Do you ever miss doing the other music stuff?" Chris pressed. "You're really talented."
"Thank you," Darren smiled. "But no, I don't really miss it, because I never stopped doing it. I still write songs and I play here a bit and I get to do all the arrangements for the kids which is a lot of fun."
"I bet," Chris smiled. "They really seem to love you, not to mention respect you, which is no easy feat at that age."
They were briefly interrupted by Tori who brought them their sandwiches, taking a moment to congratulate Darren on "crushing his performance, as always." She exchanged a questioning glance with Darren, which Chris could tell was aimed at him, curious about their relationship he assumed. Darren blushed adorably, waving Tori off with a promise to give her a call over the weekend.
"Anyways, where were we?" Darren asked once they were alone again. "Oh I know, it's your turn in the hot seat. I spilled my whole story so I now I want to know how you ended up being the big bad budget man..."
"Big bad budget man?" Chris chuckled. "Brilliant - I'll have to get that put on some business cards."
Darren laughed so hard he almost spit out a mouthful of food.
"But no, I didn't grow up writing budgets and in love with numbers. I just kind of fell into this job and figured out I was good at it along the way, I guess," Chris said, a bit more contemplatively. Unlike Darren, he couldn't say he was in the job he always dreamed of. Budgets weren't his passion and this wasn't how he'd imagined his life.
"You're being modest. How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I'm twenty-six, why?"
"Because you're three years younger than me and doing a job that most people wouldn't land until they were in their forties or fifties. So that would make you more than just good at what you do," Darren pointed out.
"Or maybe it's just because it's not a job that a lot of people want to do?" Chris sighed.
"Well, I don't believe that for a second, But just for the sake of argument, let's say that's true. Then what's your true passion? How'd you end up a budget administrator?"
"You really want the whole story, huh?" Chris asked.
"I do – I just want to feel like I...know you a bit better," Darren shrugged.
"Okay fine, I guess it's only fair," Chris bit his lip, not sure where to begin. "Well as a kid, I guess books were my passion. I always stood out a bit and you know how cruel kids can be... So books became my kind of safe-haven? A world I could retreat into when everything else was hard. But I'd get frustrated sometimes when stories ended, especially when they didn't end the way I thought they should. So I started writing when I was eight years old. Then in high school, I had an amazing creative writing teacher who was so encouraging of my work and she really inspired me. So I decided to do what she did and become a teacher..."
"Why not be a writer?" Darren interrupted.
"I don't know... It's next to impossible to get anything published these day, and I never thought my stuff was good enough. I wanted a career with stability, as boring as that sounds."
"That's not boring. It's smart. So you graduated college and then...?"
"Yeah, I started out at a small school, teaching high school English and Creative Writing. Then that school started having money problems, and I'd gotten close with the principal so I offered to see what I could do to help. And it turns out the money had been entirely mismanaged, bordering on criminal negligence really. So once we figured out the big issues, I was able to help get the school back on track. At that point, they asked me to take on a more administrative role so I split my time 50/50 with budgets and accounting and teaching for another year. Then there was a job opening up as district budget administrator and a few people from my school recommended me, so I decided I would at least interview for the job. I met the head people and I really liked them, and it was a lot more money and gave me the ability to travel and meet a lot of different people, like yourself obviously. Everyone told me I'd be an idiot not to take the job, but it was still a hard call to make, because it meant giving up teaching to do budget stuff full-time. At the end of the day, I decided that it was worth the risk and I said yes to the job offer and I've been here ever since."
"Do you think you made the right decision?" Darren asked, blunt as ever.
"Wow, you weren't kidding about the wanting to get to know me thing, were you?" Chris chided. He was quiet for a moment, considering. "But yeah, I think I made the right call, I guess... Obviously I miss the teaching and day-to-day interactions with the kids, but I get to help more people this way, more schools. Or at least that's what I tell myself to sleep at night."
Darren frowned. "Why do you say that?"
"I don't want to be seen as the empty, soulless bureaucrat, you know? When I go to a dinner party and people ask what I do and I say "I'm a school district budget administrator," everyone's eyes glaze over and they just go 'oh' but what they really mean is 'I'm sorry'."
"I doubt that's the case," Darren soothed Chris. "Besides, if they are actually thinking that, they're all idiots. What you do is incredibly important. You save schools. And I know that I haven't known you all that long, but you aren't soulless. Quite the opposite in fact." Chris let out a slow breath and then another, shocked at how much Darren's simple affirmation meant to him.
