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“Aaaand this one is our level five!” The waitress chimes in as she sets the four large bowls down in front of them. The steam pours over the sides and wafts towards the rafters, and Andrew feels his throat go dry. The bowls are a shining, polished white, which only seems to intensify the hellish contents within. “Was there anything else I could get you guys?”
Help, Andrew thinks before he can stop himself. Fuck.
But he doesn’t take it back.
Even in his head, he does his best to keep up his own reputation. It’s been a long time since he’s felt fear over things that may have actually required the emotion. Heights, crowds, the dark. Whatever. It’s been twice as long since he’s experienced the feeling over something like this, and perhaps that’s why it’s a hundred times more intense.
He got too comfortable. Too confident.
Now look where that’s gotten him, staring down at a bowl full of insanely spicy noodles that will more than likely send him to the floor before he can get to the toilet. Already, he can feel his sinuses dripping and his skin heating up to a tomato-paste-red.
He hates Aaron. But that doesn’t mean he won’t try his damndest to get them both second dates…
However, at a certain point…it’s gonna be every man for themselves.
Across the table, Katelyn smiles down at the bowl in front of her, mouth nearly watering. It’s like she’s almost excited to eat it. How?
The thin noodles are doused in a reddish-yellow broth with finely ground pepper flakes mixed in, dotting the bubbly surface and staining the parts of the bowl they slosh over. It looks like pure chili oil, piping hot with steam rolling off the foam. To top it, scallions, and a ball of tightly packed spice sits in the middle, presented like a scoop of ice cream Satan could no doubt swallow a pint of.
Katelyn stabs into it almost instantly, spreading it around until it coats all the noodles in a deep crimson.
“Nope, we’re good!” Katelyn says with a giggle. She had her chopsticks ready to go as soon as they sat down.
And people tell Andrew he needs to be locked away.
He thinks Aaron should seriously reevaluate his taste in partners. Oh, and while they’re at it, Aaron should be less of a pushover. There’s a new one for therapy.
If that was the case, maybe Aaron would’ve been the one to offer to make the dinner reservation when he scored this date. Then Ms. Kill-You-With-Spice-Katelyn wouldn’t have been able to lure them to their deaths.
But alas, Andrew can’t be this unfair. After all, this had to be a joint decision. If something’s wrong with Aaron’s taste, then that would unfortunately mean…
“Jesus fuck, I’m starving,” Neil mutters from directly across Andrew in that gravelly voice that sends Andrew’s toes curling. The redhead isn’t as gung-ho as Katelyn about diving into the fiery bowl of death, but he doesn’t hesitate to break his chopsticks apart and take his first bite without any dramatics.
Neil slurps it up without so much as a sigh or gasp afterwards. His face remains as neutral and tan as ever, not even a hint of a blush seeping in.
Yeah. If there’s something wrong with Aaron’s taste, then there’s something very wrong with Andrew’s too.
How did he get here?
Because Neil is hot. Case closed. So one would think.
But then, it had to go farther than that. See, had Neil just been a normal hot dude, Andrew’s mind probably still would’ve correctly weighed the cons against the pros. He would’ve seen the noodle restaurant menu and immediately dipped out to save his own reputation and avoid all humiliation, to hell with what anyone else thought.
He would’ve even dealt with Aaron’s ire about going back on their pact.
Aaron had come to him a couple days ago from his shitty bank teller job to tell him he’d met the ‘most amazing girl ever’ at his kiosk. Doubtful. Already, Andrew heard the alarm bells. Banks were as close as one would get to math exposure in every day life, he didn’t like them.
How does one romance someone over a checkbook?
Suspicious.
But he and Aaron were a lot better these days, close even. Oh how that had backfired. Aaron told Andrew this Kiosk Katelyn agreed to a date with him. Aaron, though he wouldn’t admit it, was practically ballerina twirling through their shared apartment when he got home. Andrew, in his own Andrew way, had acted happy for him. He’d cooked Aaron his favorite meal that night (denied it the whole time) and wished him luck, and that was that. Progress.
Until another twenty four hours elapsed, and suddenly there was a condition to the date.
“She says her friend will be in town a day early and wants to know if you’d be down to double date so he won’t feel left out. Come on, Andrew! Help me out!”
Initially, Andrew had said…uh, no. Of course he’d fucking said no. He hates blind dates, hates dates in general. He’s been on even less than Aaron, which is impressive. In his hairdresser Allison’s words, he just needed “someone to vibe with” and he’d never found them. Not that he’d tried. Not that he would ever use that ridiculous word even if he did.
But still.
Andrew hadn’t caved, not when Aaron gave him the silent treatment like a poopy baby, or when Aaron sunk to his knees like Nicky would to offer Andrew any of his most coveted video games. Nope. Andrew wasn’t doing it.
