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the earth must have titled off its axis in the middle of the night because nothing is going right today.
david managed to drop his coffee on the way into the store this morning. he was already running late and really just couldn’t be bothered to go back to the café to get another.
his mother came in and started going on about the jazzagals rehearsal. something about the medley being off, about how she thought she should just rearrange the whole thing and give it back to jocelyn. she basically had a conversation with herself while david was just there as a buffer to her thoughts with the occasional annoyed hum. it took awhile, but she eventually got the hint and left.
he realized shortly after that she left with a bag of coffee beans.
a snobby customer came in search of some kind of rosewater toner and then proceeded to laugh when david tried to pair it with a moisturizer. “oh, honey, that’s just too expensive.” she left without buying anything, but her cackle echoed. effing out-of-towner.
the icing on the proverbial cake was the phone.
david, being in the middle of doing inventory for the umpteenth time this afternoon because he keeps getting distracted, jumps when the handset blares in its stand on the desk. he drops the clipboard into the display, knocks several glass bottles over and one topples onto the floor. it shatters, heavy brown glass clattering across the tile.
“fuck me.”
he bends down to pick up the bigger pieces. but of course, because today was a day and something else just has to go wrong, he manages to cut his palm. he lets out a swear as he springs upright, but his shoulder is in the perfect position to slam right into the edge of the display table. another bottle clatters onto the floor.
david lets out a distressed grunt, kicking one of the caps into a corner somewhere. the annoyances of the day were really not petering-out. his eyes were burning from tears as the bell above the door jingles.
“we’re closed,” he snaps.
“i didn’t get that memo today. why are we closed?”
patrick, beautiful, glorious patrick is standing in the doorway. he’s balancing a cardboard tray of coffee in one hand and a brown bag presumably holding their lunch in another.
his amused smile falters when he sees david’s disgruntled stance. “are you- what happened, david?” patrick sets everything down by the cash. “are you alright?”
“oh yes, i’m fantastic!” david bites in exasperation. “a customer decided to be a total bitch and mock me, i ruined a bunch of product, i probably fucked up inventory, and i slammed my shoulder into the table when i went to clean up all the broken glass!”
his hands flail out, open-palmed, to gesture to the mess around him.
“your hand is bleeding.”
david looks down. “and my hand is bleeding.”
his head falls back as he lets out another groan. patrick steps into the back room and comes back a moment later with the first-aid kit. david initially called it “unnecessarily large” and “military-grade,” but patrick said it would come in handy one day.
clearly, that day was today. he pulled out an anti-bacterial wipe, gauze, and a roll of cloth medical tape.
he takes david’s cut hand, which is apparently shaking like a leaf. “i don’t see any glass, so that’s good.”
patrick gets to work, cleaning the cut, running the gauze between his middle and index fingers and across his palm tightly. he secures it with the tape before turning to look up at david, who’s eyeing him with disbelief.
“there,” he sighs. “it’s in a bit of an awkward spot, but that should stop the bleeding for now.”
david’s lips curl into a shy smile. “thank you.”
patrick smiles back. he wipes at david’s under-eye with a gentle thumb. it’s a bit of an intimate thing that he loves.
“why don’t you head home for the day.” it’s not a question.
david doesn’t argue. today’s exhausted him. “can we at least have lunch together first?”
“sure, david,” patrick laughs. he kisses his bandaged hand. “but then you’re going home, turning on a good movie, and i’ll bring home a pizza tonight. does that sound good?”
david nods. patrick gives his fingers a gentle but affirmative squeeze and it eases the trembling in both of david’s hands. the frustrations from the day begin to melt away because of patrick. he steps back.
“um, thank you, patrick.”
patrick, with his gentle hands moving to david’s lower back, guides them toward the back room.
“should we clean that-” david tries to point to the messy display table, but patrick just keeps pushing him forward.
“i’ll do it in a bit. now, why was that customer mocking you?”