[X]

Seymour is nervous. He stands behind the register, smiling at customers and taking money, and Kevin is staring down at the glass ice cream case. He's tapping it with his index finger, and he looks depressed beyond reason.

Seymour can't see his eyes behind his hair, and he hopes that Kevin isn't crying, because that's the one expression of sadness that he can't deal with. Someone orders their new, rose petal ice cream, and Kevin sighs, mumbling something under his breath about hating roses.

The two of them have to work together for the next seven hours, alone, because the new guy called in sick. Seymour decides that he needs to intervene because seven long hours of lonely sadness aren't his cup of tea.

When the customer leaves, looking slightly unhappy with her service, Seymour turns to Kevin. "Hey, what's wrong with you?" He keeps his voice quiet, just in case a customer comes in.

Kevin releases another weary breath from his mouth, not looking up as it floats in the air conditioning, shaking his head. "I'm just not much in the mood for ice cream today..." He tries to smile at the pink, rose petal ice cream.

A disturbed expression crosses Seymour's face. Kevin's favorite food is ice cream. If ice cream were a celebrity, Kevin would be ice cream trash number one. He loves ice cream. Seymour knows now that this is an emergency.

He hesitates, looking at the folded up napkin that he's stashed under the counter, next to his cell phone. Seymour's been carrying the number around with him since Cal gave it to him, just in case he was in the mood for company, but not really using it in case Cal took it differently than he intended.

Seymour bites his lip, glancing at Kevin, and deems the situation worth it.

To: Cal

I need your help with something

The response comes in seconds.

From: Cal

Oh yeah? ;)

Seymour flushes bright red despite himself, shaking his head to clear it. He needs to focus, not get flustered.

To: Cal

Not that kind of something! Something's wrong with Kevin.

From: Cal

Oh. At work?

To: Cal

Yeah. He's real sad and idk what to do

From: Cal

I can be there in like ten min with Abel

To: Cal

Yes yes yes please hurry

From: Cal

Okie. On my way cutie :)

Seymour huffs at the term, reminding himself that it isn't endearing that he called him that, and focuses on Kevin.

After staring at the side of his head for a few minutes, Seymour takes a breath. "I think

Cal and Abel might swing by today," he says casually.

Kevin looks up, eyes wide, and Seymour takes him in. The puffy redness and water in Kevin's eyes make Seymour nervous, but he takes a breath. "Really?" Kevin wipes at his eyes a little, using the sleeves under his work shirt, then sighs. "I look like crap," he says forlornly.

Seymour blinks, then runs both of his hands through his hair a few times, making sure that it looks like a right bird's nest. He pulls a few locks in separate directions for good measure.

Kevin raises am eyebrow at him. "Why'd you do that?"

Seymour grins. "This way, you don't have to look like crap by yourself. We can do it together."

Kevin smiles for a moment, then his face crumples. It's reminded him of Damon. In high school, before Kevin had a handle on how to control his curls, people would make fun of his messy hair. Damon used to mess his hair up, too, whenever it happened, and said that they could be bed head buddies. Now that would never happen again.

Kevin is startled to see a tear splat onto the glass under his face. He glances at Seymour, who's partly reaching out to comfort Kevin and partly retreating back to his side of the counter. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Don't cry, okay? It wasn't meant to be sad," Seymour blurts.

Kevin smiles. "It's okay, Seymour, I'm not crying because of you. In fact, I'm not even crying. It's allergies, yeah?" He swipes the tear off of the counter with his sleeve, and continues faking joy. Seymour decides to accommodate him, wiping the counter down as though nothing is wrong.

The shop door jingles, and a concerned looking Abel runs into the shop. "Blue?" His eyes settle on Kevin, looking him up and down. His frantic eyes calm a bit once they've ascertained that there is no injury. "You okay?"

Kevin bursts into tears at the worried voice, and Abel jumps into action. He hurries around the counter and pulls Kevin into a hug. "Don't cry, please don't cry. I need you to keep your head up, love."

Kevin sniffles. "I'm not crying, I have allergies. Extremely severe allergies," he mumbles, muffled by Abel's sweat shirt.

