LOVE ME A LITTLE MORE (M×M)

~9~

Not edited

"We would like to have a table for two under the name of Alderic Hudson." My therapist said and the waiter nodded his head, taking us through a series of occupied tables.

How people actually come to restaurants at four in the morning actually surprised me. The waiter took us to one of the very last unoccupied tables, nodding his head towards the corner most table.

"I hope this seat is alright with you two gentlemen." He said politely and Mr. Hudson looked at me, asking me silently if the seat was alright with me.

I nodded my head. After all, we were here to just have a bowl of soup.

"The seat's fine. Thank you." Mr. Hudson said, pulling out a chair for me. I froze on my steps. My feet denied to move even an inch closer to the table. Mr. Alderic Hudson had pulled out a chair for me. No one ever did that before.

Yes, I have pulled out chairs for women before. But no one ever did that for me. It felt weird, strangely good too. I gulped when his brown eyes met mine and I pressed my lips, sitting down on the chair, he had pulled.

"Are you ready to order the food now or do you want me to come in a while?" The waiter asked and my eyes snapped up to meet Mr. Hudson's awaiting eyes. Damn, why was his eyes always on me?

I wasn't even that handsome.

I looked more like a hurricane than a person at that moment. Shaking my head, I turned to the waiter who was waiting there for any of us to respond.

"Can I have the menu, please?" I asked him with a small smile and the waiter nodded, removing the menu from his apron before he handed it to me.

"Don't you think this restaurant is bit more expensive than it should really be? I mean, they are selling soups and food, not some gold on a pallet." I said, looking at the waiter who shifted uncomfortably on his place.

"We provide the best food in the city, Sir. We use organic fruits and vegetables and rich spices to add on the flavours. Please first try our food and then you'll realize why is the price more than any normal restaurant." The waiter said, trying to reason their immoral increase in price. I snorted shaking my head.

"This is bullshit! Tomatoes are used in tomato soup. You've increased the price of the tomatoes by ten times. In which farm did you farm these tomatoes? Mars or Neptune!" Mr. Hudson laughed at my outburst and before the waiter could've said anything, a new voice interrupted.

"Then probably this is not the restaurant for you, Sir. This is a place for elites. Financially good people. It's okay, you can leave now. We understand that people like you wants to enjoy place as rich as this. But we don't do charities. Danny escort them out." The man who looked like the manager said, making my eyes to blaze in anger.

He thinks I am not capable of buying the food here? He thinks I am not from a well to do family? He doesn't know how I reached where I reached.

"Mind your words. You can't talk to your customer like that." Mr. Hudson rebuked, his voice sharp and strained, unlike the soft voice he usually had with me. The manager snorted, he was eyeing me like that he was any better than me.

"Just because I don't like wasting money like any other people doesn't mean I earn any less than you or your f*****g superiors. Actually get me your menu again." I growled and Mr. Hudson was quick to get on my side, his fingers gently tugging on my hands and my eyes snapped at his.

"It's okay, Mr. Roosevelt. We can eat somewhere else too. I just thought you would like the food here." He said, his voice had guilt lacing it. And I shook my head. This wasn't even his fault.

"It's not your fault, Mr. Hudson. They have seen to started judging people buy the clothes people wear and kind of food they eat. But remember one thing, Sir." I said, turning to look at the manager, who had his eyes focused at me.

"Theodore Roosevelt. Remember that name. And ask anyone about me in the market. You'll get to know about my capabilities very well. Get us your menu." I said again and Mr. Hudson's hand caught mine as he shook his head, biting his lips in what looked like remorse.

"We won't stay in a place where you feel insulted or undervalued. I am sure we can find a much better place. Please come now, Mr. Roosevelt. I'll only feel more guilty if you would stay here for any longer." He pleaded, making me shake my head. Something about his sad eyes broke me and I nodded my head.

"As you see fit, Mr. Hudson." And with that we left the restaurant. I suddenly felt bad for embarrassing him. He must be thinking ill about me. I could've easily afforded anything on that menu and yet I made a fool out of myself and him.

"Don't, Mr. Roosevelt." Mr. Hudson's stern voice pulled me out of my train of thoughts and I feigned a smile, shaking my head.