"Do you still write?" Darren asked, surprising Chris.
Chris wasn't sure how to answer. Writing was something that he tended to keep to himself. Part of the reason he lived like a hermit (as Ashley was so fond of pointing out) was because he devoted every spare moment that he wasn't working to writing. Evenings after work usually meant coffee and his laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard until midnight or later. Weekends were even better, because Chris could devote whole days and nights to building his fantasy landscapes brick by brick. He'd just finished a manuscript for a children's book (that he secretly hoped would also have adult appeal) and it was easily the hardest thing he'd ever done. He was proud of finishing it, even if he doubted that he'd ever be brave enough to show it to another human being. Still, there was something about Darren's bluntness, his open book demeanor, that made Chris want to be equally honest with him.
"Yeah, I do. I really just do it for myself at this point, but I need the creative outlet, I guess," Chris admitted shyly.
"What kind of stuff do you write? I'd love to read some of it."
"Hmm? Oh, just fiction. Silly stuff, really," Chris stuttered out.
"Short stories? Long form? Like what kind of topics?" Darren pressed.
"I just finished writing a children's book. It's...hard to describe."
"Well, you better work on figuring out how to describe it. Gotta have a blurb to put on the back of the book cover for when you sell it, you know?" Darren said.
Chris shook his head. "I don't think that's going to be a problem. It's never going to get published, so..."
"Not with that attitude," Darren interrupted. "Seriously though, I find it hard to believe that you could do anything that wasn't amazing, so don't sell yourself short, okay?"
Chris shrugged, his cheeks hot. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been complimented so often in one evening and it was making his head spin. He stared at the table, fidgeting with a napkin and trying to regain his breath.
"Chris," Darren said quietly, reaching towards him. "Look at me," he prompted and grabbed Chris' hand, stilling him. He waited patiently until Chris met his gaze, smiling encouragingly. "Promise me you won't keep your talent all bottled up? The world deserves to see what you can do."
"I..." Chris felt his breath catch, lost in the intensity of Darren's determined stare. He wanted to brush it off, to make a joke about how the last thing the world needed was another failed writer. But seeing how sincere Darren was, he couldn't throw sarcasm back in his face. Still, Chris wasn't sure if he was brave enough to do what Darren was asking. Letting anyone read his work seemed terrifyingly impossible.
"I'll try," he said at last. "It's just...not easy. Not for me, anyways."
"I know it isn't," Darren replied. "Trust me, I know. But good things usually don't come easily, do they?"
"I guess not," Chris smiled.
Darren was the first to pull away this time, glancing at his watch as he released Chris' hand. "It's getting late..." he said "Sorry, I didn't mean to take up so much of your time."
"No, no, it's fine," Chris soothed, feeling the smallest twinge of disappointment. "I had a great time. I'm glad we did this."
"Yeah, me too."
"Did we get a check yet or do we pay up front?" Chris asked, rolling his sleeve back down over his bandaged elbow and trying to block out the phantom traces of Darren's hand against his skin. He wound his scarf around his neck and buttoned up his coat while Darren flagged down Tori, who told them that their meals were "on the house" with a wink.
"All bundled up?" Darren asked as he stood, gathering his guitar case and backpack.
"Yeah," Chris nodded, following him out of the restaurant with a final wave and thank you to the staff. They stepped out into the night where a light snow was falling, blanketing the sidewalks. Thankfully, there was a taxi just down the street and Chris flagged it down almost immediately.
"Which way are you heading?" Chris asked. "Do you want to split a cab?"
"Nah, my apartment is just a few blocks from here. I'm going to walk."
"Are you sure?" Chris pressed. "It's really cold."
"Positive. I want to enjoy the snow a bit while I can. That's the San Francisco native in me, I guess. The cold weather hasn't gotten old yet."
"I'm a bit less enthused about it. I'm klutzy enough without adding ice to the equation, as you saw earlier." Chris laughed, remembering how embarrassed he'd been at the time.
"Yes, you should definitely get in the taxi before it's too late," Darren chuckled.
Before Chris had a chance to overthink it, he leaned in for an impulsive hug. "Thanks for the hot chocolate," he said. "See you tomorrow?"
"Can't wait... Goodnight." Darren waited until Chris was safely inside the taxi, shutting the door for him with a final wave. Chris gave the driver his address and as they pulled out, he couldn't help but twist around to catch a glimpse of Darren's retreating form, his head to the sky as he watched the snowflakes softly fall.