Writer's note— Wow, uh, here's a new story! A bit unexpected but here I am writing another one. I guess mxm is kinda my thing now.
Trying something out with this, first story without magic. May or may not keep it up depending on how I feel. This story is about an anxiety ridden baker who just wants to find love, but unforeseen circumstances and his nerves keep getting in the way.
#
God, Jeremy always loved surprises he was going to be so excited. I looked at the small dining room table and the spread I'd made. Chicken noodle soup with a side of green beans, salad and assorted vegetables, steak, and home made mashed potatoes. I was more of a baker than a cook but Jeremy always said he loved my cooking.
—something like that, our protagonist is a bit of a cook, oof that looks appetizing. —
He was just coming over a cold and we hadn't seen each other in a week. I was excited for us to finally share an evening together. He said he'd be home at 7pm and he'd come over to my place for dinner. Instead, I was surprising him at his place. I'd done the same thing to surprise Jeremy a few weeks before with a romantic dinner and he had loved it. He'd even said he wished I would surprise him more. He'd be home any minute now.
I heard the door begin to unlock and I got up excitedly from my seat, ready to surprise him. Clumsy as I was, I accidentally dropped a few dish towels, and I crept down to pick them up.
In my position I couldn't see the apartment door opening as Jeremy came in, but, I could hear it. There was a short hallway separating the kitchen and the entryway. Or at least that's what I expected. Jeremy had a habit of jingling his keys when he came home but instead I heard voices. Plural.
A pit formed in my stomach as I listened. To deep breathing the wet sounds of a couple making out. And then I heard Jeremy's moan and something in me broke. I wanted to cover my ears but it was like the sounds were seared into my brain.
I heard belt loops clinking and clothes beginning to hit the ground. All still in the entryway of the apartment.
They were really going to —
"Oh, fuck Anthony. I've been wanting this all week." Jeremy was talking loudly but he was always pretty loud when we were intimate. The next few words were even harder for me to hear than the obscene kissing. "Darius is so fucking annoying. Too fucking sentimental. God, I need to break up with him."
Then that meant this Anthony wasn't ,just a hook up. So, Jeremy had been with this guy, at the same time he was with me. "Jer, you know I don't give a damn about your boyfriend. This thing between us isn't supposed to be too complicated. It's just sex. Can we move along now?"
Jeremy laughed and the sound was breaking my heart. "This isn't even my fault, really, he just doesn't satisfy me. I thought black guys were supposed to be different in bed, but, I guess not. And, he's so dorky and nervous and at first it was cute but it's not cute anymore. I want a real man, and I mean yeah he's beefy but sometimes I feel like he's kinda soft—"
And then he saw me. He saw me on the floor of the kitchen because he walked the few steps out of the entry way into the living room which fully exposed the kitchen. Fully exposing me.
I was still on the floor, but I was sitting hunched against the cabinets, leaning my face against the cool wood. How could he do this to me?
My chest started to seize and I remembered I had to breathe. But, suddenly I couldn't find air. I couldn't find air and I couldn't breathe and Jeremy had cheated on me. He had cheated on me.
"Darius, this isn't what it looks like." Jeremy knelt down beside me on the floor, voice so incredibly soft. "Anthony is just a... work friend. This can all be explained. It's just a mistake. You don't have to— You don't have to cry."
Jeremy was small and slender, fine bony wrists and a delicate curve to his lips. I'd always thought he was kind of angelic with his wavy brown hair and brown eyes. But, now with his pants unzipped and his hair mussed and lips swollen it was impossible to look at him.
My anxiety was spiraling out of control and I was breathing in harsh wheezes, my eyes burning as I struggled not to cry. Anxiety attacks were always the same for me, I could never find air, I would start shaking and then I'd start crying as my heart beat a hole into my chest.
I clenched my fists trying to calm down, trying to count to ten, trying to breathe but it was just too much. I was such a fucking freak, no wonder Jeremy couldn't love me.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Darius. Just stop freaking out okay?" Jeremy touched my knee and I flinched, only shaking harder.
"Why didn't you just break up with him like a normal person, Jer?" Anthony's cool voice drawled. "This really kills the mood. I'm gonna go."
Jeremy looked frantic for a moment. "Wait just—"
"So—sorry for killing the m—mood." I stuttered, snorting in derision. I wiped my face, standing up on shaky legs. "I'm leaving—" I stumbled to my feet. "I can't be around you right now." I grabbed my phone, and my wallet and keys, struggling to get Jeremy's keyring off of my keychain . Dropping it on the ground I shuffled towards the door, just needing to escape.
"Darius, wait." Jeremy tugged on my bicep. "Can't you just let me—"
"No!" I erupted, whirling on him even as my voice broke. "I can't even look at you right now." At six foot four I towered over Jeremy, and a piece of me broke when he flinched.