"I'm not thinking anything, Mr. Hudson." I lied and Mr. Hudson smiled knowingly, shaking his head.

"You're such a liar, Mr. Roosevelt. You always think when you say you're not. Do not forget I am your therapist. Anyways, I'm really hungry, Mr. Roosevelt. I don't know about you. I know a really cosy, comfortable place where we can get a bowl of steaming, delicious soup." Mr. Hudson said, his eyes twinkling and I smiled at his enthusiasm. Mr. Hudson in reality was a kid by heart.

"You really like soups, don't you?" I said with a chuckle as we sat inside his car and he nodded his head.

"Who doesn't like soups, Mr. Roosevelt? They taste so good when you're cold. I remember going there as a child. It is one of the oldest diner in this city. Come. I'll show you." He said, starting to drive and I nodded my head. I didn't want to disappoint him. Not when he looked so exited about showing me this new place.

"Why are you doing this, Mr. Hudson?" I suddenly asked as we drove through the dark alleys and he turned to look at me, raising his brows.

"Why I am doing— what?" He asked me instead and I shook my head, looking out of the window. It would be morning in two hours.

"Taking me out for food? When it's four, twenty in the morning. Why not kick me out when I embarrassed you in a restaurant you were so fond of? Why take so much of efforts at all?" I asked and he smiled. This time it was out of amusement. His eyes lit up with amusement.

The car suddenly came to halt, making me jolt forward. I didn't even realize we were at the destination. The diner he was talking about.

It was made of wooden. The diner's name— 'Claire Diner' was illuminating outside the diner. It looked more like vintage. But then it was vintage.

"Because, Mr. Roosevelt, I want to show you it's not bad to like a guy. It's actually fun to be a gay. And I am adamant on making you believe it. Now shall we?" He said, making my breath to hitch.

When his right hand moved to open the driver's door, I caught his forearm, making him freeze. He turned his face to look at me. His brown eyes were narrowed in questioning gaze.

"Would you have done it for any other patient of yours?" I couldn't help but ask and he smiled. His lips curling up in a mischievous curl and my heart skipped a beat.

"Would you want me to do it for any other patient, Mr. Roosevelt?" He asked me instead and I gulped at his question. Why would he cross question me every now and then?

"I am sure you know it better, Mr. Hudson. After all, you're the therapist here." I said, forcing out a smile but it only came out as a grimace.

"Of course, I do. Now, shall we, Mr. Roosevelt?" He asked me and I nodded my head. We both got down of the car at the same time to walk towards the diner.

Much to my astonishment, the diner was nothing like what I had imagined it to be. It was actually vintage. It's furniture were completely of woods, no color, no other designs added. There were no paintings hung on the walls either.

There were paintings carved on the walls instead. Mural painting. They were done on the barks. Barks of trees. There were stones embedded on the walls to form a cave like structure. I had never seen anything like this ever before.

"I guess, you liked the place, Mr. Roosevelt." Mr. Hudson said and I nodded my head.

"It's very beautiful." I mumbled in daze.

"Hello, I see you're admiring the art here, Sirs. These are mural painting. They are done—" The woman in her lete fifties said, walking in and I smiled, cutting her off.

"—directly on the walls. I know. Mural painting. They are beautiful. The artist must be really talented to make such beautiful paintings, especially on a surface as rough as this." I said, moving my hands to touch the painting before my fingers stopped in mid air. "Can I touch these paintings?"

She smiled gently at me, nodded her head at me.

"Of course, Sir. These painting are an art. No artist or the one who recognizes an art shall not be stopped. Please touch the paintings. Till then can I show your partner your table?" The woman asked and Mr. Hudson nodded his head.

"Of course, Mrs. Claire. Do you want to stay here for a bit longer, Mr. Roosevelt? Although we can always stay back after the food if you would like." Mr. Hudson suggested me and I nodded my head, walking with them towards the table Mrs. Claire took us to.

"Thank you, Mrs. Claire. Can we have the menu?" I asked her politely and she laughed, shaking her head.

"Oh, dear, we don't have varieties. Our diner has fixed menu. Tomato soup. Garlic bread and red sauce pasta."