“You’ve always had one hell of an imagination,” Dominic said, tapping his fingers on the paper coffee cup he held. “But seriously, I think you’re starting to buy into your own poetry.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shawn asked. He drank from his own cup and set it down again, crossing one leg over the other while sitting back in his chair. The normal background noise from the café filled the air behind them, and even though it hadn’t reached the time when Edwin normally showed up, Shawn still felt his eyes gravitate toward the spot by the window before lining Dominic in his sight again.

“I mean that.” Dominic gestured toward the back. “What was that line about him being ‘dressed in sunlight’ or ‘painted in sunlight’ or something like that?”

“It was painted with sunlight and yeah, I know what I wrote, but this was different.” Shawn sighed. ‘He’s probably not coming today,’ he thought while directing his gaze toward his coffee, fingers picking at the cardboard holder wrapped around it. “I can’t make sense of any of this, to be honest. We were into each other. I know I wasn’t the only one who felt that.”

“Maybe he had some legitimate reasons to freak out. Ones that don’t involve color-changing eyes.”

“Like what?”

“Like maybe he’s got something. Maybe he didn’t expect you guys to hit it off so well and you did before he could figure out how to break that news to you.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he does, and maybe you’re right, but the fact that he practically ran away from me doesn’t suggest he has cancer or AIDS or anything like that.” Shawn shook his head, glancing back up again. “I could try going back to his place and seeing if I can get him to talk to me about it, but I don’t want him to think he can’t have a few days to sort things out.”

Dominic shrugged. “You could always try telling him that. Leave him a note with your contact info and say when he’s ready to talk, you’re ready to listen.”

“I guess that’s a happy medium.”

“Better than you sitting here, thinking that a light trick is to blame.”

As Dominic snorted, lifting his cup to take a drink, Shawn scowled at him. “You’re being a jerk. You know that?” The question only made his friend laugh harder and when Dominic launched into his list of far-fetched ideas about Edwin, Shawn waved him off, saying, “Don’t you have some play to rehearse for?” Dominic left shortly thereafter, and while Shawn felt a profound sense of relief at his departure, this only left him alone with his thoughts.

The more he turned the idea around in his head, the more he determined it was the best option he had available. He opened his notebook to a blank page and wrote out his address and phone number, inviting Edwin to visit or call when he felt like he could talk about what had happened the night before. The hour when his muse normally visited the café came and passed, with him absent, and convinced Shawn he was being avoided. Standing, he gathered his things and made the short walk to the apartment building down the street.

He glanced down the side street they had disappeared down and considered it for a moment. Rather than ascend the noisy set of stairs, he walked to the front of the building and read the names scrawled on a set of mailboxes, looking for which one might belong to Edwin. H. Harris looked like it belonged to the first-floor apartment, and G. Chavez and V. Jeffries owned the ones directly above that. The last mailbox had been marked E. Chambers and its writing appeared more recent than the other three.

“Edwin Chambers,” Shawn said while tucking the note into the box. “My name is Shawn Anderson. I hope we can get to know each other better.”

He tried not to take it personally when his phone didn’t ring and the buzzer didn’t sound that night. Work gave him the distraction that he craved, but when he returned home, he felt a strange sense of loss that carried with him through a shower and a lap through the viewing options on Netflix. Nobody called or texted throughout the next day and another trip to the coffeeshop yielded another day without Edwin’s presence. Shawn sighed, trying to find inspiration and floating somewhere inside the realm of numb instead. “You just haven’t had a boyfriend in a while,” Dominic couched through text message. “Try not to get too worked up and give him some space.”

“Yeah,” Shawn replied. “I’ll try to do that.” Another hour came and passed before he left, making the walk back to his apartment with an added heaviness in his steps. This time, though, when he approached the front door to his building, he saw a familiar man sitting on the stoop, like he’d been waiting for Shawn to show up. Much to Shawn’s chagrin, however, it wasn’t Edwin.

The man Edwin had called his cousin looked up at Shawn as he approached.

“Hi,” the cousin said, rising to a stand once Shawn was within earshot. In the light, Shawn could see the resemblance better, noting they shared the same hair color and the same matching color in their eyes. He stood slightly taller than Edwin, though, while lankier than his more athletically-built relative. “I hope you don’t mind,” he continued, “but I thought I’d come over and chat.”

“Um, sure,” Shawn said, not bothering to mask his confusion. Tension rolled off the other man in waves, making him tense as well, though he extended his hand anyway. “I didn’t get your name. Mine is Shawn.”

