Lyril was honestly, genuinely happy for his brother that everything had worked out so well. He still had his reservations about Diego, but it really did seem like a change had come over him. At the very least, he hadn't done anything worthy of Lyril permanently banning him from the café, because Radames had been bouncing off the walls with happiness every day since then.

The only downside of this happy turn of events was that Radames had taken it upon himself to ‘help’ with Lyril's love life now that he was blissfully content with his own.

“I’m telling you, you just need an opening. A good opportunity to talk to him!”

“I don’t exactly have the best track record of not making a fool of myself when he’s around.”

Lyril bitterly considered faking his own cold so he would get a break from this, but knowing Radames he would twist it into an opportunity to badger Raphael into going round to visit him. No matter how many times Lyril told his brother he didn’t want to rock the boat, Radames wouldn’t back down. 

It was strange: after years of overenthusiastic encouragement, by now Radames had seemingly come to accept that dating held little appeal to Lyril. He rarely pressed nowadays, even when he voiced suspicions that Lyril was interested in someone. 

What was different this time?

Perhaps Radames could sense that this time, unlike his previous theories about who Lyril might like, there was a chance Lyril actually might have some interest. 

“Ly.”

When he felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder, Lyril looked up from the mug he had been washing over and over. 

How did people navigate feelings like this? 

“In the words of Shakespeare… what was it again... ‘screw your courage to the sticking place…’? I think that was it?” The effect was somewhat dampened by his tone.

“I’m genuinely surprised you read any of the plays I picked up. I thought your idea was only for me to suffer, especially since I found them all over the floor when I came home last week.”

“For moral support! Now you really have to go through with this or both of us will have done all this reading for nothing. Anyway, suffering for the sake of love is quite the worthy cause, don’t you agree?”

“Stop.” Lyril scoffed and turned away, half so he wouldn’t have to see Radames dramatically pantomiming his disappointment and half so his brother wouldn’t see his embarrassment. 

Love. As usual, Radames was running a mile ahead. 

“You have to admit it’s a good opener to talk to him though.”

“If you mean it was the only one of your ideas that wasn’t completely ridiculous—"

“Which means you’re serious about this, right?”

“—and is considerably less likely to get me killed than your idea of peppering in casual compliments—”

“And you want it to work.”

Lyril sighed.

“I wouldn’t have spent my time on reading those damn scripts in between baking fifty batches of muffins if I didn’t want to talk to him. Talk to him. Not… whatever else you think is going on.”

“I knew it.” Noticing that Radames was beaming again, Lyril decided that he did not have time for this and turned back to the dwindling pile of dishes next to the sink. 

“Anywaaaay…. I’m sorry to deprive you of my excellent company—” Debatable. “—and excellent advice—” Even more debatable. “—but I have places to be and, ahem, certain someones to see, so I’ll check back on you in a bit!”

‘Places to be’ typically meant the entrance when either Amir or Diego came by around this time to pick him up for another date, and ‘certain someones to see’ spoke for itself.

Lyril just nodded by means of an answer. He was surprised to see Radames still hovering about when looked up from the sink to stack another plate.

“What is it?”

“It’s just…” Radames was still smiling. “I’ve never seen you like this before. You really like him, right?”

Lyril could only stare, taken aback, as his brother hurriedly ducked out through the door and disappeared.

*

After a few moments, he took off his gloves and headed out to the front of the café too, not entirely sure if he wanted to say something to Radames or just to take a break from the dishes to clear his head for a few minutes.

Instead he found Raphael, waiting by the counter.

“Your brother let me in,” said Raphael with a grin. “Said there are dishes to wash. Also said he’d fire you if you didn’t do what you said you would. What’s that about?”

“Just his little joke,” Lyril gritted through teeth, face red. “And you don’t have to wash any dishes. I’m so sorry he said that, you’re a customer, I really don’t expect you t--”

“I don’t mind,” Raphael said quickly. “Seriously. If you’ll let me behind the counter, I’d be glad to help. I have nowhere else to be.”

“W-well. Um. Thank you.”

Raphael slunk gracefully behind the bar and looked around curiously. “Why do you have mint candy inside a jar of pickles?”

“Radames said we need to have fresh breath and didn’t want to invest in new jars. The kitchen’s this room.”

“Fresh breath, or crunch crunch time?” Raphael grinned and snapped his teeth at him playfully.

Lyril thought he might pass out, and tried to focus his energy on not walking into things.

“Why don’t you have a dishwasher?”

“We do, but it’s pretty big and we need to fill it up to use it. We don’t have enough dirty dishes today. You can dry, if you want... and if you really don't mind.” He could feel his voice wavering "There's not much space at the sink and it's not pleasant work anyway." 

Raphael moved away to the stack of dishes at the side of the sink and Lyril couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

Radames would have laughed at him.

"Thanks," Lyril said, after a few moments, still staring down at the dishes he should be washing. He got himself in shape and started. There was silence for a minute or two.

“I swear, when Radames gets back, I’m going to-” Lyril gave a start as he realized that Raphael was right next to him again, and had picked up a mug to wash. "I-I thought you were drying."

"I'm done. And it's quicker this way."

"If only everyone working here was that efficient," Lyril muttered.

"What were you saying about your brother?"

"Oh, just deciding what to do about him skipping out like that. Maybe I’ll tie his shoelaces together or something." 

“Tie his shoelaces to the bed frame,” Raphael suggested meekly. “And put sugar in his salt.”

