“Or the crispy French fritter things from New Orleans,” another said.
“Beignets, you heathen,” a dark-haired woman said without looking up from her novel. Ever wondered what she was reading.
Fifteen minutes later, plates started arriving and didn’t stop. Ever felt a little like he was under a microscope as dozens of curious patrons watched him take bite after bite, waiting for his opinion on each of their recommendations. When he liked something, they cheered, but when he didn’t, they would all make a sad sound in tandem. He tried to pretend to like things even if he didn’t, but he didn’t have a really good poker face.
“You don’t have to fake it, little one. They’re all adults. This is your breakfast, not theirs,” Arsen reminded.
Ever nodded but still continued to try to please everyone. Life was just easier when people were happy with him.
After about an hour of eating, Ever tapped out. “I can’t eat anymore,” he whispered. “Please?”
Arsen’s face grew stormy and he leaned over the table, grabbing Ever’s chin and forcing it upwards. “Are you sick? Was it too much? You didn’t have to eat it just because they brought it.”
“I’m sorry,” Ever said, chest tight.
The concern faded into the sad puppy look again. “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Sorry,” Ever said again then flushed.
Arsen asked for the bill, but Magnolia just shook her head. “It’s already been covered by your fan club,” she said, pointing to the group at the counter.
Ever felt tears spring to his eyes and, for a split second, feared he might cry. They didn’t even know him. Why would they buy him food? But Arsen hadn’t known him either and he’d still rescued him, still gave him food and clothing and shelter. Still let him sleep beside him.
Ever didn’t know how to repay him or any of them. What could he ever do to make up for eating so much food? Maybe they would let him work it off in the kitchen. He should try to get a job so he could let Arsen be.
His gaze darted to Arsen, hoping he would speak up and tell them that they could pay. But Arsen just said, “Are you sure?”
They all nodded. “Bring him back for round two next week. We made a list of stuff we missed.”
“Yes, okay. We can come back next week,” Arsen said.
They could? Ever would still be with Arsen next week? That quelled some of the unease brewing inside. Arsen stood, holding out his hand to Ever, who took it eagerly, threading their fingers together and clutching tight enough for Arsen to squeeze back like he was trying to reassure Ever.
Just touching him made things better. Arsen made everything better.
Ever kept his headphones on as they walked the block to the bus stop, waiting only a few minutes before it pulled to a stop before them, the brakes hissing like some kind of mythical creature from one of his novels or from Arsen’s game.
Arsen didn’t let go of Ever’s hand, not even to pay the fare. Once that was handled, he led him to the back, gesturing for him to sit in one of the two seats that allowed a direct view down the aisle.
“Now you can see everything,” he told him with a smile.
Once more, Ever fought back tears. Arsen thought of everything.
They rode the bus for about twenty minutes before they were deposited outside a large strip mall with fancy columns and several department stores. It was far nicer than anything in their neighborhood. Ever looked at Arsen, confused, but he just gave him another reassuring smile and then removed his headphones, settling them around his neck.
“You won’t need those here. I promise.”
Arsen guided him towards a two-story building with a wall of windows. There were books displayed everywhere. Ever’s heart galloped. A bookstore. It was a bookstore. He looked at Arsen, unable to contain his excitement. As soon as Arsen opened the door for him, he rushed inside, stopping short and inhaling deeply. It smelled different than the library.
It smelled like ink and coffee, it smelled like paper. Ever grabbed a book and fanned the pages, sniffing again, the scent like a drug to him. There were so many books. Two stories of books. He’d never been to a book store before. Jennika had taken him to the library twice, both times to make up for something horrible. But this was different.
There were books on tables and books on the walls. They were on shelves and in alcoves, and in the corner was an entire section for children with little chairs and games. Ever spun in a circle. He didn’t even know what to look at first.
When he turned to Arsen, he found him watching him with an amused look. Heat crawled up his neck to the tips of his ears. “Sorry.”
“For what,besenok?”
“I don’t know,” he wailed, bewildered.
