Spices (FIRST DRAFT) ~ An Alejandro and Alfred Story

𝓕𝓸𝓾𝓻

My eyes flicker open and closed as I lean against the Casa Vallarta window. I've been waiting for Alejandro to open the restaurant for a week now, walking by the place every day.

On Friday I arrive at the office later, so I decide to wait one more time for him, or else I'm going back to his house.

I begin to doze off, the whooshing of cars around me dragging me to sleep. My heart almost jumps out of my chest as I hear a low voice ask, "what are you doing?"

I snort awake and stand up, almost knocking into Alejandro. He stares at me, confused, restaurant key in hand.

I feel like crying. It's been a week since he broke down in front of me, and I thought him venting to me would make him better, but he looks just as bad. As if he hasn't gotten up from the couch, I left him on until Friday morning.

"Breakfast," I croak with a forced smile.

Alejandro doesn't respond, just averts his gaze, his long curls covering his face, but I already saw enough. His eyes were puffy and dull, tear stains still visible on his cheeks, and his posture was awful. His shoulder dropped so low that he appeared my height.

He unlocks the door and pushes it open, but doesn't step inside. Instead, he breathes in and out. Slowly.

I simply watch. This is all he knows. Every day. For three years. Every damn day he works at this restaurant, goes home, sees his daughter for a bit, sleeps, and repeats.

Alejandro stirs and begins to head inside, steps slow and heavy.

He places his things on the counter, and I turn on the lights and unstack the chairs.

He murmurs, "you don't have to do that."

This seems familiar. "I already told you Monday, I want to."

Running a hand over his face, he sighs. "Why, though?"

"Because you need help. I can't let you spend any more of your days alone. Look what it's doing to you."

"I'm fine," he insists. "Really. I'll be okay."

I finish and begin to walk toward him. "Of course. Once crying every day, wanting to disappear from the world, drinking until you ramble nonsense, and being emotionally distant and closed off becomes okay, yeah, you'll be alright."

I don't think he appreciates my sarcasm because I spot his jaw tightening. Once more, he sighs and heads into the kitchen. "I need coffee," he says.

The mention of the caffeine drink makes my eyes droopy again, so I follow him to have some too.

We drink in silence, and I amble around the place, inspecting every detail.

"Alfred," Alejandro says. I stare at him, but he doesn't say anything, just looks back and forth between my eyes. His looked dead.

I begin to press my eyebrows together. Why'd he just say my name?

He moves his mouth around, trying to piece together words. Eventually, he quickly tells me, "thank you." And hides his face behind his cup, drinking from it.

I smile. It's enough. As long as he isn't telling me to go away, I'm doing something right.

"You want breakfast?" I suggest. "I'll make you something."

He looks around the kitchen for some reason, then agrees and heads out of the kitchen.

~~~

"I forgot something… I… can't cook." It's embarrassing to admit, considering I'm the one who suggested making him food.