Abel laughs a little. "Oh, I see. Well, let's keep your allergies in check as much as possible, okay?" Then, leaning in closer, he whispers, "I don't like it when you're sad. You're a little ray of sunshine with periwinkle eyes. It's wrong for you to be sad."

Kevin just grips Abel's sweat shirt tighter, settling into the hug.

A customer comes in, and Abel and Cal share a look before Abel ushers a teary Kevin into the back room. Cal slips into Kevin's place behind the counter, picking up a spare hat from under the counter and smiling like a customer service expert.

Seymour, pleasantly surprised, turns and deals with the customer, who orders a small bowl, then directs them to Cal. Cal grins at the woman and her child, nodding at them as he adds a perfect scoop of pistachio ice cream to the bowl. He wishes them a nice day and slips the little boy a double sample of chocolate cream.

Seymour is impressed. He's good at customer service. He's good with children. He makes extremely aesthetically pleasing ice cream scoops. Seymour isn't sure that he could ask for anything more in a potential boyfrie- Er, co-worker.

"Was that good?"

"It was perfect," Seymour says excitedly, forgetting momentarily that he's supposed to be playing it cool. Then he looks away, cursing the sudden bright smile on Cal's face. "It was amazing, for a beginner," Seymour corrects.

Cal scoffs. "Okay, sure." He taps his fingers absently on the counter before saying, "So, how about that date?"

Kevin's POV

I snuggle into Abel's arms, wanting to get closer to his warmth. We stand in the icy cold back room, right next to the freezers, Abel rubbing my back and trying to get me to stop crying.

I'm also trying get me to stop crying, but the fact that he's here, that he's staying here, that he cares, is making me cry harder. I'm not even sure why I'm sobbing anymore.

"Shh, don't cry, love, please. It's alright." He strokes my hair gently, pressing me closer to him. Then, to my surprise, he starts to sing.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey..." His voice is a collection of wine droplets sprinkling into me; I am drunk on it. The way that he holds me makes me feel safe, so safe. "You'll never know, dear, how much I love you," he sings this bit quieter, lips brushing the shell of my ear, and I blush, barely noticing that I've stopped crying. "Please don't take my sunshine away."

I don't realize that we've been swaying back and forth until we've stopped. I lean back enough to see his face. He smiles at me. "Thank you," I murmur.

Abel smiles back at me. "It's no problem." Then, as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened, he glances at the front of the shop. "We should go back to the front before Cal kidnaps Seymour for a date."

That makes me chuckle, even though it isn't really that funny, and I straighten my back. "Okay. Let's go."

Upon emerging from the back room, we see Seymour, all pink cheeks and averted glances, held around the waist by a smug looking Cal, front pressed to Seymour's back.

I blink. Then, I look at Seymour in surprise. "You actually gave in to him?"

Seymour looks up at me, frowning defensively. "No. He bewitched me, or something. He possesses voodoo magic. I didn't know I had agreed to go on a date with him until it was already done." Seymour looks back at the tile floor. "Besides, it's only one date."

Cal smirks. "One date is all I'll need." He whispers something to Seymour that I don't really want to know about, and Seymour blushes harder.

"S-shut up. Go on the other side of the counter. You don't even work here." He has a slightly playful cadence, but he looks serious enough that Cal obeys him with no resistance other than a pout. Abel follows after him with a wink in my direction.

I look at the flushed Seymour next to me, at Abel and Cal rough housing themselves to the opposite side of the counter, and smile softly.

I may have lost a lifetime friend, but I have gained three new people who care about me. Seymour, who, in the four months I have worked at Wiggle's, hadn't spoken a word to me before a few days ago. Cal, who I don't know well but seems good at heart.

Abel, who loves cookie dough ice cream and calls me Blue, and sings to me when I cry. Abel, who picks up my pieces when I break, holds me together in his arms, keeps me in his warmth until I feel whole again. Abel, who stands up to bitchy coffee shop baristas for me so that I don't have to face their fury alone.

I take a breath and realize that, for the first time in so many hours, I don't feel like crying. I feel loved.