I Told The Moon About You

3: Jupiter's Moons

THREE
Jupiter's Moons

It had quickly become a thing.

Marco's little group, that is. Nearly every morning they came in, whether all together or only one or two of them. The only constant seemed to be Roman, who ate the same thing (a plate of two waffles drenched in syrup and hashbrowns) and drank the same thing (iced caramel coffee).

He didn't go for anything else. Elias wondered how he did it — ate the same thing every day. He could never do that. He got sick of things too fast.

And every day he came, he sat in the same spot, only spoke through Elias' notepad and lazy hand gestures. He had gotten the hang of what he was trying to say quickly; it was surprisingly easy to pick up. Double tapping on the menu meant he wanted a large coffee, not a medium one, for example.

Elias wondered if he knew sign language. It would be easier to communicate with him. Unless he just really didn't like speaking unless he needed to.

He hadn't heard his voice, even when his friends were making conversation with him. As much as Elias hated getting into other people's business, he was curious. Was there a significant reason behind Roman's choice to stay silent? Was it medical, a preference, did something happen?

Elias had to remind himself they were still strangers who only met through one serving the other every morning. His business was not Elias' business, and that fact went both ways, not just one.

"Rome, come on," one of the guys said. Elias had finally learned all their names. Marco, Felix, Roman — the last two were Anthony and Anthony. Yes, they had the same name. Elias called them Thing #1 and Thing #2 inside his head for his own sake.

Roman glanced at Thing #1, brows furrowed. Anthony sighed heavily. "The last time you talked to us was like, a week ago, and that was to say we were too loud."

"Yeah," Marco added, slurping his drink even though there was nothing left. Elias took it to refill. "Thanks, pretty boy. Anyway — Rome, let us hear that sexy ass voice."

Roman scoffed, shaking his head. As Elias slid Marco's new drink toward him, the man grabbed him by the arm abruptly and stated: "Pretty boy wants to hear it."

Elias flinched. "Uh, no, it's okay. He doesn't have to talk if he doesn't want to."

Marco squeezed, making Elias hiss. "He actually means he wants to hear, he's just trying to be nice. Niceness is for losers. Rome, speak for the pretty boy."

"Elias," he corrected in a mumble, but Marco just ignored him.

"Yeah, speak!" Thing #1 exclaimed, Thing #2 nodding his agreements. The only ones not pressuring him were Elias and Felix, the latter looking on the verge of tossing three of them outside.

Roman looked stressed. He leaned his forehead into his palm and stared down at his half-finished plate. Elias felt some sympathy slither into his gut. Even if his friends were just messing around, the pressure could still be annoying.

When they started chanting, Elias slapped a hand on the counter, making the noise stop as they all looked at him. "Keep it down," he ordered. "And leave him alone. He doesn't want to talk. He'll speak when he wants to. Now shut up and eat. The food wasn't made for it to just get cold."

Truly, Elias hated the contradiction of adults having the capability of being more childish than actual children. These guys couldn't be far from his age, and yet half of them acted like they were twenty years younger. It sometimes felt like Elias was looking after toddlers, especially when Marco was involved.