Work Text:
Kyle isn't sure what's wrong this time. Perhaps because New York has never been a pristine place in the first place—the snow begins to fall, clustering against the side of some grimy, rat-infested alleys, gathering into the soles of his shoes like gum. It makes him nauseous. Or, possibly, because he smells someone's perfume in the subway that reminds him too much of a person he has been avoiding for a while. Also, maybe, because he remembers that he is not the guy he had imagined himself to be at the age of 26.
Anyway, it was just his dumb existence and stupid anxiety again. Nothing heavy. Usual stuff.
He flicks the lights on, but not the heating. Putting his damp mantle on the hanger, he walked straight to the refrigerator. His favorite pastime at this dark hour is fetching a cold (yeah, it's ridiculous that he likes it even colder) beer and chugging it down on his rickety sofa while idly watching a bass rendition of some incredibly niche alternative song covers on YouTube.
But there's no beer in the fridge. He forgets to top them off. There's just a ding from his phone. A notification.
Just say the word and I’ll send you some food for dinner.
Amelia Garcia, the drummer in Kyle's former band, the only female member, and his only best friend in the world, continues to check on him and stays unperturbed even when he is in self-sabotaging, world-hating, people-avoiding mode. Such an angel. But Kyle's just an asshole. He shoots her a little thumbs up and replies, 'Boss gave me some bread at work, so I'm full now!'
Amelia answers with, 'I know when you're lying.'
He left that on read. Jerk.
Alright.
What should he do now that he has to deal with himself?
First: take a piss. Second: avoid thinking. Third: maybe swallow some sleeping pills?
Oh—shit, no. The two yellow carnations in the used coffee can captures his eye. One has wilted, and Kyle senses the other will follow tomorrow morning. Beside them is a set of couple's toothbrushes that someone has forgotten. But to start describing the owner, Kyle needs to go deeper into his long-held bitter resentment of said person. He was a ghost both in the way he arrived and departed, slithering like a blanket of fog into Kyle's darkest abyss. He was warm and needy in private, then went frigid in public, as if whispers between kisses were never exchanged.
Standing barefoot and freezing in the clothes he'd worn all day, six months of pushing and pulling, of begging and forgiving, bursts like the stars. Instead of a dazzling, thrilling sense of excitement, it left Kyle with a black hole to deal with.
Well. Fuck him and his toothbrush. Kyle purses his lips into a thin line and grabs the remnants of his failed attempt of pure connection and affection, throwing them into the trash. Goodbye to yellow carnations of sorrow and disappointment, as well as his old flame's old t-shirt, a stack of photostrips, and a guitar pick that he picked up when watching their favorite band perform.
A trash bag in the corner of his entrance door. Kyle puts on his shoes and prepares to drop them in the garbage can downstairs. He considers walking around the block to clear his head or heading to the minimarket for a beer or something stronger (he deserves it, right?), when another ding from his phone surprises him.
stardust regular
Lillie misses you and I have promised her an omurice breakfast tomorrow. Drop by?
Oh.
Huh?
What is this light and why is it so bright?
Who is Kyle to refuse such a generous offer? Daniel's omurice is divine and Leanne is adorable.
On second thought, maybe he won't get so drunk tonight. He would rather not have Daniel and Leanne see him at his worst.
It feels wrong to show up empty-handed, so Kyle takes a quick fifteen minutes to swing by Stardust and make them a small bouquet. Leanne, especially, can be quite curious and loves decoding the meaning of flowers, so he is eager to hear what she has to say about this arrangement.
Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Kyle presses the bell to their unit.
“Kylie! You really came!”
A shriek from a girl. Never in a million years did Kyle imagine someone being so pleased to meet him. A blazing smile flourishes across his lips as warmth blooms within the crack in his chest. “Aloha, Lills. Of course. May I come in?”
“Yes, please! Come inside!”
The door opens, and then Kyle climbs through the stairway to floor three, two doors to the left. He doesn't even need to knock. Leanne breaks down the door as soon as she hears his heavy boots-clad footsteps from the other side. The girl runs and flings her arms around his middle.
“Kylie! Starshine!”
“Lillie! Sunshine!”
Leanne then drags his wrist and steals his soul within. While taking off his shoe, he hands her the flowers. Again, Leanne squeals, so cutely, so cheerfully, like Kyle has bestowed on her the most precious moonstone in the world.
“Baby’s breath means innocence. Lilac means a new beginning. Pansy means thoughtfulness. Oh! What’s this little one, Kyle? I’ve never seen it before!” Leanne points out the oddest one. It’s sort of rare, truly. But a lot of it had just arrived in the shop this morning, and Kyle figured it wouldn't hurt to pick a few.
“Astragalus.”
“What’s its meaning?”
“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Kyle grins teasingly. “I’m sure your mother’s dictionary has it listed. Go find out!”
“Right! Be back! Thank you, Kylie!”
As she’s rocketing away, her father comes to view.
Ah. Now, this ….
This is giving Kyle a different feeling.
A different churning in his guts.
The dread from last night comes bubbling back to the surface because—what is this? What are we? Why is he being so gentle with me? Do I deserve this? Would this be good or another heartbreak because, God, I won’t be able to survive it—but the way he walks, the way he looks at Kyle, and the way he says, “Good morning,” just those exact two words, soothes them all in one touch. He can even hear the hissing noise in the back of his head. A hot iron being plunged into cool water.
