A Quiet Night and Quiet Sips

TW: near drowning mention, past character death, swearing

Azrael stared at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily above him. He sighed to himself for what felt like the millionth time that night. It seemed like he was going to need some help sleeping.

Resigning himself to his fate, he slid off the bed and left his room, creeping through the hall for the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and flicked on the light, squinting at the brightness. He peered at his reflection in the mirror and sighed. His ink black hair was a tangled mess from his tossing and turning. There were dark circles underneath jet black eyes, staining his terracotta skin.

Electing to ignore his poor appearance, Azrael turned to the medicine cabinet and looked through its contents. To his disappointment, there wasn’t any melatonin. “Kamea Thanh moved it already,” he mumbled to himself.

He scrubbed his face with his hand as he shut the light and headed for the stairs. He stilled at the top when he noticed the lights downstairs were on. Azrael frowned to himself. He had been so sure that his roommates were all asleep, but that had evidently been proven wrong by the smell of freshly brewed coffee coming from downstairs.

He tiptoed down the stairs, using the railing for support. When he finally made it to the landing, he turned to the kitchen and spotted his high school classmate–turned roommate, Ruthven, sitting at the kitchen bar. A mug that was hand painted with a face that looked startlingly similar to the one Ruthven would make at any inconvenience sat on the counter in front of him. His forehead rested against his hand, pushing back his curly, carob brown hair. The dim light from the living room lamp cast a shadow over his tan skin, but there was enough light for Azrael to see dark shadows under his hazel eyes.

Azrael guessed that Ruthven heard him coming down. He turned his head and saw Azrael standing by the stairs, his tired face morphing into a startled one. Azrael smiled sheepishly. “Hey,” he greeted him.

“What’re you doing up?” Ruthven asked.

Azrael shrugged as he passed him to go deeper into the kitchen. He poured some water into the electric kettle and turned it on as he talked. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured maybe some tea and a few grams of melatonin would help.”

“Milligrams. Grams is too much. You’ll get a headache.”

“But I’ll live, right?”

“I don’t know. Ask Arya. She’s the nurse.”

The two fell into a bout of silence, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, simply there. Azrael tapped his fingers against the countertop while Ruthven took another sip of his coffee. He turned to the latter. “Coffee?”

Ruthven nodded as he set his mug down. “I’ve seen you chug a quad shot espresso and pass out within the hour. Why’re you judging me?”

“I’m not. I’m just surprised that you’re drinking coffee this late. Usually, it’s just me.”

“Everyone in this house does.”

Azrael blinked. “We do?”

Ruthven arched an eyebrow. “Not very perceptive, are you?”

“I’ve been told that.” Azrael nodded his head to Ruthven’s mug. “So, how do you take it?”

“Black.”

Azrael’s face screwed up at the reveal. “See, this is why we fought in high school.”

“No, we fought because you were an asshole.”

“I think you’re remembering wrong. You were the asshole.”

“Would an asshole save you from drowning?”

Azrael gasped loudly, slamming his hands down on the counter as he turned his body to fully face Ruthven. Ruthven, meanwhile, flinched at the loud sound. “You saved me from drowning at Jackson’s party?!” Azrael exclaimed.

Ruthven glared at him. “Oh, yell it for the world to hear. Go ahead.”

Azrael frowned at him. “Do you regret it?”

Ruthven’s glare immediately fell, softening into regret. “No, I don’t,” he promised. He sighed quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just said that because it’s late and I didn’t want anyone to wake up. I may have hated you in high school, but I wasn’t gonna let you drown.”

Azrael grinned and leaned against the counter. “You know what that means?”

Ruthven eyed him, clearly suspicious. “What?”

“I finally get to thank you after all these years! And I should probably invest in some swimming lessons so I don’t drown again.”

The kettle clicked, signaling that it finished boiling. Azrael slid across the kitchen to pour out his water while Ruthven questioned, “Why haven’t you learned how to swim since then?”

Azrael stirred some honey into his boiled water as he thought. “Well, for a while, I was scared of the water because, y’know, I almost drowned. After that, I just didn’t have the time or money. I wanted to learn in college, but I was busy with classes and work. When I graduated, I was so focused on working that I forgot about swimming.

“Couple years later, I—” Azrael paused as he put in his teabag. He took a deep breath. “I lost my job. The school lost funding, so they had to cut some teachers, including me. Because of that, I had to focus on surviving. S’not like I could’ve afforded to go to a pool, anyway.”

