visionspiral

[visionspiral]

"Alright, I was far off indeed," Bijan said, chuckling. "Yes, that makes your former point valid, a decade is just less than a generation," he agreed. From what he could recall, a generation was twelve years, or a bit more than twelve. He wasn't perfectly certain, since all he held in regard was that his students were most definitely a younger generation. "You guessed my age much better than I did yours." He had to laugh a little at Dan's plea, he could understand it, he was an introvert at heart, but he did have a fascination with beautiful people. "Well, it might just happen to you, you never know. I'm sure there are still people like me out there, who want to strike up conversations with people in bookshops." He nodded at the mention of the ER. "Are you a doctor?" he asked. "We have been together for only two months now, but we've been very close for years, so it was meant to happen at some point." Or so he liked to believe. Colson had been there through his injury and recovery, before they'd made it official between the two of them.

daniel had to laugh ; partially because he was amused that bijan thought he was younger than he was. he felt pretty sure that, if anything, he'd aged more in the last two years than he had over the rest of his life combined -- trauma will do that to a person. "i'll take late twenties no problem... but you're not far off ; 'm thirty-three. so pretty much a decade between us. i think that means my original point stands." a playful smile. bijan was probably ( definitely, in fact but he clung to his ounce of denial ) right, but the striking up a conversation or connection was the bit daniel struggled with most and no doubt that wasn't doing him any favours. "i wish they would just come to me," he joked lightly, fidgeting with hem of his jumper. "would make my life a helluva lot easier." a pause. "i don't think i'm gonna find anyone in the er -- but maybe i'll keep a lookout from now on. seems to be working for some of us. how long have you been together?"

[visionspiral]

Bijan smiled at the other's confusion. "Of course, I have plenty of green teas. Are you afraid of the caffeine?" he asked, as he gestured for the other to follow him inside. "I also have Turkish tea, if you're interested, made the traditional way." Because else he wasn't allowed to call it that, according to his mother. "Are you hungry?" he asked, because he was. He knew his eyes were bigger than his stomach right now, but just the thought of everything he'd put on the kitchen table was enough to make his mouth water.

When Bijan had invited Grayson over to his place, he wasn't really sure what to think but he figured that it didn't hurt to get out of his normal place. He had been sketching for hours and needed something to distract him and give him a break. He was at the door of Bijan's and he saw the door swing open and the offer came pretty quick after. "Uhhhh, sure. But you better have some sort of green tea." He mentioned to the other.

[visionspiral]

Bijan smiled kindly. He was dressed in his kurta pajama, of a light beige colour that was a loose fit and warm enough in the colour New York weather. He'd been taught to dress for comfort. "Of course, I do enjoy to celebrate this with friends rather than strangers, or by myself." Strangers were not that bad, by himself however.

"I'm not all that familiar with buffet hour, but yes, this is where you take as much as you'd like to eat, I'd suggest sampling everything at the very least," he explained. "And do not worry, if I see you breaking any house rules, I'll let you know, though on the spot, I don't think I can think of any."

"So, come in, have a seat, I have a lot of Persian dishes, but also some that I found at the local supermarket and a few that neighbours gave to me. Would you like some tea?"

robin wasn't sure if she had overdressed. or under. already awake early due to a later shift at the diner, she came in her tracksuit straight from the late 2000s & had no regrets about it. already returning the smile before she even saw it on bijan's face, that stutter of nerves of oh, god, i hope i do this right — before she walked in. "i am so happy you even wanted to break fast with me."

& it was true. the invitation had startled her in the best way. "is this just one of those things like the buffet hour at the diner? we take as much as we want?" a nervous fidget of her fingers. "ooh, professor, i do not wanna break any rules in your house."

[visionspiral]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @poetrysings ft. Violet location ; Bijan's apartment / 12th of March

Bijan was not surprised that Colson wished to participate, nor that it brought him this much excitement to get to share this with his partner. He would've been equally happy to just share Iftar with him, perhaps to tell him all the stories of his time at the mosque, of the other families, of almost missing prayers because he took too long naps. But this was different, because he wouldn't just be telling Colson about it, he'd be guiding him through it.

He set down the tea in front of the other and gently rubbed his back. "How was your day?" he asked.

