Hold Me Now

Authors note: Its a slow burn.

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He had no idea I existed, did he?

Which I knew, and I knew it was unfair of me to even pretend he would know I existed, or that there was anything between us other than politie nods. He was a CUSTOMER and I'm just some guy trying to pay for Uni, and frankly he wouldn't even care about that. The extent of our affair was me getting his order right. It would never go anywhere, even if he would look up for once in his goddamn life and realise he had a really tall and- on a good day- kind of cute waiter, it's not like I really, actually, truly thought that was grounds for a relationship but.... Still. I wish he'd give me something. Anything. Just a little smile when I sat down his coffee...

"Give it up." My boss, Gideon, said with a sigh as I returned to polish cutlery with him. "He's straight." I glanced at Gid. Shit. Was I that obvious? I really thought I was playing it cool. Too cool if anything. Like, Ed didn't even fucking know my name, or the fact that I was gay, or the fact that I was totally his type if he bothered to get to know me... Anyway, the shit did Gideon know? He's a pretty great boss, I'll be honest. That's probably because I'm his favourite- not that he'd ever say that, but I totally am. I work pretty hard, and I guess he sees it- I get a lot of leeway the other staff don't; ya know, like a free wine here and there and early finishes whenever he can do that. He said I remind him of him which is goddamn hilarious when you put us side by side because he's barely up to my shoulders... but I know what he means. I guess he kind of got his shit together in the last year- what with... uggh... falling in love and getting married.... But we're made of the same cloth. Creative. A bit over compensating sometimes because god forbid anyone thought we were soft. Hard workers. And kind of- well maybe not him anymore- but definitely ME... disaster zones.

"You have literally the worst gaydar in the world." I raised my eyebrows at him pointedly.

"Do not." Gideon glared at me.

"You thought your own husband was straight."

"That's different." He rolled his eyes. "He was."

"Well maybe it's like that then." I stole a glance at the table in the window. "Ed's just waiting for the right dick and then he'll marry me."

"That doesn't happen in real life." Gideon groaned.

"It did to you."

"I'm the exception that proves the rule."

"That's the stupidest phrase I've ever heard." I giggled. Gideon glanced up and grinned as he caught my eye.

"You gotta admit I'm the exception though." He said. I mean. Yeah. Totally. It was so unfair that he got a perfect love story with a happily ever after right in front of me and I was still single and hadn't been laid in months. Gideon told me to try Grindr. Desperate bottoms who'll send me a photo of their insides but not their face? Lame tops who think a dick pic taken on the toilet will somehow make me come begging? Spare me. My friends told me to try chatting to guys at Ivy. Well I did chat to guys at Ivy. Like every night. But I was having the world's most unlucky streak. Gideon says I come on too strong. Sue me for wanting a connection, not just a hole. Or a dick. I've learnt not to be fussy.

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I watched Ed as I made coffee. He'll sit in the window and play on his phone for an hour over lunch almost religiously. In summer he has a chicken salad and a glass of Chardonnay. The weathers pretty bitter right now and he's switched to pasta and Syrah. He's a fraction taller than me and I'm 6'3 so he must be the perfect height, 6'4 I guess. God we'd be a disarming couple with all that height between us. He has wavy blonde hair and big brown eyes and a soft cherubic face. His nose is wonky, like it was broken once and not quite set right. He works out. He came in wearing his gym gear once and I had to carefully contain myself before I braved talking to him. He is perfect. I'm deeply, deeply in love with him.

I think he's gay. Gideon thinks I'm an idiot. But Gideon really does have the world's worst gaydar. It's because he never used to actually hit on people, before he started fucking his straight friend and fell in love and got married and all that. He just used hookup apps, and he had like 15 guys on speed dial. He used to be a total fucking whore, the whole city knows it. I could be a whore. I've definitely tried sleeping around. But I always texted them the next day, asked if they wanted to grab dinner, or like, see a movie....

"You can probably finish, Bales."

"Huh?" I glanced up at Gideon.

"We're pretty quiet. If you want the hours I can find you some cleaning..."

"No that's great!" I was already halfway out of my apron when I realised I was being an ass. "Sorry." I stopped myself from bolting at the first chance of freedom. "I can stay if it's helpful." He smiled at me.

"You're alright. Save my wage costs. Go get a head start on... studying or drinking or smoking durries outside Romeos or whatever young people do these days." I rolled my eyes.

"You know me way too well." I mumbled as I signed out. "Thanks Gid. Owe you one."

"No you don't." He said with a sigh. "If anything I owe you for covering for Sophie again. Never leave me."