Azrael swirled around his teabag, allowing it to steep. He could feel Ruthven staring at him. “I didn’t know you were homeless,” Ruthven confessed.

Azrael shrugged. “That’s fine. S’not like I advertised it.” He propped his elbow on the counter and leaned against it. “It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. I have friends back in Chicago who were in a good enough position to let me crash at their place, so I was couch–surfing for around a year. Then, my parents found out because I was always ‘hanging out with friends.’ I never wanted to tell them because they’d be worried, but, in hindsight, it would’ve been better to tell them because they freaked out worse than they would’ve if I’d told them when I lost my job.

“They had me move back out here and let me live with them until I found another job. That’s how I got hired at our high school.” Azrael couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. “Never would’ve imagined that I’d be working at Toypurina, but here we are.” He gestured to Ruthven, who was taking another sip of coffee. “What about you?”

Ruthven hummed into his mug. “Hm?”

A grin tugged at the corner of Azrael’s mouth. “C’mon, what brought you back? Why are we coworkers now?”

Lowering his mug, Ruthven gently swirled his coffee around, staring at the liquid inside. “I really wanted to leave,” he admitted. “I had two siblings. Did you know that?”

Azrael raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I didn’t know you have two siblings—”

“Had.”

The word settled in. “Oh.”

Ruthven set his mug down, continuing to stare at his coffee. “You’ve met Nephra, but you never met Sera. They died the summer before freshman year started. I won’t go into detail about what happened—not because I don’t feel comfortable talking about it, but because I don’t think I should talk about that before you go to bed. I don't think someone's death should be the last thing someone thinks about before you sleep. Sera didn't die a gruesome death, thankfully, but they died a sad one.”

Azrael opened his mouth to say something, but was shot through the skull with awareness. He stood up straight. “Holy shit, I was an asshole to you during high school,” he exhaled, appalled.

To his surprise, Ruthven smirked. “You were, but, I never told you what was going through my head and I also lashed out at you, even when you didn’t start anything. We were both assholes.”

Azrael sighed and pinched his nose bridge before running his hand through his hair. “Still, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too.”

Azrael smiled at that. He looked at the coffee pot next to the kettle, which was still a quarter full. He nodded his head at the living room. “Wanna join me on the couch?”

“Sure.”

“I can top you off, if you want.”

Ruthven slid his mug across the counter. “Yes, please.”

Azrael couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow, very respectful.”

Ruthven rolled his eyes as he got up. “Shut up.”

Azrael shook his head as he poured out Ruthven’s coffee. He pressed his hand against the mug and noticed it was only a little warm. “Do you want me to microwave this?”

“Yes, please.”

Azrael chuckled quietly and stuck the mug in the microwave. He watched it spin around before canceling it at the last second to prevent its loud beeping. With both drinks in hand, he traveled to the living room and sat down next to Ruthven, passing him his coffee. Ruthven thanked him and took a slow sip while Azrael drank his tea.

Azrael lowered his mug. “So—and thank you for telling me about Sera—what do they have to do with you coming back?”

Ruthven set his mug on the coffee table. “After they died, I couldn’t handle being here in Faifern. Being here hurt without Sera. So, when senior year arrived, I applied to as many colleges as I could. I got a full ride to Sonoma State University and I left, only coming back for holidays.

“Back at SSU, my friends suggested that I go to counseling, but I always made excuses. But, last year, I caved and started going to therapy.” Ruthven huffed to himself like he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “The first session I went to, I broke down crying. I didn’t realize how much I was holding back after Sera died.

“Earlier this year, just after New Year’s, that’s when I realized that I was avoiding Faifern because of Sera. When school was out for Presidents’ Week, I came back down and toured around.” Ruthven shrugged. “It’s small, but it’s growing. Most of it hasn’t changed since we were kids, but you can notice it becoming more modern, which is a little jarring to see and, honestly, a little gross. It doesn’t match how the place looks at all.

“But, it’s a nice place to live. There’s a charm to this place and the people, for the most part, are nice. I forgot that for a while, but after that week, it all came rushing back. I also happened to run into Inesa, who said that Michael told her that Toypurina was looking for a math teacher. I interviewed for it and they told me I could start next school year, so I told the principal back at my old school that I wasn’t going to be returning the following year. Once the year ended, I packed my things and moved back in with my parents so I could wait for our move–in day. And now, here I am.”

