Sanders Sides Oneshots

The Upside Of Being Stood Up (Remile)

Human AU

Standing there under the softly lit restaurant sign, fidgeting with the cuffs of his tan dress shirt, Dr. Emile Picani was starting to get the feeling that he was being bailed on by his date of the night. It was a humid evening, the combined high temperature making it practically unbearable to wear such long sleeves outside like this, even after the sun had set. The toes of his dark brown dress shoes skimmed the pavement as he bounced from foot to foot, his nerves getting to him. It was almost embarrassing that even as a therapist, he struggled to keep his nerves and his own anxiety in check sometimes. He kept checking the time. After forty-five minutes of waiting, Emile finally had to come to terms with the cold, hard truth: He'd been stood up.

With a quiet sigh, Emile gently pushed open the door of the restaurant, feeling the welcoming blast of the AC on his face. He looked almost solemnly at the hostess. "Table for one, please."

She gave him a pitying look, as if he was a puppy who'd just been kicked, making Emile hold back a wince. "Of course, dear. Right this way." She grabbed a single menu and led the way to a table meant to sit two. Tonight, however, only one seat was occupied.

"Can I get you something to drink?" The waitress asked. Emile was so out of it he hadn't even heard her introduce herself, let alone her even come up in the first place.

"I . . . uh, sweet tea, please?"

She nodded and walked away, leaving Emile alone once again. He sighed again, tapping his fingers against the dark red table cloth. He knew he was a sad, pitying sight to behold. He also knew everyone else in this restaurant could clearly assume he'd been stood up. He felt naked here, like someone had stripped everything away and tossed him in a cage of lions, vulnerable. He felt . . . like all his emotions were out, on display with no glass protecting them. A perfect set up for someone to rip them out and stomp all over them.

The waitress returned with his tea. Nodding in thanks, Emile hesitated then ordered himself a meal. He might as well try to enjoy the night and at least treat himself to a fancy dinner after a long day, right? Once the waitress left with his order, he pulled his phone out. Avoiding the dating app and the message notifications sitting there from his other matches, Emile tried to busy himself with the games he had, despite the fact that as he played them, there was no true enjoyment happening here.

"Are you doing alright?" A voice asked a few minutes later, causing Emile to look up. His eyes locked with those of another man and . . . wow. He was gorgeous, his eyes a deep brown, now wrinkled in concern. His hair, naturally brown with added purple highlights, was indeed eye catching. He was dressed in evening casual, a white, half-sleeved dress shirt with black pants and black sneakers. A brown messenger bag was settled on his shoulder, along with a black leather jacket.

"In all honesty? No," Emile chuckled, trying to laugh his situation off despite the fact it felt like there was a pit sitting inside him.

"Ah, got it. You want some company, or would you prefer I just leave you alone?"

Emile hesitated. His heart was already broken, so why not?

"Some company would be nice, actually . . ."

He looked surprised, but smiled some and sat across from him, hanging his bag and jacket off the back of the chair. "My name's Remy Sanders." He held his hand out, across the table for Emile to shake, which he did.

"Dr. Emile Picani." The therapist tried not to focus on how warm Remy's hand was, or how soft it felt . . . or how perfectly their hands fit together—

The two pulled their hands back. "A doctor, eh? Definitely impressive."

A giggle bubbled out of Emile's mouth. "Thank you. I'm a therapist. Always was a dream of mine to have a job that can help people." What was he doing? As if this man cared about his profession, let alone why he chose to go into it! Despite these worries, Remy smiled after this.