[visionspiral]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @poetrysings ft. Violet location ; Bijan's apartment / 22th of March

Placing the fresh dates on the kitchen table among the other plates of food, Bijan contently found his kitchen once again filled with enough to feed a family. He'd share the food with his guest for Iftar this evening, and either keep the leftovers for the next day or bring them to his neighbours. He put the kettle on before hearing the door bell ring, hurrying through his apartment to the door. Not because he didn't want Violet to wait, but because he was hungry. He opened the door with excitement and ushered Violet inside. "Come, come, yallah, good food is waiting, you cannot imagine how hungry I must be," he joked.

[visionspiral]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @leiakersey ft. Leia location ; Bijan's apartment / 20th of March

Sharing Iftar with people who didn't join in with Ramadan was fun, it was nice to share his own culture with them, to speak about the different foods he had prepared or bought, and to explain the process. But when he could break the fast with another person who also went through the same experience was special in its own way. He smiled brightly when he opened the door to Leia. "Welcome Leia, come in quickly, I have plenty of food for the both of us and I'm sure you and I are just as hungry," he joked, as he gestured Leia inside.

[visionspiral]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @jcdedmemories ft. Grayson location ; Bijan's apartment / 25th of March

Bijan was used to it by now, the fasting had become part of his daily routine, and while he still experienced hunger, he'd become aware of how it fit in his life in a comfortable rhythm. He barely had to think about when his prayer times were, and reading the Quran was almost natural whenever he had a moment to spare. And with the days passing, he became more and more excited to spend time with others during Iftar, happier and more content to share his space.

"Tea?" he asked, when he opened the door to welcome Grayson in.

[visionspiral]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @princeaustinfox ft. Austin location ; Bijan's apartment / 21st of March

Bijan could be considered an extravert with how easily he invited people he didn't know to break the fast with him. He believed that anyone could join in for Iftar, and since he couldn't be at the mosque every single day of the Ramadan, nor did he want to impose on the people there that he didn't know well enough yet, at least not more than the four days a week he was already doing that.

He opened the door to his apartment after having buzzed Austin in, and gestured for the other to come inside. "You made it, welcome. And great time as well, I just finished prayers."

[visionspiral]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @sweetnxthngs ft. August location ; Bijan's apartment / 18th of March

Mondays were usually busy days, and seven days into fasting, this day had been the absolute worst. He was running on adrenaline yet also would mostly likely fall right asleep if he closed his eyes for longer than a few seconds. Even half a minute would be enough. Yet he'd resisted the urge to take a nap, afraid he'd miss evening prayers.

He opened the door to welcome August in. Smiling brightly through the tiredness. "Hi! Thank you for being able to make it. I didn't have time to prepare any fresh food, but I still have leftovers from yesterday and I bought some food on my way home."

[visionspiral]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @serendipitcs ft. Robin location ; Bijan's apartment / 16th of March

Bijan opened the door to let Robin in with a huge smile on his face. He was once again, as he did every year, ignoring his introvert tendencies in favour of sharing food and kindness after the sun was under. Iftar simply wasn't the same if there wasn't at least another human being around. He'd tried with a cat a few days, but he found that he would go on tangents.

"Welcome, welcome, I do appreciate you showing up, I have plenty of food to share, so I hope you're hungry."

[visionspiral]

CLOSED STARTER FOR @bjorkn ft. Neva location ; Bijan's apartment / 15th of March

For Bijan, breaking the fast alone was a no-go. He hadn't done it ever from the moment he'd began participating in the Ramadan as a boy. He always made sure to have a back-up plan, to have people over, or to visit the Mosque. It was the one month during the year when his introvert tendencies were ignored for the greater good. Where community and friendship was more at the forefront.

He gestured for Neva to follow him into his kitchen when she appeared at the door. "I'm so glad you could make it," he said. Despite the many years, Bijan still felt weak and tired the first few days as he got used to the rhythm again. "Would you like some tea?" he asked.

[visionspiral]

"it is a bother," Bijan agreed, as he leaned heavy on his walking stick. He had wanted to lean against the window, but he felt sweaty already from his walk here and he didn't want to look absolutely helpless. "It does seem to be going a bit faster now," he said, looking at the line. "I've never experienced driving in Los Angeles," he admitted. "Is it truly that bad?" He did think the best pies were already sold out, but luckily his taste was often far from the average person's, and it helped in these situations. He was eager to try out something new.

starter :: open | location/event:: national pi day at the diner, the bronx | @bhqextras

☆ –– "just my luck that I got stuck in this line during the lunch hour," mi-rae murmured to herself loudly. After volunteering to do the pie run for her coworkers and herself, and wondering why no one wise jumped at the chance, here she stood in line as she tried to eye and see what flavors they had. "Traffic was rough but now I imagine my drive back is gonna be a pain in the behind. It's going to remind me of when I was back is Los Angeles." She said turning to the person standing near here. "I just hope all the good ones aren't sold out already."