"Never." I promised. "Even when I'm rich and famous you can always call."

I strolled out and went to Romeos, the sandwich bar round the corner, and I almost walked in with my cigarette still lit but the guy who works there grabbed my t- shirt and stopped me just in the doorway.

"Woah, woah, Bailey." He said. "Filthy smokers outside."

"Shit, my bad." I blushed awkwardly. He just laughed and stubbed his out.

"The reg?" He asked. "Schnitty sub, filter and a natty?"

"You got it." I mumbled. I don't know where they teach these guys to talk. He means a chicken sandwich, a bottomless coffee and a glass of natural wine. I could try something else I guess. I always feel like I've been hanging around a place too long when they know my order. And my name, apparently. I didn't remember him ever asking. Actually, I didn't remember him at all. So I guess I'm here way too often.

"Sweet as, be waiting for you at the bar." He grinned and nodded at me as I leant against the wall and had another cigarette. Gideon says I smoke too much. I do. I started real young because all my cool older friends smoked and fitting in was like my number one priority, and now I just like it I guess, and I think vaping looks lame as hell.

As promised, everything was arranged on the bar for me when I settled in with my laptop. I try not to be a total ass and stay there for hours because it's a tiny place and I know better than anyone how annoying it is when you're trying to make money to have some dick taking up space and sitting on the bottomless filter coffee. Sometimes I'll tuck my stuff under the counter and just stand outside for half an hour chain smoking and think about my latest projects for school, how to catch Miro Te Whiti's eye so I could exhibit in her gallery, and mill around until they have space again and I can order another wine. Sometimes they even let me spill out onto the pavement with the wine, but only in a takeaway coffee cup, and really only the younger guys who sort of know me. If one of the bosses are around that's a hard no. I was contemplating asking because it was a weirdly busy afternoon for a Wednesday when a takeaway cup appeared in front of me.

"Not on the list, Ash dropped it off." The guy at the counter said. "Up your alley I think. Chilled red, real acidic. The paper gives it extra flavour." He winked at me. "Take it outside, I need the bar Bailey." I blinked at him. It was so weird. I'm in here all the time, like obviously, but I really don't think I'd talked to this guy before. He clearly had my number though. I slipped off the stool and closed my laptop, which he carefully put on a shelf below the counter and he grinned at me. "That one's on the house." He said. "Cos you're a good sport."

"Oh shit. Oh no- it'll be great. I'll pay, but yeah, I'll head outside..."

"You can't afford it." He grinned at me. "Thanks, B." He whisked himself away as I went outside again and immediately regretted not grabbing my jacket- but the guy at the counter had already somehow magiced that away too so I just sat on the pavement and sipped on the wine and wrote down notes for the installation I was planning for my course.

"There he is." A cherry voice interrupted my thoughts and I looked up to see one of the theatre majors I'd done some set work for last trimester leaning on the wall. I hastily scrambled up, oops, looked like a total hobo, and shook his hand.

"Hey Pip."

"What are ya drinking?" I glanced at the coffee cup. Something sharp and juicy and bloody delicious.

"Uhh... filter." I lied. "They've kicked me out for a minute while they serve the real customers." Pip laughed.

"I'll join ya." He hopped inside and I watched him catch the eye of the guy at the bar. They were obviously old friends- they leant across the counter and embraced each other despite the crowd. They talked for a second when the bartender's eyes went really wide and he leant in. And then they both turned to look at me and I quickly turned away as my ears went red. Ugh. Talking about me. I hope it was nice. Pip returned a minute later and we leant against the wall. "So what are you up to?" He asked. I tried to play it cool and not say 'the sickest project ever' and talk his ear off... I just gestured to my notebook.

"The usual." I said..

"Chuffing darts and breaking hearts?" He grinned.

"Something like that." I mumbled.

"Man, I can't say I've been breaking any hearts lately." He said, casually flicking his cigarette. "Dry patch. Tell me you know some cool art chicks I can meet next project we do."

"Sure. When's the next project?" I glanced at him.

"We have a show coming up for Fringe. Comedy maybe? It's a modern kiwi take on The Trial."

"Kafka? Is that comedy?"

"It's a fucking riot!" Pip laughed. "Funniest shit I've ever read, you read much Kafka?"

"God no! Spare me. I read Transmetropolitan."

"That some wanky New York magazine?"

"Na, comic book." I smiled at him.

"Yeah that's fair. I guess that's like, actually palatable." He sighed. "So anyway, get some girls to work with you, I need the help mate." I rolled my eyes. God, does no guy ever think with anything other than his dick? He grinned as he saw my face.

