Stepping out of the station after his twelve-hour shift, Dannel wanted nothing more than to slip into a warm bed and have Osian’s arms wrapped around him. Is one in the morning late or early? London had turned cold, windy, and drizzly overnight.
Dannel waited outside for Evie. He leaned against one of the red metal shutter doors of the station. His patience started to run out just when she finally appeared. “Took you long enough.”
Despite not technically being related to him, Evie’s family came from the same neighbourhood in Jamaica as his dad’s. They were practically cousins. They’d become fast friends during their firefighter training.
“Prat.” Evie dragged a hat over her short black hair. She adjusted her green eyeglasses that always made him think of a cat’s eyes. “Are we walking in this soggy mess?”
“Comic Con,” Dannel shouted, drawing looks from a group walking across the street.
“Inside voice, Dan. Inside voice.” Evie, like Osian, always did a great job of helping him regulate his volume. He rarely realised how loud he was getting and had asked them in the past to give him a heads-up. “And yes, I’m aware Comic Con is tomorrow. Is your costume ready?”
“Finished fabricating the last piece of my armour last weekend. Thought about growing my hair out a bit, but I’ll just wear a helmet.” Dannel hadn’t wanted to deal with the fuss. He’d found having any length to his hair gave him massive anxiety. “My Liam cosplay might be the best I’ve done yet.”
“Well, you look a bit like him.” Evie had been as much of a fan of Liam from Mass Effect: Andromeda as Dannel. “What’s the Oz-man going as?”
“Nathan Drake.”
“Fitting. I’ve got the day off and my Commander Shepard outfit from last year. Might join you. Think there will be tickets to spare?” Evie strode down the pavement, forcing him to keep up with her. “What do you think?”
“About?” Dannel tried to pay attention, but the flash of lights down the corner and the shouting from a nearby pub made it difficult. “What do I think about what?”
“Me? Buff, renegade Shepard?” Evie flexed her upper arms, showing off her muscles. “That’s your yes face, right?”
“Sure.” Dannel stared at his reflection in a shop window. “It’s definitely an expression of some sort.”
In truth, Dannel didn’t know. He struggled to decipher body language, emotions, and tone of voice. His—and others. His expression seemed suitably blank.
Why do they say know thyself?
How do I know myself?
I barely figure out what I’m feeling while it’s happening—half the time Ossie has to help me decipher it.
Maybe it should be, get a boyfriend who knows you, so you can know thyself?
“Hey, you hungry? Evie grabbed his sleeve when he continued forward after she stopped. He let her guide him across the street. “I’d sell your soul for nuggets.”
“My soul?”
“I figure I’m worth chips, nuggets, and a shake.” She grinned. “Are you up for a late-night or early-morning snack? My protein bar didn’t even take the edge off my hunger.”
“You know protein bars aren’t good for you.”
“Not taking nutritional advice from a man who drinks milkshakes every day of the year.” She darted through the sliding door in front of him. “I’ll pay, since you treated yesterday.”
“I’ve bought our after-work snack for ten days in a row.” Dannel waved woodenly at the cheerful young man at the register. They were regulars at their favourite late-night spots. “Milkshake—half chocolate, half vanilla. Three large chips. And whatever she wants.”
Be more polite.
Dannel tried for a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Thanks.”
“Thanks” is polite, right? Is it the right word? Why is this so hard?
“He means. Hello. How’s your night gone? We’re absolutely shattered. Too many wankers out there setting fires and making work for us.” Evie flashed a better example of a welcoming grin than Dannel could ever manage, no matter how much he practised. “We’d love two large shakes, two large chips, a cheese melt sharebox, spicy nuggets, and sweet chilli chicken wrap.”
“Hungry?” Dannel blinked at the larger than normal order.
“You know Oz-man’s going to want the wrap for breakfast.” Evie had an excellent point. “We’ll eat the melts on the way home.”
Another excellent point.
