The Tuxedo Man (boyxboy)[Wattys 2016]

Chapter 5 - Around U

[Picture: Ella Belle Rouje.  Video: Soon We'll Be Found - Sia]

Oh dear lord, if you hear me right now please send help. 

This gorgeous man in front of me ordered my plate for me, and even though that seems to be a sweet thing to do, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be able to pay with whatever he chose. Ninety-nine percent of the choices on the menu costs above a hundred dollars, and I don't have that amount of money right now. 

"Oh, no." I want to say to him, but I'm afraid that it might ruin the night. I keep quiet about the matter and choose not to speak about it at the moment. I'm just going to have to devise a plan for when the bill comes later, or start writing my speech in my head explaining how I only brought twenty dollars and thought that that was going to be enough, since he failed to tell me that he was planning on getting dinner at The Belvedere. 

"Who were you visiting at the cemetery?" I ask. He turns his head away from the windows, where a clear view of the illuminated city can be found. It was a lovely sight, how dots of lights coming from cars move through the streets in an organized manner, streetlights change in synchronization and people cross streets in massive flocks. It was as if the whole thing was staged because of how effortlessly the people moved in such continuity. I would have also loved to look out through the window, taking in to mind that I'd have to look past a couple sharing a table to be able to see the view of the city, but to speak frankly, I was already enjoying the view in front of me. "If it's okay." I add, noticing how intrusive the question was. 

"No, it's fine." He shakes his head, dragging the chair closer to him so that he wouldn't have to sit on the edge anymore. "It was my sister. She was two years older than me and died in an airplane accident years ago." He speaks, and my mind immediately goes to the plane accident that Max's parents died in, thinking that he could be talking about the same accident too. I dare not bring it up, because I personally know how painful it is to talk about a beloved one who's already passed. "People used to say that she looked just like me." He adds, smiling to himself as he says this. "My sister and I did almost everything together, and since she was older than me, she'd usually have it her way. She'd dress me up in dresses and gowns and force me to sit down so that she could do my make up." He chuckles. "I hated it. I hated feeling so weak and powerless. I couldn't do anything because if I went to my mom and complained about what my sister was doing, she'd just tell me to do whatever she wants simply because she was brought into this world a couple years earlier than me. She thinks that it's a good enough reason for her to boss me around." 

"I know, right?" I agree. "I have an older brother, he's adopted but his parents and my parents were good friends before his passed away. When we were younger, he used to make me do stuff for him. Braydon, get this and that. Braydon, do this and that. The man would even pass orders from mom to me! Like, mom would tell him to clean the table, then he'd come to me and tell me to clean the table." I sigh, shaking my head at the memories of how terrible my relationship with Max was as a brother years ago. It's kind of amazing how age could bring two people closer. Now that he's in college and that I'm in my junior year of high school, we could talk like two grown men, except we don't do that. Instead, we argue on whether Panic! At The Disco really copied Fall Out Boy, because my brother would always root for the latter. 

I see Dylan laugh at what I said, throwing his head back and then going back to look at me. He rested the chin at the palm of his hand, smiling cheekily as he looks around the table aimlessly. He has adorable dimples. I think to myself. God, everything about this man was perfect. It was as if he was carved from marble and God really took the time creating him. I now see how lucky I am to be having dinner with a person like him. 

He grabs the napkin folded like a candle in the middle of the table, placed by the centerpiece of a single, tall rose inside a vase. He fumbles with it, running his thumbs along the edges of the fabric. "So, are you in your senior year of high school? Or first year of college?"