The chattering around Lennon decreased in volume as his classmates piled out of the computer lab. He was so indulged in his work that it took someone pulling off his headphones to realize class was over.

"Lennon," Ms Torres scolded.

"Ah, sorry." The chestnut boy scanned the empty chairs around him. "I got carried away."

"As per usual." She leaned over his shoulder, humming in thought as she stared at Lennon's laptop screen.

"It's for the contest," Lennon explained, cowering in his chair, "The pamphlet you gave us..."

Ms Torres ran her fingers over the screen. "And you're submitting these?"

"Uh well. That's the plan."

"This is good work, Lennon."

The chestnut boy blinked in amazement, his chair scraping back as he shifted in his seat. "Really?"

She straightened her spine. "I like your take on the whole essence without being prompt," she said curtly, "Though I would suggest putting more thought into photography composition. Cause the prompt is just a prompt. You have to demonstrate your skills and understanding of photography."

"I'm trying to crop it so it fits the rule of thirds—"

"Nah-uh," Ms Torres cut him off, "Cropping is unprofessional. The original picture needs to be as flawless as possible, even in the first stages. That showcases authenticity."

Lennon slumped in his seat.

"Symmetry, frames, lighting, depth of field," she listed as she strolled away, her ever-so-flowy shirt trailing behind her, "Think about it."

Think about it? Oh, Lennon definitely will. In fact, he racked his brain all the way to the bar, and not for work.

Viana's eyes widened in surprise when she spotted him. "Why're you here? Did you swap shifts with someone?" she asked, eyeing his camera bags.

The chestnut boy shook his head delicately. "I just felt like hanging around."

If essence without being was a concept surrounding human essence, he needed someplace with a crowd. This was a spot he was already comfortable with, which was a plus.

He wished Kieran was around, but half the time he didn't know where the ghost was at. And their private messenger— Socks, was asleep at home.

He scanned the area, catching sight of grooving bodies, spotlights reflecting off polished hardwood, and a familiar figure tucked away at the back, ringed index finger running along the edge of his wine glass and leather jacket hugging his back.

Cal's head jerked up in one quick motion when someone plopped down in the seat next to him.

"You still haven't gotten a new pair of glasses." Lennon frowned in worry, simultaneously pulling out his camera.

Not a peep out of Cal in response. The regular customer folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, disengaged.

Lennon looked down at his lap, then back at the boy beside him, choosing his next move.

Never stifle your voice for someone else's comfort, Kieran had told him. But what if reading the signs was more important?

"I can leave if you feel bothered." No harm in asking about boundaries.

Cal finally acknowledged his presence, glancing the chestnut boy's way. His gaze landed on Lennon's still-bandaged arm, jaw tensing.

Lennon followed his eyes. "You still feel guilty."

"I feel guilty about a lot of things." Cal uncrossed his legs and drowned the rest of his drink. "Lennon, yeah?"

The chestnut boy delivered a quick nod. "Cal?" he double-checked.

"Mhm."

A steady silence followed. Lennon averted his focus back to the crowd, searching for any scene that brought essence without being to life. His camera sat unused in his hands.

But like many artists' experiences, inspiration wasn't coming to him. They say it's all around you, and it was. But more times than often, they were hard to decipher.

Perhaps he needed a change of scenery.

He got to his feet abruptly, collecting his belongings. "I'm heading to the coffee shop down a few blocks. You coming?" he proposed, looking at Cal and bobbing his head towards the exit.

The blonde blinked at him slowly, fingers loosening around his glass. "Why would I— Why would you want me to—"

"I think you need a change of scenery as well," Lennon told him frankly, adjusting the strap over his shoulder, "You can't sit here all day and mope. Besides, you look like you could use some company." He gestured grandly to himself, even adding a small bow in the mix.

Cal eyed him suspiciously, though the image of the boy in front of him was a tad blurry without his glasses.

"I'll buy you a coffee there."

"I'm not great company, Lennon."

"I'll buy you two coffees." The chestnut boy smiled whimsically.

A miracle bedecked the world when Cal grudgingly hauled himself onto his two feet, mumbling under the EDM music that blasted through the speakers. "Fine."

It was quite strange to Lennon. Cal seemed like a fish out of water, standing on the sun-painted pavement instead of the depressing tones and blinding flashes of the bar. He was only ever used to seeing the customer at work, but here he was leading him down the block like an old pal.

The coffee shop stood at the rounding corner of the street with the company of a park. House sparrows soared the skies, their shadow flickering across the green canvas. A marquee tent was set up in the grass field nearby, hosting a small engagement party that caught Lennon's eye. He captured the scene with his camera, just because.

The pair entered the homely shop, the soft dinging of a bell signaling their arrival. Lennon bathed in the ambiance of friendly chatter and pastry scents, closing his eyes and drawing air into his lungs. Cal, on the contrary, had already gone past him, uninterested in his surroundings.

