THREE
job interview-ish

When Santiago stepped outside the next morning, he swore his balls could've shriveled up from how fucking cold it was.

            The step he took out immediately turned into one back in. He didn't expect it to be that cold, considering every day before this it'd been chilly, but also shorts weather. He sadly pulled on a pair of sweatpants and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. I just want to get the mail, he thought in anguish. Not freeze to death within ten seconds.

He forced himself back out, practically waddling to the mailbox, hands so cold he couldn't tell if his grip on the key was firm or not. When he retrieved everything, he made his way back, going through the different ads, magazines, and — letters. Santiago's face twisted.

He shut the front door behind him, the warmth a nice welcome, and sat down at the kitchen counter. He separated everything into piles, staring at the one letter made for him. Santiago wanted to trash it, but there was also an overwhelming curiosity about what his Mom had to say. He knew it was from her, because she had her signature stamp in the corner, one she'd been using since Santiago was a child. A cross.

             "G'morning." Santiago looked up, watching Luca as he shuffled into the room, hair a wild mess and eyes half closed. He dropped himself in a chair and leaned his cheek against the surface of the counter, starting at the mail scattered about. "Hm. Anything for me?"

            Santiago cleared his throat. "No. Don't think so. You wanna check again?" He prepared to slide everything over to him, but Luca just shook his head, eyes closing completely. "You sure?"

             "Mhm."

             "Alright." Santiago's eyes lingered on him for a second, then averted back to the envelope. He brought his thumb to his mouth, gnawing at his nail that was already blunt due to all the times he'd done it before. I haven't gotten a letter in almost two years. Has she changed her mind? "Hey, Luca."

              "Hm?"

              "My mom... She sent me something. Should I open it?"

              Luca sat up, surprised. He'd been there when Santiago was kicked out at seventeen, left to live with Luca and his family. And ever since they'd started living together, he'd never seen Santiago get a letter from his mother. "I — yes? No? If you want to. Open it if you want, but..." He bit at his bottom lip. "I say... Don't get your hopes up."

           Santiago exhaled quietly, then tore it open. He pulled out almost a full page, frowning. His eyes skimmed over everything, silent as he read.

Dear Santiago,

It's Mom! I haven't been able to contact you over phone like I'd prefer because you've blocked my number. I still think that's very childish of you. I'm just trying to help you, sweetheart. You know that. This path you've gone down... It's a dark one. Let Him guide you.

I've been talking to the pastors, and one of them has agreed to help you. You remember him as Mr. Joseph, from when you were little. He said he is willing to help you see the light of God, and is willing to bring you back to a sinless life. This whole homosexuality phase has been going on for far too long. I wish you'd come back home and let Mr. Joseph help you.

We love you and want what's best for you. You'll live better back home, where you can find a sweet girl to settle down with. You're a handsome young man, you'll be able to find a wife here. Have a few kids. Come back to your roots.

Here is Mr. Joseph's number, if you'd like to talk to him about it: xxx-xxx-xxxx. He is very excited to talk to you again. It's been a few years now. I hope you're doing well, Santiago. We miss you.

Love,
Mom

     Santiago crumpled the paper up and tossed it in the trash. He stood up from his seat abruptly, startling Luca who seemed to be on the verge of going back to sleep. "Get dressed," he told him. "We need to drop by Genesis and see if there's something open for you."

      "Uh, okay..." Luca trailed off, and Santiago turned away, dragging himself back to his bedroom. He refrained from slamming the door like a petulant child. His mother made him so angry. He hoped, every time there was something from her, that she was telling him to come back because she changed her mind, not because she wanted to change Santiago's. It fucking hurt.

Santiago got dressed, made himself look a bit more presentable, then met Luca back in the kitchen. He hadn't even bothered to make himself look decent. The only thing he changed were his pants. Instead of having just boxers on, he now also had a pair of jeans. The shirt he was wearing was wrinkled, and his hair was still a mess. Santiago sighed.

"At least fix your hair," he begged. Luca didn't say anything, simply snatched a black beanie off a shelf and tugged it over his head. Santiago pursed his lips. "Fine. Whatever. Come on. I'll take you, then I'm going to the gym. Do you wanna come with?"

             "Does it look like I want to come with?" Luca asked blandly. Santiago rolled his eyes. "Exactly. I'll walk if you don't want to drive back here."

             Santiago scowled. "Are you crazy? Hell no. It's freezing outside," he said, and Luca shrugged. Santiago grabbed his things, Luca following him out to the car. He tossed his stuff in the back, watching the blond as he climbed into the passenger seat, slumping. He waited, finger tapping against the wheel.

              "What?" Luca asked, frowning. "Go."

             "Seatbelt."

             "Oh, for fuck's sake," Luca muttered, grumpily buckling himself in. Santiago started off down the street.

              Luca messed with the radio, as well as the air conditioning, complaining about how it took too long for the air to get warmer. He continued to whine about how Santiago should get a new car, or at least get this one fixed up a bit, but Santiago just ignored him. It works fine, is what he always said. When it breaks down, I'll fix it up. He didn't want to waste unnecessary money.

The other man eventually gave up and leaned his head against the window, quiet, during the rest of the ride. When they parked, he seemed more tired than he'd been when they left. "Come on," Santiago said, killing the engine. "It'll be quick."

Luca nodded, slipping out of the car and shoving his hands inside his pockets. He waited for Santi to come around, then followed him into the club, the place not as packed as it would be at night. Santi thought it was like two different places in one depending on the time of day. He wasn't quite sure which he preferred just yet.

