Muffled feelings

Edgar sighed, and steeled himself in front of the house phone. Before he could think twice about it, he grabbed the receiver and dialled the number he knew by heart despite himself. He drummed his fingers on the small table the phone was on while he waited for the person at the other end of the line to answer: a selfish part of him wished for no-one to actually do that, but in that case he would have probably been morally obligated to call again or at the very least leave a voice message, which was debatably even worse.

He did not have to wait all that long, however, because then there was the telltale sign of someone accepting the call. “Hello, here house Smith. Who is it?” Edgar could not be sure about that, but the voice had a subdued, muted quality to it.

“… hey, John. It’s Edgar.”

“Ed? Sorry, I wasn’t- I wasn’t expecting a call from you…” Of course he was not. Edgar could not blame him, since he never called him unless it was somehow schoolwork related, but he supposed that in that case it was only the bare minimum, as his… as one of his acquaintances.

“Don’t worry.”

“What can I do for you?” He seemed torn between being excited and suspicious.

Edgar took a deep breath. “I…” He twirled the wire of the receiver with his index finger, knowing full well that it was way too late to have second thoughts about that whole ordeal. “… are you by chance free this afternoon?” There, he had said it.

There were a few seconds of silence, but then John spoke in a tone that was both amused and exaggeratedly delighted for that situation. “… Ed, are you actually asking me out?”

Edgar gripped the receiver tighter, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Put like that, it was way too misleading. “No, I just-” He had not really thought that plan through and it showed. “It’s just that the sky cleared today, and you still had to take me to that teahouse you promised me, that’s all.”

“Now you just sound like you wanted me to ask you out.”

“Are you free, yes or no? If you’re not, then you can forget about this-”

“No, no- I mean, yes! I’m free!”

Edgar was not sure if he was glad or the exact opposite. He preferred not thinking too much about that. “… good. The meeting point is in front of the library, at 15 o’clock. See you later, don’t be late.” He did not give John any time to answer, putting the receiver back on its place on the top of the house phone and successfully ending the call.

He sighed: that had been taxing, but still had to be done, even though there was a part of him that already wanted that day to end.

*

Edgar critically looked at his wristwatch, nervously tapping his foot on the ground. It was in that moment, however, that he heard someone running towards him.

“Ed!”

Edgar lifted his gaze, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re late.”

John stopped next to him, putting his hands on his knees and panting. “I’m sorry, I-”

Edgar rolled his eyes, sighing. “… whatever. Are you… okay?”

“I’m… fine. Give me a minute.” When John managed to breathe normally again, he straightened up. “Okay, so, where are we going?”

Edgar simply made a vague gesture. “Follow me.”

As soon as they reached their destination, however, John stopped before entering, looking confused. “… Wait, this isn’t a teahouse.”

“Very astute, John. I commend you for your observation skills” Edgar commented, opening the door of the Café Whitebell, which prompted the few small chimes hung there to jingle. After greeting the owner, he sat down at one of the most secluded spots, grabbing the menu.

John followed him, taking a seat on the chair in front of him, but his expression did not change. “You said ‘teahouse’, I remember. I had to take you to a teahouse.”

“You’re right, of course, but I changed my mind. You can do that another time.”

“There will be another time?”

Edgar did not like the eagerness in the other’s voice, nor the excitement painted all over his face. “… Maybe, if you don’t unnerve me too much.” Before John could somehow misinterpret his words as something ten times more embarrassing, he focused his attention back on the menu. “In any case, choose whatever you like. My treat.”

John’s eyes widened. “But-”

“In this café they make a lot of different chocolate drinks. You like those, right?”

John blinked, surprised, and his motions stopped for a few seconds, but then his face broke into one of the softest and sappiest expressions Edgar had ever witnessed him making – and it meant a lot, since they had known each other for a while now and those ones were John’s speciality –. “Thank you, Ed.”

His pretty hazel eyes were shining with gratitude and the afternoon light hit his features just right, making his short and tussled brown hair gain mesmerising reddish hues, and Edgar quickly and pointedly refocused on the menu not to be caught staring at him, ignoring with a passion his flaming cheeks and hammering heart. “… just choose something.”

“Do you have something to recommend me?”

Never a menu had been so interesting. “Yes, the Whitebell Special.”

“I’ll take that, then.”

Edgar peered at him from behind his menu, hoping his relief was not too obvious: John was probably still a bit sad, but now he was finally smiling again.

It was a good look on him, and Edgar thought that was how things were meant to be.