[C]Saturday.
Ian would've stayed in on the weekend. He preferred staying inside since he knew better, and his snarky tongue would get him in trouble. But alas, he was dragged out by his friends nevertheless. A 'fucking crisis' Ian would've called it. And there he sat at the bar of a brightly lit, asphyxiatingly hot nightclub. Then his mood would change when a more than asphyxiatingly hot man sat next to him and bought Ian a drink.
He'd ask Ian if he was here all alone, to which Ian would say no. The man would chuckle and it'd send Ian's intoxicated self over the edge with how smooth it was. "Want to leave with me?" Ian chuckled at his words. "Sure," he answered. Then Ian and the man were off to Ian's house. Ian caught his name, Anthony.
They'd go to his house and Ian wouldn't see him in the morning when he woke up.
It was a regular Sunday for Ian; well as regular as a Sunday could be for someone as old as Ian. Even boomers couldn't hold a light to the centuries old man. He drank from his mug as he read the newspaper, enjoying his day before he returned to his regular job. Ian lived a regular life aside from having to fake his death a few times and changing his name once in a while.
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[C]Monday.
Monday was here. No matter how many years Ian lives, he'll never get used to monday. Ever. Ian rubbed his eyes, groggy from sleep. His back let out a symphony of crackle when he stretched. His black hair could be considered a wildlife reserve in the morning and the dark circles under his eyes underestimated how tired he actually was.
Ian carried out his normal routine. He showered, brushed his teeth, and of course he brushed his wild hair. He wore a brown and tan striped shirt, vertical obviously. Since it was short sleeved Ian put a black long sleeved undershirt. Black slacks with an equally black belt, and black socks to go with. Ian waited impatiently for the coffee to finish brewing and he tapped his foot. Sighing in relief, he poured it in his reusable cup along with coffee creamer.
The drive was just as monotone as his morning. All except the traffic. Out of all the things he's seen humankind develop, cars have been a necessary evil. Once he walked into work Ian got the usual stares from the women at his workplace. Ian was never interested in them, he just never felt an attraction. He sat at his desk and started diligently with his work while sipping his ear.
Eventually, a little birdie told him about a new guy at work. Also known as, Ian eavesdropping during his break while he sipped on his soda. At his table there suddenly sat a man. And that man was the cutest he's seen in a while, but he was familiar. Then it all came to him through fog. It was
[I]him.
Then his cola strangely tasted of almonds.