At the end of a twelve-hour shift, Dannel wanted two things—silence and food. On busy days, they tended to not have time for meals. And he constantly struggled with sensory overload.
He hated it.
Hated how his struggles made him feel like a failure when he logically knew he wasn’t.
“What’s with the frowny face?” Evie nudged him away from the counter. She handed over his milkshake and the box of melts, keeping the bag with the rest of the food under her arm. “Let’s get you home. You’re definitely more worn out than I thought.”
He didn’t argue.
“Dannel?”
“What?” He glanced over at her.
“You could quit.”
He shrugged. “I’m aware of the possibility.”
“There’s no shame in changing careers in your thirties.” Evie chewed on a chip. She had one of the packets in her hand and held it out to him. “Oz-man would support you. So would I.”
“Yeah.” Dannel snagged a few greasy chips. “My dad would be disappointed.”
“The man who walked out when you were a kid and only came back when you were a teenager?” Evie held a grudge far longer than he did. She was a good friend. “I think it’s all in your head. No one would be disappointed if you stopped being a firefighter. I’d miss you, but honestly, we live in the same building. I’d see you every day, no matter what. The stress isn’t worth it.”
What could he say? The job everyone thought was his dream job made him beyond miserable. It sent his blood pressure soaring just picking up his gear.
It wasn’t the work itself. Or not only the daily grind of potentially life-threatening situations. The constant racket at the station between sirens, co-workers, and engine noises combined with dealing with people non-stop made life hell. He wondered how many years had been knocked off his life from the damage of the high-stress environment.
“Why don’t you chat with your Oz-man about it?” Evie wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “I love you, so I’m not afraid to say being stubborn over this is beyond senseless.”
“I know.”
They finished the chips and cheese melts on the walk home. Evie disappeared into her flat. Dannel smiled at her door, then headed into his own.
Creeping quietly into their flat, Dannel froze at the sight of Osian asleep on the sofa. He’d obviously tried to wait up. The last few hours of a shift always made Osian anxious. They tended to be the most dangerous hours of his day. Tired firefighters and paramedics tended to make mistakes at the end of a shift. They were alert and aware at the beginning.
Dannel set his drink and the bag of food on the coffee table. “Ossie?”
Osian groaned into the cushion. He sat up and smiled groggily at him. “Home. Good. Sleep now.”
He caught Osian before he could lie back on the couch. “Why don’t you go to bed? You’ll hurt your back out here.”
“Smell chips,” Osian muttered. He stretched his arms slowly, revealing the soft, pale skin of his stomach and the wisps of hair down his abdomen that Dannel loved. “Save me any?”
“And a wrap.”
“I’m suddenly wide awake.” Osian stood up and stretched for a second time. “Or, my stomach is.”
Grabbing the bag, Dannel offered it to Osian. He went into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. His body wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed and not move for at least a decade.
Dannel moved over to stare out the window. He loved the silence of their street in the early morning hours—one of the positives of his late shift. “My ears are ringing.”
Osian put the bag into the fridge and came up to wrap his arms around him. “Why don’t we put the Hamilton album on? It always helps you relax. Or maybe your gaming soundtrack compilation?”
“Musical silence?”
“Musical silence.”
Musical silence.
The term they’d come up with as teens. Osian had seemed to instinctually understand how music settled something deep inside Dannel. They’d spent endless hours on the roof of their building, listening to their favourite albums and ignoring the world around them.
“My vote’s for Hamilton.” Dannel tilted his head to rest against Osian’s shoulder. The arms around him tightened. “Cold chips and salty political quips.”
“Punny.”
“I thought so.” He breathed in deeply; just being home with Osian eased some of the tension in his body. “Tired.”
And he was. Evie had been right when she’d said he needed a change. He simply didn’t know how to make the first step.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Osian hesitated when Dannel immediately shook his head. “Okay. Greasy chips and music it is.”