A drawback of them being closer? Aaron eventually figured out what it would take to sway Andrew. And when Aaron flashed him a picture of Neil and linked Andrew his very minimalist instagram account, it was over.
From there it only got worse.
Not only were Neil’s face and body sculpted hauntingly to Andrew’s liking, he didn’t pressure Andrew to talk, respected his personal space, and understood all of Andrew’s morbid jokes and horror references.
He also cracked a smile at Andrew’s puns. Every single one.
Neil had it all.
Twenty minutes walking to the restaurant with Neil at his side, not being forced to waste breath on small talk, quipping and teasing in just the right way…
After all that, Andrew begrudgingly realized he wanted this date to go well. He wanted. That was enough to be serious, and Aaron could tell. His brother flashed him an awkward, yet encouraging smile, which Andrew promptly flipped off when Neil wasn’t looking.
If only he’d known. He would’ve flipped Aaron off longer. Or pushed him. Both.
It’s hard to tear his eyes away from Neil. The redhead fumbles with his chopsticks, causing some broth to splash on his cheeks. It’s not—okay, it’s cute. Andrew’s almost thirty, he can admit these things now. Not aloud, because that would be too far for a first date. But he can’t ignore the way his heart beats faster when Neil smiles shyly at him after he drops his bundle of noodles for the third time.
When Neil’s focus turns back to his meal, Andrew finally steals a look at Aaron right beside him. His bowl is untouched, as Andrew’s is. Aaron stares down into the chili abyss with a pale expression, and Andrew assumes his heart is beating for two reasons, same as Andrew’s.
- The two people across from them.
- The heat from the bowl, which has already begun to leak into Andrew’s nostrils.
It burns, but he refrains from sniffling. He can’t show weakness before he’s even taken a bite.
Andrew sighs. He has to accept his fate at some point. If he wants to keep seeing Neil, which he does, he must endure this. Small consequences, given what he’s been through in life.
Damn. Neil surely would’ve laughed if he’d said that. Wasted on his own theatrics.
Katelyn pauses in her chowing down long enough to notice Aaron’s hesitation. “Oh, do you not like scallions? Give them here.”
“Uh…” Aaron stumbles over his words. “Y-Yeah, that’s it.”
Katelyn smiles brightly at him as she uses her chopsticks to steal the green ribbons, her smile only falling when Neil mutters something under his breath. “¿Tienes chicle?”
Whatever he says makes her blush, and she turns to glare at him before elbowing him in his side. “Yes! Worry about yourself.”
Pouting, she shoves too big of a bite into her mouth, her cheeks akin to a chipmunk’s.
It’s probably something that would send Aaron over the edge, if only he noticed. He’s too busy panicking, because the problem is shockingly not the scallions.
Andrew can tell Aaron has now realized he’s made a massive fucking idiot mistake.
Amateur.
But Andrew is no better, for the simple act of agreeing. It’s not like they knew, or that they asked for these cursed genes.
They just know the outcome: they cannot handle spice.
If they eat this, they will die. And yet, they must.
Sighing, Andrew grabs his chopsticks. The sound of them breaking apart seems to snap Aaron back to his sad reality.
“What are you doing?” Aaron whispers hurriedly next to him. Andrew would laugh if it didn’t also mean he was this pathetic. Aaron’s acting like Andrew is about to chug poison. For them, it might as well be.
“Eating, what does it look like?” Andrew replies solemnly, kicking Aaron under the table.
Keep it together, asshole. We have no choice.
“I’m so excited we got to come here, I love this place,” Katelyn says, grabbing Aaron’s hand across the table. “It was a relief to hear you guys don’t mind spicy food. I totally forgot to ask.”
Yeah, you did.
“Uh—oh, yeah. We eat spicy food all the time,” Aaron says with a shrug, grabbing his chopsticks a bit too forcefully.
They do not.
Even a simple drop of chili powder can leave Aaron in the fetal position. Andrew has gone through entire cartons of milk off a slice of poblano. They are going to die.
“Level five probably won’t even be that bad,” Aaron says with a scoff. “Out of ten?”
Neil slurps up a noodle through his response. “No, out of five.”
Andrew digs his heel into Aaron’s foot.
He knows he can’t delay the inevitable any further. He stops himself from closing his eyes and actually wishing for this not to hurt, because that’s beneath him. For children. Delusional.
He knows it will hurt.
Picking up a few noodles, he slurps them down, and swallows.
“Holy shit,” he hears Aaron whisper.
And honestly, it’s not that bad.
The flavor is good. It’s got a little kick yes, but there’s a nuttiness there. The broth fills his mouth and travels down his throat, and it’s not painful, it’s comforting. Like warm soup when he’s sick. It’s almost tranquil, euphor—No, he’s fucking lying to himself. There is no flavor, there is only an unforgiving burn. What the fuck does a nutty flavor even mean?