[visionspiral]

Bijan grinned. "Forty-three," he corrected, then gave Daniel another once over. "And you're... you look like you're barely a year over thirty, perhaps even younger. Late-twenties?" Bijan was very bad at guessing ages. He'd had plenty of years where he'd been guessed younger, until the grey hair came in. His family turned grey early, in many ways both a blessing and a curse. Bijan felt far too static to go along with the younger generations. "Hmm, perhaps that's also a very likely scenario," he agreed. The youth in his classroom lived fast, but they were kind... at times. They still had a lot to learn at that age, however. "Of course, you do have to talk to them. They won't just come to you," he explained. "And truly, any old library or book shop. I can't promise you instant success, but having shared interests go a long way, even if it's just the interest in books, in general." He paused. "I met my current partner at my job, or well, we frequent the same circles, both professors."

"i think you're probably right, there." he agreed. it was how things tended to work ; the more invested you were in something, seemingly the more likely it was to fall apart -- certainly it stung a lot more. it was precisely that fear that made daniel more hesitant to engage than he wanted to be. "c'mon, man. i don't think there's even a generation between us -- you're what? forty?" head tilting slightly to one side, he gave a soft laugh. "and anyway, i'm pretty sure there's people like that in every generation. there's a chance online dating just has a high concentration of them." it wasn't his favourite means of finding a relationship by any stretch of the imagination ; daniel too was maybe slightly 'old-fashioned' or romantic in his wanting to meet someone organically as bijan had described. "yeah. might've dodged a bullet there, huh? 'm happy with the alternative stranger today, for sure... can i get the addresses of these places? never seems to happen to me." he laughed.

[visionspiral]

Bijan chuckled again, though his cheeks felt slightly warm. He knew this was probably banter, but he couldn't ignore that Jasper did sound very genuine. And he'd take it. His mother would be most happy to hear it. Food was to share, but sometimes getting compliments was just as nice. "Ah, they just use you to visit New York City, that's understandable." He grinned, taking another piece of the food himself, and a sip of his drink. "Hasn't that been years now? I understand wanting your kids to get an education, not that I have kids, but earning a piece of paper is only one of the ways to get anywhere. For my parents, me getting my masters was huge, but only because being a smart enough student meant I got to study abroad. It's a dream for a lot of people in my country to get a chance to study somewhere else." For Bijan, it had been an easy decision, he'd been slurping information since he'd been old enough to read. "Next time they're in town, you should introduce me."

"not at all!" he insisted, hand on his heart. "i would never attempt empty flattery -- not even for the best iranian food in town." the statement wasn't entirely false ; there wasn't a whole lot jasper wouldn't do for food he liked. he did, however, resent the idea that he was attempting it on bijan. no, he happened to be genuinely fond of the other... his knowledge and ability in the food world was nothing more than an added bonus. the tomkins were and always had been a very tight-knit family, something jasper was extremely grateful for. "oh, i'm definitely not. they like any excuse to come here, yes. but i think my parents are still a bit miffed i never finished university. they're teachers, so. very education-focused. though i'll never say they were anything but supportive." he had been very lucky in that way -- and was acutely aware of it. "exactly. there's no comparison in my mind."

[visionspiral]

Bijan chuckled. "Yes, please do," he agreed. He smiled brightly at the 'professor mousavi', it was definitely something that he loved to hear. Not from students but from people outside of the faculty. It was a sign of respect, and a gesture to all the work he'd done to get to this place. To get to a point where his voice and his knowledge was wanted and needed. Though at the same time, Bijan tried not to let it go to his head and continue learning. "Nice to meet you Robin. A singing waitress? That sounds interesting. Stardust, you say. I'll have to take my partner there some day, I think he'll either love it completely or he'll hate it." And it would then be the most fun to Bijan. "It does sound stressful," he agreed. "I'm very lucky that walking isn't part of my job description." He didn't need to point out the walking stick, but he felt like it was a good joke. "I spend most of my time doing research though, I also work for the World Health Organisation, flying all over the world to hold conferences and reading new research papers. Some days, I'm not sure which I like more. Talking with fellow professors or drilling knowledge into young minds. And you? Singing or bartending?"

