Today (Morning)

“Hey. You okay?”

Abel crossed the stretch of grass between the little roadside coffee shop and the picnic benches, cradling two coffees and two breakfast burritos in his large hands. Theo blinked and looked around. The road was a main thoroughfare, wide asphalt stretching long in both directions through open fields of a short, lush green crop. Trees sat on far hills, breaking apart the fields. There were none on the hill with the coffee shop, just a breeze buffeting people’s burrito wrappers and half-full paper cups of coffee, and the expanse of achingly blue sky arching above them. Wisps of clouds hung beside a faint imprint of the moon, washed out by the early morning sun.

Abel sat beside him at the picnic table and lifted a brow.

“You know that you rhyme when you say that?  Hey. You okay?” Theo repeated for him to hear.

“I didn’t realize it.” He separated the spoils of his journey through the long line to the shop window, checking the brusque Sharpie labels on the side of the coffee cups and burrito wrappers. “Black coffee and an egg-white spinach burrito for you. And here’s your fork.”

Abel’s eyes followed Theo’s fingers as he unfolded the wrapper, set his coffee on the corner that kept getting blown up by the breeze, and set about deconstructing the burrito. Abel had not touched his burrito yet. He sipped his coffee, then twisted and spat it on the ground. The liquid darkened the gray gravel surrounding the benches. Theo stared at it, then looked at Abel.

“Let your coffee cool down a bit before you try it.” Abel swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, then frowned at Theo’s coffee. “In fact,” he reached across Theo’s open burrito to ease the lid off his cup, “yours needs to cool even more since it doesn’t have creamer.”

Steam rose from the dark liquid. Theo jammed the end of his fork against the soft wood of the picnic table to break open the plastic wrapper. He frowned at the little spots of red among the white and green filling of his burrito.

“I’m surprised you drink black coffee.”

“Creamer has too much sugar.” Theo picked at one of the dark red mushy tomatoes. “They put sun-dried tomatoes in this.”

“You don’t like that?” Abel asked, then immediately came to his own conclusion and reached out, “I’ll have them remake it.”

Theo waved him off and shook his fork over the edge of the wrapper so that the little tomato fell off the tines with a plop. “I can just pick them out. No big deal.”

“What’s wrong with sundried tomatoes?” Abel finally unwrapped his burrito and bit into the corner.

Theo picked them out slowly, creating a little red mountain, watching the oil that still clung to them from when they were stored in the jar seep into the paper. People often called him crazy for his picky eating. They called him crazy for everything he did, but his fussy eating habits were an especially easy target. For example, he would eat his burrito with a fork and throw away the tortilla.

You better watch your carbs. Your belly is getting a little soft. Ken would tell him things like that and then get mad when he tried to order his food a specific way. You’re too high maintenance.

“I just don’t like them,” he shrugged. “Tomatoes at all, really.”

Abel nodded and squinted out at the fields stretching across the road. His burrito smelled spicy and savory, as though there was sausage in it. It was already a quarter eaten, while Theo had yet to take a single bite. He nibbled on a piece of feta, tangy and delicately crumbling on his tongue.

“Do you not like flour tortillas?” Abel asked. “Or is that like coffee creamer? They have too many carbs.”

Theo chewed and swallowed a bite of spinach. “Too many carbs.”

Abel picked up Theo’s free hand and inspected his wrist. It was thin, the bone prominent, and seemed even more so next to Abel’s thick forearms, which were sturdy and crisscrossed with veins beneath bold black tattoos. When his fingers wrapped around Theo’s forearm, warm from holding his coffee cup, his thumb and pointer finger overlapped by a large margin. Everything about Abel was larger than Theo. Usually, men like that frightened him, but seeing Abel’s fingers circling his wrist made him feel snug and safe.

“I think you could use a few more carbs,” Abel said, and Theo rolled his eyes. “Seriously. Aren’t you trying new things?”

 Like the cigarette earlier, when he wanted to see if they tasted any different.

“Here.” Abel set his burrito down and tore off a piece of Theo’s tortilla, then used it to pinch up some of the egg white, spinach, and feta. He held it out for Theo to take. “Just try it.”

Theo delicately picked up the bite and tilted his head back to put it in his mouth. It was delicious. He smiled shyly at Abel, who nodded in triumph and took another massive bite out of his burrito. It was now half-eaten. By the time it was all gone, Theo had eaten half of his burrito, ripping off pieces of the tortilla and pinching up the filling. But he was full.

“I can’t eat anymore.”

“That’s okay. It’ll keep for a while.” Abel crumpled his wrapper into a tight ball, then stood to drop it into the trash can so that the wind would not bat it away. “Do you want to take it in case you get hungry later?”

“Okay.” Theo tore off the oily corner of paper holding the sundried tomatoes and refolded the burrito to the best of his abilities. He handed it over to Abel, who said something about putting it into a bag with the other snacks he had brought. Then he popped the lid back onto his coffee. A gust of wind dragged his hair and shirt as he stepped over the bench seat. Nearby, a family squawked and leaped to chase after their napkins and whatnot.

The inside of the car was much quieter. Theo settled into the comfortable seat and took a tentative sip of his coffee. It was still hot but not scalding. Bitter and dark. He put it in the cupholder. Abel slid into the driver’s seat and gave him a once-over as he jammed the keys into the ignition. “Seatbelt.”

Theo twisted to grab it, then paused and turned back. “May I have a kiss?”

Abel grinned and let go of his own seatbelt. He leaned over the center console and Theo’s black coffee to wrap a hand around the back of Theo’s head and tilt it to the perfect angle so he could dip in and press their lips together. Theo liked that he kissed like that, always cradling his head or his neck or his jaw. Gentle and firm. Thumb brushing along his cheekbone or fingers carding through his hair. He pressed their lips together once, twice, three times before drawing back and fastening his seatbelt. Theo copied him, then braced his elbow against the door and looked through the side window, a hand covering his smile.