Chapter Text
“I have a brilliant idea.”
Usually, when Sausage spoke like that, it didn't end well. Last time it was an offer for him and Scar to volunteer at the animal reserve, which ended up with an addition to the collection of scars for both of them on the very first day. Even before they both even approached the animals. The time before last, it was an organ course with Pearl, which ended with the break of the instrument and the need to pay compensation for it.
Therefore, when Sausage invited them to a coffee shop to discuss his new “very secret” idea, both Scar and Pearl were skeptical of anything that could come out of their friend's mouth. And the Cuban understood how much his ideas could annoy his friends, and every time things didn't go according to plan, he spent long hours apologizing and blaming himself for all sins. No matter how hard Pearl and Scar tried to assure him that everything was fine, no matter how many times they both came up with crazy ideas too… Their ideas have never ended so badly.
But here they are again, in the same faded boring cafe, in the same place by the window where they always gathered. Again, to listen to the Sausage’s plan, which for the first time might not be a failure or traumatic.
“The brilliant idea is… About what?” Pearl began hesitantly, wanting to listen Sausage explain himself, though he was already shaking with excitement and a desire to share his thoughts.
“It's magnificent that you asked!” Sausage immediately took out a notebook from his bag, which had been familiar to Scar and Pearl for so long, in which the Cuban was always writing or sketching something. That notebook, which is all painted in sunflowers. On the outside with the cover made by Scar and inside because of some absent-mindedness of the owner and the habit of always jumping from thought to thought. “So. My idea is that… We could try to open our own cafe. The sunflower cafe," Sausage said this with an unusual indecision for himself. All his past ideas did not include as many costs and risks as opening their own cafe, but... This idea kept him awake at night when he tried to imagine what the interior and exterior could look like, tried to look for a room to rent and even seemed to have found it.
Only after hearing Sausage's words, the eyes of both friends widened in surprise. And if it was clear on Pearl's face that she was now thinking about a hundred of questions that Sausage had to think about before even dreaming about opening a coffee shop, then there was a pleasant smile on Scar's face, as he wordlessly took friend's notebook, examining the sketches and fished a pencil out from behind his ear as he began editing it, adding his own vision. Pearl’s facial features softened as soon as she saw with what enthusiasm Scar began to edit the "project", but her gaze became anxious as she turned to Sausage.
“How sure are you that we can do all this? We all have jobs and maybe opening a cafe… It's not the best idea at the moment," Pearl said softly, not wanting to offend her friend. But also, knowing Sausage, it could be one of those plans that he lit up for just a couple of hours, days, but no more. Putting her hand on his, Pearl looked straight into his eyes, "Are you sure you really want this?"
“As never before,” Sausage rose slightly from his chair, snatching his notebook back from Scar's hands, his smile narrowed slightly, in the attempts of its owner to make a serious look, “We all went through barista school because of you. And I was also studying to be a bartender, so I could add a little spice and make it a little more fun. Moreover, our “very useful” majors can help both in management and in general in approving a loan for us to open. And more… We are all connected with sunflowers and it would be at least nice to open a coffee shop dedicated to our favorite plant.”
“Moreover, it can work to attract customers,” Suddenly added Scar, who was twirling a sunflower pendant in his hands, “Themed coffee shops are often more cozy and popular, just look at all these lavender cafes! Sunflowers are much better, cozier, more attractive, and I think we will find those who think so too.”
As soon as Scar added his thoughts about the coffee shop, Sausage’s eyes brightened up because of the support. The idea of the coffee shop was not only for him and his two best friends, but also for those who found joy in bright, sunny plants. Sausage returned his gaze to Pearl, begging her to agree, shifting his gaze between her and her backpack, which was also painted with sunflowers, as if hinting that this particular idea of his out of all the many failed ones might succeed.
Pearl took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her hand and squinting, the only one of the whole company thinking about shortcomings and future problems. After a couple of seconds, her facial features took on a calm appearance and, after she opened her eyes, they showed a familiar sparkle in her eyes, which appeared every time she was delighted with something and began to literally glow with energy and desire to do something.
“I guess we'll have to work out all the details before we start everything officially. In the meantime, let me take a look at the sketches too. I have a couple of ideas," Pearl snatched the notebook from Sausage's hands and put it on the center of the table, revealing one of the drawings of what a coffee shop window might look like.
The three sat at a table until the cafe closed, where they sat, still unwilling to stop thinking through every detail, from such boring things as logistics to little things that are still quite far from reality, like dishes in the theme of sunflowers, which Pearl can make especially for their “Sunflower Corner".
But even when they were kicked out of the boring coffee shop, the three continued to talk non-stop, following an unknown direction through the city, winding through its back streets, arguing with each other, laughing at rather stupid ideas that slipped through the conversation, when suddenly all three stopped in front of one building.
The building was quite old, three floors, which was not surprising for their town, but what caught their attention was that the room on the ground floor was rented out. The room, which from the outside was almost perfect as from their sketches they had created together. Each of them was in a stupor, trying to realize the reality of what was happening. Pearl was the first to come back, taking a picture of the number that needed to be contacted in case of interest in the offer. After a couple of seconds, she began to write to its owner and, despite the time, she received a response pretty quickly.
“We were told to come by 2 PM tomorrow. I hope there won't be any objections about this?” Pearl smiled happily, hugging her friends by the shoulders and at the same time bringing them out of their stupor.
"That would be amazing, Pearlie," Sausage quickly murmured, squeezing Scar and Pearl into a tight embrace, not wanting to let them go. He was confident that this time his idea would not let them down.
***
It was the evening of a fairly ordinary summer day. One of those evenings when Sausage was alone with his thoughts, checking the cleanliness of the dishes, thinking about new combinations of drinks, making up the menu for the new week dedicated to the birthdays of Bubbles and then Pearlie. It was just an ordinary evening at a coffee shop, which was only an hour away from closing, and Sausage did not really expect that an unexpected flow of visitors would occur.
Sausage was distracted from his thoughts by the crowd passing by the cafe. It seemed like there was supposed to be some kind of festival today, but Sausage was not sure, lost in the routine. Once, he confidently knew about all the events of their city and tried to attend them, but with the opening of Sunflower Corner, it became nearly impossible to keep in check.
Suddenly, a soft bell rang, signaling that someone has entered the cafe, forcing the Cuban to distract himself from his own notes in a notebook. But when the Sausage's gaze turned to the door, he did not see any visitors. The door was slightly ajar and after a couple of seconds a person slowly entered the cafe. What was quickly noticed by Sausage was the visitor's gaze darting from corner to corner. Their very appearance was rather disheveled, although, in the most objective Sausage’s opinion, very cute. An untidy bun, a dark blue dress that matched their light blue eyes. Beautiful eyes that looked like the sky, slightly squinting, but no less attractive for that. At the same time, their whole appearance seemed to scream about stress, anxiety, which was just experienced by the visitor.
