Celtic Cross | #ONC2019

VII.

"Sorry about the mess," I apologized as I scrambled to clean up the old Chinese take out containers and the empty whiskey bottle. "Make yourself comfortable."

"You don't need to worry about it," Mac mused as he pushed aside a blanket on the couch and sat down.

"I do," I said as I brought the mess into the kitchen. "I invited you over- the least I can do is save you from seeing my horrible living conditions."

"You invited me over for coffee," he corrected.

I looked up and could see him through the small passthrough window between the kitchen and living room. His curly red hair was tied back into a small ponytail behind his neck. Despite the winter weather, he was in a running tank top and shorts and sneakers- there's no way he wasn't freezing.

"Did you want anything to eat?" I found myself asking.

It brought his attention up and he smiled when he caught me already watching him. "I won't say no."

I chuckled and shook my head as I moved around the kitchen. Setting the coffee pot on to brew, I founds some cinnamon raisin bagels and put them in the toaster. I could hear him moving around, like he was sorting through the pile of old magazines on my coffee table. I gritted my teeth at my own disorganization, hanging my head in embarrassment as I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter.

Why did I invite him over if I didn't want him to see how I lived?

Because I panicked and I didn't want to be alone, I reminded myself. Because my best friend's boyfriend was dead on a sidewalk and I couldn't do anything to comfort him while he was at the police station.

Because I realized life was too short, and I didn't want a damn coincidence to scare me away from something potentially good.

Even if that something good was only in Boston for a short time 'on business'.

The popping of the toaster startled me from my thoughts, and I quickly plated and smeared cream cheese on the bagels before I carried the plate out to the living room.

"It might be a little too American for your tastes, but it's all I have," I informed him as I placed the plate on the coffee table.

Which, I noticed, he had straightened up and cleared off while I was in the kitchen.

"Beggars can't be choosers," he reminded me as he reached for a cream cheese-covered half.

"How do you take your coffee then?" I asked as I walked back to the kitchen.

"Black like my soul?" he offered, though it had less humor than I would have expected.

I suppose, after what occurred this morning, I wasn't exactly the most cheerful of company either.

Making my own coffee with a splash of cream and a spoonful of Splenda, I brought both mugs back out to the living room and placed Mac's before him as I cupped mine between my hands and pulled my legs underneath me as I settled against the opposite side of the couch.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked around a mouthful of bagel after he allowed me a deep sip of my coffee.

"Not really," I sighed, looking over to him. "But that doesn't mean I shouldn't."

His blue eyes met mine, and I realized there was no reason to hide from him anymore.

So I told him.

Everything.

Since I first pulled the Three of Swords, and why seeing his tattoo terrified me.

About going to Ned Devine's for Nick to check out Leo, to finding Leo dead on the sidewalk.