Page 91 of Angel of Thursdays

OPPA

Bring it Thursday.

Meanwhile Louis had sent a screenshot of a gacha pull from some mobile game and the words fucking jpeg took 200 rolls and I hate my life. May hearted it. Louis sent a follow-up:

Louis

we good?

May

Yeah baby duck, we good

ANOTHER THURSDAY

May was already awake when the Gay Angel alarm went off at nine. He’d been awake since seven thirty, lying in bed with the purple notebook on his chest reading his own handwriting again. He put it on his face and closed his eyes for a few more minutes before getting up.

Shower and clothes. Today was a fancy day. A fresh pair of jeans, a knock-off sweater with a detective bear on the front, and the bomber jacket he didn’t really want to return. He shoved his feet into his sneakers, grabbed his backpack from beside the door, and left.

The bus came and he rode it through the avenues and the park, watching the fog burn off through the window. His crappy earbuds were in, imminently dying, Fiona Apple singing about being a tulip in love with someone she could only watch.

May meandered his way along the street until he reached the corner where Sparrow sat, purple in the sun. He took a picture of the window box for good measure. Someone had replanted, pansies in purple and white where the marigolds used to be. He smiled at the little love letter drawn in the mouth of the chalk sparrow in the window, and made his way inside.

The specials board still had the Valentine’s mocha. May ordered one anyway.

Cassiel was exactly where May knew he would be. Back wall, uncomfortable bench seat, with his special swirly mug. He had a paper bag beside him—the other jacket. May kept Cassiel’s bomber jacket on his body, took the paper bag and didn’t bother opening it.

“Hey,” May said.

“You’re early.”

“I’m on time. Check your watch. Oh wait—you don’t wear one because you’re a watch-doctor who doesn’t wear watches.”

Cassiel raised an eyebrow. May sat down, dropping the paper bag down by his feet.

“…Can I just keep your jacket for another week? I think it likes me more than you anyway.”

“If you insist,” Cassiel replied, rather gallantly. He was wearing the same long brown coat from May’s lock screen photo, with the lapels and the waist belt that made his proportions look incredible. May switched seats, sitting next to Cassiel on the uncomfortable side.

They ordered and drank their respective lattes when they arrived in the coffee window. They talked about the Hamilton watch Cassiel was working on, about Lauren’s latest romantic escapade involving a guy and a horse, and said nothing about Seollal or doctors.

“—The Cantopop episode hit sort of a dead end. I asked Kev if I could take over as producer and chase the story. See if I can find something.”

“That’s…” Cassiel paused for long enough that May wondered if the next thing out of his mouth would be that’s a bad idea, May, but it didn’t come. “Interesting. Do you want help?”

“Maybe? If I don’t find anything. Are you volunteering to be my Watson?”

“Maybe.”

May opened the jacket to reveal the slightly wonky detective bear on his sweater. Cassiel poked it lightly with his finger.

“Ow, my abs.”

He cleared his throat before Cassiel could say what abs and changed the subject.

“Did I tell you about Sunny’s?”

“You went,” Cassiel answered, which meant he’d heard everything important from Minju already and May’s version would be the same, more or less, with more unnecessary detail.