Deciding to take control of the situation, Sausage smiled widely and came out from behind the counter to greet the visitor, trying to give comfort only by his aura and presence to someone who was clearly looking for it.
“Welcome to the Sunflower Corner or to the one and only sunflower cafe! Take a seat, I'll make you whatever you want, visitors that come for the first time get a one hundred percent discount," Sausage almost sang, watching the visitor's body language. Obviously he distorted the truth. New visitors were indeed given a discount, but it was only twenty percent, certainly not a hundred, but ... for this case, he decided to make an exception, putting his hand on the stranger's shoulder in a soothing motion, feeling that this was exactly what the visitor needed.
“You shouldn’t, I ... I just,” the visitor hesitated, trying to find what to say, carefully choosing the words, but eventually gave up, still stuttering a little in his speech, “Just wanted to get away from the crowd. The festival was too... Loud. That's why I’ve decided to sit here, if you don't mind," The visitor smiled shyly, their gaze lingered on every detail of the cafe, and apparently they seemed to like colorful decor.
“Objections are not accepted, sweetie,” Sausage spoke again, making a note in his mind of how cute the visitor was while so shy and embarrassed. Patting him on the shoulder, Sausage led the stranger to the table, seating him and returning to the counter, "Let's try this. I'll do something for you that I think you might like. So that you don't feel like you're being done a favor, think like you’re at the degustation where you need to tell your honest opinion," After waiting for an uncertain nod from the visitor, Sausage beamed, "Wonderful. Hot or cold?”
“Rather cold”
“Any allergies?”
“None”
“Name?”
“Mog... What does this question have to do with it?”
"I need to know who I'm talking to, darling," Sausage beamed again, taking out the few ingredients he planned to use. Honey was the most important of them – Mog felt like the kind of a person who might like the sweetness of honey in coffee. “Maybe you can also tell me your pronouns?”
"Any," Mog muttered, staring confusedly at the table, examining how it was painted with acrylic paints, "You have a very beautiful decor here. And the one who was engaged in painting furniture clearly knew what they were doing,” They said it a little more confidently, paying attention to flowers, bees, trees and plant theme of the cafe in general, clearly trying to shift the topic of conversation in another direction.
“You can hardly say that Scar knows what he's doing, but he likes to try and he does it magnificently,” Sausage said a bit louder than usual, expecting that the coffee machine would slightly drown out his voice. When the noise stopped and the drink was finally poured into two mugs with slight foam.Sausage took off his apron as he sat down at the same table with Mog, putting a mug in front of him, “Coffee with honey, milk and a couple of spices on the eye to add variety to the taste. I hope it will turn out as I expect, and not as it sometimes happens with my experiments," Sausage smiled a little, watching how Mog took the mug with uncertainty in his hands.
“A very nice mug,” They turned it in hands, examining the cup in form of a pumpkin from different sides, noticing traces of handmade work and Mog looked up in delight back to Sausage, smiling, — Also made by you?
“They are, Pearl and I went to ceramics courses, but if my cups can only be shown as examples of how not to do, then Pearlie is a real professional. But I'm an amazing barista," Sausage said proudly, trying not to take his eyes off the cute visitor.
“And very modest,” Mog jokingly added, stopping to examine the mug and sniffing at the contents, after a couple of seconds tasting what was cooked.
“And very modest,” Sausage repeated after Mog, watching with a smile as she tasted the drink, “And how is it?” Honestly, the Cuban did not need to hear the answer to understand that his companion liked the drink, clearly unable to hide the pleasure he received from it. There was a moment of silence, which was interfered only by the still periodically audible sounds from the festival passing by.
"This is probably the best thing I've ever drunk in my life," Mog said shyly, his smile taking on a more uncertain look as its owner tried not to return her gaze to the Cuban’s smug smile. And despite the fact that Sausage still remained confident on the outside, inside he could not help but notice that these words would remain in his heart for a very long time.
“I'm glad to hear that!” To distract his thoughts, Sausage tasted the contents of his mug, noticing that it really turned out well. Deciding that he wanted to know a little more about the visitor, the Cuban took the lead in the conversation again, "And what brought you to us? Especially in this amazing dress, which, don't get me wrong, is hardly suitable for a trip to us. Although it suits you very nice," Sausage smiled, winking and enjoying how Mog’s ears and cheeks began to blush a little.
“Thank you,” they stammered quietly, “I was at that festival that passed by your cafe. Honestly, I don't even remember what it’s theme was and so on, it's just..” She faltered in her speech, choosing the words, “My friends forced me to go... They think that since I want to meet my soulmate, then I should attend all these noisy events as much as possible, because ‘it could be someone in the crowd’ or something," Mog grinned dramatically, "But somehow I did not expect that there would be so many people and, apparently, panicked,” They shrugged their shoulders a little tightly, smiling again and looking up from the mug at Sausage in embarrassment, “And here I am. But I think I’ve got lucky finding this place, it's very cozy here.… I’ll definitely need to come here another day. Maybe even tomorrow, otherwise it's awkward because of the hundred percent discount,” Mog finished his drink and, only noticing the figure inside of the cup, stopped their gaze at it with admiration, instantly forgetting about what he came through during the evening, “A small pumpkin in a pumpkin mug… It's too cute, I'll need to get to know... Pearl? I also want to be able to do this.”
As Sausage looked at Mog, his eyes widened slightly, wondering how much he enjoyed listening to them. And when she started talking about pottery skills, her words gradually began to fall past Sausage’s ears, as a sudden thought appeared in his head. “Stay here.” Which, of course, would be a very strange offer for a person you've known for 20 minutes at most, but at the same time… It felt right.
It felt right, that Mog began to talk less and less awkwardly, talking about their friends who had already found their soulmates, talking about their desire to draw a coffee shop, which caused endless warmth and joy in the Sausage’s heart, telling him that they would never have done anything so delicious in their life even his favorite Filipino cuisine. And how cute they looked when they listened. When listening, every few seconds brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, tapping her fingers lightly on the table or knee, periodically taking a mug in her hands and twirling it in them. And Sausage couldn't stop noticing these little details in his evening companion. This was the case with every person he had met over the past couple of years, when he noticed their habits and body language, trying to remember everything. But in the case of Mog, it all seemed familiar for a long time, just lost until this moment.
The closing time of the coffee shop came and Mog left, with many thanks and promises, laughing and smiling, completely different from himself, who came into the cafe an hour ago, looking as if they had been dipped in a river. Left alone, Sausage pulled back the collar of his shirt, leaning his hand to the place where the flower of the dwarf cornel was painted on the skin at the base of his neck. Maybe it was fate after all?
***
Fate. And he didn't ask for their number, hoping for fate.
