I’m in a good mood. I got manga. Well, Legal Drug anyway. Sad in a way. I’ve resolved not to read anymore shoujo manga – at least, not for a while. It has a tendency to depress me and yet, send me into giddy fits again and again. I’m also watching Death Note 2: The Last Name and I’m tempted to throw something at the television because some of these characters are…annoying me to death.

I’m crazy.

Anyway, second chapter of Falling Slowly. The usual disclaimers go here and remember people – copy+pasting is a crime.

002 Nine in the Afternoon
Jake

The morning crowd at Palette Coffee wasn’t that bad. The morning crowd consisted of the workaholics and students with early classes getting their daily dose of overpriced caffeine. Working the machines and making coffee with as much love and care as you could in three minutes flat while the masses grumbled and groaned – but tolerated because there was nothing they could do short of making their own coffee.

Not that I’m complaining, thought Jake Waverly as he sipped a grande-sized caramel latte. What he did complain about was that the apron that all baristas were required to wear clashed horrendously with his auburn hair. Who decided that the employee uniform was bright yellow? He was going to shoot them.

But now it was afternoon, and the lunch crowd hadn’t hit yet. The lunch crowd was a little noisier but it didn’t really matter. After all, they paled in comparison to the post-work and school crowds between 3PM to 7PM. He got off at five.

“What am I doing working the day shift today? I’m on shift tonight at Slither; which means I’m going to be dealing with some seriously weird drunks,” he murmured, inspecting his paper cup which stated it was made of 75% post-consumer recycled paper. “There was that guy yesterday, apparently. The one Chase told me about. Keeled over, right off the chair. I mean, damn. That is fucked up,”

“If you keep talking to yourself, I’m not the only one who’s going to think you’re crazy,” said a cheerful voice. Jake’s eyes flicked downwards to see his best friend, the perpetually cheery Christian Rossi.

“You think I’m crazy? How could you, Christian!” wailed Jake, melodramatically. He still had a smirk on his face. “I thought we had something…special! What will our neighbours think?” Thankfully, the coffee shop was empty and there wasn’t anyone around to watch their ridiculous antics. Except the few dozen people walking by the store and staring unabashedly at Jake being a drama queen.

“They’ll wonder why that ‘nice Rossi boy’ hangs out with that ‘incorrigible Waverly boy’ – you know,” at that, Christian lowered his voice to a hush. “- the one who plays horrendously loud music at four in the morning,”

Jake resisted the urge to slap Christian. After all, they were at work and slapping is just so…girly. And Jake S. Waverly was definitely not girly. Or so he thought. Instead he chugged down his coffee, rolling his eyes as he did.

“God, you look like a girl when you do that,” Christian grinned, flicking the side of Jake’s plastic framed glasses. “You’ve had these glasses for as long as I’ve known you. I mean what the hell? Change your glasses – get contacts or something,”

Jake glared at him over the rim of his mug. “You’re like the annoying younger brother I never had,” he grit out, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Multiple wristbands and chains wrapped around his wrist bumped and clattered against one another. “’sides, what part of struggling university student do you not get?”

“Yeah, yeah – I get it, don’t worry,” Christian laughed. Eying the counter, he noticed a few people entering the café. “Hey Jake, c’mon – lets tend to the customers. Don’t want Scarlett getting pissed at us for neglecting the place after all,”

Jake snorted and turned to the register, setting his mug down where it wouldn’t be knocked over by Christian’s flailing limbs. The university sophomore had this alarming tendency to use exuberant hand gestures while talking. Maybe that was the upbringing.

“Hey, welcome to Palette Coffee, what’s your order?” he greeted. Standard procedure at Palette, drummed in by Scarlett through consistent training – and possibly subliminal messaging. The brunette in front of him looked bored, although vaguely like those girl-next-door stereotypes in movie and teen soap operas. How could you look bored in a coffee shop? The scent of freshly brewed coffee was in the air.

“Tall double latte, low fat milk and biscotti,” her voice was icy, like one of those bitch-of-the-universe sorts of people.

Whoa, that voice does not fit the face, said Jake, mentally. He rang up her order and passed it to Fred, one of the guys on actual coffee-making duty today. “One tall double latte, low fat,” he called out, giving her change. “Have a nice day, your coffee will be ready soon,” With that, she flounced off, nose in the air.

Jeez. Pity the sucker who’s her boyfriend.

Looking up, there was a guy who looked half-dead on his feet. He walked – no, staggered towards the counter. He looked like he had been through hell and back. With him was a girl who looked less tired but more frustrated. They seemed to be arguing.

