Brendon gathers up his stuff around the cubicle to leave Wednesday afternoon. He grabs his coat and tucks his phone into the pocket of his slacks, making sure to clean his glasses before leaving.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Luke." He says when passing, Lukas smiles.
Brendon keeps his head low walking past everyone to the elevator.
It's only been two days since he last talked to Debby and he hopes that was the last time he going to have to. He's learned quickly that she wasn't good for him. Everyone said how horribly she had been treating him so it's time for Brendon to start believing the people who actually cared for him.
He presses the button for the elevator, bouncing back and forth on his heels while waiting.
Thinking about what he should do once he's gone, he considers going to Roscoe's for coffee. He can admit, it was really good, and he wouldn't have to pay nearly as much as he would have to at Starbucks.
He doesn't need to think about it.
He'll go to Roscoe's.
The elevator finally gets to his floor, he walks in and presses the lobby level this time.
Personally, he likes the elevator. It gives him time to compose himself before coming in and out of work, and the music and calming as well.
The doors start to close, he feels like he can breathe again.
"Wait! Wait." Someone says, sticking their arm out so it doesn't shut.
It's Ryland. Brendon frowns.
This won't be any good.
He watches him motion someone over, this really won't be any good.
Ryland walks in the small capacity beside him, then Ryan comes in as well. Brendon knows they don't get off for another hour or so, so they came in here with him purposefully.
The doors close and now Brendon's trapped.
No one says anything. They all stand in silence, but Ryland and Ryan are talking with their eyes, nodding their head towards Brendon.
He pretends he doesn't see.
His heart beat reacts to the silence loudly.
This is uncomfortable.
"Brendon," Ryan pipes up.
The latter takes longer than usual processing his own name. He looks up from his feet in trepidation, hair falling in his face. "Uh, yeah?"
"We just wanted to tell you we're, we're sorry." Ryland cuts in for him.
Brendon feels like he might need to see the otolaryngologist. He squints his eyes, brows pulling together. Did he hear that right? Debby's best friends were apologizing for her actions. "What?"
"Debby's. . . Debby's being a bitch." Ryland admits.
Brendon can't believe this is actually happening.
"We already know she isn't going to apologize, because she doesn't see what she did wrong, and she won't." Ryan interrupts. He really is sympathetic. They both are. "So, we're sorry. Really. We're glad you're making friends. It's important."
It's nice to hear that from someone you never talk to.
Brendon smiles, a small one of course. "That means a lot. Thank you."
"If you're ever willing to go out with us, minus Debby, the offer still stands." Ryan tells him. It's solemn, it's honest.
Brendon is making friends.
Why has this been happening so suddenly?
"We'll. . . We'll have to see." He trails off. Brendon still wasn't ready to go out for drinks with anyone, he could barely get through going to a coffee shop, he can't imagine a bar.
The elevator stops and the doors open once again, revealing the lobby.
"I'll see you later." He tells them, walking out with a wave and a warm body.
"Bye, Brendon." They say in unison, it's almost unsettling. He decides to ignore that thought, walking away from them and around the bottom floor instead. Light shines through the big windows, he could get a tan from the natural sun in his work setting.
He doesn't, though. He's pale.
The last few days have been sunny, Brendon had noticed, which is odd considering it's typically raining and cold during this time of year.
He doesn't hate it.
It's nice.
He listens to happier songs in the car when it's like this.
Brendon gets in his Prius that needs a deep clean at the moment, as it always does, remembering he wanted to go to Roscoe's, so that's where he heads.
He listens to radio stations instead of CDs today.
It's not raining, it's sunny.
***
Brendon parks his car in the closest space he could find along the curb, he didn't want to walk too far, his feet would drag too much, just like Luke said his were starting to.
He walks in, the bell above the door ringing. He didn't hear it the last time he was here but he assumed it's because he was too caught up in his own head to take in all his surroundings.
He's okay this time.
The line isn't long at all, it never is from what he saw.
There's only one other person in front of him, he waits, deciding to get another black coffee. Brendon was very plain most of the time, but other times he wanted something with caramel or chocolate.
He listens to the cashier, she sounds sweet.
The man in front of him finishes his order so now he has to do what he spent so many years working on. It has gotten a lot better, mostly because he had no other choice. He lived alone, he had to order alone.
When he was younger, his mother or father would do it for him. Maybe even one of his siblings. They knew how Brendon was, and at that time, they didn't know what is was. They still helped him, he appreciates it. He'd whisper the order to them in front of the waiter and they'd repeat, he just couldn't seem to do it himself.
He's nearly thirty, he's glad he has finally overcome that.
"Good afternoon," The cashier beams. "What would you like?"
"Could I get a tall black coffee, please?" Brendon asks, already opening his wallet.
"Of course." She smiles, her name tag says Lyndsey. It's oddly spelt but he likes it. "That'll be two twenty-five."
Brendon nods, pulling out a five. She repeats what's on the bill, which most cashiers seem to do, and hands him the rest of his change. He slips it into his wallet.
"Your name?"
"Brendon."
"Got it." She assures, calling up the next person.
Most coffee shops spell his name wrong. They usually write Brandon although it's obvious he said it with an E. He shakes his head, walking away from the counter and instead looking for a place to sit.
It's never that busy in here which is nice, there's many open spots he scans his eyes over and they're all okay until he sees another.
He suddenly gasps, trembling hand slapping over his mouth.
"Oh, my god." Brendon whispers to himself, trying to register what he sees.
It's Tyler.
It's Tyler and they're on a laptop with a pen and paper beside them.
It's Tyler and they're sitting alone.