Despite the fact that Sausage really wanted to continue communicating, he forgot to even think about taking their number and now he was not sure if they were going to return to the cafe at all. Maybe he scared her off with his sociability? Made him feel uncomfortable? It's only been a couple of days and Sausage’s shift has come, but Pearl and Scar said that no one like Mog came during their shifts. No one like this orderly chaos, no one like this feeling of comfort, no one like…
The soft sound of a bell.
It was only an early evening, there were a couple of people sitting at the table near the window, but all of Sausage's attention turned to the one who had just entered the room. It was Mog, a little out of breath and no longer in the same dress, but in an equally suiting them purple sweater and charming round glasses, which gave her an even greater atmosphere of comfort.
It was them, looking for something or someone in confusion and then stopped their gaze on Sausage. She smiled brightly, though charmingly shy and then immediately went to the counter where the barista was standing.
“I didn't even hope that it would be your shift today,” The smile didn’t disappear from Mog's face, “I was stupid enough not to ask for the number… But it saved you that your drinks were too delicious," Mog quickly ran their eyes over the drink menu card, as they quickly returned their gaze to the Cuban's wide-open eyes, cringing a little, suspecting that they had made the other person embarrassed. A request sounded more quietly and less vividly, “Can I ask for what was last time?”
A wide smile returned to Sausage’s face as he gently squeezed the Filipino's hand and then winked slyly.
“Coffee with milk and honey it is then,” saying the mixture aloud, the man disappeared into the depths of the counter, when a second later he reappeared with all the necessary ingredients, creating magic with his strong hands, that is not fully understood by Mog. When, a minute later, Sausage tries to get the visitor's attention again, he realizes that their eyes are still glued to his hands, and not to the drink. Chuckling out loud, the Cuban snapped his fingers, awakening Mog from a trance, "Your drink,” Sausage said with a sheepish smile with a slightly flirtatious look.
Mog couldn’t process the spoken words for the first couple of seconds, distracted by the mug, but after a moment he took the drink with slightly shaking hands, trying to smile back. Inhaling the smell of the drink in the mug and making sure that this is exactly what made them come back to the cafe for the “official” reason. They returned their gaze to Sausage.
"Would you... like to join me? Until there are not many visitors. If you don't mind, of course," came from them awkwardly with a couple of swallowed sounds and stutters, which they tried hard to hide. Clapping his hands, Sausage came out from behind the counter with enthusiasm and seemed to try to grab the visitor by the hand, but stopped, remembering about the drink in their hands. He walked briskly to the table next to the bookcase, which was not far from the workplace, but was sufficiently hidden from the unwanted attention.
“Stealing barista in the middle of the day and during a work shift, how is that possible, Moggie,” Sausage said with feigned disappointment and before the Filipino could answer anything, he sat down at the table, inviting him to sit next to him, “It's not that I'm against it, with such interesting person I would always love to sneak away,” Sausage chuckled loudly, while Mog was already sitting down at the table less constrained.
“And so much talk,” Mog said, smiling slightly, taking a sip of coffee. Her face broke into a satisfied smile, as she suddenly remembered something. They quickly picked up their bag from the floor, sorting through the things in it and finally, probably finding what they had lost, Mog fished out a small covert. Sausage’s gaze suddenly became focused, the Cuban tried to look away from the bundle, but it turned out to be impossible when it was placed right in his hands, “I… I couldn’t stop thinking about this coffee shop. So I’ve decided that I wanted to draw it somehow, as promised. And in the end this happened,” Mog said awkwardly and embarrassed, turning away from Sausage, wishing he could sink into the ground.
But the Cuban couldn't utter a word, fingering the package in his hands and seeming afraid to unpack it, deciding to first study the simple kraft paper packaging in detail. Slowly, as if his fingers were numb, Sausage carefully began to unpack the package and after a few moments a small canvas appeared. The Cuban didn't even know that such small ones existed, but in his hands was a miniature painting depicting their cafe. Tables, a bookcase, vases with sunflowers, figurines, everything that surrounded him for most of the week and was carefully depicted in acrylic paints, although not perfectly accurately, because one of the tables stood in a different place, and they did not have such a figurine. But this only meant that it would have to be done.
Mog perceived the silence that was in the air wrong as he became visibly anxious. They were afraid that Sausage might not like it, that they might have made a mistake, maybe Sausage didn’t like art in general and he had made a mistake in depicting a coffee shop in a rather quick sketch. But as if anticipating the companion’s worries, the Cuban finally returned his gaze to the now slightly more than just a visitor. Smiling reassuringly, Sausage unwillingly but carefully put the canvas aside.
“This... This is amazing, Mog. I hope I will cut out a suitable frame to preserve this masterpiece,” Sausage said with feeling, already trying to decide if sunflower or plant patterns could be carved on the frame. But then, a sly grin returned to his face, - But you know what is missing here?
“What?” Mog rattled off, slightly in panic, trying to remember if the painting had been varnished, maybe they had left mess somewhere in there or made another mistake.
“Your signature. And also, your phone number in my contacts,” With a bright grin, Sausage held out his notebook, putting a pen in the palm of his companion, tacitly offering to write down his number.
***
The next two weeks passed... Sausage would have said fabulously. Scar would have said productively, because Sausage seemed to be floating in the sky the whole time, radiating warmth and light. Pearl, however, noticed in the recent events a familiar cycle for Sausage.
But everything that happened with Sausage was not like anything that happened with him before. Every day he waited for new messages from Mog or wrote on his own, wanting to learn as much as possible. About his work, his other tastes in drinks besides coffee with honey, his preferences in books, events in his life, his far too smart cat Miko. And if at first there was awkwardness in Mog's answers that did not match Sausage's energy, then after two weeks they could easily exchange photos of their animals and sometimes photographing something just to say "reminds me of you." Just like, for example, everything that was connected with sunflowers, Mog immediately sent to his friend, and all Sausage’s countless ideas for future crafts for the cafe were now written in chat with Mog instead of a notebook, discussing how this could be implemented.
Mog's visits to the coffee shop did not stop all this time and the Filipino even managed to catch Scar and Pearl's shifts, getting to know them, although he did not suspect how much their approval from each other was important for Sausage. Just as important as soft evenings and the doorbell ringing, caused by Mog, who was ready to listen about Sausage's visitors, new recipes and plans for aventures, while the Cuban in response was more than happy to hear about the book Mog had read, new orders and experiments in arts. And all this at what seemed to be the favorite place of two people who love changes. But neither of them was going to change the comfort of the table hidden from the world behind a bookcase.
2 PM and Sausage was rushing to his shift to cover for Pearl after her two shifts in a row. He was late, but it was hardly his fault that Bubbles needed all the attention in the world while she was sleeping soundly. And it certainly wasn't his fault that he felt the need to send this to Mog.