“I don’t know why you freaked like that,” said the girl, a petite brunette with dyed tips. “You were calmer with the psycho psychic,”

“Well, you would have too if your patient started gnawing on your fingers,” retorted the blonde, furrowing his brows. “My hands are still shaking, and I’ve got the strange temptation to use up bottles and bottles of hand sanitizer. I need coffee,”

Jake couldn’t help but feel sorry for the blonde. Who deserved to have their hands gnawed on in the morning? Unless you had a kink for that sort of thing…wait, BAD THOUGHT. Erase, erase. Abort mission! ABORT MISSION.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. “Damn overactive imagination,” he muttered. Looking back to the counter, he saw that Christian was tending to the blonde and brunette. They were still arguing, even while the blonde was ordering.

“Caleb, you drink too much coffee,” stated the girl, glaring at the blonde. “You had two cups of coffee this morning, one at the office and now your double latte. I would slap you if I weren’t so worried about you falling asleep while standing,” She was around shoulder height to him which put him at about 5’10 at most.

“You would too if you didn’t sleep well,” retorted Caleb, looking away from the girl. Odd, his hair isn’t blonde but dirty blonde, mused Jake, watching the interaction. Not really like Christian’s platinum blonde curls. The same Christian, in fact who seems to be trying his utmost best not to inject something right now.

“In that case, you never sleep well. I heard from your sister that you were drunk off your ass last night at Slither,” She looked triumphant and yet sympathetic at the same time. Was it possible to look like that?

Well, if anything can be judged by that last chick…probably.

“I’m so sorry that you have to hear this,” apologized the blonde to Christian. He then turned back to the brunette girl. “Haley, you hang out too much with my sister. I can’t believe you were the one who called her last night,”

“I only did it because Chase called me. He said you were moaning about Valentine’s Day again. Hell – if you hate it so much, why go out and drink?” her teeth seemed to be gritted. “You fell off the bloody chair,”

Jake’s eyes widened. ‘So that’s the guy Chase was talking about. For a guy who can’t handle his alcohol – and I’m not really the best judge since I have no idea how much he drank – he cleans up well.’ he thought. ‘Why am I thinking this? There is no way I should be thinking this. One of Scarlett’s rules at work – do not flirt with people while working. Especially good looking men,’ he mimicked her voice in his head. ‘That means you, Jacob Waverly. I’m looking straight at you,’

Caleb flushed a few shades of red before paying for the coffee. “Just go get us a seat. I’m not supposed to be working today, anyway,” he muttered, avoiding the question. He shuffled towards the pick-up counter, a dark cloud seeming to settle over his head.

“One double grande caramel latte, one iced tea!” hollered Christian, nearly killing Jake’s ear. Jake rubbed his ear, glaring at the grinning barista at the cashier.

“I’m right here, you know. You don’t have to yell my ear off,” replied Jake, half-wishing something would come crashing down on his head. He grumbled, turning on the grinder and hunting in the fridge for milk. “Yo Fred, we’re nearly out of milk. Write it down, will ya?” he said, pouring milk into a metal measuring cup.

While making the blonde’s latte, Jake discreetly pumped an extra shot of caramel into the sugar-ridden drink. “Hey, tough day?” he said, setting the drink in front of the exhausted looking blonde.

“Mm, yeah. Wasn’t supposed to come into work today, but they called me in anyway,” At this, he yawned. “Don’t know if I can even get home after this. So tired,” His hair stuck up as if he had just rolled out of bed. What did he work as that allowed him to walk in like that? Or, to make his hair end up like that?

“This’ll probably wake you up then. Double grande caramel latte, extra shot of caramel?” Jake gestured to the drink, grinning. Caleb ran a hand through his hair, smiling weakly at the barista.

“Yeah, thanks,” he smiled at the barista and turned back to walk to the table where presumably he went to argue with the brunette again. Jake felt the corners of his mouth stretch into a wide grin that he couldn’t hold back.

He then got smacked upside the head.

“What the hell was that for,” yowled Jake, rubbing the back of his head. Christian stood behind him, smiling in the most angelic way possible, golden curls framing his face like a halo. Jake sent him a glare that would sent the devil himself running. But unfortunately, Christian was not the devil. He had the capacity to be worse. Damn, that was evil.

“Okay, you can stop drooling after your blonde eye candy and get back to work,” he said cheerfully. “Truth be told, I don’t care. You can lose your job and I’ll get more money and you can sleep on the balcony. Okay?” Christian dragged Jake back to the register where he proceeded to pout.

