Blue ain't your colour (It is mine)

2

At nine o'clock sharp, a slim boy with long curls of dark blonde hair knocked on the door to the kitchens. Adam looked over from the couple whose breakfast order he was currently memorizing. He wound his way back through the tables and chairs, collecting empty dishes as he went. By the time he reached the other, he was precariously balancing plates on both hands and arms. "Lookin' for me?"

He took a measured step back out of the boy's reach as he startled and hastily turned around.
"Mr. Rupp, sir?"
"Just Adam. Nice to meet ya."
"Alright, Mr. – I mean, um, Adam. I'm Austin, Austin Brown." He extended a hand before he realized that Adam was unable to take it with his arms full of dishes. Blushing, he let it fall back to his side and bumped his elbow on the kitchen door. Adam carefully kept his expression passive; his heart went out to the insecure boy. He looked so vulnerable.
"Mind opening the door for me?" The boy seemed relieved to get out of the awkward situation.
"The door? Yeah, sure –" He pushed it open and held it so Adam could follow him through.
The waiter gracefully stepped around the bustling chefs and assistants as he got rid of his dishes and relayed orders to the guy running the pass at top speed. "Table seven – two coffees, one small orange juice, two croissants, table thirteen – hot chocolate, scrambled eggs and bacon, one small bottle of water, table eleven –" Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Austin, who still stood rooted at the spot next to the door, staring at him with a slightly terrified expression. He quickly finished calling out the orders, grabbed the ready meals waiting for delivery and headed back towards the dining room.
"I, uhm – I'm not sure I can do all of that," Austin mumbled as he followed him back out.
"Let's talk during the break, ok?" Adam replied out of the corner of his mouth, already approaching the tables. "Breakfast's busy. Just watch for now."
Watching, Adam discovered, was certainly something Austin had already mastered perfectly. He had never felt so carefully observed before. And that was saying something, considering that he sang on stage most of the evenings. It made work tricky. More than once, he had to place himself in between those watchful blue eyes and his hands as he did what Chance called "working his magic" but Adam preferred to refer to as "supreme customer service". As he lightly stepped around the tables he subtly renewed ice cubes in drinks, kept ice cream from melting, froze plates together in precarious stacks and reheated lukewarm coffee (for the prize of freezing his own hands, as he took in the coldness and defied all known laws of physics, like on any usual morning), cooling the temper of any irate guest as he restored their dishes to peak quality. He kept a careful eye on the younger boy. Tim and Rob never paid this much attention. Only Chance did, but, well, good luck to anyone trying to keep him in the dark about something.
It was only after the last guest had finished their breakfast and exited the ornate swinging door to the main corridor that Adam allowed himself a break. Sitting down at one of the tables at random, he beckoned Austin to join him. Hesitantly, the younger one sat down on a chair next to him. Eyes fixed on the floor, no longer staring, Adam noted. Really seemed to be the shy type. He extended his hand.
"Let's do it properly this time. Welcome to the team!"
Austin's hand felt warm against his skin, still icy from three busy hours of work. The boy flinched at the unexpected temperature but returned the handshake like any proper gentleman. "Thanks," he mumbled. Adam smiled. "Pleasure to be working with you. So. You probably have questions?"

Throughout the next few hours, Adam found himself growing fond of the shy boy's company. He didn't mind teaching him the job at all. The other one didn't talk much, which suited Adam just fine, but he was quick on the uptake. For the morning, Adam mostly had him help on clearing up and delivering dishes, since that meant he wouldn't have to talk to people. More than once, he narrowly saved a plate from falling. Every time, Austin turned crimson and mumbled hasty apologies. He seemed terribly self-conscious and insecure, always fiddling with his hands, not knowing where to put his arms, unable to stand still for one second. As the morning shift was nearing its end, he seemed ready to give up and hide in his quarters for the rest of his life. "Hey, that wasn't too bad!" He gave the younger one an encouraging smile as they sat down in the mess hall for a quick meal of their own.
Austin hid his face in his hands. "I nearly dropped how many plates?" he groaned. "I was terrible."
"You mean to tell me you didn't actually break a single thing during your first shift as a waiter?" Tim's deep voice cut in as he closed the door behind him and began raiding the fridge. "That's a new record. Even Adam here," he nodded toward the blond man who was leaning back in his seat and getting comfortable, "dropped at least two, if I recall correctly. Apples incoming."
"Three," Adam confirmed and deftly caught the fruits Tim was throwing his way.
"Any cheese left in there? I could swear we still had those bread rolls from breakfast."
"Nope. Chance ate them."
"Ugh. The traitor."
Tim made a vaguely affirmative noise. Austin was staring again.
"Chance – isn't he the boss?" he asked timidly.
"Yep. And a traitor, as it appears," Tim confirmed cheerfully. "Behold! We got pizza leftovers!"

During lunch, Adam made Austin practice memorizing orders.
"You have to give the words a rhythm in your mind. Make a song from them, if you like. You will never have to write anything down as long as you keep your thoughts in the right rhythm."
Austin gave him an uncertain look.
"Just try, you will see. Follow me, listen for a bit." He approached the first table, shadowed by the younger boy. "Would you like to order, sirs?"
And so, the day went on as they took orders, served meals and generally did their best to keep the guests happy. Tim shared the afternoon shift with them, but Austin stuck to Adam's side like a shadow, listening closely as the waiter showed him how he transformed orders, seat numbers and people into a smooth, rhythmical flow of whispered words. Adam's help quickly paid off. By the end ofthe afternoon shift, Austin was whispering the orders back to him in the kitchen. For all his insecurities, the boy was surprisingly creative. And when Tim beckoned him over near the end of the shift, he gave Austin a quick nod and motioned for him to go on to the kitchen. "You go call the last batch oforders. Just remember, you have a voice. Chef's gotta hear you through all that din in the kitchens."
He lightly stepped over to Tim. "What's up?"
"Just help me out here for a sec. The newbie's gotta learn to use his voice."
Adam chuckled. "That's what I told him."
They quickly finished things up and followed Austin to the kitchens. At the door, Adam stopped in his tracks, strangely touched. His protégé was standing, just like this morning, rooted to the spot and looking mildly terrified, but his sky-high voice rang through the entire room as he, smoothly and without mistake, called out the song he had made of the orders. And for a moment, beneath all the insecurities, there as a warmth and happiness shining in his eyes that Adam hadn't seen before.