Santiago headed toward the bar, grabbing the attention of Atsa, one of the bartenders. "Hey," he called, leaning forward. "Do you know if we have any openings?"

Atsa shrugged, wiping down a glass with a rag. "I sure fuckin' hope so," he grumbled. "I need help back here."

Santiago glanced at Luca, who looked awkward. "Heard that?" he asked, and Luca nodded, gaze focused on the countertop. "Would you be cool with working at the bar? It's much easier than what I do."

"Debatable," Atsa drawled. "Old men try to hit on me, then think when I play along, they can get free shit. And next thing you know, they're calling you all kinds of names. It's great, really. Fuckin' spectacular."

Santiago raised a brow. "But do you get groped? And hit?"

"Hey now, don't belittle my experiences." Atsa's tone sounded serious, but he was smirking. "But yeah, it's easier depending on what you're comfortable with. I'm assuming you're asking for him?" Atsa jerked his chin at Luca.

"Yeah."

"Hey, blondie," Atsa stated, leaning forward over the counter, tapping his shoulder. Luca looked up, surprised. "You're cute, so you might come across some weird ass guys. You cool with that?"

Luca blinked. "Uh.."

"I really need some help, so if I tell you I'll protect your ass, will you take the offer?" Atsa asked, then winked. Santiago coughed, separating the two of them.

"Atsa, no flirting. He's straight anyway."

The man clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Damn. That's unfortunate." He leaned back and slid a few glasses back to their respective places. "But yeah, a spot's open if he wants it. I need the most help later in the night, from around eight PM to midnight. The occasional afternoon. Sound good?"

"Um, yeah. I-I think so." He scratched the back of his head, looking confused. "Is that it? No interview? Nothing?"

"Nah." Atsa fixed his ponytail, a few strands falling out of it. "You're friends with Santi. Right? That's enough to know. Plus, I'm desperate."

Santiago tapped his palm against the counter. "See? Easy," he stated, ruffling Luca's hair. Luca smiled weakly, picking at his nails. Santiago frowned a little, then touched his arm. "You wanna go home now?"

            Luca hesitated. "If — "

            "Atsa!"

           Santiago looked up at the sound of a familiar voice, sounding hoarse, but familiar nonetheless. He felt his heart flutter at the sight of Kit bursting in from the back entrance, swamped in a jacket far too big for their figure. They looked a little annoyed, nose pink, hair disheveled.

            "What, Kit?" Atsa asked with a sigh. "I'm busy."

            "You're busy —? Oh. Oh, hi Santiago!" Kit exclaimed, annoyance morphing into excitement. They rushed over, beaming. "Did Lincoln give you the invite? He did, right?"

           Santiago smiled. "Yeah, he did. He told me you were sick, too. Why are you here?"

            "That's what I said," Atsa muttered. "Kit is stubborn as shit. Go home, you fucking animal."

           Kit turned to face him, scowling. "Shut up, jerk," they hissed. "I'm mad at you. So you don't get to talk to me."

            Atsa groaned dramatically. "Here they go again. Always mad at me. Jesus. I'm always doing something wrong, huh?"

             "You freaking — ugh! Whatever." Kit huffed and faced Santiago again, plastering on a smile that they weren't giving to Atsa, apparently. "Anyway. What are you doing here?"

Santiago placed his hand on Luca's shoulder and brought him forward. "Finding this fucker a job," he told them. Kit nodded, holding their hand out to Luca with a friendly grin.

"I'm Kit," they introduced. "You are...?"

"Luca," he finished. He shook Kit's hand, blatantly uncomfortable. Santiago could tell he wanted to leave. "Nice to meet you."

"Oh, you're Luca!" Kit exclaimed. The blond arched a brow, glancing between them and Santi. "Santiago talks about you sometimes. Your hair is so pretty. What do you use? Is it blond or ginger?" They reached out and brushed their fingers against a lock peeking out from underneath Luca's beanie. "Soft, too!"

Luca laughed nervously. "Ah, thanks. Uh, are you always this touchy?"

"Huh?" Kit's eyes widened in realization. "Oh, shoot. I'm sorry! I do stuff like that without thinking. My partner says I need to work on that. I'm so, so sorry."

Luca waved a dismissive hand. "It's fine."

"Are you sure?" they asked worriedly, brows sewn in concern. Santiago was about to melt. They looked like a puppy. I just wanna hug the shit out of them. They're so fucking cute, it isn't fair.

Luca nodded. "Yep."

Kit didn't look too convinced, but nodded anyway. They glanced up at Santiago, that sweet smile back on their lips. "Are you coming to the Christmas party?" they questioned, tilting their head to the side. Santiago bit his lip. Fuck.

"I'm pretty sure, yeah."

"Awesome!" Kit gushed, clasping their hands together. Their nails were painted a baby blue. "I can't wait." They looked to Luca next. "Are you coming as well?"

The blond looked stunned. "Uh, maybe. Depends on how I'm feeling."

"Understandable," Kit responded. "It was nice meeting you. And bye, Santiago. I'll see you Sunday, hopefully?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. Bye!" Kit wiggled their fingers in a wave before hurrying off toward the backstage area, even their jog being cute as fuck. Why, why, why. Give me a fucking break. I beg of you.

Luca coughed and muttered under his breath, "You're so whipped."

"Shut your fuck."

___

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