Thursday, 26 March, 1987

Having lived in Manhattan for my entire life, I know the ins and outs of the city. I can usually ride my bike wherever I need to go -- the diner is close to my house, the grocery store is a the same way, and my daily bike riding doesn't demand any specific location -- so this is no different. I know where the street of the apartment lies, and I know that it's close enough to my house to be reached easily on a two-wheeled contraption. I still clutch the scrap of paper to the handlebar of my bike with my thumb so that I can reference it as I make the necessary turns towards the group's apartment, just in case I forget the address through my abundant excitement.

I could barely sleep the past two nights because of that abundant excitement. Anticipation fogged my mind and stole the ability to calm down from my thoughts when I was trying to settle into a deep sleep. I couldn't stop wondering how the other group members would react to me, how I would fit into the group dynamic, what we would do there. I was even fixed on minor details, like what the apartment would look like and if the group members had standard American accents or New York accents. Somehow through my lack of sleep, my joy sustained my energy, and I wasn't tired at all. I guess it was something about having no time to be fatigued when there was so much to look forward to.

It is beyond a relief when I round the corner onto the street where the group's apartment sits. Since there are no meetings on Wednesday and the protest was a replacement for the Tuesday meeting, I have been waiting for two days, and now the time has finally come. I'm finally here. Let's see what's in store for me.

The scrap with the apartment's address guides me towards the correct building, and then and I am in need of it a few seconds afterwards, once I've climbed the front porch steps and gone inside. I look down at the paper to find the number of the apartment, and I adjust my location accordingly, requiring me to ascend another staircase. I reach the appropriate apartment, where laughter and other such chattering penetrate the walls and flow into the hallway. I very much want to be a part of this kind of atmosphere, so I knock to be invited inside.

It is Leo who opens the door, still suspended in laughter from whatever was going on before I arrived. The sun shines on his entire face when he sees me, and he throws his arms around me for a hug. He must be very tactile, as I've only been in contact with him for a little over five minutes. "Harlow! I'm so glad you're here!" Leo ushers me inside, where I find one other familiar face and three new ones sitting around the dining room table.

To answer my late night question of what the apartment is like, I scan the living quarters as I walk deeper into them. The space by the door opens to a narrow kitchen, which then flows to the dining room table. Next to the dining room table, there is the living room, a mellow place of brown and beige that shares a wall with the kitchen. In between the living room and the dining area, there is a short hallway which has to be the bathroom and at least one bedroom, maybe a supply closet as well. The most interesting aspect is the balcony at the end of the hallway. It must be a real treat at night, when the entire city is glowing and the air is chill yet perfect. I think I might like coming here more than I expected.

Everyone's attention is on me as I am guided towards the dining table. The group members put down their cards face down to resume playing with after we're done with whatever needs to be taken care of. It appears that the source of their laughter was the type of card game they were playing, a card game typically played by young adults whose jokes land on the crude and sexual side. The group members are interested as to why I've joined their meeting, except for Mac, who reserves a smile brought forth by my presence here.

"Everyone, this is Harlow Foster," Leo announces, his hand curved over my shoulder. "Mac and I met him at the Wall Street protest on Tuesday."

The group members continue to survey me up and down. They don't look malicious, just curious as to who I am.

Leo starts with the introductions, pointing first to the chair closest to the wall upon which a young woman sits, one knee huddling towards her while the other leg rests on the floor. "This is Juniper, Mac's younger sister."

She's the only girl in the group, but she certainly stands out for other reasons besides her gender. Her bright red lipstick really makes a bold statement for one, and so does her entire makeup look -- pairing classic mascara with a daring touch. Her averagely brown hair is cropped off just above her shoulders and rides in waves effortlessly, like bed head but more stylish, and her clothing choice follows the careless yet fashionable theme that her hair adheres to.

Next is a guy whom Leo addresses as Charlie Sheppard. He is somewhat childish in the sense that his features aren't as masculine as the other two guys at the table. His jaw is strong, yet he looks soft. He and Mac apparently both have a habit of wearing women's pants, is something I notice out of the blue. Above all, he is attractive as hell.