"Oh, ok, ok. What? Is your sex schedule so filled up you can't even imagine needing help?" He teased.

"So what kind of set are we looking at?" I fiddled with my cup.

"Na uh." He didn't let me change the subject. "Are you drowning in it?" He asked. "Bales, you dark horse." I looked over at him reluctantly.

"Na. Scene is dire at the moment. It's actually... been a while..." I trailed off. As if I wasn't counting the days. 62, for anyone interested. 62 days since I touched a guy. Gonna be real fucking funny in a week.

"Single then?" He grinned.

"Yuh." I snorted.

"Cruising or looking for something more?" He asked thoughtfully. I stared at him.

"You offering?" I joked. He laughed and glanced inside.

"Just asking." He shrugged. "I know some cool guys, that's all. But he's... they're... more into... long term."

"He's?!" Pip blushed.

"Oh, sorry- I... assumed..."

"Correctly." I laughed. "Someone in particular?" He gave me a tiny little grin.

"Maybe." He said. He opened his mouth but we were interrupted by the guy from inside coming out with three milk crates. He nodded at us and set them up.

"Get comfortable." He sat down on one and lit a cigarette. "Fuck, what a shift."

"Busy?" Pip asked. He snorted.

"Shit show. Had to 86 half the menu. Assholes hogging the tables on filter for hours...." He glanced at me. "Oh. Not you, you're cool."

"Bailey's hospo too." Pip said. "Bales, this is Harrison, he's an old mate from primary school."

"Shit." I shook his hand. "That's a long way back." Harrison grinned at Pip.

"Sure is." He said. "So hospo? Kind of figured, you know the rules." I didn't know the rules. I didn't know what he meant at all, but Pip nodded sagely before turning to me.

"So." He said brightly. "Super single and looking for a man." He glanced at Harrison and I sighed. Nice one, Pip, just tell everyone I meet what a disaster I am. That's a super cool rep to have. I stared awkwardly at my drink and eventually Pip had to break the silence. "What's your type?" He asked me.

"Uhhh... reciprocating?" I sighed. Pip laughed and Harrison grinned.

"Oh, na." Harrison shook his head. "You gotta moon over someone who doesn't know you exist, trust me that's the good stuff."

"Ahhh yeah. I know." I sighed. "You know, you see someone everyday, and you know what they order, and you know you'd be perfect together if only he'd like, I dunno, uh, ask you how your day has been...." Harrison and Pip glanced at each other. "And would it kill him to wear a rainbow flag or something?" I muttered. "I'm sure he's gay but I'd appreciate the confirmation." Pip cleared his throat.

"Someone in particular?" He asked. I sighed.

"Ed." I grumbled. Harrison and Pip were still looking at each other weirdly. Ok, calm down. No one needs to know about your massive unrequited infatuations with men you can never have.

"So like... chances of that working are..." Pip said slowly.

"Less than zero." I admitted. Pip grinned.

"Sweet." He said. "So you should keep looking." Thanks, the advice everyone had already given me. Yep, tried it. Can't help who you fall for. Pip glanced at his phone. "Ah... I have a thing..." he said slowly. "Should really head..."

"Stay!" Harrison said quickly. "Please." He widened his eyes. "Don't be lame." He said. Pip raised his eyebrows.

"Na, you two hang out, someone else will drift by. I'll see ya soon." He grinned and escaped before I could even say goodbye and I bit my lip as I glanced at Harrison. He was staring into his cup and was starting to turn a little pink. Yeah. I'm the worst to be foisted with. Boring, boring, dumb, gay disaster who can't hold a conversation about anything except men and art. I sighed deeply, internally, and tried to think of a normal something to say.

"So... how's your day been?" He asked quietly.

"Oh, thanks." I smiled at him. That was really nice of him to ask. And to let me off the hook for having to start a conversation. "Really good. I got called into work so I had to skip a lecture but it was super quiet so I had a chance to think about my art and stuff..."

"Oh art?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm a student but I'm going to be an artist." I laughed at my own overconfidence. "And a waiter, probably forever." I admitted.

"Cool! What like.. uh what do you do?"

"Installation stuff." I grinned. "Wanna see?" Ugh, no, Bailey, no one wants to see your shitty student art. But I was pulling out my phone anyway, and Harrison actually seemed interested, he shuffled closer to look over my shoulder. I showed him the last thing I'd been working on. Lights are kind of my thing. I'd matched them up to the sounds of people breathing.... I recorded my flatmate Briony going for a run, and a friend Jonno smoking a cigarette- and me wanking even, although I probably couldn't get away with broadcasting that until I was a LOT more famous... And then I wired all the lights and put them in an empty room synched up to the sounds and I thought it was pretty overwhelmingly beautiful, you know... Just you, in a dark room, with the light and the sounds.....

