Chapter Text
He’ll be here any second now, Peter thought as he looked at the clock. Both of the hands were pointing at the number twelve and it was about time for his favorite midnight guest.
The mood at the nonstop restaurant, near a gas station, was sleepy. Peter was leaning over a long black glossy bar, decorated with soft neon lights, feeling tired. It was his fourth night-shift in a row and that was exhausting, even for somebody as young as him. A radio behind him played the newest song by Elvis, which made him want to grab someone and slow dance until sunrise. Just the idea was so vivid, sometimes he wasn't sure if he's just imagining it, or falling asleep, or both. He kept daydreaming, until he caught the eyes of this manager - Clint, so he quickly straightened his spine, and pretended he’s wiping something off the bar, which was already sparkling spotlessly.
There weren’t many customers around. One old truck driver, who stopped for a long needed supper, and a young drunk couple, hiding from the staff in a red booth in the corner of the restaurant, but their childish giggling echoed through the room repeatedly. Every fifteen minutes, Clint rushed to ask them if they had everything they needed, but the only thing they ordered were two milkshakes about ninety minutes ago. Otherwise, the place was empty.
Peter turned around and checked the ice cream machine for the hundredth time, when the bell at the door notified him that another customer had entered the restaurant. The boy looked back with a sweet smile and saw what he was hoping for.
A man has entered. Peter could guess he’s a wealthy man just from a single look. He was wearing a luxurious leather jacket, one of those that made every kid’s face turn white with envy. Under it he wore a plain white t-shirt, combined with simple Levi’s jeans. When he was eating whatever he ordered, a silver watch binding his wrist flickered in the bright restaurant lights. His hair was dark and messy, as if he got out of bed five minutes ago, and it was irresistibly sexy. He never smiled and rarely spoke beside ordering, and always wore the same sun glasses, even though it was the middle of the night. He looked like a classic underdog from the silver screen, although he wasn’t the youngest, on the contrary – he seemed to be in his forties. But that only made Peter more excited about him. He loved mature men so madly. There was something about them that boys in Peter’s age couldn’t replace in any possible way. That special spice he felt when he was dating them and kissing them. Especially kissing them.
This man seemed to be from downtown, which was more than an hour and a half away by car. Many times Peter had wondered how he ended up in a place like this, a lonely nonstop restaurant at the side of a highway. The scenario was always the same. The man walked into the room, ordered what was on his mind and left after a while. Sometimes, he sat at the table with empty plates, in silence and lost in thoughts. Never in a hurry to go home. Peter always asked himself what he was thinking about. He was sure the man was bothered by something and wanted to help him. Who else would have entered this place and this late on a nearly daily basis. But Peter was just a simple waiter boy and was in no position to start asking about personal stuff.
The strange man sat down and waited to be served. The boy was already rushing towards him with a pen and a tiny block of paper.
“What will it be tonight, sir?“ he asked with his most charming smile, clicking with the pen. The man always ordered something different. Sometimes pancakes, or eggs with bacon, other times just a small cup of coffee. Money didn’t seem to be an issue, his wallet was always stuffed with cash. But that night, he seemed to be feeling worse than ever. He looked like a wet dog who just lost his owner.
“I don’t know, to be honest,“ he said, shaking his head desperately. “What’s on the menu?“
”Well, we have the usual, the pancakes, or the bacon-“
“No, none of that...“ he cut him off coldly.
“Then, If you don’t feel like it, you can always try one of our new milkshakes,“ Peter smiled again, not giving up on him. “Tastes delicious and has a cherry on top!“ Peter pointed at a poster, which had everything he just said written in large red curly font. The man seemed to gain interest. His eyes checked the poster and then slided back to his empty hands.
“A cherry on top, you say?“ he mumbled.