Eye candy, my foot. He just looks good, that’s all. Why does Christian have to be such a pretty person but have such a hard heart?

“I’m not evil, if that’s what you’re thinking,” sang Christian, even though his back was turned. Jake shivered – not only was his best friend an evil bastard but he was a psychic evil bastard. Wait – then why was he thinking that so loud? Christian must be listening to his thoughts from across the room.

He looked up and aforementioned evil bastard was waving cheerily at him as he edged closer to Caleb’s table. Jake nearly screeched in horror. NO! Don’t go near him! Stay away! Caleb, run away, save yourself, it’s too late for me.

Christian tapped the other blonde on the shoulder and began whispering conspiratorially into his ear. Jake on the other hand proceeded to die of embarrassment and quickly ducked under the counter to avoid showing his uncontrollable blushing. He turned all the shades of red until he could have rivalled the reddest tomato at any county fair. To his credit, he concealed himself quite well considering how tall he was. Even though there was a very confused customer who wanted to place an order.

Christian pointed. And Caleb looked, even though he didn’t see the cowering Jake Waverly.

“Jake, stop hiding. Or I’ll reveal your secret Earthquake recipe to everyone in town,” stated Christian, smirking to himself. Of course that would get poor Jake agitated more than he already was.

He quickly stood up, accidentally hitting his head on the counter top. “Dammit, and don’t you dare tell anyone that recipe or I’ll…” he trailed off into silence when he saw Caleb laughing silently at him. He flushed a darker red, almost as red as his hair if that was even humanely possible. “Uh, I’m just going to go get milk from the store because I think we’re all out,” And with that, he proceeded to run off, like the coward that he seemed to be.

Christian smiled. Of course he enjoyed interfering with his best friend’s life. God knows he needed one.

-

Jake walked warily back to the coffee shop, arms laden with bottles of milk. He was about to let himself in the back door when it suddenly swung open, revealing Christian who was grinning wider than the Cheshire Cat.

“Hey Jake, you’ll never guess what I did,” he cried cheerily, a glint in his eye. And everyone who knew him knew that if you were the recipient of that glint – you just might or might not regret it. That glint always meant that he was up to something.

“What did you do,” asked Jake, anxious as a cornered rat. “In fact, if it’s something that might utterly destroy me – then I’m not sure I want to know,”

“Don’t be silly, it isn’t bad. It’ll only destroy you if you screw it up,” Christian looked thoughtful for a split second. He quickly broke out into a grin. “I gave Caleb your cell number. And persuaded him to call you some time,”

Jake thought he was going to die right there on the spot.

END CHAPTER

Disclaimer: Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. If you, the reader, are offended by mentions of homosexuality (‘teh ghey’ as it it colloquially known among some high-school denizens) or the consistent use of expletives, kindly press the green back arrow on the left hand side of your browser. If not, please proceed. Constructive criticism is appreciated. 

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001. Secret Valentine
Caleb

Caleb stumbled out of the bedroom. Thoughts like ‘coffee’ and ‘painkillers’ were making themselves known with the crazy pounding in his head. The traffic outside his apartment was suddenly a thousand decibels louder, the gentle putt of a passing scooter sounded like the roar of a Harley.
He blinked.

There was a splash of orange in his kitchen.

Said splash of orange seemed to be standing at his stove, cooking. The smell of waffles and eggs filled the small kitchen.

“Oh, you’re up already,”

Right, a female splash of orange.  Orange clothes. It must be Cass.

“You really shouldn’t use Valentine’s Day as an excuse to drink yourself stupid, you know,” continued the orange blur known as Cass, eggs sizzling in the pan. A green mitt encased one hand. “I know you’ve sworn off women since the incident a few years ago,” At this, he winced. He didn’t like anyone talking or thinking about the Incident. “- but really. I only came because one of the girls saw you keel over at the bar. It isn’t healthy, Caleb,”

“Valentine’s Day is a commercialized holiday. There’s nothing special about it,” he finally croaked out, his voice rough from sleep. He flinched as a car zoomed by, the sound making his ears ring.

“And I’ll drink whenever I feel like it,”

“I don’t care, it’s not pretty,” she bit out. Exasperation tinged her voice. “I know I keep picking you up but I can’t do it forever. I mean, hell – when was the last time you got six full hours of sleep?”