Azrael stared at Ruthven in awe. “Okay, a couple things,” he said. “One, thank you for sharing this with me. Two, I don’t think I’ve heard you speak for so long—”

Ruthven rolled his eyes and kicked him lightly. “That’s because you never shut up.”

Azrael giggled. “Whatever. And three, I honestly forgot that you were friends with Inesa.”

“Everyone is friends with Inesa; it’s not hard. Didn’t you find out about the job through her?”

“No, I found out through Michael.”

Ruthven’s eyebrows shot up. “Michael? Our chemistry teacher, that Michael?”

“What? You’re friends with his wife!”

“Again, she’s friends with everyone! It’s not hard! You argued with Michael!”

Azrael snorted. “That wasn’t arguing. That was friendly banter. I was a delight to have in class.”

“Tell that to Mr. Richards.”

Azrael pointed at Ruthven. “Okay, but nobody likes Mr. Richards. It’s not my fault Dick is a nickname for Richard!”

Ruthven laughed, loud and hearty. His eyes squeezed shut as his body shook from trying and failing to hold it back. Eventually, he gave up and collapsed back against the couch, his face flushing from how much he was laughing.

Azrael stared at him. Out of all the jokes he had flung around throughout the years, he never expected this one to be the one to get Ruthven to laugh so much. He hadn’t even been trying, but Ruthven was laughing like he told the funniest joke in history.

Azrael couldn’t even be upset because there he was, pink in the face and slumped against the couch, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. His laugh was all–consuming, yet it filled every crevice in the house and every square inch of Azrael’s body, embedding itself in his cells. Despite that, he couldn’t get enough.

His lips twitched upwards before Azrael began to laugh alongside Ruthven. “Why are you laughing so much?” he asked. “It was a stupid joke!”

“I know!” Ruthven managed to gasp. “And I’m mad that I’m laughing this much!”

That only made Azrael crack up more. It wasn’t long before he collapsed against the couch right beside Ruthven, the two of them leaning on each other for support. Every so often, they would glance at each other and dissolve into another fit of giggles, starting the cycle all over again.

Soon, the two of them laid together on the couch, Azrael practically on top of Ruthven, whose limbs were splayed over the back of the couch and off the side. Azrael took a deep breath and exhaled, but then pulled in his eyebrows. He inhaled again, turning his nose down.

Ruthven craned his head to look at him, quirking an eyebrow. “What?”

“You smell like my tea.”

“What, lavender?”

“M–hm.”

Ruthven hummed, resting his head. “My whole family likes lavender. Everything I’ve ever used was lavender scented. I grew to like it, but if it bothers you, I could—”

Azrael’s heart flipped at the insinuation of Ruthven doing something for the sake of his comfort, despite their history. “No, don’t.” A subconscious smile slipped onto his face. “I like lavender, too.” He didn’t get the chance to hear if Ruthven responded because straight after he said that, he fell asleep.

When Azrael woke up, he was in his room. He blinked, trying to process the room change. He wondered why he wasn’t on the couch with Ruthven, and as he woke up more, he then began to wonder why he wanted to wake up on the couch with Ruthven. His face began to redden as he continued to recall everything that had happened last night.

He desperately shook it off and headed to the bathroom to freshen up, splashing cold water on his face and scrubbing it. Maybe it didn’t happen, he suggested to himself. Maybe it was just a dream.

He went downstairs and, to his surprise, spotted Ruthven in the kitchen. Azrael had a sense of déjà vu when he turned around at the sound of him coming down the stairs. “Hey,” Ruthven greeted him.

“Hey,” Azrael returned.

Ruthven held up a new mug, one that was an innocuous black. “Did you want your tea again? You didn’t get to finish it last night.”

Azrael could feel his cheeks and ears warm as he nodded. “Sure. You know how to make it?”

Ruthven shot him a deadpan look. “It’s tea. You heat it up and put the bag in.”

Azrael smiled and shook his head. He walked over and patted his shoulder as he gently pushed him aside. “It’s not just tea. Let me show you how it’s done.”

He spent the next few minutes teaching Ruthven how to make tea properly. By the time the rest of their roommates woke up, they were still chatting over the cups they had prepared for each other as if they had been long–time friends instead of someone they were in opposition to.

As they continued to talk, Azrael smiled to himself. I think I like this better, he decided.