“You know, you might not have taken the landlady’s words about soulmates so seriously,” Pearl said when Sausage had just entered the coffee shop, staring at his phone while texting Mog. When the Cuban raised his head to look at his friend, he saw disapproval in her eyes, “Saus, I understand everything, but… How long have you known them? Two or three weeks? And you’re already afraid to miss even one message from her, asking if he’s been on our shifts… I’m worried about you,” Pearl slowly approached her friend, placing her hands on Sausage’s shoulders, “I don’t want you to get caught up in the whirlwind of searching for a soulmate again. I don’t want you to waste too much time again just because you were given false hope.”
“But I don’t even think about them that way,” the Cuban immediately began to defend himself, reluctantly putting his phone in his pocket, realizing how terrible everything that was happening probably looked in the eyes of his friends. Pearl and Scar were getting him out of every relationship in which he was stuck on his own, feeling an impulse that he confused with love. Feeling that this was the very spark of soulmates. Feeling that this was fate. And every time he needed an hour-long heart-to-heart talk with his two closest people who would convey to him. This was not fate. This was not the right person. These were not the ones he was looking for. This was a lie. He was being deceived. First of all, he was deceiving himself.
“You started out with a lot of people without thinking about them that way. Do you want me to remind you about that time you almost moved into another country because you were afraid of hurting someone even though they refused to show you their soulmate mark?” Pearl said almost without judgment until she pulled her friend closer in a soothing gesture, “Saus, I understand that you really want to find your love, someone you want to spend your life with and give them every minute you have. But don’t forget about yourself,” Pearl stroked him gently until the Cuban nodded and then, pulling away, smiled slightly slyly, “I see that you have a lot to tell about them. Spill the tea,” Pearl smiled as she moved behind the counter for the last time that day, setting the kettle on the stove and choosing the right brew for the conversation, mentally preparing herself for Sausage to go on and on about how wonderful and special Mog was.
What she didn’t know was that Sausage finally felt like he was in the right place and almost fully satisfied.
***
It had been over a month since they had started talking to each other. Over a month since they had been in almost constant contact, feeling as if they had known each other their whole lives. A month in which Mog had begun to frequent the cafe not only during Sausage's evening shifts, but had also become less wary of Scar and Pearl, discussing with them almost any topic they could come up with.
They both liked Mog. And even Pearl's initial skepticism faded as soon as they were able to discuss a couple of places they had both happened to visit, then getting carried away with some “arty” discussions that Sausage didn't always listen to when he caught them, simply getting lost in the soft voice of his new friend.
Now Sausage could confidently call Mog a friend. In fact, he could have done it in the first week, but as it turned out, friendship was something sacred for Mog, which the Cuban could not help but respect. Therefore, when Mog first called him a friend, something inside Sausage began to beat much faster than ever before.
But now, on another sunny day, when Sausage was just entering the cafe, not only Scar but also Pearl were waiting for him, sitting together at the table and closing the coffee shop for a ten-minute break. Then Sausage realized that he was probably in for a serious conversation. A conversation, the topic of which he did not want to predict, but suspicions were creeping in.
"Did something happen while Scar was on shift? I thought I left everything in perfect order yesterday, Pearlie, you don't have to worry about our or cafe's safety, we're not that irresponsible," but before Sausage could continue his speech, full of words that delayed the conversation, Pearl raised her hand in a stopping gesture.
“I trust you with the cafe, otherwise I wouldn’t have started this whole thing with you,” Pearl’s words were interrupted by a feigned surprised exchange of glances between Sausage and Scar, who had listened too often how Pearl was complaining about the state of the counter and the coffee shop in general after their shifts, about how they both got distracted too often and organized unplanned promotions like “free tea for everyone whose name is after a plant.” With a dramatic heavy sigh, Pearl continued, simultaneously jabbing Scar in the side with her elbow, “But I, in my well-deserved rest, am still here because we need to discuss something. Discuss you and what’s going on with you, Sausage.”
At that moment, Sausage's heart sank with fear. Fear of disappointment, fear of the conversation that followed, fear that he would let his friends down again, that they would have to pull him out of states from which he would not be able to get out. Sausage knew that the conversation would turn to Mog. Sausage knew that he could often talk too much about them, he knew that Pearl and Scar liked Mog, but he also knew that his best friends continued to worry about him. But Sausage also knew that Mog was not the same case as the previous ones, that Mog was special, that even after a month of active communication, he was interested in talking to him. He did not lose interest in them, on the contrary, he gained it with each passing day.
“We… We just both wanted to say that you’re our best friend and we’re genuinely worried about you,” Scar said instead of Pearl, rising from the table to look directly into Neighbor’s eyes, searching for something in them. Perhaps fear, confusion, surprise, perhaps anger, irritation, boredom, rejection, perhaps understanding, gentleness, agreement, and acceptance. After a pause for all three of them to gather their thoughts, Scar finally broke the silence, “I just want to ask one thing. Do you feel as comfortable with them as you do with us, or do you want to distance yourself from them like you did last times?” Seeing that Sausage was quickly about to answer, probably in an attempt to protect someone else’s honor, Scar put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, smiling reassuringly, “Don’t answer now. You don’t have to tell us. But just proceed with them depending on your answer.”
While his friends around him were bringing back the bustle of the coffee shop after the break and a few other words that Sausage had missed, the Cuban sat down at the table, lost in his own thoughts, making little effort to appear as carefree as ever. The break sign was removed, the coffee machine hissed as Pearl decided to make her presence “at least a little useful” by preparing each of the three of them a mug of their favorite hot drink. And all this while Sausage, staring at the small canvas in the carved frame, tried not to get lost in his thoughts completely.
Sausage was scared to realize that Mog made him feel the same way his best friends did. The only thing worse was the realization that these feelings were of a different kind.
***
"Proceed depending on your answer."
Unfortunately for his friends, Sausage did not like to bury himself in his thoughts, and so he continued to postpone serious searches for an answer to the question for the third week already. Scar continued to hint that it was time for Sausage to act regardless of the Cuban's answer, while Pearl tried to ignore that the conversation happened, only communicating more and more with Mog.
Three weeks passed, three weeks during which Sausage continued to live as if nothing had happened. Live as if his head was not filled with endless thoughts about his own feelings and their future results. Live as if right now Mog were not standing right in front of him, waving a hand in front of his face to break him out of his trance.
"The Earth is calling Sausage, there are still sunflowers on it, so there is still a reason to live," Mog said teasingly, achieving her goal only when Sausage smiled brightly. But the grin did not disappear from the Cuban's face, moreover, in a sudden impulse he grabbed his friend by the arm, pulling him into a half-hug, spinning him around from the joy of the meeting.
