Bouquets of Chocolate (manxman)

Two

Saturdays are market days. Apart from receiving orders for pastries, cakes and bread, making, then delivering them, I go to markets on Saturdays, selling my food and trying other people's. In the beginning, it was very much because I needed to get my name out there. No one knew who I was, so the market was a way to get people to try what I make and hopefully order more. Now, I simply go because I enjoy it. Yes, it makes money and yes, it's still a good way to advertise my business, but mainly it just makes me happy. Being a generally quite antisocial person with an online food based delivery business means that I rarely see or interact with another person; and what little urge I have to do so I get to sate on these Saturdays.

Now it's almost midnight the night before, a Friday, and I'm still sitting at my kitchen table drinking tea. Camomile. Just to make sure that when I do get to bed, I'll fall asleep quickly. Saturdays unfortunately also mean an early start to finish off all my baked goods.

I sigh, once again checking the time, hoping that I'll hear the familiar opening of the front door, either mine or his, soon. I've been doing this for the last few days already. A couple of his sous-chefs haven't been able to come in for one reason or another, so he agreed to cover them where possible. This led to him having worked for three weeks straight now. After I found him sitting asleep in front of his door one morning, I decided to simply make sure he gets home every day.

I'm debating calling him at this point, or even walking to the restaurant to pick him up or meet him on the way, but before I can even reach for my phone, my front door opens.

"Jordie?" I call as I make my way to him. I only hear some rattling as he's trying to take his shoes off.

"Mhmm." he mumbles as he sees me. He's already half asleep. Working from opening to closing every day for so long will do that to you.

"Sammie," he whines, reaching his arms out. I roll my eyes but comply, giving him a hug and simultaneously half dragging him to my living room, where I drop him onto the sofa.

He immediately turns on his side without even acknowledging that I literally just let him fall.

"Don't get comfortable. You need to go home." I say when I see his eyelids drop.

"Too far," he mumbles, eyes now closed. I lightly slap his cheek.

"You literally live next door, you doofus."

"Exactly. Too far. Need help tom'row." He barely even gets his words out at this point, and I can see his body relaxing into my sofa with every breath. And of course I give in.

"You can stay, but I won't let you come with me tomorrow. Just fucking sleep for a change."

He only mumbles some sort of retort that I'm fairly sure neither of us really understands, before he's out. I quickly grab him a spare duvet, finish my tea and then go to sleep myself.

By the time my alarm rings, all I managed to do is to feel even more tired than when I went to sleep. It's 4am and I can't even curse anyone out, because I was the one that set the alarm. I take my customary 3 minutes of self pity, then heave myself out of bed to head to the bathroom. 10 minutes later, I walk into the kitchen only to stop short.

Jordie is standing on at one the counter opposite the door, his back to me, as he checks on the proof of some of my bread doughs I made yesterday. I can see a finished tray of muffins on the cooling rack out on the table, another one in the oven and the remaining batter ready to be poured on the side. My second oven is occupied with two batches of cookies that I can see from here will be ready any second, but really all I can focus on his him. He's changed into a pair of my sweats, but is still wearing his t-shirt from yesterday, his hair tied in a short pony tail at the nape of his neck, a few stray strands tugged back with a clip. It's rare that I let myself go as much as I do now. I usually try to block out the part of me that wishes I could give him a back hug when I see him like this, could kiss his shoulder as he works, or even just brush his hair behind his ear when it eventually escapes even his clips, but I can't do any of that. And usually I'm good at hiding it, usually it doesn't even really hurt anymore I've gotten so used to it. Usually it's enough that we're best friends that are entirely too close for most people's comfort, that I get away with things anyone other than Jordie would find suspicious, but it's also Saturday morning and I've been awake for only about 15 minutes, so I allow myself a tiny moment of weakness.