"Oh shit!" He said. "That's so cool!"

"I know, right?" I grinned. "I wired all the lights myself, I electrocuted myself like 7 times." He laughed.

"So you actually make it? You don't just like... write the idea down and hire people?"

"Hire people?! I'm an art student working like 35 hours, what the shit could I hire someone with?"

"35 hours on top of study?!" Harrison blinked. "Hell I struggle with 40 and this is all I do."

"Can't be all you do." I looked at him. "What's like... your thing?"

"Um." He frowned. "No, this is it."

"Doubt." I raised my eyebrows at him. Everyone has a thing. Even if it's just an escape plan. "You wake up to a screen, and it's saying select your destiny." I said slowly. "There's a million options- everything you've ever dreamed of, everything you can imagine. What do you pick?" Harrison laughed and blushed.

"Um." He winced. "Ah, ok. Well." He glanced at me and took a deep breath. "You ever seen Metalocalypse?" I shook my head.

"Sounds dire. Like a festival? This will shock you but I'm more into like... Camp A Low Hum...." He laughed.

"God you would be." He grinned. "Didn't that end like ten years ago? And you fucking hipsters are still moaning about it being cancelled." I smiled at him.

"Metalocalypse?" I prompted.

"It's a TV show." He bit his lip as he looked at me. "It's um... maybe an acquired taste."

"Go on."

"It's a band of idiots saving the world and fucking people and getting wasted and being famous. I wanna be the lead guitarist, he's got mad game." He laughed. "Ah, that sounds really dumb out loud."

"So you play guitar?" He shrugged.

"Uh... definitely not your genre, B."

"Metal?"

"Hell yeah."

"Is that actually playing or is it just like power chords?" Harrison took a deep breath and slowly put his hand to his chest.

"Tonny lommi, Richie Blackmore, Randy Rhodes, Dave Mustaine, Adrian Smith, and Buckethead want a word with you." He said.

"I've heard of Van Halen." I said. "Does he rank?" Harrison shrugged and wrinkled his nose.

"Yes, he counts." He said. "But I guess he wouldn't be in my top ten." I smiled at him. See, everyone had a thing.

"What's your favourite band?" He grinned at me and lit another cigarette.

"Tough." He said. "Probably Death..."

"Oh like Death Metal? All of it?" Harrison winced.

"Well, no, the band is called Death and they're actually Floridian Old School Black Metal, but then the thing is, and I'm only telling you this because you clearly have no idea about anything so you don't know I'm a poser, my actual favourite genre is more like heavy rock, like Mastodon and Red Fang..." He suddenly cut himself off. "Ah- ha ha. Sorry. Uh. So you listen to... uhhh... some like hipster wank I've never heard of?" He smiled at me so I knew he wasn't really being mean. I shrugged.

"Well. I don't have time to go trawling for bands you've never heard of so I guess like... Massive Attack, Portishead, Beth Orton, that kind of thing, yeah." Harrison nodded.

"Nice. I like trip hop too. You just can't like..." He started to bang his head. "You know?" He said as he laughed and brushed his hair off his face. "Like, thrash to it." He explained.

"You could try." I grinned. He laughed.

"I'll give it a shot when I get home. Gimme your favorite tune, I'll bash it out."

"Ah- ok..." I grinned. "Look up Bjork- possibly maybe."

"Sweet." He wrote that down and I smiled at his enthusiasm.

"You're gonna really struggle to thrash that I'll be honest." He raised his eyebrows at me and folded his arms.

"I'm up for a challenge." He said. "I'll post it on insta, gimme a follow." I laughed and played with my phone, handing it to him so he could look himself up. I glanced at it. Lots of band photos, pictures of food, some of Romeos and other staff I'd seen. I scrolled through and he clicked off. "Nothing there." He said. "And don't scroll too far I get lame like two years back." I grinned.

"Oh so you're, like, super cool now? Like a rockstar?" He laughed and punched me in my shoulder. "Na go on." I teased him. "Tell me about it. Free beer? Hot groupies?"

"Our groupies are sweaty, hairy lads." He winced.

"Oh, not your type?" He glanced at me and smiled thinly.

"Ah. Not exactly." He said. He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. "My type...." But I'd never find out what his type was because we were interrupted by Louis, another part time hospo, full time dreamer guy who I'd known practically forever. He waved at me and plonked down on the empty milk crate, helping himself to my cigarettes.