“Perhaps sunflowers are not the only reason to return to earth sometimes. You, humans, are an interesting specimen for the likes of me,” the words came from Sausage, playfully serious. When friends stopped, the barista's face expressed feigned drama, “But soon I will be exiled from here, Moggie, and my study of human civilization will end with the explosion of the entire planet. Including sunflowers,” Turning away, as if overcome by emotion, Sausage covered his face with his hand, pretending to hide tears, while he barely restrained himself from snorting.
Mog gave his friend a gentle push and a shove in the back, smiling and rolling his eyes as he took Sausage's hand in his own. It took a moment for Sausage to realize he was being led somewhere, but it seemed like with Mog there was no need to ask what was going on or where they were going. It was a day off, and even if he'd only planned on going to the store to pick up a few spices, he was now following someone he trusted more than he probably should have.
“You’re being too quiet for someone who’s being led into the unknown and who can’t keep quiet for more than five minutes,” Mog jokes, pausing to suddenly let go of Sausage’s hand with a slightly awkward gesture, only realizing what they had done. Strangely, as soon as his hand was released, Sausage felt as if the warmth he had been feeling also disappeared. But if anything made him feel more lost, it was Mog’s worried face, which had lost its enthusiasm, “Sorry, I probably should have asked first if it was even possible to steal you like that. I’m sorry, I…” Before Mog could say anything else in the stream of future endless apologies, Sausage put a finger to their lips, signaling for her to stop. Smiling supportively, he took the Filipino’s hand in his again.
"Lead the way, sweetie, I don’t think that death awaits me at the end of our path," said Sausage in a dramatic tone, but his unseriousness was betrayed by a wide smile that brightened everyone around him. For a couple of seconds, Mog stood in a stupor, but then, smiling slightly embarrassedly, they squeezed the other's hand tighter, moving forward, as if trying to awkwardly hide.
“Then, I hope you don't mind being at the fair with me,” meeting Sausage's questioning gaze, Mog quickly explained, “I think I mentioned it, but... It's almost autumn, the autumn fair has already started, and my friend Scott is participating in its market as one of the sellers along with his partners. So, I wanted to support him and just see what was going on... Who knows, maybe I’ll meet that someone in the crowd or whatever they like to say,” Mog tried to joke at the end, realizing the awkwardness of the situation, leading his friend into the unknown for himself, which did not help his embarrassment. But the Cuban's eyes seemed to light up and he squeezed Mog's hand even tighter, already leading his friend along.
“Then I know where we should go! I didn't make it last year, but now fate itself has sent me a pretty bee to direct me there,” winking, Sausage grinned slightly, enjoying the blush that spread like paint on Mog's face.
"Bee? An interesting new nickname, sparkle," Mog said, frowning slightly, not really thinking about the nickname, but realizing that it suited Sausage. A wild, chaotic character that varied depending on the situation, which could become absolutely untamable or warm with its comfort and who was absolutely everywhere.
Sausage continued walking without stopping, trying not to think about how much Moga's nickname had sunk into his heart. He was not the type of person who blushed easily or was easily embarrassed, but he was the type who laughed nervously, not expecting to receive a response to his flirting. The awkwardness that had not yet had time to form was interrupted by a fascinated sigh from the Filipino, who noticed the decorations and posters that pointed to a fair nearby. They pulled their companion by the hand, involuntarily speeding.
Together they walked to the market part of the fair, where there were already a decent number of people. Considering that the day was just beginning, and it was going to be a long Sunday, one could only expect that with each passing hour more and more people would come.
“Do you want to split up or watch everything together? If anything, we can agree to meet at a certain place once we finish,” said Mog, whose hand Sausage was not going to let go of any time soon. Therefore, as soon as another bright smile appeared on Sausage’s face, Mog only squeezed the other’s hand tighter, directing it towards the row with drinks and spices, “Heart on the shoulder and all thoughts on the face,” Mog said softly and quietly, more for herself than for her companion, who, having heard what was said, tried to pretend that he had not heard anything at all.
He will find out. If, of course, Mog doesn’t already know about Sausage’s feelings, then they will find out soon. Or Pearl and Scar will help them, so that one of them will start doing at least something, start with the first step, which Sausage clearly could not afford now. Or he will really find out everything. He will find out that Sausage is trying to get as close to him as possible, he will find out that he considers them as his soulmate, he will find out that he cannot imagine his days and evenings without his comfort, even in simple chat. If Mog finds out Sausage’s feelings, then the Cuban doesn't know what will happen, because the only things that Sausage has ever seen on their face were only shyness and comfort without anything negative.
And now, wandering together through the fair, Sausage did not remember what he noticed, what he said, what he answered, immersed in his consciousness and only pretending that the spoken words did not affect him in any way. Probably, this was not hidden from Mog, but they only continued to lead him deeper into the fair, moving from row to row, gradually observing how Sausage seemed to come back to the reality, trying to throw away all thoughts about the past and the future, trying to concentrate on the “here and now”. Here and now they were still walking arm in arm, not letting each other go far, and now Sausage again considered it easy to start a conversation with them after a couple of dozen minutes of feigned joy. Now this joy was sincere, now Sausage together with Mog looked with interest at the contents of the tables, even finding those spices for which he initially left the house on his day off.
Suddenly, Sausage thought that someone was calling Mog. It was unlikely that many people at this fair were called Mog, but the Cuban had some doubts that someone could call them. But his suspicions were confirmed when he heard his friend's name for the second time from somewhere far away, while Mog was too lost in thoughts about the need to buy pumpkin syrup.
"Pretty bee, you were called," Sausage said softly, slightly pulling his friend away from the table and leading him in the direction from which the voice was heard. Mog was called again and this time the Filipino finally heard it, quickening his pace. They stopped at a table on which hand-made ceramics were laid out, painted to look like different plants and animals. "Flower Ranch" sounded like a beautiful name when three young men stood at the table, one of whom quickly came out from behind the counter to hug Mog, wailing at the same time.
“Three times, Mog Swamp, three times it took shouting all over the fair for you to finally deign to come over! And it’s if not to include how many times all three of us called you on the phone and texted you,” the young man with cyan hair finally pulled away, carefully examining Mog's outfit, and then finally paid attention to Sausage, closely studying every detail in him. Speechlessly first looking at Mog, and then, probably, at his soulmates he smiled slyly, glancing at the Filipino.
"Sausage, meet Scott, the same friend I was originally going to the fair to see. And these are his soulmates Jimmy and Tengo," Mog says awkwardly, as if ashamed of either his inattention, or Scott's appraising look, or the whole awkwardness of the situation. Sausage, with a wide smile, just extended his hand to each of them in turn.
"Nice to meet you, Mog told quite a lot about you," said Sausage, trying to break the awkwardness in the air, recalling the stories he'd been told, almost every time returning to the thought that it was because of them that he even knew Mog. Because of these three soulmates, who had forced the Filipino to leave his house one evening for yet another festival in their ever-living city, Sausage had met Mog, who'd accidentally dropped into the Sunflower Corner.