The final person whom I don't know is someone named Elijah Abrams. The thought that he sort of resembles a Russian wolfhound from a profile angle randomly pops in my head, and I have to stop myself from laughing as if I had hallucinated someone in the room telling a joke. Elijah looks older than the rest of the group though not by much. I think it's the intelligence that ages him -- wise beyond his years or something like that. Maybe it's the glasses, too, or the nice clothes. Whatever it is, it can be easily overlooked by the gentle demeanor that one can detect just from beholding him silently.

"And of course you know Mac," Leo concludes, gesturing to Mac anyway, who still waves.

"So what do you guys do at these meetings?" I inquire before the discussion becomes awkward, though I have a feeling that these people are all very talkative and welcoming. I take a seat at the end of the table, next to where Leo was sitting before he brought me inside the apartment.

Mac absently twirls one of his playing cards around by one of its corners with his finger, an action that he continues as he answers my question. "I doubt you would fully understand, because I also doubt you're a poz, considering you had no idea what our protest on Wall Street was about, even after six years of HIV being a known medical condition, but the rest of the people here are, which means they're headed for death. In fact, by the turn of the century, everyone in this room except for you will be dead unless we do something to fight back against this plague. And that's what we're doing -- fighting back."

I know that I cannot possibly comprehend what the rest of the group is going through

"Then I would like to help you fight back," I declare, hoping that it pleases both me and Mac, but the latter is still skeptical.

"It's not going to be easy, you know," Mac informs me, glancing up from his spinning card to give me an unconvinced expression. "The government doesn't give a shit about us because the majority of HIV patients are either gay or intravenous drug users -- or both, if you're daring or just Charlie Sheppard, the boho ash person."

Charlie is instantaneously offended and channels his offense into a debate against Mac that only serves to make Mac laugh. "I'm bisexual, you absolute fucker, and just because I paint doesn't mean I listen to the Beatles and have crippling depression both as a coincidence and a result."

Elijah catches my limited supply of eye contact to make sure that I hear what he needs to add to the conversation and to make sure that I'm not stolen by the bickering between Charlie and Mac. "Reagan has been president since '81 and hasn't ever uttered the word AIDS in the public eye. Thousands of his citizens are dying, and he can't even say the four letter word of what's causing them to die."

"Well it's not breaking news that Reagan is the devil," Charlie reminds us all, a slight and witty smile tugging at one side of his lips.

"Don't forget about big boy George," Leo says in his contagious, laugh-clouded voice that I have already grown to love.

"How could we ever?" Charlie retorts with another one of those dazzling smiles that must make everyone swoon.

"You should come with me and Mac to our favorite ice cream shop on Saturday, Harlow," Juniper, leaning closer towards me, proposes in a low voice, and looks to Mac for the approval that he gives promptly after. "I'm proud to say that we grew up living off the best ice cream in all of New York City, I can tell you that."

"Don't go anywhere with Juniper," Charlie warns me after poking his head into the conversation. "She's so evil that even Ronald Reagan is her second in command."

Juniper tilts her head towards her new enemy and delivers a harsh statement of harsh reality. "I despise you, Charlie Sheppard."

Charlie clutches his heart, brows drawn to signify his eternal pain. "My love, you wound me."

"But you should totally come," Mac interrupts. He knows that Charlie and Juniper are just going to keep arguing playfully with each other, so he moves the discussion ahead in order to address the topic first proposed.

I haven't been in the apartment for very long, and I haven't known any of these people for very long either, but I am already being invited places with them. This is the kind of thing I was looking forward to for the past few days. This is what friendship must be. These people here have already formed an interest in me, despite having just met me as recently as I met them. There's no way I can refuse this opportunity, though it will be difficult to endure that waiting time in between now and Saturday. I can make it nonetheless.

A delighted smile shapes itself on my face. "Okay, see you then."

Upon hearing my decision, Mac's smile matches mine, and once she breaks away from Charlie, Juniper's does too, which she compliments with a quick "Tubular!" and a promise to show me the best ice cream I will ever taste.

~~~~~

A/N: I LOVE CHARLIE SO MUCH ASGHYKYLB

this was generally such a pleasant chapter

~Dankota