Cast a Shadow [My Stand In]

I fear that it's a dream

Ming woke up to the smell of fried eggs. Stretching and yawning, he reached over for Joe. While he anticipated a hearty breakfast, he was a little heartbroken that Joe was nowhere to be cuddled. There were a lot of things he loved about the loft, but chief among them was the fact that barely any demarcations existed.

Sitting up in bed, he enjoyed the view of Joe, hunched over the stove as he puttered around, preparing breakfast for Ming. Whispering to himself as he cooked, laying out plates and utensils with the care and diligence of a dedicated lover. In moments like these, when Joe was unaware of Ming's attention, Ming could pretend. He could enjoy Joe without the weight of reality closing in on him.

Until Joe looked up from where he was setting the table and his eyes locked with Ming's. For a split second, Ming was sure he saw the wisp of a playful smile on Joe's lips.

"Good morning," Joe said, waving him to the table.

He couldn't exactly say the moment was broken. But it just wasn't the same. Joe's demeanor, while still very polite, felt a tad stiff. Sometimes, Ming wondered if it was just in his head. Or if Joe actually did change with his notice of Ming's presence or attention.

Shuffling off the bed, Ming slipped his feet into warm slippers, rubbing his eyes as he made his way to the table.

"I hope you like fried yams."

"Of course," Ming said, inhaling the savoring scent of his breakfast as Joe slipped a cup of coffee into Ming's hands. "Thank you so much," Ming said, his heart melting with glee.

Honestly, there were days when he was sure Joe was a literal dream. Because he couldn't be real. He had to be a figment of Ming's imagination. With the way he anticipated Ming's needs, it was hard to believe that Joe had remained in Ming's life. Or that Ming had ever even met him at all.

He drank his coffee while Joe placed the pot of yam and plate of eggs at the center of the table. Along with a pitcher of water.

"I found someone," Ming offered, as Joe slid into the seat opposite him.

"Someone for what?" Joe asked as he dished out food for himself.

"A therapist," Ming replied, dropping his cup.

"That's good."

Ming waited, but Joe didn't offer anything beyond that.

"Would you..." he began. "Do you still want to come with me?"

Dropping the dishing fork, he asked, "Do you want me to come with you?"

Ming frowned. He was unaware that there was a choice in the matter. Of course, he wanted Joe to be there. That way, Joe would know he wasn't lying about seeing someone. But beyond that... Ming wasn't so sure. A therapist would dig into things and somehow, someway, Ming would slip up. If Joe thought he was a monster now, chances of Ming ever redeeming that would fall to near zero if he sat in on Ming's sessions and-

Ming nearly jumped from his seat when he felt a warm hand cover his.

"Hey," Joe said, holding on tight as he threaded his fingers through Ming's. "It's just me. Look at me," he said.

Ming obeyed.

"If you don't want me there-"

"I want you there," Ming assured him.

Joe scoffed softly, as a small smile broke on his face.

"The whole point of this is for you to heal and you won't do that if you're too busy worrying about what I'll hear."

Ming had thought the whole point was just to put Joe at ease. This was supposed to be something that Joe didn't have to be a part of. Something for Ming's benefit. To heal.