Kyle scratches his neck awkwardly. “Morning, Dan.”
Daniel smiles and looks so delicate. “The omurice is on the table. Please, make yourself at home. I need to tie Lillie’s hair.”
And then, Kyle sits. And then, Kyle watches.
Daniel, the ever-gentle Daniel, is biting a scrunchie as he carefully fixes his daughter's hair. Suddenly, Kyle marvels about all the things in the universe that have helped mold this man into the person he is today, along with what brought him to the front porch of Stardust a few months ago. Kyle once found himself busy wrapping bouquets for him, then, the next thing he knew, it was Daniel who had wrapped him in his coat as it was pouring outside, just shortly before he flipped the shop sign to close.
A crush. He has such a huge crush on this gentleman and it’s getting dangerous.
"Did you sleep well?" Daniel's question snaps Kyle out of his reverie. He has a tilt to his head. The question is rhetorical.
Kyle clears his throat, not used to being read through his facade. "Yeah?"
"You do look tired, though." Leanne says, looking over to him in the mirror. Her fingers are busy flipping through her mother's floral dictionary. "Do you have a lot in your mind? Mommy used to say sharing it with the right people can help with your pain.”
Yes. True. However, Kyle has never considered passing on existential dread to a nine-year-old an option. "There's nothing to worry about, Sunshine. I'm just so hungry and can't wait to eat your dad's omurice."
A beat of calmness. Then, in a bemused tone, Daniel states, "Your presence softens my pain."
Like a rope holding onto a ton of tension, stretching and straining into avoidance, it finally breaks. The words strike Kyle. It's both a lightning bolt and a shot of anesthesia. With that, his heart skips a beat. Or even two.
“What?”
“Astragalus. I mean … your arrangement always has a theme. Have you noticed?” Daniel laughs with a slight glimmer on his twinkling face. The man doesn't have to turn the page. He knows. He always knows. I see you. I see you. I see you. Kyle has never felt so … seen. “Your presence softens our pain, too, Kyle, all of us. We’re happy you’re here with us today. Right, Lillie?”
“Right!”
Daniel only needs to make a minor tweak before his work is finished. Leanne leaps down from her stool, her little hands reaching for something from the bowl of keys and small crafts on the desk. She rushes over to Kyle and reveals a bracelet of the sun, moon, and stars. Clearly influenced by her father's preferences.
She presents it to Kyle with a radiant beam and exclaims, "I made this yesterday in art class. Friendship bracelet! For you, Kylie!" And if Kyle's eyes get misty, it's not because he cries from their tenderness, but because this morning is just so sunny and warm.
The murmur of the vintage heater becomes the background of their breakfast. Kyle typically avoids eating so early in the morning. But this is nice. It's not haute, but it's welcoming, like he's a part of something important and worthwhile. Would this be a routine? Kyle is unsure. But he's sure that he wants to see more of this. To see Daniel fold his sleeves and pour the sauce over their plates. To see Leanne giggle at a silly giraffe joke. He also wants to be the person who cooks them something, invites them over to his house, makes it brighter and homier.
Daniel tells him that he'll drop Leanne off at school and then drive him to Stardust.
“It’s in the opposite direction, though?”
“I don’t mind,” he persuades. “I insist.”
So, they drive. Kyle sits in the passenger seat, "because Daddy needs a friend at the front," Leanne says as Kyle nearly opens the back door. Aurum reflects on the snow on the road. Kyle is much less bothered than he was yesterday. They sing. They laugh. Daniel kisses Leanne on the temples and Kyle resists ruffling Daniel's handiwork on the crown of her head.
A flash later, he and Daniel are the only ones at Stardust's sidewalk.
It's frosty, especially with the gusting wind, but Kyle feels like he might melt upon seeing Daniel gaze at him so deeply. Is this it? Is he going to spend his day watching his phone, daydreaming over the man across from him, hoping he'll text him, give him check-ins, or ask him a question—well, anything, really, that would suggest that Kyle is on his mind, too?
Kyle fiddles with the stitches on his t-shirt. “Thank you for inviting me. It’s been … awesome.”
"Glad to hear that." Daniel chuckles. His fingers vibrate on the steering wheel. Kyle notices the way they swirl and the way they intend to reach him, too. "I'd also like you to know that whatever story you wish to share, I'll listen to you."
“Haha. They’re mostly childish and emo, though.”
“I’ll still listen.”
Okay. Wow. That is … incredibly … comforting.
“Um … yeah. Thank you—I’ll keep that in mind, so … um, yeah.” And Kyle really, really, wants to kiss Daniel, so he summons his courage in the heat of the moment. He asks, "Sorry, but I really want to kiss your cheek right now. Can I …? May I?"
The widening of Daniel’s eyes is cautious, but they’re full of conviction. Slowly, he nods. And that’s all it takes. All it takes for Kyle to draw himself closer and press his lips against Daniel’s cheek, his beard touching the tip of his nose, the sensation lingering for longer than a mere sprinkle of seconds.
“I’ll text you later. Have a good day at work?”
Finally, their fingers wrap together. Daniel glows quietly. He’s moonshine.
The Moonshine smiles. “Have a good day at work, Kyle.”