It's Tyler and Brendon knows the right thing to do is say hello.
Maybe he'll wait until his coffee is done, because it seems like they haven't noticed him. If they did, Brendon wouldn't have guessed. He hopes they haven't noticed him; they might be thinking he's avoiding them if so.
In a way, he has been.
Brendon doesn't want it to be like that.
If he can't even send a text to Tyler what is he going to say to them in person?
When they first met, he was nervous, but not nearly as nervous as right now because Josh was there too, calming him down. Josh isn't here this time, from what he sees, which means he has to do this all alone and if he messes up there's no immediate moral support.
He tries to remind himself to breathe through it, he lets Tyler get to him too much for no reason whatsoever.
Brendon considers texting Josh, but realizes how immature that is.
He needs to do this on his own, he doesn't have to.
"Brendon!" Another employee yells, his order must be done. He watches Tyler slowly lift their head at his name, eyebrows furrowing together. They look around for a moment, seeing Brendon pressed against the wall with rosy cheeks and all. They don't smile, they don't frown, they only push out the chair in front of them expectantly.
Brendon bites his lip, looking concerned. He grabs his coffee and walks to the table they're sat at, body shaking as he sits.
"Hey." Tyler says.
Brendon's mouth twitches, Tyler's does too. "Hey."
This might be even more awkward than being in the elevator with Ryland and Ryan.
Tyler's typing away on the laptop in front of them, eyes glued to the screen while they did so. Brendon wonders what they're doing, so he pushes the aching in his abdomen down and speaks up.
"Editing the draft for a script." They mumble. "I'm supposed to hand it to the production team tomorrow."
"What's. . . What's it about?"
Brendon advertises for a living. Not in the way Tyler does, but he might be able to relate to some of the things they do. He sends and replies to emails all day long because of random products, Tyler writes advertisements for production.
"It's one of those as-seen-on-TV products." They roll their eyes.
"Oh." Brendon whispers.
Silence falls over them. Tyler doesn't seem to care, but Brendon can't read Tyler no matter how much he tries.
Maybe that's why he avoids them.
Open people were easier to talk to than someone who doesn't show vulnerability. Brendon can admit he shows too much, which overall is one of his worst qualities, yet he'd still like to see it from Tyler. It would make this a lot easier for him, but this whole relationship wasn't supposed to be easy, is it? Brendon needs to challenge himself, so maybe Tyler being harder to budge compared to Josh is a good thing.
It's a chance for both of them to grow.
If they're willing.
Brendon looks up from his coffee and runs his eyes over Tyler.
The last time the two of them talked, they were naked. Brendon hasn't been able to forget about it and he doesn't know why, because he didn't see anything, he just knew it was happening.
Brendon feels bad for only being able to think about them nude right now.
Almost as if Tyler knows, they glance his way, and Brendon flushes.
Their eyes are darker than Josh's, but not as warm. Nothing about them has been very warm, and that's okay, Brendon can move past it because he believes Josh when he tells him how good of a person they are.
He believes it.
They're staring at one another, Brendon doesn't know what's happening. They keep bumping knees beneath the table and his breath gives out every time.
Tyler's eyelashes are so long. They blink. "Do you like spaghetti?"
Brendon suppresses his laughter, only nodding with a smile. "Yeah, yeah. I do."
He likes spaghetti if it's not served at the retirement home.
Tyler breaks away from them and Brendon's undeclared contest and closes their laptop after typing one last thing in. They slip it into a messenger bag at their feet which Brendon didn't see until now, looking at the pen and paper still on the table.
The page is blank, Brendon watches them pick up the pen and write spaghetti in between the lines.
Tyler looks at him again, lips crooked because how deep their teeth are digging into the bottom one. Brendon can only sit and wait, leaving seems to be rude at the moment. He'll let Tyler examine every feature of his face as long as it's beneficial.
Brendon does the same. Tyler's nice to look at.
They're wearing a dark jean jacket and a black shirt, with light yellow pants and another pair of black boots.
It's worse than last Friday but he isn't going to say anything.
Their thumbs are painted white too. Only their thumbs. Brendon doesn't get it and he's not sure he will.
Tyler's different.
Brendon feels like his heart might beat out of his chest at this point. They haven't had an actual conversation this whole time and that was the goal. Brendon's barely touched his coffee because of how overwhelming this is sitting here with them.
"Are you uncomfortable with me being non-binary." Tyler says. Not asks.
Brendon feels himself begin to spiral; palms sweating, toes curling, heart stopping, stomach dropping.
He licks his lips. "No-no."
It's true, isn't it? He's not scared of them, he's scared of not understanding them.
Tyler leans against their hand, rubbing their screwed eyes with a deep sigh. They sigh a lot. "You can tell me."
"I'm not lying." Brendon frowns.
"Okay." Tyler mutters. "Okay."
It's almost like they're trying to reassure themself.
"I-I mean, if I was, I wouldn't have met you and Josh. If I was, I definitely wouldn't be coming to your house this week." Brendon tries to help them understand, they seem like they don't. He knows it's because of how much he avoids them. This is his fault.
There's a pause again between them, Tyler looks for body language.
They drop the pen and fold the paper. "You're right." They stand. "I'm sorry."
Brendon can only watch them slide the paper into their pocket. Tyler slings the bag across one of their shoulders, Brendon almost forgot how tall they are. They look down at him. "I'll see you on Friday." Tyler keeps still. "Text me."
They walk away after that, pen and coffee cup still on the table.
All Brendon manages to do is sip on his coffee, he's nearly heaving.
He'll have to text them.