Caleb fingered the gray circles under his eyes. He thought about his sister’s horrified reaction if he were to reply truthfully. “Recently,” he replied vaguely, reaching for the instant coffee.

“Have you considered seeing a doctor for your insomniac tendencies?” Cass spotted the tin of instant coffee in his hand. She looked like she wanted to grab the tin and throw it out the window of Caleb’s fifth floor apartment. That is, if throwing projectiles weren’t illegal. “And your coffee addiction! God, I hadn’t even touched on that. You’re as bad as a smoker,” She piled eggs and waffles on a plate. “Besides, you’re a total ass until you get your caffeine dosage,”

“Yup. It says that on my prescription. Caleb Kilmartin: 3 – 4 cups of coffee a day,” he emptied the packet of coffee into the mug. Pouring hot water in, he idly stirred it with a chopstick. “You don’t need to get me into your hippie revolution lifestyle. It’s my vice – I’ll deal. Besides, I figure God already knows about the coffee,” he quipped. 

Grabbing the plate, he sat at the kitchen counter looking at his older sister. The two siblings stared at one another. Gray-green met gray-blue. He stabbed a waffle, completely destroying the moment.

“So, why’re you here Cass?” he said through a mouthful of waffle. “Aside from dragging me up a couple flights of stairs and into the apartment, you’re not usually one to make me breakfast,”

Cass tugged at blonde curls. “Mum and Dad aren’t really happy with you, Caleb. They were really set on you marrying Natalie,” Her eyes darted left to right, as if she didn’t know where to look, avoiding his face at all costs.

“You really do cut the small talk, don’t you, Cass,” Caleb snorted. “As if that would have made me less gay. All it would have resulted in is an unhappy marriage and eventually a divorce,” He ran a hand through unruly blonde hair. “I don’t know, Cass. I’ve been trying to make them happy for aeons and the first time I do something really for myself, this is what happens to me,” He proceeded to swallow an Advil and chased it with coffee. His second cup.

“You dropped a bombshell on them,” she muttered. “I mean – they found out that their only son is gay. And wouldn’t be carrying on the family name, and so on and so forth. They wanted grandchildren,”

“So what, this visit’s a guilt trip?” he gulped down a mouthful of coffee as he glared at her over the rim of the mug. “Do I look like paternal material to you in the first place? Besides, I doubt they’d want to talk to me again. Ever,”

“No, Caleb. Stop being childish. I’m just telling you how they feel,” sighed Cass. Caleb shot her a look that clearly said ‘I-am-not-being-childish’. “Oh come on, you can’t not talk to them forever. What kind of counsellor doesn’t talk to their own parents?”

“They stopped talking to me, so this one, obviously”

She made an irritated sound in her throat and took off the acid green mitt. “I’m going to go now. Ray’s waiting for me,” Snatching her handbag off the counter top, she made to let herself out. She turned halfway through.

“I’m not asking you to live up to their expectations. I just want you to be happy. But you don’t do that while hurting someone else’s feelings,” When Caleb made no noise of acknowledgement; she shook her head and let herself out of the apartment.

He listened for the click of the door shutting before getting up again. Without his sister’s presence, the apartment just seemed so lonely again. Quiet. Sure, maybe he should be happy – but he just didn’t see how he could be happy without fucking up in front of his parents.

“God, I fucked up real bad,” he groaned, collapsing on his very comfortable leather couch. He paid for this couch with his own money. Out of his salary. ‘Yeah, I had to work overtime for two months just to get this gorgeous couch’ he thought, snuggling into the couch.

He shot up at that thought. ‘What kind of man uses the word ‘gorgeous’’ he thought, horrified. “I am so gay; it’s not even funny,” he murmured, looking up at the cracked ceiling.

“Thank God it’s Saturday and I don’t have to work,” With that, his cell phone rang – a shrill polyphonic tune that jarred the ears. He winced and quickly pressed the green button to make it stop. There was only so much one brain could take after all.

“Caleb?” said a harried female voice.

“Yeah?” he replied, raising an eyebrow sceptically.

“Oh good, I was worried I got the wrong number. It’s Haley. Could you come in for a few today? We got a case that the Director would like you to handle,” Caleb groaned inwardly. Whenever the Director wanted you to take on a certain case, it was bound to be a little tougher than usual.

“Please tell me it’s not the one who thinks he can bend spoons telepathically,” That was funny. Actually, no – it was pretty scary. He insisted that he had developed psychic powers and could bend spoons and other things with his mind. Caleb nearly ran out of the room telling Haley to send the guy to the nearest psych ward and fast. It was just too much for one person – or at least, him to handle.