He squinted at the menu boards hung high up above the cashier stand.

"You really need glasses," Lennon snickered, approaching the cashier with a polite smile.

"Hi. What can I get for you?"

"Two coffees, please. One for me, one for my friend over here."

Cal gripped the chestnut boy's uninjured arm. "I thought you said you'd buy me two."

Lennon turned to look at him. "You really want two?" he asked.

"Nah. I don't like coffee, actually."

Lennon's nose scrunched in puzzlement. "Uh, you don't?" he said in a tone that suggested why didn't you say something earlier?

"Nope. Can I get a muffin?"

Once the coffee and muffin were paid for, the two boys decided to have an unprepared picnic in the field, strands of grass tickling their legs.

Cal was digging into his blueberry muffin with an eagerness Lennon laughed at. He earned himself a raised eyebrow.

"What?" Cal questioned, voice muffled. His chubby fingers holding his treat securely.

"Nothing." Lennon leaned back into the shade provided by the big oak tree behind them. "You just really like muffins, huh?"

"I bake," the boy revealed.

"Really? That's cool. What was the last thing you baked?"

Cal opened his mouth to respond, but no words made it out. A frown was engraved onto his mouth as he stared blankly at the patch of little daisies in front of his crossed legs. "I'm not sure. I don't remember. It's been a while," he admitted.

Lennon licked the foam off his lips. "Why haven't you been baking?"

He hummed. "Everything's been a little too much lately. I just don't bother to."

The empathy in Lennon's chest expanded to new heights. Truth be told, he wasn't surprised to hear that the blonde wasn't doing well. All the consecutive nights he spent drinking his life away was a clear cry for help.

Cal peeled the muffin liner back and took another bite, chewing slowly now— savoring something he hasn't had since his world collapsed around him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lennon whispered, watching conscientiously for the boy's reaction.

He seemed to expect that from kind, sweet Lennon, answering immediately with a shake of his head. "No." He shrugged his shoulders. "Not really. Not now."

"Okay. That's okay. Whenever you're ready." The chestnut boy changed the subject, picking at the lid of his coffee cup. "You go to college?"

Cal shook his head again. "I think I would at least need glasses first," he responded with a scarce chuckle, "But yeah, I don't go to college. I missed enrollment. You?"

"Community college. Semester starts next week."

"Fun," Lennon's new friend said with little enthusiasm.

Lennon smiled. "What happened to your last pair of glasses?"

"I smashed them."

His smile dissolved. "You smashed them?"

"I thought it was my pen or something when I grabbed without looking and hurled the wrong thing at the wall." Cal caught Lennon's eye, biting back a grin when he saw the look of half shock and half amusement on his face. "You're allowed to laugh."

So Lennon did. A small one that had him tipping backward against the rough bark of the tree. "Get contacts or something."

"I don't trust myself enough to not poke my eyes out."

"Valid."

The chestnut boy found himself surveying the near distance again, fingers lingering on his camera. Then his gaze stopped on Cal, who looked back at him, mystified when Lennon snapped a picture of him.

"You could've warned me," his subject pointed out.

"I could've," Lennon agreed, a huge smile creeping onto his face when he examined the photo, "But you looked more natural like this."

The sun began its farewell, dipping below the line of tree silhouettes and deeming the sky a mural. The pretty scene was forged between the frames of Lennon's photos, the soft clicks of his camera stirring into the crisp fall air.

Cal took ahold of Lennon's empty coffee cup and stuffed his muffin wrapper inside, looking for the nearest trash can. Once he located it and threw their garbage away, he returned to the chestnut boy and exhaled loudly through his nose.

"Lennon."

The chestnut boy looked his way.

"You're a good person," Cal told him, grimacing right after when he realized how random that sounded, "I'm not— I don't have a lot of friends. And I'm not saying that for you to pity me. I know I'm a little insensitive sometimes. And I don't consider myself someone who gets along with everyone."

"I think we get along," Lennon interrupted, his sentence ending in a hopeful note.

"Yeah," the boy replied.

They returned each other's smiles.

"Well." Lennon stood up and dusted off his cropped slacks. "I should head home. I have a cat to feed."

It was as if the word cat just brightened up Cal's entire soul. "You have a cat," he deadpanned. His voice grew thick with excitement. "I love cats."

Lennon let out an exaggerated gasp. "Come over someday. We can even bake." He chuckled meekly. "I should warn you though— my cooking skills do not exceed instant ramen."

Cal dismissed his worries. "We all start somewhere."

"See you around— at the bar?"

"Probably," Cal said.

Lennon snapped one last photo. His new friend was ready this time— showing off a perfect row of teeth. And he went home with a skip in his step, glowing with the knowledge that he did something right today.