“I’m Rob,” he said, though he ignored the outstretched hand. Instead, his remained tucked in his pockets, his expression holding steady at impassive while Shawn lowered his hand and walked past him to enter the building. Shawn invited him in, and though he almost expected Rob to refuse after the snub, Rob followed him inside, ascending the stairs and walking into the living room once Shawn had unlocked the door. Neither of them spoke until Shawn had stripped his coat and watched Rob lower into a chair, still wearing his.

“Would you like something to drink?” Shawn asked, draping his coat across the back of his couch before settling into the far portion.

“No, that’s okay. Probably won’t be staying long, I just wanted to talk,” Rob said. As Shawn nodded, staying quiet, Rob took a deep breath and folded his hands on his lap. “I, uh, heard that the two of you went out the other night.”

“Sort of.” Shawn made mental note of the fact that Edwin had at least been talking about him. “I told him about a gig I had going and he met me there. We went out for a bite to eat afterward.”

“Yeah, cute sandwich shop nearby, Ed said. He also said that you two got a little involved. Which in Ed-speak means he’s probably into you.”

“I guess.” Shawn shrugged. “I mean, I sort of hope that he is, but I haven’t heard from him since then.”

“Yeah, about that.” As Rob paused, Shawn saw the wind-up and braced himself for the pitch. “He probably shouldn’t be trying anything with you. I’m not saying you’re not a nice guy, Shawn, but he came out here to escape his problems, not start new ones, if you know what I mean.”

“Sort of. I didn’t know I qualified as being a problem.”

“Not you, necessarily. Relationship problems.” Rob steepled his hands, thumbs touching, and raised them toward his mouth. “Where we come from,” he said, after a pensive beat, “the people don’t understand anyone who isn’t part of our community. They get skeptical about outsiders and tend to alienate them if they try to stick around.”

“I didn’t know pagans were that exclusive.”

“Pagans?” Rob blinked, then nodded and took a deep breath. “I suppose you could call them that, yeah. I don’t know about other pagans, but our family are cloistered. They mean well, and have their reasons, but their opinions can be a lot to handle.”

Shawn laughed. “One date isn’t us picking out curtains, friend. While I appreciate the head’s up, if this is what Edwin’s worried about, I’m more than willing to date him for a little while before we cross the bridge of difficult parents.”

“It isn’t that simple with us. I wish it was. This is a whole world of complicated you’re getting yourself into and I’m doing Ed the favor nobody did the last time this happened.”

“What is that?”

“I’m nipping that doe-eyed look he gets when he talks about you in the bud.” He sighed and lifted to a stand. “Look, I feel partially responsible for this. I was the one who told him you looked cute and while I thought maybe the two of you were doing some idle flirting at the restaurant, when he told me about the date, I saw disaster written all over it. You don’t know me well enough to understand I’m not trying to be a dick, but my cousin had his heart broken once. He doesn’t need to go through that again.”

Rising to his feet, too, Shawn walked over to where Rob stood. “Shouldn’t that be his decision to make? How do you get to make it for him? I don’t even know that I would break his heart. I wouldn’t set out to.”

“That’s just it, Shawn, there’s too much you don’t know for you to avoid it.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry, man. Ed’s a great guy. I don’t blame you for liking him. It’s just not going to work out for you two. You might not look at it as me doing you a favor, but I am.”

He nodded at the door. “I’ll see myself out,” he said, motioning toward it.

Shawn took one step forward, then stopped, allowing Rob to swing the door shut behind him. When it latched shut, he furrowed his brow, a captive audience of one to the finality of Rob’s departure. It took several minutes for him to do more than pace around his apartment, a thought prompting him to walk over to the kitchen and make a cup of coffee. One side of his brain warred with the other as he watched it brew, deliberating on whether Edwin had sent his cousin in his stead or not.

It wouldn’t be until he returned home after work that the universe would give him a sign.

Shawn opened the door to his apartment, but directly on the other side lay a postcard that had been slipped underneath. Bending over, Shawn picked it up, still standing halfway outside his apartment while reading it. On one side, an art gallery on 22^nd Street announced a showing of works by local artists. The other side blank, it had been filled in by sweeping penmanship, written in Sharpie marker.

A smile traced across Shawn’s lips. Walking inside the apartment, he shut the door behind him, placing the postcard on the counter while disappearing inside the bathroom to shower. His heart felt lighter than it had all day, and while he still had questions, a hand-scrawled note had given him hope.

‘Show me yours,’ it said, ‘and I’ll show you mine.’

And Edwin had signed it with a heart.