"Pretty sure they’ve talked about all the times we made her come out of his shell so they would stop whining about finding a soulmate," Tango said quietly, apparently busy getting a couple of boxes from under the table, causing a disgruntled whisper from Jimmy, after which Tango just shrugged, smiling in a similar manner to Scott. Sausage's eloquent silence and sly smile made Mog nudge him a couple of times in indignation because of all his friends.
"I forbid you to be friends, otherwise you will all unite against me," Mog said with a bit of feigned displeasure, trying not to look at any of his friends, some of whom could not hold back their sly smiles and knowing glances. Concentrating on the mugs and plates, the Filipino finally picked one up, insistently wanting to change the subject, "Scotty, you didn't forget my mug again this time, did you?"
Scott looked deeply offended, as if he couldn't believe that Mog could even assume that. Moving back to the table, Scott began to search for something among the two boxes that stood near the table. Finally digging out the one with too many notes written on it like "don't forget by 24.06", "for Mog" and others that Sausage didn't have time to read after Scott took out a mug decorated like a jar of honey. Mog carefully took it in his hands to look at the painting with admiration, examining almost every line. Scott watched Mog with a soft smile and then turned his gaze to Sausage for a couple of seconds, as if with some understanding and a hint at something.
After countless thanks from the Filipino and hugs from all three friends standing at the table, which almost ended with Mog ready to burst into tears from an excess of feelings, Sausage and Mog finally moved on through the fair. They were both well aware that their long presence at the table was rather driving away visitors. Having said goodbye, friends continued to explore the fair in a much lighter mood, returning to their usual warm conversations and humorous arguments.
Only after completing their tour of the entire fair and packing all the “treasures” into each other’s bags, an announcement sounded from the loudspeakers about the beginning of the autumn dance in a couple of minutes. And if Mog perceived the announcement rather neutrally, already heading towards the exit from the fair, then Sausage, without thinking, led his companion, who had just turned around, towards the area specially organized so that people could dance together in the evening.
“Are you sure you want to dance?” Mog barely managed to say, while she tried not to let go of the bag, catching up with Sausage, who was walking quickly, but still holding his friend's hand tightly, “I, just... If you want, you can go without me, I'm not very good at dancing,” Mog continued, stopping and at the same time forcing Sausage to turn around. Joyful lights were already dancing in the Cuban's eyes, as if trying to convince them to go at least to continue looking at those chocolate sparkling eyes.
“Then I'll teach you,” Sausage said without a second thought, quickening his pace, his gait became more jumpy, “In dancing, of course, technique is important, but the most important thing is feeling and if you don't have it along with emotions, passion, then the dance will be cold, insensitive and generally not a dance, just a set of movements without meaning. So, if you want, I invite you to join me,” as soon as they reached the platform, Sausage said, letting go of Mog's hand only to bend in a mock bow, inviting him to dance.
“Stand up,” Mog said in embarrassment, taking Sausage's hand in their own to bring him out of his bowed state, their own movements constrained and embarrassed. It was too obvious that he was afraid of disapproval, contemptuous looks, something that would seem like a shame for life if he could not dance beautifully right in this moment and especially with Sausage. But suddenly Mog was brought out of the whirlpool of their thoughts by a supporting squeeze of the palm from Sausage, who smiled warmly at her.
A rather calm melody started from the speakers above, but with each couple of seconds the tempo increased, hinting at the future cheerful culmination of the entire composition. Expressive Sausage’s eyes without words asked Mog whether they would like to dance, and, also without words, Mog smiled shyly and squeezed his companion's hand even tighter, finally leading them both out onto the floor.
Their movements were uncertain and slow at first, Sausage did everything so that their motions, which had almost no technicality, did not have any unneeded haste. But soon the music began to speed up, and Mog finally began to relax, trusting Sausage's movements, leading him in this dance. And after just a couple of moments, Mog smiled brightly, watching others' motions and repeating them, adding a couple of their own, which they wanted to do only because their feelings commanded it. A quiet laugh pierced the air, standing out against the background of loud music, other couples and groups dancing together, attracting all of Sausage's attention to Mog.
How they parted and went their separate ways remained a hazy memory for Sausage. He returned only quite late in the evening to Bubbles, who was tired of waiting for him, but even on a walk, in the cold fresh night air, Sausage had only one picture in his head. How they were carried away by the dance, sincerely smiling, how their eyes were full of hope, happiness, joy, comfort…
Holy sunflowers, he was definitely completely lost for them.
***
Time in the cafe always flowed unexpectedly differently. Either too fast or too slow, it always depended on external factors. During the hours of the greatest number of customers, everything seemed incredibly fast, although it seemed only a second ago that the very first bell had rung, foreshadowing the fullness of the room. But when someone familiar or close visited the coffee shop, time stretched out slowly, like nougat, as if specially at the request of the Cuban, and then he could enjoy every pleasant second of conversation and silence, every sip of hot, like his soul, drinks.
And this day was no exception. The end of September, most people no longer demand cool summer drinks, which remained on the menu all year. The time has come for warming ones with spices, sweet syrups and tasty foams.
The doorbell rang again, but this time it meant the end of busy hours. Mog walked into the cafe, looking adorable as always. Sausage was sure that if any of his “colleagues” were in the coffee shop now, they would either start telling him how he spent an indecently long time staring at her every move, every detail in her image, or he would get into trouble because Sausage had been putting off the conversation with Mog about them being potential soulmates for the second month. Sausage had been putting off for the second month even the clearly obvious thought that he cared about Mog, regardless of his fate’s plans.
Mog walked to the counter with ease, and when they reached it, Mog leaned on it and, smiling, looked at the barista, not wanting to be the first to break the silence. Sausage, repeating Mog’s motions, also leaned on the counter, looking straight into the Filipine’s eyes, smiling playfully.
“What is it today, pretty bee? Autumn menu, regular, personal drink? Tea, coffee, cocoa? Hot as the depths of Tartarus, cold as your ex's heart or warm as my eyes? Spices, syrups, decorations, cheese foam? Hot barista is also an option,” Sausage rattled off with a wink, not taking his eyes off Mog, who was already more than accustomed to such offers from the Cuban, but still happy and embarrassed every time.
“How about cocoa with pumpkin syrup and a hot barista to warm me up after I finish my drink?” Mog said a little hesitantly, but still smiling playfully with a hint of embarrassment playing on their lips. Sausage chuckled lighthearted, turning to the side where the kettle should have been.