“Of course, one cherry is included, and if you want more, just let me know and I'll take care of it,“ the boy winked flirtatiously. “I personally love them, they're in the middle of being too sweet and too milky.“
“Alright. I’ll try it. Bring it to me.“
“Right away, sir.“
The man was sipping from the striped straw in silence, and Peter observed him from the bar with the fascination of a cat watching a wobbling toy. The man didn’t seem to hate his order, but it was hard to tell, since there was rarely any emotion in his face. It took him nearly an hour to finish the drink. Then, he sat in front of an empty glass, massaging the skin of his forehead with the tips of his fingers, looking tragically helpless. Everyone else has left. Even the annoying giggling couple has paid their bill and disappeared. Clint said, he’s going out for a smoke, and left the boy on his own.
Peter wandered around the only customer with a dishtowel, cleaning the tops of tables near the strange man, hoping he’ll get a chance to start a conversation. He wished to do that for ages, maybe since the moment he appeared in the front door. There was something immensely attractive about him. Maybe the whole angsty aura, the opposite of Peter’s own bubbly personality. They say opposites attract each other, and Peter worried he might get burned, but he had to bite.
He approached his table casually, and picked the empty glass, stained by milk and ice cream.
“Everything alright, sir?“ he asked him, trying his best not to stare at his beautiful hands.
“Is it?“ the man said vacantly, rubbing his eyes.
“Are you not happy with our service?“
“I’m very happy, to be honest. I like this place,“ the man admitted. The words were leaving his mouth in a strangely slow manner, almost as if talking was the hardest thing. He looked outside the window at his car parked in front of the building. It was raining and drops of water glistened on the hood of his black cadillac. “When I need to clear my head at night, I just jump into my car and drive for hours. And when I have to stop for gas, this place is always open, and it's so peaceful… I’m grateful for it, honestly.“
“Do you usually drive like this? For hours?“ Peter put his position behind and sat down, right across the sad man. The place was quiet, only a subtle voice from the radio was informing about the weather. The man looked strangely relieved, as if he hoped the boy would do it. He glanced at him and massaged the wrist on his left hand anxiously. The gesture was so odd, Peter had to stare for a moment, wondering if it's just to soothe him or if he's in actual pain.
“I do, more than usual these days.“
“You can’t sleep?“
“Sort of.“
“How come?“
"Because I’m unhappy,“ the man said simply and with those words a dam inside him broke and a flood of words came out: “And the worst part is, that I have no right to feel that way. I have a successful company, a beautiful fiancée, an enormous house and a nice car. And all of it means nothing to me. If it turned to dust tomorrow, I don’t think I would care. People always say that I’m the luckiest man on earth, but I just feel so empty inside, that I can’t even enjoy it. And I’ve always felt like this. Like a fish that doesn’t care where the stream will take it, and for some reason I got successful. I don’t deserve what I have and I don’t understand why I have in the first place.“
“Then leave it, and start again, somewhere else.“ Peter responded, maybe a way too quickly.
The man looked at him with his sad black eyes, with perfect long lashes, that Peter could see even through the dark sunglasses. This time, Peter felt truly seen by him, and he nearly shrank into a size of a tennis ball.
“How old are you?“
“Eighteen.“
“Things are easier when you’re that age. I really miss those days. Sitting inside a car, listening to a radio and driving across the states, not caring about where I’m going to spend the night. Nowadays, I have responsibilities. I employ a lot of people and my fiancée loves me way too much. I don’t really feel the same, no matter how harsh it sounds, but she doesn’t deserve to be abandoned for no reason. Do you see now, where I’m coming from?“
“I do...“ Peter nodded, absorbing a bit of sadness the man had shared with him. It was a cold feeling, filling up his stomach. He had no idea how to comfort him. All the words he wished to say felt like ashes scratching his throat. Useless.
After a second of bitter silence, Clint has returned from his smoke break, accompanied with a loud door creak. Peter took the empty milkshake glass rapidly and left the man on his own. As he was washing it at the bar, he noticed the man putting cash on the table and leaving without speaking. Peter, dazzled by the lights of his Cadillac, watched the car turn around and disappear swiftly in the night. Later, the boy found out the midnight guest had left him a generous tip.