The Loving Silence

Chapter 2

Rue was ten meters from the restaurant, and the scent was already drawing him in. He wasn't going to come here, but he knew that with or without Rick, he still had a responsibility to his work and clients. He felt lucky to have had a friend who always fed him such good food. And he would miss it. Perhaps he could come here when Rick was on paternity leave and eat and get takeout. Rue liked that idea. He had gotten used to the taste of their food. It tasted like home. Or what he thought a homey taste would be like.

Rue could cook, but he rarely did. Focusing on one thing and giving it his all was enough for him. Cooking and eating just wasn't a priority. When Rue was alone with his art, he lost track of time and space. Days turned into nights, and weeks could pass without him leaving his world. When he came out of the precious bubble, he could have shelves of designs or paintings leaning on every wall of the space. He'd be unshaven and covered with clay and paint, but he would feel a satisfied exhaustion. As if he'd gotten everything he felt out, everything he wanted to say, and he felt refreshed, rejuvenated, and most of all, safe. He'd shower, clean up and eat and then fall into a blissful sleep, possibly for days. He'd need it because his world would call him back before he knew it. But that was his life, and he loved every minute of it. Others may frown upon it, but his life was his to live.

Sure, his friend thought he wasn't caring for himself enough and worried he didn't get outside enough. But Rue knew that he was in this world to create, and as long as he could do just that, he was fine, even if he didn't have a rich social life or a set meal plan.

He stumbled into the restaurant with the enormous box in his arms, filled to the brim with his designs. He still had five or so boxes back at the studio, but there was only so much he could carry. He could barely see where he walked but could go to the restaurant blindfolded. That thought made his heart squeeze painfully. He had to realise it was over.

"Rue! What are you doing?" Rick chastised and steadied him before he could fall or drop the box. Together, they lowered it onto the counter of the bar.

Rick squeezed his shoulder and towered over him, intending to reprimand him. But to Rue, it just made him feel cared for and made going there that much harder. "I've told you to call me, and then the other guys and I will fetch the boxes with the truck. Did you seriously walk all the way here with this? There's no way you could have seen where you were going. You're really..." He continued talking for a while, but Rue tuned him out. Eventually, he felt he had been there too long, so he decided to speak.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Never mind how I got here. I got here just fine. And while I'm perfectly capable of bringing the boxes here one at a time, your workers in the backroom are welcome to fetch the other boxes if you allow me to pay them for their time."

Seeing that Rick was about to blow a fuse, the barman, John, decided to step in. "Pardon, but we'd be happy to help you bring in the boxes. You don't need to pay us. It's no trouble. But if it makes you uncomfortable, how about you come here afterwards and help us taste our new additions to the menu? We're having trouble deciding which dishes to pick as we all favour different ones."

Rue blinked, slightly stunned that someone other than Rick was speaking to him. He mentioned payment because it made him uncomfortable to owe people, and Rick would never agree to it, and he hoped that that would end the conversation. Now, however, he couldn't back out of it.

He bit his lip as he pondered what to do. Rue had to decide quickly before Rick intervened and continued the argument. "Sure, that'd be great. When can we do it?" He turned away from Rick and only addressed the barman, whose name he had momentarily forgotten. He was about the same height as him, maybe a little shorter, with long black hair in a low ponytail. He had thick eyebrows, but they suited him, and he had a very kind, masculine face. And though he'd never say it out loud, Rue always thought he smelled good. Woodsy and fresh, like freshly squeezed lemons. Now, if only he could remember his name...