“Your order has been accepted, please wait at the usual place, the cocoa will be delivered by your one and only servant,” Playfully booping Mog's nose and making sure that he headed to where they usually sat together on late long evenings, Sausage completely immersed himself in the process of preparing a simple drink, into which he again tried to pour all his thoughts, feelings, emotions, which he did not allow to spill out anywhere else. Not in a notebook, not alone with himself, not on walks with Bubbles, when he usually discussed various stupidities with himself, and certainly not with anyone else. He allowed the emotions closed inside him to spill out only in drinks made especially for them. And, perhaps, in light flirtation with them. But Sausage hoped that they did not think about it as something serious, because otherwise all this interweaving of feelings would be absolutely impossible to untangle.
A sound that was unexpectedly loud to Sausage's ears interrupted his thoughts. He simply didn’t reckon his strength enough and placed the mug on the counter louder than usual. Sighing and then smiling slightly, the Cuban took the mug with the hot drink to take it to Mog, who was sitting at the table behind the bookcase and looking at the interior as if they had not spent at least a couple of evenings a week in the cafe for the last four months. Distracted from her own thoughts, Mog smiled, making Sausage feel all the feelings he had tried to leave behind the counter again. They thanked him for the drink, thanked him for keeping them company, thanked him and began to talk, unintentionally drawing all the Cuban's attention to themselves. Sausage did not lag behind, he knew how to fill the entire space with himself, his conversations, his atmosphere, in which he made others relax and trust. Including Mog. But suddenly Mog fell silent, an embarrassed blush appearing on their face as they finally sighed heavily, breaking the barely established silence.
“Can I... Can I ask you something?” Mog said in a slightly nervous, stuttering voice, looking away from Sausage, concentrating on the warm sunflower mug in his hands, as if returning to the first day of their acquaintance. Having waited for the Cuban's nod, which was barely noticeable from his point of view, Mog smiled, as if trying to calm down, “Scott invited me to go to something like a ball, which will be held in two weeks ... Where everyone has suits in honor of their favorite flowers and plants, which should be soulmate marks... It turned out that he can't go because of work, but one invitation remains and I would really like to go with someone important to me. So, if you are free in the evening on the first Sunday in October, then... I would be glad if you could go with me,” Mog was finally able to say embarrassedly, slowly, stretching out some of the words, afraid to look into Sausage's eyes, whose pupils dilated in surprise.
Mog... Mog was offered to go together to an evening, a meeting, a ball, which was usually intended for searching for soulmates or just for fun with loved ones, to show off costumes, favorite plants and, if to be lucky with the location of the mark - the soulmate’s plant. And Mog offers him to go to such an evening. As if hinting at something or… Wanting to find out something. Sausage could not refuse this in any universe. Mog made the first step towards him and now Sausage could not help but take a step or two towards them.
“The Ball of Flower Souls? You know, I always wanted to go, but there was no suitable company,” Sausage said, professionally hiding the excitement that filled his soul at that moment, “The first Sunday in October, right?”
***
He was obscenely late for Mog. Sausage was definitely not to blame for the delay at the coffee shop, or for the fact that Bubbles decided to lie on the shirt he was preparing for the ball and he urgently had to clean it, or for the fact that at the very moment when he was leaving his apartment, his neighbor decided to complain about him, irritated by his evenings playing the guitar, not listening to attempts to negotiate, attempts to postpone the conversation for later, attempts to simply get out on the street. He was obscenely late for the one he was looking forward to each meeting with. Obscenely late when he was told about this ball two weeks in advance. His only task for these two weeks was not to be late. And now, Sausage was running through the half-empty streets of the city, while his cape with embroidered sunflowers fluttered right behind him. Two blocks left to run. One. And here he was on the stairs of the building where the ball was taking place, the sounds of which could be heard even from behind closed doors.
But Mog themselves weren't on the stairs. They had agreed to meet right at the entrance, but it was empty. And on the stairs, and by the railings, and in the places close to the entrance. Finally deciding to check the time, Sausage was horrified. 9:40 PM. He was forty minutes late and forgot to warn his partner for the ball. How could he forget, when all he wanted for a long time was to just be next to Mog, even if he denied it in the evenings of long reflection. All he had been waiting for these past two weeks was a chance to finally find confirmation that they were destined for each other.
But apparently Sausage had cut short all his opportunities with one lateness, after which Mog had every right to think that he was a terrible person who had agreed to the ball just to make Mog look ridiculous. To do what Mog was very afraid of. To do what Mog had repeatedly worried about out loud. To be yet another person who had hurt Mog.
The only hope Sausage had was that Mog was in the building now, one of many people, one of many someones in a crowd. One of many people in a crowd that he was definitely not comfortable in alone. But Sausage's senses told him that Mog was not there, that she was somewhere further away. Maybe they hadn't left yet? Maybe they were still nearby?
Sausage quickly went down the stairs, speeding up from a normal walk to a half-run, still not fully recovered from the run up to the ball’s building, but it didn't matter when the only sound in his head was his own frantic heartbeat, beating out its precise staccato.
The next sound that burst into his head was a sob. Sudden, out of nowhere, and when Sausage finally began to pay attention to the road, he saw a figure in the distance. A figure close to him, an important one for him, in a long dress that suited them incredibly, the hems of which were lined with... Dwarf cornel. His flower or more likely plant was dwarf cornel. And it was this sight that gave Sausage the strength and energy to speed up his pace even more, running to Mog in a couple of seconds, immediately standing right in front of them, assessing the situation and whether he should try to calm him down tactilely or whether it was better to refrain for now. But a tirade of self-explanations, a tirade of his own thoughts immediately burst out of his mouth, almost without thought and under the influence of emotions.
“I was so worried about you, please forgive me, I came so late. First the cafe, then Bubbles, and the neighbor. None of it will justify the fact that I didn’t warn you, that I made you worry, cry. Forgive me, please, Mog, I was so stupid, so terrible, that I do not deserve such a partner as you at the ball. I am sorry, and I will completely understand and accept your decision if you never want to see me again.”
But Sausage's words were quickly interrupted by him being pulled into a tight embrace. Mog’s face was pressed into his shoulder, as little by little a couple of places on the Cuban's suit became slightly wet because of tears, but neither of them planned to move away from the other, enjoying the closeness, trying to unconsciously save the moment for future memories, when they would sit in a cafe, or on a walk in the park, or even in a shared apartment, laughing at the possible stupidity of such a situation. Laughing at themselves from the past. But right now, at this moment, Sausage was on the verge of tears himself from the abundance of feelings that filled his head, pressing Mog even closer to himself, trying to calm the still barely audible sobs.
Time seemed to stop only for them and returned to its pace only when Mog pulled away, looking away from Sausage, until an awkward silence surrounded them, as if there were no four months of active daily communication between them and they again moved to the coffee shop, at the moment when Mog again ran away from the crowd. Only this time, she beckoned Sausage to follow her.
