Tweetie

7

Joel Collins was a boy of constant curiosities and endless hopes.

He was the youngest of the five boys, a fact that he had grown to like. Not because he liked being treated like the baby of the group, not solely because he liked the care the others seemed to show him, but because as an only child, any sibling was loved even if not related by blood. His four friends were loved deeply.

It could be a struggle at times, sure. They were a year ahead of him, they would finish school before he did, learn to drive before he did and could do plenty of other things before he could even consider it. But, the struggles were forgotten when his friends took the time to understand. There were things they would never understand like there were things he would never understand. They didn't know what it was like living in a home that wasn't their own, it would be like looking at a painted over picture. What they saw was the better version of his home while he remembered what was hidden beneath. While they didn't always understand, they at least took the time to try. They allowed him the comfort he needed without question.

He wondered how bare he could stand, how open in himself he could be until people stopped understanding. Would his tears be the breaking point? Would that be when people would begin to laugh because he wasn't as strong as his friends were? Would it be when he sat on the doorstep to his house, waiting for the yelling to end? Or would it be when he admitted that understanding wasn't enough? Would it be when he didn't want to be understood, but he wanted to be accepted as who he was as a whole being?

He wondered if he would ever know.

The Cafe, as lonely as it could be on most days, was the closest he could get to the feeling of being accepted. It was where he didn't have to block out the yelling voices of his parents but could still feel the comfort of being with a second family made from friends and cafe owners.

So, when he pushed the glass door open, feeling the warmth from the yellow lights engulf him even before he stepped into the building and found that it wasn't the same as it usually was, his comfort faded.

There were more people than usual. Not a typical Sunday.

A tall copper-haired man and a familiar intimidating older man sat in the corner. People he didn't fully recognise, but it wasn't totally surprising when he remembered that The Cafe was a public place. He at least knew one of them was Chief Hemms. But the girl in the burgundy apron, brown hair tied back and her body sunk into a table with a book under her... she was strange. She made the comfort fade.

It wasn't that she was an uncomfortable looking person, in fact, she seemed like quite a gentle girl as she turned a page, taking care not to damage the paper. But she wore The Cafe's burgundy apron, and that meant that something in The Cafe had changed. She was working there, he assumed. And that meant the comforting sameness was fading fast.

"Joel," Stewart called out, noticing him before anybody else did. "You're early. Are you not with the others?"

"Nah, not today," he smiled, bringing his energy to him in the hopes of ignoring the changes around the cafe. He approached the counter, taking only a glance at the girl sitting at the table beside it. He couldn't see what she was reading, but he could see the cat covered shirt she wore under the apron, the shirt that made him glance to his broken black bag that was missing a strap and was covered in cat doodles, scruffily scribbled in white ink. "I had to stay home awhile."

"Ah, well," Stewart smiled, already beginning to make Joel's usual coffee that was becoming more and more needed as his nights became increasingly restless. "Leo and Ryan were here earlier, but they left."

"Really? How come?"

"Amelia was on her way. She's been and gone though, so you're safe."

"I'll text them and let them know," he said, already pulling his phone from his hoodie pocket. But, he didn't turn to it yet, he held it, thinking about what he would say before he let his mind wander elsewhere. He was always too quick in shifting thoughts to keep track of his head properly. "Did you consider my proposition?"