"next time i get on the phone, i'll tell ma you said that." and speaking to him made her remember how much she missed her parents. sometimes, she wanted to throw it all back in the bag & toss it into the river before heading back to atlanta. what was the use of remaining here when she was homesick? but it was these kinds of encounters that kept her moving forward, both metaphorical & in the literal sense. "nice to meet you, professor mousavi. that is super impressive. i can tell ya i definitely did not go to university for that." she couldn't imagine teaching it either. she already struggled with not making reading for pleasure become boring. "i'm robin morgan. i'm one of the singing waitresses at stardust." she hesitated. "... and a bartender at becky's." she would leave her third job off the marker. "i'm used to hurryin' and stressin', i'm afraid. it's all in the job description, which they do not tell you about."

[visionspiral]

Bjian made a face that suggested he was thinking it over. Though it was much harder to think of answers for other people than it would be for himself. "That's... a good question. Do you like art? Or museums? I was going to visit that famous art museum today, despite having been in this city for ages, I've never been there."

"For once I actually have time off, but I have no idea what to do with it. Usually I just spend it with my best friend husband, but I don't know what I should do right now. Help?" @bhqextras

[visionspiral]

Bijan chuckled. “Cute? Me?” He shrugged. He didn’t think he was, after all, he did think that Colson was brilliant, he did think the other could do very little, or if even, nothing wrong. Maybe because he felt like nobody knew him as well as Colson did. Not even his mother. He could move around the world and know that Colson would figure out where he was going, and would come up with gifts that he would appreciate the most. So how could he possibly hate the sweater? “I don’t see how I could hate a sweater that you bought for me because you’d think I’d appreciate it. At least let me try it out for a week, then I’ll let you know if I actually hate it or if I love it.” He would love it. And it was the perfect weather for sweaters as well. 

“I figured you’d already gotten used to it,” he suggested. He did always feed people, he always had food with him, and he was always handing out what he had on him, or he was making something new and giving it away to people in the buildings. Colleagues at work were also used to his food by now, but his neighbours were most spoiled. He placed a hand on Colson’s. “Or do you want to keep all my food for yourself?” he asked. “Because I can just make you some more if you really want?” 

He didn't know why food was so important to him, but his mother certainly had a role in it. And his culture as well, at home food was everything: it was a conversation starter, it was hope, it was kindness, and it was everything that brought people together. If he could, he would be making food all day, but he knew he would get bored of it too quickly, his mind needed to be busy with greater matters, it needed research. And food was a hobby, a bridge, thus earning money off of it made him feel weird. He'd never ask to be compensated for the food, though he would always grant it as a gift. And a thank you.

Bijan's face brightened up, and he was enjoying the way that the other said 'retirement' as if that was something they were both looking forward to. He enjoyed Colson's hope, his positive attitude, he might be worried about how Bijan would react to everything he offered, but he did also think that they were going to last a long time. Bijan didn't know if he agreed, not yet anyway, he was a little worried for no reason at all, just that none of his relationships before had ended very well. "Retirement... would you like to do that with me?" he asked.

Strangely enough he was feeling vulnerable now as well, not about their relationship, but about Colson wanting to be with him, of all people. He'd never had the best view of himself, he knew he was a smart man, intelligent even, and a good cook. But he was also fleeting, easily distracted, completely taken in by his work. He could sit and research for hours, he had conferences, classes, and even outside of those he was in the labs or libraries. Meetings and presentations. And he never knew how to express his feelings well, he thought actions spoke louder than words and thus he forgot about the words, because he'd merely stick with the actions.

"Neither can I find any flaws in you," he admitted. Though he'd said that plenty of times already, the way he'd worshipped Colson after he'd grown closer to him. Perhaps it had been a crush on his side as well, though he wouldn't know how to express it.

"Of course," he said, as he removed the bags and pushed the tea towards the other. At the other's words however, he felt like he wouldn't have the right ones to say back. Colson was the poet, he had the right words, he spoke so beautifully, so truthfully. What had happened that he was made to deserve them?

He didn't know what to say, so he simply walked around the table and took Colson's hand in his, pulling him closer, and planting a kiss on his lips, just a peck, just something to show his adoration for the other. "I'm grateful too," he said. "Grateful that the world brought you to me, and that I got to know you so intimately before, that I could fall in love with you and that you wanted to be there for me when I was at my worst. I don't know how I could've gotten through all of that without you."

