Rebirth

Part Nine: Return

Waylon took a deep breath, stirred the batter for his sunflower seed bread. His hand shook a little, and he bit his lip. His earlier errands had distracted him, and he'd had a good time with his friend Mattrick at lunch, though thoughts of Monty perpetrated his mind. Monty had made such an impression on him in the short time they'd spent together yesterday. Waylon had taken a walk when he'd come home, in attempt to calm his anxiety, as time ticked closer to 18h. But his nerves had climbed higher instead.

It was 17h45. Waylon poured the batter into a pan and slid it into the oven, checking that its settings were appropriate. It wouldn't take more than five minutes, and then he'd leave it and the chicken/rice in the heat until he and Monty actually were sat. The cake could stay in the refrigerator.

Wanting to get out of the kitchen, Waylon walked to his sofa. He eased onto the cushion next to Hercules, who moved to crawl into Waylon's lap. Waylon stroked Hercules' fur, closing his eyes. Tried to focus on the quiet, to collect himself before Monty's imminent arrival. He didn't know why he should be so anxious; Monty had been genial the other day, wanting to engage with Waylon, and interested in seeing one another again. They'd gotten on very well. But Waylon wanted them to continue to get on so well. He didn't want to mess anything up that might convince Monty that Waylon wasn't worth his while.
Waylon did one last check around the apartment, his heart bouncing in his chest, a few minutes to 18h. Everything seemed ready. Waylon took another breath, exhaled. The clock moved to 18h, then 18h01 and 18h02.

At 18h03, a knock sounded.

()

In front of Waylon's door, Monty hesitated, but knocked, and tied his hands together. Waiting, he stood back, basking in the early evening atmosphere, picking up distant chattering and music from different directions, long shadows from the buildings and some trees overlapped by rays of the sun.

"Hey."
Monty jumped to attention, meeting Waylon's bright gaze. "Hello."

"Come in," Waylon invited, warm light cast behind him, aromas of whatever he was cooking wafting out and enticing Monty. The door closed behind them, and Monty exhaled, happy to be here again, despite the small size of Waylon's apartment. It was... comforting, in a way. "How are you?"

"Fine, thank you." Monty smiled. "What did you make?"

"I made sautéed, marinated chicken and cauliflower rice in a wine sauce, and there's sunflower seed bread. I hope you like it."

"I'm sure..." It wasn't a meal he would have thought of at all, but Waylon seemed to know what he was doing.

"And for dessert..." Waylon chuckled. "I'm keeping that a surprise, if you don't mind."

"Certainly."

"Everything is on the heat..." Waylon pointed to a collection of steaming opalescent containers in... some sort of clear oven. "... And I have to set the table. Do you want a drink?" He gestured at a bottle of wine. "It's really good, if you like something sweeter, though it has a bitter aftertaste."

Monty accepted a glass, and he stood in the room, conversing mildly with Waylon, Hercules running about between their feet. Waylon pulled together the dinner preparations and then invited Monty to sit down. A steaming plate of chicken and the... cauliflower rice in sauce was sat in front of him, and between them was a thick slab of sliced bread.

"Do you cook this well for yourself every night?" Monty asked, padding his bread in sauce.

Waylon shook his head. "No, I don't think I'd be able to do that." He laughed. "I guess you have servants to cook for you?"