No. No. No. Shit. It’s actually more painful than he thought it would be. It’s like he has the devil’s dick down his throat. His back, in a matter of minutes, is a waterfall. He’s sweating in places he did not know he could sweat, and for once, he’s cursing his leather jacket and biker wardrobe. Who does he think he is?
Why did he think this was his look?
He can feel Aaron’s fearful eyes on him, but Andrew refuses to look at him. To be defeated. He musters up every ounce of self control until he’s sure that his suffering is purely on the inside. On the outside, there is no change. His expression is a neutral mask of steadiness, unaffected as ever. When really—
Lava is eroding his belly. His insides are singed to the point of no return.
He’s on another level now. He has seen the heavens he doesn’t believe in. They’re a scorching inferno.
The heat has begun to travel up his nose and drill into his temples like a jackhammer, a few more bites and he can’t feel his tongue.
“It’s good right?” Katelyn asks, probably mistaking his occasional sighs for satisfaction and not regret. But it’s at this point that Andrew realizes she’s not even talking to him. The comment wasn’t directed at him, but at Aaron, who at some point during Andrew’s anti-nirvana ascension also began to eat.
Aaron’s playing it off pretty well, in Andrew’s opinion. He’s bouncing his knee under the table at the speed of light, but his face hasn’t changed, and his skin is still pale. Only Andrew knows how much his brother truly hates himself in that moment.
Katelyn is too distracted by Aaron’s poor chopstick skills to notice his plight anyways.
“Aw, you’re so cute,” she says as Aaron picks up his noodle to manually twirl them over his chopsticks.
Like a loser.
Katelyn takes that as her chance to hold Aaron’s hands, showing him how to do it. For a moment, Aaron’s heart-eyes expression returns.
Andrew hears Neil snort under his breath, and Andrew sends him a smirk to let him know he’s in on the joke. The smile he gets from Neil makes it all worth it, and he doesn’t care that it sounds stupid. His brain is too busy diverting brain power to his ailing tastebuds to care about his usual denial.
“Hot,” Neil says, and Andrew tilts his head.
“The noodles?” He asks. He needs to pay more attention. Like a liar would, he shrugs. “I guess.”
“No,” Neil says with a coy smile. Andrew’s brain really is running on fumes, because it takes him several seconds for him to get Neil’s meaning.
And to think, he used to be the king of one night stands.
“Is that why you’ve been staring so much?” Andrew says, voice laced with put upon annoyance.
“I dunno what you’re talking about,” Neil says, taking a sip of his water. Andrew’s been refraining from drinking his own. Even a moment of relief could mean crumbling. “And even if I was, you didn’t tell me to stop.”
“So?”
“So, you like it.”
A new wave of heat fizzles in Andrew’s abdomen, a different kind, but it still doesn’t help.
Dammit.
He feels the tips of his ears heat up, and while it may not be much, it only adds to the creeping heat all over his body. Luckily, he’s almost eaten enough of his food to be acceptable.
Almost…there…
He brings another bite up to his mouth, but he can taste it before it even hits his tongue, the numbness taking over. His muscles ache, as if trying to stop him from moving another inch, from putting the offending morsel in his mouth. He pushes through it.
It’s horrible, but he does it. He’s not a quitter, and he wonders if Aaron has faired better—
And Aaron just wiped his eyes. What a dumbass.
Katelyn is still chatting his ear off in the meantime, but brings the conversation back around for the whole table. “Neil, you have to tell them about how we scammed that one snooty restaurant out of free dinner.”
Neil’s face lights up at the prospect of his crime, and Andrew falls a little harder. And that’s not just his desire to faint.
For the next half hour, Andrew is lulled into security. It’s almost…fun.
No, it is. Aaron has regained enough feeling in his tongue to talk, sharing his own stupid stories and even tricking Andrew into offering some of his own. Neil’s commentary has Andrew suppressing laughter he hasn’t felt in a long time, and even Katelyn’s reactions are alright. They bring out Aaron’s ridiculousness, usually masked by put-upon seriousness that doesn’t always need to be there.
Neither of them have lived a light life, a carefree one. But in the moment, it feels that way.
It’s simple. It’s nice. It’s something Andrew never thought they would have, and he takes it in so he’ll always remember it.
Aaron even manages to make it ¾ of the way through his bowl of noodles. His intestines must be weeping, same as Andrew’s, but they fucking did it. They lived.
They’re going to be up all night with only one bathroom, but they stuck it out and neither of their dates even know.
“Phew,” Katelyn says, leaning back after another fit of laughter at Neil’s storytelling. They tease each other, exchanging a few words in Spanish.