I escaped from the apartment and turned towards the exit where the stairs where. I burst through the door and went down the steps for a few flights before I sat down on the stairs and tried to breathe. The steps were a grey chalky colouring and dusty, like as the white walls. Covering my mouth with my hand, I counted through a myriad of stutters and broken breaths. Trying to focus on the blue hand rail, or the spider web between the rails or anything.
Finally, my heart started to go back to normal and I sniffled as the tears subsided. Then, I covered my face in shame. That could not have possibly gone any worse.
And then it did.
There were two flights of steps for every floor and the door behind one opened and a man came down the steps. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt as well as black motorcycle gloves. I covered my face, but, it was too late. He had clearly seen how distressed I was.
"Woah, dude are you okay?" His voice was deep and soft.
My breaths had evened out but all I could think about was how humiliating this was, how pathetic I was, and why I couldn't just calm down. I took a look at him and he was still looking at me.
To my horror I realized that he was more attractive than I could handle at that very moment. He looked East Asian with large, curved eyes that were brown and were staring far too intently at me. His skin wasn't all that pale, closer to a light fawn brown and it was clear. The longer I stared at him the more I noticed his sculpted cheekbones and his lips that naturally fell into a frown and —
Fuck I was staring. I looked away, and I heard him shuffling with his satchel beside me until he took out something and held it before me—a package of napkins.
"It's okay." I started to say.
But, instead he sat beside me, still holding out the napkins. His voice was firm, "It's fine, just take a couple."
With shaking fingers, I did, wiping at my eyes and then very unattractively blowing my nose. I was acutely aware of the man sitting beside me, and awkwardness built between us as we sat there. The stairway was narrow and the his thigh was warm and pressed up against mine.
Several seconds later he turned to me, his voice still soft. "I'm sorry about whatever it is you're going through." He handed me the package of tissues and stood up, patting me twice on the back before making his way down the stairwell. For some reason it felt like the kindest thing someone had done for me.
I watched him make his way down the steps, so overcome by emotion that I couldn't even find a way to say thank you.
#
Two Weeks Later
My apron was tight around my waist as I moved easily around the kitchen, checking things off my checklist as I went. Once I determined everything was where it was supposed to be I started folding the ingredients in together in the industrial mixer. At 6am I was the first person here and I baked, heated and got the batter going for the day. I'd been more of a workaholic than ever since Jeremy had filleted my heart into tiny little pieces.
I was one of the special cake decorators at Sweets N Things. I'd been here for a few months after having a breakdown at my desk job as an investment broker. It was a big change and most of my friends and family hadn't understood. But having fewer anxiety attacks and not hating walking into work every morning made a big difference to me. Maybe this wasn't my forever but I'd be okay with it being my right now.
—Kitchen probably looks like this, maybe a bit more spread out. —
But, once things had settled down I realized I wanted someone to come home to at night, someone to kiss and hold, and someone to love. I thought Jeremy had been that person.
My thoughts were interrupted by another worker, Mitchell, coming into the kitchen. "Hey, Dairy, my man, what's good?" He greeted me as he put on his apron and washed his hands at the sink. Dairy had been an unfortunate nickname I'd developed from some of my workers once I told them my name was Darius. Someone had said I must have guzzled milk as a child to be as massive as I was. And the name had stuck.
Mitchell was one of the workers who'd been at the bakery the longest and had worked at a bakery before this one. He was an Ethiopian man with a slight accent and a small mop of curls. He always seemed to take pleasure in teasing me and once he'd found out I was gay, he always asked me if I'd gotten a boyfriend to my increasing embarrassment.
I checked my watch, talking loudly over the sound of the mixers whirring. "Are the cashiers here yet?" The manager would get in in around an hour and until then we were meant to manage on our own.
"I only saw Brenda out front," Mitchell said while putting on oven mitts and taking out croissants to put on the cooling rack. "better check to see if Jules is here."
I frowned. "We open in a few minutes. Start putting things into the display cases." I wiped my hands on my apron, as I made my way through the kitchens and into the store itself. The front was large with about a dozen tables, some couches, and a few barstools alongside one wall. Although most of our customers were walk-ins, plenty of people still sat throughout the day.
Brenda was preparing her till but Jules still wasn't there. I greeted her and she looked guilty so I knew something was up. Her eyes were stuttering on my arms and I forgot that she probably hadn't seen the new sleeve I'd gotten. It was a series of curves and swirls with a massive clock in the centre. The tattoo served as a reminder to me that I couldn't wait to do what I wanted. I needed to go out there and do it.
"Where's Jules?" I asked Brenda, folding my arms over my chest.
Brenda swallowed. "She thought they'd be mad."
The bell to the shop dinged and our first rush of customers entered the shop. Luckily, we weren't yet at a stage to serve beverages so everything went fairly quickly but Brenda couldn't work alone.
"Brenda." I said in the soft gentle tone that usually frightened people for some reason, and made them respond to me more.
