All Our Sensitivity

chapter twenty-three - this is it

The four days spent until Nate would see Theodore again were brutal. He tried to distract himself, but it simply would not remedy his racing mind. No amount of homework, hangouts with friends, or playing with Ava and Bryce stopped his thoughts from coming. Realizing something and not being able to act on it right away was proving to be difficult. He found himself pacing anytime he was alone. Over and over again he replayed the "what if's" and ways he could go about making a move. He went back and forth from hyping himself up to telling himself that it was a hopeless cause; not even in the sense that Theodore may reject him—even though there was a strong possibility—but that he would chicken out.

He almost did chicken out once Theodore said he was on his way to pick Nate up. Nate could've said he had gotten sick or had some family thing planned that he forgot about. Maybe he should've said that before Theodore had begun driving over, because it was far too late for the cancellation to not be considered rude. The pacing continued as he awaited by the front door—biting the inside of his cheek. He felt like he was going to puke. Luna—seemingly sensing his uneasiness—rubbed up against his ankle before flopping at his feet, practically begging for pets. He gave in immediately. Then, his phone pinged.

Messages. Now. Theodore: im here!

With shaky hands and a rapid heart, Nate bopped Luna on the head and walked out the door. The stroll to the car felt miles away as he tried to remind himself to breath. It got even harder when he got in the car.

"You look great," was the first thing that came out of Theodore's smiling mouth.

The man in the driver's seat was doing the exact opposite of helping; he was actively making Nate more flustered.

"Oh, thank you," he blushed—turning his head away as he found the seatbelt.

He tried to look his best as he got ready. He wore a brown grandpa-knit sweater, brown corduroy pants, and his docs—paired with a nice puffy jacket to keep him warm enough to function. The fact that Theodore noticed made him want to melt into the car floor.

"I'm so excited. I've been craving this food for a whole week," Theodore spoke honestly as he drove away.

"I'm excited too. I read over the menu and it sounds amazing."

As the words came out of Nate's mouth, he seemed to become self-conscious of them. Was he acting normal? Did he always sound that unwary? Timid? Weird?

"I'm glad; I was really hoping you'd enjoy it."

The rest of the 10-minute drive was spent listening to music and chatting to each other about what had happened in the past couple days. They hadn't talked much; Theodore had his job to attend to, and Nate had the constant feeling of impending doom looming over him. He also had schoolwork.

After Theodore explained another strange work encounter—this time, detailing the event of an individual coming in claiming he was a fairy and leaving glitter right near the front door before leaving—they arrived in the parking lot. Theodore hopped out and jogged over to Nate's side and offered his arm. Nate took it as his stomach lurched at the touch of Theodore. Nate could not believe how pathetic he had become; it was concerning.

The two walked into the café and sat themselves down at a round booth. Of course, because he naturally had to torture Nate, Theodore plopped himself down right beside the man who had not stopped shivering with nerves. The atmosphere was calming with music alike Frank Sinatra playing softly throughout the establishment. There wasn't too much talking around them, so Nate found it easy to relax the best he could and avoid overstimulation. Even though Nate had read over the menu himself and sort of knew what he wanted, Theodore insisted that he read it to him again. Nate blushed, because once again, Theodore never ceased to be perfectly kind. He could tell that Theodore enjoyed doing so—not in a controlling, self-complimentary way, but in a way that came from genuine intention that could only be fueled compassion.