Andrew can’t blame her. Neil tells his tales in a pure deadpan, no inflection or theatrics. It makes them infinitely better.
Andrew thinks that’ll be their cue to get going, preferably to an ice cream shop, when Katelyn says, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready for round two!”
Andrew’s already beaten down stomach shrinks at her words.
He and Aaron freeze, but Neil calmly goes along with it. “Yeah, one bowl is never enough.”
Katelyn smiles sheepishly. “Consider it our treat.”
And our demise. No way.
At that, the crushing realization crumbles down on Aaron from above. Aaron fumbles, he does. He tries his very best. “N-No, really. That’s totally oka—”
But Andrew can feel the tides turning against them. As if they were ever in their favor.
“Come on, we can’t be eating while you guys just sit there,” Katelyn says. “Don’t worry about it!”
Any of Aaron’s lingering protests fall on deaf ears. It’s too late. Andrew knew it would be.
Because in the grand scheme of life, this is just his luck.
“Excuse me,” Neil calls out to the nearby waitress. “Can we get four more bowls?”
And again, Andrew finds himself digging his heel into Aaron’s foot, reminding him to not flop over in despair like he clearly wants to do. They have a long way to go.
He hears Aaron wheeze.
This time, Andrew does close his eyes, and wishes with all his heart.
Don’t let me die.
—
He doesn’t die, but it feels like it. That’s not specific enough. It’s as if he was brought to the edge of death but wasn’t allowed to fully experience it, thus being denied all relief.
He micro-dosed death.
“Let’s do this again sometime,” Katelyn says as she flags down a cab outside of the ice cream shop. Neil looks almost sad to be leaving, but offers Andrew his half eaten sorbet with a small smile. Andrew’s never been a fan of the sugar free stuff, but he can’t refuse when Neil gives him that look. It’s also an excuse to hold Neil’s hand for one more fleeting second.
Aaron’s eyes widen. “Reall—oof.”
Andrew elbows him, sending him a glare. He made it too far for Aaron’s nerdiness to mess this up for him.
Katelyn doesn’t seem to mind it. In fact, maybe Aaron has found the one person who will find it endearing. She giggles and leans in to kiss Aaron on the cheek. “Yes. Anytime.”
When Andrew turns away to give them some privacy, he finds Neil’s hand extended in front of him. In his palm sits a small piece of rolled up notebook paper.
Andrew blinks at him. Stupid. As much as he realizes the date went well, he still…didn’t expect this.
The vibe, as Allison would put it.
Ugh…
Neil’s smile turns coy. “Call me. Or don’t. At least look at my number though.”
A weird request, but Andrew’s too taken to care. He’s too lost in the fog of Neil’s smile and perfectly wispy hair, and maybe also his butt as he turns to leave.
They wave Katelyn and Neil off as they get into the cab, and watch in silence as the car turns down the block and out of sight.
For a second, it doesn’t feel real. The cool night breeze rips through their coats to offer relief to their heated skin, now red thanks to their dates and not a piping bowl of noodles.
They glance at each other, and Aaron smiles. “Wow, I can’t believe that worked."
Andrew rolls his eyes. “Shut up. Of course it did.”
“Don’t bullshit me, I bet you wanted to cry.”
“So did you.”
“Whatever,” Aaron sighs, tone obnoxiously dreamy as he puts his hands behind his head. “I could care less. That went great. They didn’t even realize.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Andrew says as they begin the short walk home. In the meantime, he unravels the paper Neil gave him. It’s oddly thick, and green on the inside… “Next time, I pick the—”
Andrew stops dead in his tracks, frozen on the sidewalk as Aaron walks right past him.
His brother is practically skipping until he realizes Andrew’s no longer beside him, and he spins on his heel. He blinks, squinting at the cardboard cutout that used to be his brother. “Andrew?”
Andrew doesn’t say anything, just extends his hand with the note tucked inside it, wrapped with a single five dollar bill.
He hears Aaron click his tongue, closing the distance.
“Drama queen,” Aaron mutters as he takes it. “What’s your—”
Andrew’s memory is both a blessing and a curse. In this moment, it truly is a little of each. As he watches Aaron’s eyes scan the note over and over again, he can see each line of Neil’s chicken scratch handwriting, ink sinking into the paper until the words form.
The note is cute in and of itself, but what gets Andrew is the postscript.
‘Here’s my number. Don’t wait to text if you want to’
‘P.S. Katelyn said next time we can get something milder, so it doesn’t look like you guys are about to explode. You didn’t hide it very well btw. Here’s five dollars. Go buy some milk lol.’
Andrew inhales sharply. That little shit.
He’s a goner for sure.
Aaron looks up at him pathetically, like a kicked puppy, and at the same time they both yell one word into the night sky.
“Fuck!”