"She's not coming." Brenda chewed her lip before continuing. "She tried to get someone to pick up her shift, but she couldn't find anyone and she offered to pet sit her ex's dog. Ralphie gets antsy when he's alone."
I sighed, walking over to the till beside Brenda's, and setting up the machine. "Tell Mitchell we'll be understaffed for an hour until Chris shows up, he can handle the kitchen until then."
—Seating area—
—Maybe the front area looks a bit like this but a darker colour scheme and with typical bakery goods like croissants, and pastries and such. —
Brenda scampered off and I saw to the first few customers. When she got back she quickly saw to a few more. The minutes passed like that until he walked in. The fucking guy from the stairwell was dressed in a crisp, slim fitting black suit, making a beeline towards my line. I wished I could hide or evaporate but he was right there and I felt like I was back in that stairwell, the same small feeling filling my chest.
I both hated his presence in the store and loved that he was there. Did he know who I was when he sat beside me? How could he even know who I was? I was always in the kitchen working on a cake or baking during the day.
I sensed trouble when one man kept tapping his foot, crossing his arms, and emanating chaotic energy. "God, this is taking forever." He said loudly.
He was in my line just one person ahead of Mr. Wet Dream. But, by the time Mr. asshole finally got to the front of the line he was livid. "I don't understand what the hold up is."
Sweat started building on my brow, as my nerves kicked in. I hated confrontation. I didn't say anything as I put in his dozen pastries into the box. I exhaled slowly. "Sorry, we're out of the maple berry blitz cookie at the moment, would you like something else?"
His lips flattened as he sneered. "I've been waiting in this line for the past fifteen minutes, just to be told you can't get me what I paid for? This is some shitty customer service."
My heart leapt into my throat as I felt my nervousness begin to consume me. Everyone was staring, I couldn't stop sweating, my vision was blurring and the man was still yelling. It was always like this, I would lose it so incredibly fast.
"Is th-there anything else you'd l-like?" I managed to get our without stuttering too badly. I'd had a terrible stutter as a child but no matter how much speech therapy I put myself through my nerves always made it come out again.
At the sound of my stutter, the man smiled like a shark scenting blood in the water. "I want what I originally asked for! And the longer I have to wait, the more I'm going to want to speak to upper management. It shouldn't surprise me that the guy who looks like a washed out bouncer can't even get me what I'm paying for. Some of us have real jobs to go to. The clock is ticking."
I stood there, completely frozen and knowing I was going to have an anxiety attack in the next few minutes. My lips trembled and my chest felt like someone had stabbed me. Everyone was just staring at me. God, I looked so stupid, some oversized freak. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
And then Mr. Stairwell stepped out of the line and spoke in his penetratingly deep voice. "You've got such a fucking mouth on you for someone acting like they've got better places to be. He's just trying to do his job and the rest of us have to go to work, asshole. Choose another desert or step the fuck out of line."
The man's face turned red as he whipped around facing Mr. Stairwell. Mr.Stairwell narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms across his chest and ground out a few words. "I have a meeting that you're not going to make me late to."
The man swallowed, and snatched his box from the counter, beginning to stomp out of the store.
My throat started working suddenly and I got change out of the register. "Did you want your change?" I called out.
He didn't respond.
And then there was Mr. Stairwell, looking up at me, the hard plains in his face softening. "Don't sweat it, he was acting like an ass hat." He told me what he wanted and I assembled the items into a box for him, feeling like I was under a microscope.
An unglazed cinnamon roll, a chocolate brownie, an apple fritter and an oatmeal raisin cookie fit neatly into the box as I pushed it towards him.
"Thanks." He said, looking at me a little harder, eying my tats, my chest and then my face. He seemed to approve of something there as he gave me a small, barely there smile. "I can appreciate a man with a nice tattoo. And fuck, you're even taller up close."
I swallowed. "Thanks." I was sweating bullets now, and this guy probably thought I had some kind of disorder. But, he was still staring intently at my face and studying me. His inspection made me feel hot all over, and I wasn't sure if I wanted him to keep looking or look away.
Was he...flirting? With me? He locked eyes with me. "I go by Trace." He turned slightly. "I work just a street over, on Central Tower. You do some good work here. I read that article the local paper did on you about how you won that cake decorating competition. It's sick." He nodded in approval and my chest warmed.
I mumbled thanks yet again and cashed him out. There was an awkward moment where his lips parted as he looked at me. He licked his lips. "Your name is Darius, right?"
I nodded. "Yep, that's what my name tag says." It was supposed to be funny but it came out awkward like everything else managed to.
He nodded as well, picking up his box. "Thanks, have a great day."
"Same to you." I murmured.
I watched Trace leave the shop, wishing I hadn't completely fucked up our longest interaction to date.
Overall thoughts?
Thoughts on Darius?
Thoughts on Trace?