A few months before - September 2018

Everything's fine. Sometimes he passes out.

There's no need to call for help.

Take a deep breath in.

Hold it . 

Breathe out, slowly.

Jacob was spending that Friday afternoon between the pastel walls of the pastry shop where he worked. Outside, the sky was  burnt ash, overcast.

Moirin, the owner, was explaining to him how to print expiration labels for the ingredients she used to make her renowned pastries. She was a petite, graceful woman, with a contagious smile that reminded him of his mother and a thick, messy head of hair. Jacob adored her, but he just couldn’t focus on her voice at that moment. He kept nodding and echoing  her words, but he wasn't listening anymore.

It was  one of those moments his mind was elsewhere and the world around him felt unreal. The glare of the artificial lights and the sugary smell were  making him dizzy.

There was no customer. Among the tables, his colleague was swaying  in a messy dance,  to the rhythm of the  two small speakers blasting a song on the radio. He clutched a broom,  serving both as a microphone and a dance partner in that choreography.

"You can’t put anything away without printing the labels, otherwise - Dodger, you’re scaring customers into not setting foot in this place ever again," Moirin said, looking over her  shoulder.

Jacob  couldn’t hold back a smile as he saw his friend freeze in the middle of a  dip.

Looking offended, Dodger replied, "I’ve got talent."

"And you, don’t laugh", she pointed a finger at Jacob. Moirin pretended to be strict, but she could barely hide a grin. "Did you understand  what I said?"

"Yes, ma'am," he lied, regaining his composure.

"I was just giving Jacob a little  preview of what’s going to happen at the party we’re  attending tonight," Dodger added, and Jacob glared at him, shaking his head. Here we go again.

Moirin sighed, empathizing with his infinite patience. She  placed a hand on his shoulder, gently.

"Call me Moirin, little one. I know you are just two little birds, but you make me feel old."

Dodger put a hand to his chest, touching a pin with a "they/he" print on it.

Looking at the owner, they said, "Oh, Mrs. Hill, I solemnly swear that I will never forget to print the expiration labels."

Moirin pushed him playfully, then gestured for him to follow her outside. They left Jacob alone,  heading in front of the pastry shop for a quick smoke, sheltered by a pink-and-green striped tarp, which looked like it might get blown away by the wind at any moment.

He had met Dodger a week after moving to Rainhill. Dodger had been working at Moi’s for a year or so. They were the same age as him, though they looked a couple  years older. They had short hair, shaved  on the sides to  keep a bleached-white mullet styled. They moved around the place with a confidence  Jacob could not comprehend - as if they  were never once worried about being too much.

During his first shift, a couple weeks earlier, Jacob had dropped a tray. Nothing tragic. A broken plate, a cupcake rolling across the floor, and there was this loud, humiliating noise that had made a couple of customers turn and stare at him.

Jacob  was petrified for  a couple seconds, wishing he could disappear from the face of the earth, his whole body shaking. Dodger didn’t laugh. He had quickly joined him and bent down with him to pick up the mess. He had whispered, winking, "I don't usually kneel for a guy I’ve just met."

Jacob had held back a laugh, embarrassment preventing him from looking them in the eye for an hour or so.  

The first few days, Jacob found them very irritating. He wasn't used to having exuberant personalities around. Then they had started smoking together during breaks, finding out they were neighbors. And before he knew it, Dodger soon became the only person he could breathe around again. He realized that all that energy, the jokes, and the flirting were a just mask. Dodger’s life had never been easy, and that was something they had in common.

Lately, however, they had gone back to being  utterly obnoxious. 

He was tidying up the last few boxes in the storeroom when Dodger appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed over their chest. "Yo, Bod. Wanna hang out after work?" they asked casually, though Jacob already knew where that conversation was heading to. 

He paused mid-lift. "What’s the plan? I should stop by my place to.....check if everything's okay."

A grimace crossed Dodger's face. "I just don’t feel like being at my place today. Want a hand unpacking some boxes?" 

His instinct was to refuse, but he swallowed the words. He just nodded. "Yeah. Okay. If you want to." 

It wasn't easy for Jacob,  letting someone into his house, just as it wasn't generally easy  letting people into his life. He had learned early, before he even  knew how to read and do math, that nothing was forever - especially people. 

Dodger had managed to carve out a space in his chaos. They had already been over at his house a few times after work, and Jacob had  needed to explain to his father what gender-neutral pronouns were. 

Even though they had never explicitly talked about what was wrong in their lives, they had both sensed something about each other in that regard.

"Perfect," they said, biting their index finger,  coyly. "And then..."

"I'm not going to that party," Jacob interrupted. Dodger let out the most dramatic sigh their lungs could possibly  let out. It was probably the three-hundredth time they had asked him to join the party, so Jacob cut them off before they could even  breathe a word about it again. 