“No, it’s not him,” said Haley, a smile in her voice even if she still sounded tired. He exhaled and began to breathe properly again.

“Oh, thank God. Wait – is it the one who thinks he’s a sex god and that all the women want him, it’s just there are complications arising from it?” That was coming from someone who looked like he hadn’t reached puberty yet. He nearly gagged at that. It was even harder to sit in the room and talk to the guy.

Why did he get all the crazy ones?

“Look, just come down to the centre. Get dressed properly, none of your usual cargo pants and a t-shirt crap,” Haley sounded annoyed. “And get here fast. Be here in like, 20 minutes. You don’t want me to call Dan, and you know what he’s like on Saturday mornings,”

“Yeah, sure thing boss,” He ended the call before sauntering into the bathroom, anticipating a hot shower. Stripping, he turned on the water.

“FUCK, IT’S COLD,” he yelled, jumping back a few steps.

-

After performing all morning ablutions, he glared angrily at the shower head. Caleb nearly ran out of the bathroom to get dressed. “Right, have to dress properly because it’s a Director case. Sheesh. What’s the difference?” he snorted as he grabbed a white sweater. “It’s still the same person, after all,”

“Get dressed properly,” he mimicked Haley’s high pitched voice. “As if I don’t know how to dress properly,” he snorted, bending over to look for a pair of pants. At the age of 24, Caleb was borderline vaguely anorexic looking. All that loss of sleep must have affected him. “Argh, goddamn it. Where are those pants?”
‘Swearing ups your blood pressure, y’know’ said a voice that sounded a little like his conscience. It decided to bother him at the worst of times. He mentally kicked its ass and watched it limp away like a kicked puppy.

He found the elusive pants and pulled them on, only to find that they were a little snug. “Damn. Ah well, that’ll have to do,” he muttered. Glancing at his watch, he found that he was way, way off schedule.

He choked – a hacking, unsightly spluttering noise. He hurriedly pulled on his sweater, grabbing a pair of shoes. “Keys, keys – I need my keys,” he mumbled, grabbing his cell phone and wallet. Snatching them off the counter, he slung a bag over his shoulder before giving himself ten seconds to look around before dashing out, pausing only to lock the door.

He ran down four flights of stairs, yelling hoarsely “TAXI” while waving an arm around like a lunatic. A taxi screeched to a halt, barely two centimetres from his arm. “The hell,” he swore, rubbing his arm as if to confirm that it was still there. “That could’ve taken my arm off,” he muttered as he got into the taxi.

“So, where to?” asked the driver, turning in his seat. He cocked his head, revealing sparkling eyes for the briefest of moments.

“The Centre, if you don’t mind. And could you make this fast? I’m late for work,” said Caleb, nearly pleading.

“Sure thing. You might want to hold on to your seat though,” he replied, a smile evident in his voice.

“You wanted to go fast after all, didn’t you?” Listening to his tone, Caleb not only clung to his seat as if it were going to fly away but strapped on the seat belt. His eyes widened in fear. All rational thought had pretty much been kicked to the curb.

Save me

He squeezed his eyes shut. The taxi jolted and sped down the road at breakneck speed. If this were one of his fantasy books, he would have likened the sensation to G-Force pulling his skin back, making it ripple. But it wasn’t, so he had to contend with a mildly nauseous feeling. But the cab driver did have the most gorgeous eyes…at least, what he saw of them before the spaceship took off.

‘Okay,’ he mentally slapped himself. ‘Stop checking out every attractive guy that comes within a three-foot radius of you. Yeah, sure. You’re gay and your family knows but it doesn’t mean that you should be so fuckin’ blatant about it’

Caleb concentrated on the back of the driver’s head and thought about work.

END CHAPTER ONE.

Liked it? Hated it? Tell me.

I opened this blog because I like to write. And even though I admit that in real life, I could be someone who might be diagnosed with some manic-depressive disorder/ADD, I’m painfully shy about revealing my writing work to other people. I’d like constructive feedback and maybe a tiny bit of encouragement to help spur me along.

What will be posted here is just a little romance story entitled Falling Slowly. The title of this maybe-novel is taken from the award-winning song from the independent film, Once, written and performed by Glen Hasard and Marketa Irglova. 

I do hope I’m not infringing on anything copyrighted.

So relax, and kick back. I’ll post the first chapter soon. I have three complete chapters written so far and an incomplete fourth chapter coming.

This project was concieved on May 16th, 2008.