“I hope that next time when you are late for almost an hour, you will warn about it,” Mog's whisper was heard after he returned his gaze to Sausage, but did not dare to look him straight in the eyes, “I... Was scared, because I thought that you would not come at all. But I think I thought worse of you and you once again confirmed that I was wrong,” the words were heard, immediately after which a soft smile appeared on their face. Radiating warmth, reminiscent of the feeling of home, so close and which Sausage wanted to see as often as possible. The reason for the appearance of which he always wanted to be.
“I’ll try my best, mi amor,” said Sausage in response, no longer hiding his feelings or his thoughts about Mog. They remained in silence for a while, until suddenly a quiet chuckle came from the Cuban. The next second, Sausage’s hand was at the base of Mog’s neck, where a sunflower mark was on his soulmate’s skin. They didn’t need to voice the already obvious fact out loud, but that didn’t stop them both from wanting to eliminate their worries, “Dwarf cornel, right?” Sausage said, clarifying, to which Mog’s cheeks slightly reddened, while their owner awkwardly turned his head away.
"I didn't think you'd recognize what kind of flower it was," They said quietly and awkwardly until Neighbor's hand gently rested on his cheek, returning his head to its previous position, causing Mog's breathing to stop for a couple of seconds, but as soon as it returned, they leaned to that hand, smiling tenderly, looking into Sausage's eyes, "But I'm glad you recognized that it is a dwarf cornel. But from my side there was no problem with the sunflower. And with noticing the outline of the dwarf cornel on your neck too," Mog chuckled quietly, as they gradually stepped closer, even if it seemed physically impossible.
“Was that your plan all along? To go to the Sunflower Corner and charm the barista there?” Sausage said in a mocking tone as his other hand landed on Mog's other cheek, lightly stroking it, as if trying to take away all the worries, all the fears, all the pain and, in general, all the terrible things that could appear in Mog's head, “You're lucky that this barista turned out to be your soulmate, pretty bee,” the Cuban winked, enjoying the embarrassment he brought Mog to.
“Stop it,” Mog said, slightly muffled, while they tried to pull away from Sausage’s embrace in embarrassment, but suddenly the Cuban felt a bright emotion that was not only his, he shared it with his soulmate. Happiness. They were both happy at that very moment, in each other’s company, sharing warmth and, as it turned out, emotions.
In the silence that followed, they spent a few moments, minutes, maybe even an eternity, concentrating on the soothing and at the same time heated movements and touches of each other.
“I don't want to go back there,” Mog slightly whispered, pressing his face into Sausage’s shoulder again.
“In that case... Do you mind sharing the dance with me?” With not so low bow, said Sausage, taking Mog's hand in his own, bringing it to his lips and leaving a light kiss on it, repeating all the same actions from the autumn festival.
Mog's fingers squeezed Sausage's hand, bringing him out of the bow and placing his other hand on his partner's shoulder.
“I’m afraid I’ll never be able to refuse such a man,” Mog smiled slyly, allowing Sausage to lead the dance from that moment on, who, confused for a second with his mouth slightly open, gently led his soulmate into the dance, quickly turning it into an overly energetic set of turns that made almost no sense, but brought them both too much happiness.
There was laughter coming from them, their legs intertwined and occasionally tangled, while Sausage's cloak and Mog's dress slightly restricted their movements, but they felt not a bit of negative emotion. They radiated joy, comfort, the happiness caused by finding the exact someone for who both of them were searching for years. They seemed to be the definition of "happiness". They were suddenly together, despite how this evening had begun. The most important thing was what was happening at this very moment, until one of them, finally tripping over someone's hem, began to fall on his partner. But for none of them it was something sad, terrible, it was just a fall to the ground, perhaps a little painful for both, but it did not stop them from continuing to laugh, enjoying each other's company and how Sausage was spread out on the ground, while Mog sat over him, in between loud, not often heard from him, laughter, apologizing, but hardly sincere, considering that none of them was in a hurry to get up from the ground.
"What a wonderful sight I see," Sausage said with a sly grin, quickly grabbing his soulmate, squeezing them in his arms while they were still laughing. The warm wide smile did not fade on the Cuban's face, while his brain was still trying to comprehend that all of this was reality, not his stupid dream, he found his soulmate, he simply realized that he found them, accepted it as a given, that this particular person was destined for him by fate, that now he felt their shared happiness. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a piece of embarrassment that definitely did not belong to Sausage himself. But he would not trade this feeling for anything, wanting to dedicate his life to causing embarrassment and shyness to his soulmate, to feel the effect that he causes in them.
"I think I have the best sight, not you," Mog says, slightly embarrassed and choked in the embrace, at first avoiding the gaze of his soul-bound, but after a couple of seconds she returned his gaze to him, with eyes that began to fill with tears of happiness, threatening to roll down his cheeks at any second. Sausage, noticing the state of his partner, gently placed his hand on Mog's cheek, soothingly stroking it with cyclical movements.
"What is it, my pretty little bee?" Sausage said quietly, realizing the rapid change of mood, although no less sensual, but still requiring its moment. Mog chuckled slightly upon hearing the sweet nickname and, without breaking eye contact, pressed himself into Sausage’s embrace a little closer.
“It's just... I didn't expect to ever meet the one destined for me. I always thought that all these tropes with "someone in the crowd" were nonsense, never believed the words of friends who found their soul-bounds and... I'm just so glad that you appeared in my life. As a friend and as... As my soulmate,” Mog said the last three words in a barely audible whisper, smiling at Sausage, ignoring that he was getting cold lying on the ground.
“You don't know how happy I am. After so many attempts, after so long... I'm glad that in the end it's you,” Still rubbing his soulmate's cheek, Sausage sat down on the ground, pulling Mog along with him, “Maybe it's time for us to leave.”
“To your place or to mine?” Mog said jokingly, getting up from the ground and shaking off his dress, not implying anything serious under what he said.
“I suggest a coffee shop, I still have the keys, and no one will stop me from opening it for the night just for the two of us,” in one motion, Sausage got up from the ground, not thinking about cleaning his coat, pressing himself against Mog and quickly grabbing his hand in his, “Me, you, sunflowers, some jazz and maybe a drop of rum. How does that sound?” With a playful grin, Sausage took Mog's other hand in his own, pressing the Filipino closer to himself.
“An interesting way to try to avoid meeting Miko. He is certainly quite picky in people, but I think he will like you,” Mog chuckled quietly, playfully pulling away from Sausage's embrace.
“If I were you, I would rather worry that Miko will choose me instead of you, deciding to take over the world together,” the Cuban tightly squeezed Mog’s hand in his, starting his way towards the cafe. After a few seconds of quietness, he broke the silence again, “Bubbles will like you anyway and you won’t be able to get rid of the opportunity of meeting her,” Sausage said thoughtfully as they walked, trying to comprehend what had happened and preparing for a night that would be far from the last spent together.