Half the town was covered with flyers about it. Jacob was the last person who would ever care about a night like that - music, gallons of alcohol, university students looking for a casual hookup. Jacob  loathed them all. Just the thought of the smell of cheap cocktails mixed with  convenience store body spray made him sick to his stomach. 

And Dodger knew perfectly well that they wouldn't be able to convince him, because Jacob never made it a secret how much he hated socializing; yet they kept pushing that button, over and over again. 

Jacob tried not to get too annoyed, because he suspected that despite being such an open, social person, Dodger didn't actually have many friends to hang out with. Dodger blamed their social status and the bullying they had endured in high school. They were desperate to go, they said, because they had found out that a guy they had a crush on since middle school would be there, and  Dodger hoped to reconnect. And by "reconnect," they probably meant "hook up".

Jacob cared about his friend, but he couldn't overcome the social phobia he had self-diagnosed, which had been weighing on him for years. 

"Bod, I promise-" 

The tinkling of the shopkeeper bells announced a customer. Jacob waved Dodger goodbye, flashing an annoyingly satisfied grin,  avoiding yet another argument.

Dodger spun around, pointing his index finger at his temple and  mimicking a gunshot, then returned to the counter muttering something in French, knowing full well that Jacob hadn’t yet learnt to speak it.

Jacob joined him after storing away the last two boxes, adjusting his apron.

He had heard a man greeting Dodger, and them replying with more enthusiasm than usual.

Moirin’s bakery was all  pastel colors, flowers, and vibrant paintings. It reminded him of strawberries, matcha tea, and spring. The customer, a young man, stood out starkly against the shop’s aesthetic, like a splash of black ink, and immediately caught his eye. With decisive yet elegant steps, he had moved past the tables and stopped at the pastry display case, chatting with Dodger in French.

He tucked a lock of curly, pitch-black hair - long enough to caress his collarbones - behind his ear. He wore an expensive-looking coat that fell below his knees, revealing leather pants and studded combat boots. 

After realizing the guy was staring back at him,  Jacob awkwardly met his eyes for half a second.  He quickly forced a smile, then rushed to find anything to do, his eyes  fixed on the floor, as if the tiles had suddenly become incredibly interesting. That exchange had been… strange?

Who was that?

He started cleaning the back of the counter with the first rag he managed to find - it wasn’t really dirty, but… what was the harm?

While he waited patiently for the guy to decide if he wanted to order anything, Dodger watched Jacob out of the corner of his eye, as if he were acting mental.

"What?", he hissed, defensively.

Moirin’s voice shattered the silence - and jumpscared Jacob - with an affectionate, theatrical  shriek.

He had almost forgotten that Moirin was in the kitchen.

She stepped through the small door separating them from the  other room, throwing her apron on the counter. She ran into the  boy’s arms.

Moirin called him what sounded like an  endearing nickname, but Jacob didn’t catch it - he wasn’t even sure what language it was, because Moirin was Italian, but  his ear wasn’t trained enough to distinguish Romance languages. He  kept pretending to be busy with chores while the two of them murmured something. Then Moirin’s high-pitched voice reached him.

"This is my new baby fawn, such a precious boy", she said enthusiastically, gesturing to Jacob to  come closer with a wave of her hand. He left the rag on the surface, looking around as if the woman might be talking about someone else. "Jacob, this is my nephew."

Jacob felt his  stomach tensing. He forced another smile and wiped his palms on his apron before timidly stepping forward to shake the young man’s hand.

"You’re embarrassing him, Moi. I’m Asa, nice to meet you," the raven-haired man introduced himself, with a firm handshake that seemed to last a second too long. "But I prefer to go by Revie." Two piercings shimmered beneath his perfect smile. Jacob had never seen that kind of lip piercings on anyone before. "Are you from around here, Jacob?"

"Um, no," he stammered. Moirin had stepped away to put a couple of muffins in a paper bag. "I… I just moved here, um, recently," he cleared his throat. He ignored Dodger, who was following the scene with his elbow leaned next to the register, his chin on his palm, and an amused smirk on his face.

"Guessed so. I’ve never seen you around. There’s going to be a great party tonight at Robin Red Hat’s Pub," he said, glancing over at Dodger. "The owner’s a dear friend of mine. Just tell him Revie invited you - free entrance."

Dodger blinked a couple of times, incredulous. He spread his arms wide and stared at Jacob, as if that was some sign from fate.

Asa gave him the most charming wink he’d ever seen. He almost thought he could see his smile sparkle like in movies. He felt himself blushing. "Don’t miss it."

Jacob breathed a sigh of relief when the guy finally walked away with his aunt, stopping to chat with her outside before leaving. It seemed like he had been holding his breath until that moment.

Then he had to lean against the  counter for a few seconds, letting out a shaky breath. He could still feel the pressure of those eyes on his skin, like an invisible mark.

What just happened?