“I’d love to, but that would be my salt too.”

“Oh no, you keep a little salt in your room in a little bag.”

Lyril stared at him. “You know a lot about pranking.”

“Ah-- well. ‘A lot’ is an exaggeration, but,” Raphael laughed, “grew up in an orphanage, kind of. Lots of kids did stuff like that.”

“Oh! Me too.”

Raphael smiled at him. “Pranks?”

“No, orphanage. Though, uh, I was adopted pretty early on,” Lyril’s face grew red. 

“Luckyyyyy,” Raphael sighed, full of drama. “I mean, mine wasn’t very conventional, but it was still sucky not to get adopted every time someone visited.”

“Pretty sure my parents basically pointed at the first kid they saw and said ‘that one’,” mumbled Lyril.

“Don’t say that, I’m sure they wanted you.”

“They wanted to adopt, so they’d look good in society dinners.”

“You sound pretty sure about that.”

“Well, I’ve never asked, but I didn’t need to. It wasn’t all bad though, I always had Radames to make me feel wanted.”

“I’m glad to hear that. What did he mean about firing you, by the way?”

There were a few moments of silence as Lyril frantically tried to guess how much Radames had said to Raphael.

Raphael finished washing two more mugs during the panicked silence.

After the longest pause he felt he could get away with, Lyril said, “Oh… never mind that,” he grabbed a plate and scrubbed at it with dangerous vigor. “He was just joking around… he’s always threatening that. But hey, looks like I’m still here...”

“But why?”

“He… he wants me to be more talkative, initiate conversations more, you know.”

“Somehow I feel like threats aren’t the most encouraging tactic.”

“Long story short, I’m not being as charming as I could be,” Lyril rolled his eyes, face still red. “Apparently. Not as charming as you are, anyway.”

“I think you’re plenty charming.”

It was the simple seriousness which got Lyril to stare at him. Raphael didn’t look like he was kidding at all.

“Um.”

Silence.

“Um,” Lyril said again, feeling rather foolish.

“You shouldn’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

“That’s not…” Lyril could feel himself about to stumble over the words and took a moment to collect himself. “That’s not… I mean… I can take it. Obviously.” He drew himself up a little taller. “I can take it. I just… didn’t think you would...”

Raphael looked back at him levelly. “Didn’t think I’d find you charming?”

“Well… yeah.”

“I suppose we’ve both learned new things about each other today.”

“Yeah,” Lyril said again. “That’s… uh... nice to know.” 

Radames would have been sinking to the floor in anguish if he had witnessed this. But, Lyril reminded himself, he wasn’t here. He didn’t have to think about what his brother would have thought about how he was presenting himself. Somehow, amidst his feet shuffling and all the words he’d fumbled over, Raphael still found him charming. That was good enough for him.

They finished the rest of the pile in silence, and Lyril gathered his courage to say:

“I… was wondering if you wanted to sit round the back for a while. No one else will be there. If you want to, I mean."

“Sure.”

*

Lyril felt relieved as he slumped down on the step next to Raphael.

"It's filthy here."

Lyril looked down at the steps.

"I guess." There was no 'I guess' about it, really. It was indeed filthy.

"Not the nicest place to sit."

"We don't have to sit here."

Raphael made a noncommittal sound that Lyril took to mean he was alright with staying there. He didn't say anything else. His demeanor had changed somewhat, he felt more distant now. Lyril wondered if he’d done something wrong.

Radames would have told him to offer Raphael his coat so he wouldn't have to sit directly on the steps or something like that, but, Lyril considered, Raphael was already sitting down now so it was too late.

Raphael must have noticed him grimacing because when Lyril looked up from the step where his feet were resting, he realized that he was being watched.

"Hmm?"

"I was just... thinking."

"About?"

"First, about the fact that I need to clean these steps. And… that I'm glad you're here."

Raphael smiled fully now and held up a vape pen. “You don’t mind if I do, right?”

“Not at all, go ahead.”

Another silence, more comfortable now. Lyril looked up at the sky and wondered what kinds of stars there would be above them. He could smell the scent of hard candy and some tobacco from Raphael next to him, and recognized it as a scent that often lingered, faintly, around his friend. It was probably his favorite liquid to use; Lyril would have to remember that.

*

"Good morning."

"For some, maybe." Lyril grumbled, leaning against the sink and drying a mug with a very disagreeable expression.

Veronica looked back and forth between Lyril and Radames, questioningly.

"You seemed in fine spirits last night before I got back." Radames huffed as he rearranged several mugs on the counter.

"Until you got back," Lyril echoed, "and proceeded to skip the cleaning you were meant to do."

"You'd already done all the dishes. And if I remember rightly, you had some help, right?"

"Oh, so he told you about that?" Veronica took a sip from her mug and smirked over it.

"Told me about what?" Radames's eyes widened. "He said a certain someone helped him out, but—"

Lyril breathed, "Veronica. Please don't make this sound how I'm sure you're going to make it sound."

“Lyril, are you saying that my lack of presence actually helped?”

“I’m not saying anything, Veronica is,” Lyril said, glaring at her. “And do you have to talk about this so loudly?" 

Radames gestured silently at the empty tables in the café. It was true that it would be a while before opening time, but...

"Daelan's behind the counter," Lyril jerked his head pointedly.

"Oh, he's not listening." 

They exchanged a look as Daelan looked up from the counter he had been cleaning in his usual meticulous way. He raised his hand in a slight wave.