The room's heart hummed with central heating, blending harmoniously with the soothing sounds of boiling water and the occasional clink of ceramic. Ambient lighting, mingled with the scents of tea leaves and freshly cut lemon, creating a cocoon of familiarity and intimacy. The kitchen transformed from a mere utility space into a vessel for communication.

Completely captivated by the response, Colson's eyes sparkled with a gleam, expressing his amusement. He watched his partner navigate the apartment effortlessly. The tumult in his mind gradually subsided—the intricate cogs, spokes, and other mechanisms in his methodical brain reversed, returning to their regularly scheduled, rhythmic spiraling. A wry smile curled on the professor’s lips as Bijan shared his approach to sparingly using disappointment. A flush colored his complexion faint scarlet, feeling fortunate to be the exception. “You’re being cute with me…” posed as a question, but Colson felt it stated the obvious. Not only had Bijan seen past these self-imposed flagrant flaws, but he was also lightening the mood with humor. How did he come to deserve this? Colson injected even more humor into the situation. “I was also worried you’d—spoiler alert—hate your new sweater.”

Chuckling, he appreciated the humor in Bijan's storytelling—the transition from work to leisure marked by closing the laptop and engaging in the simple act of making tea. Playful banter about snacks and the imagined perception of age added a lighthearted touch to the conversation. "You're always feeding people, aren't you? That's something I'm going to have to get used to, huh."

Colson didn’t often find himself contemplating the age gap between him and Bijan. At 35, he felt a certain youthful energy drain in the academic time loop. Yet, considering Bijan's 40 years, there was an undeniable admiration for the depth and richness that came with those additional orbits around the sun. Viewing Bijan's age as a treasure trove of experiences, with years of teaching, learning, and navigating life's complexities, he saw it as a bridge connecting two different phases of life into one. In fact, Colson found allure in the maturity and wisdom that came with Bijan's age. The years etched on his partner's face weren't lines of weariness but marks of wisdom resilience and growth. Age was an asset enriching their conversations and deepening understanding. “If you’re 60, then that makes me 55,” Colson observed, crossing his shoulders with a smirk. “And we’ll be due for retirement soon. And those are the true adventures I can’t wait for,” he imagined, with a heart on fire, a wrap-around porch bathed in sunlight, and a pair of rocking chairs awaiting them. Though he was certain Bijan wouldn't rest until he'd fulfilled himself with his research.

In his silent acknowledgment, Colson marveled at the evolving layers of understanding between them. His eyes followed each deliberate movement, heart fluttering in admiration all the same. He continues to fall for the other every second of every day. The admission that Bijan worried less about seeming insincere or rude with Colson was met with a silent reassurance. “Any rudeness coming from you would be deserved.” He exhaled a deep sigh of relief but began his rebuttal, “But also, I’m still trying to find the flaws you say you have.” To him, Bijan was the perfect match.

The unfiltered honesty, expressed with a straightforwardness that characterized Bijan's manner, resonated deeply with Colson, and he could kick himself for not submitting to honesty. Having what he believed to be an unrequited crush meant that Colson had to grapple with his own flaws, second-guess the words that came out of his mouth, and maintain that harsh criticism of his demeanor and mannerisms. All the while, Bijan’s feelings were matched. It was juvenile, now that he thought about it, not giving Bijan his full honesty, and it was something Bijan would have unfiltered now- Colson's brutal honesty and torrential musings. "I suppose that our flaws are the threads that stitch us together," Colson remarked, his tone carrying a blend of gratitude and affection.

Colson finally followed him to the table, ensuring his chair was brought as close as possible, creating an intimate space for their conversation. The subtle act spoke volumes about Colson's desire to bridge any emotional distance and be present in the moment. He craved more of that honesty, intimacy, and connection that Bijan had offered, realizing that vulnerability was the catalyst for genuine understanding. "Thank you for making us tea."

"And thank you for reeling me back into reality." The tenderness in Colson's tone was matched by a subtle yearning, an unspoken plea for Bijan to understand the depth of his affection. It was a tone that sought reciprocity, an echo of love that Colson hoped would reverberate in the shared space between them. His voice, usually composed and articulate, took on a softer cadence, "Sometimes I think it's as if the universe conspired to bring us together." There was a raw honesty in every syllable, "As if the stars were speaking to the sky and collecting my secrets and..." It was a tragic concept, that the stars could finally bring together two souls. "I don't know? Whispered them to you, or created you to be my person." He continued to peel back the vulnerability that Bijan had unlocked within him. "And I'm endlessly grateful for it. Grateful for you."