cozy cup

I.

(chapter 1)

Vinny loved his mother, he really did. But he was terrified as he stood in his room, debating whether or not it was finally time to tell her. Whether he could tell her this one aspect about himself that he had been hiding from her since middle school. They were close-the closest he had seen any other boy with their mothers-but he wasn't quite sure how she would take the news of him being...not straight.

Every morning since 8th grade, he would find himself standing in front of his bedroom door. All ready for school, then later, after graduating from school, for work, just staring at the soft, worn wood of his door, trying to work up the courage to finally tell her. Just tell her. But he never did, and he probably never would. Releasing a sigh, he shoved his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots in his frustration.

 
Ruffling his hair lightly, he opened the door, grabbing his bag from the hook to the right of the doorway, and walked out into the hallway. He walked straight to the door, pocketing his house keys and sliding into his shoes. "Bye, Mom," he called out, hand resting on the handle.

"Bye, honey," she called back, head peeking around the corner from the kitchen. "See you later. Have a good day at work. Don't forget to eat!"

He flashed her a grin and stepped outside, ignoring the dread still heavy in his chest and the spiral of doubts lingering in the back of his head-why couldn't he just tell her?--not wanting any unnecessary negative thoughts to ruin his morning before it had even started.

It was a nice day, warm and sunny. Work would probably be a little extra busy today, everyone coming in for a cool drink in the warming weather. He dreaded it, yes. Lots of people made him anxious, and being timed while surrounded by so many people sent him practically into a panic. But he was also excited. The new spring menu just went into effect, and he was more than ready to make them.

Practically skipping his way to his powder blue bug that he's still not used to having, he slid into the driver's seat, started it up, and drove to work. It wasn't very far away from his mother's house, where he was staying until he could find an apartment closer to school and his job. He was on break right now, and he was enjoying having time for his hobbies again, even if most of his free time was still taken up by work. Even so, work was a bit of a hobby in itself, too. He loved making coffee and attempting latte art, even though he wasn't all that great at it.

 
The cafe came into sight, right in the center of downtown, and he carefully parked in his usual spot in the back lot, right next to the backdoor and as far away from the dumpster as possible. He absolutely did not want to chance bumping his new car against the filthy hunk of metal. Further, he couldn't afford to fix any damage should that happen. With that in mind, he turned off the car, opening the door just enough for him to slide out, and walked over to the backdoor, locking the bug over his shoulder as he went.

Pulling the heavy door open, huffing and puffing in the process, he rushed his way to the break room. Jeez, he thought. I really need to work out or something. Can't even open a door. He laughed breathlessly at himself, and though he was early, he hurriedly shoved his way through the break room door, slipped his work apron on, and made his way through the kitchen.

"Hey-a, Vinny," his boss, Roe Wallace, called to him from where she was working at kneading a dough, some kind of batter mixing at her right. Something delicious, no doubt. Everything she made was amazing, and the success of the business was proof enough.

"Morning, Roe," he grinned, stopping to catch his breath. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing a stubborn curl off his forehead. "How's everything going this morning? Busy?"

"Not any more than usual," she said, grunting as she gave the dough one last good hit and leaning over to turn off the mixer. "Go ahead and clock in since you're already here." She sent him a grin, and he couldn't stop the amused smile from creeping up when he saw the streak of flour across her forehead.