1 Episode 1 - Amari

The intoxicating smell of coffee and bacon wafted into the pitch black room, causing his small, curled up body to shift under the heavy blanket. With a groan, an arm emerged and slowly pulled a blanket corner away, revealing a mess of tight, brownish-black curls. With another groan, a second arm appeared, and both hands pressed against the bed to lift his upper body into a slouched but upright position.

Amari scratched first at the shaved side of his head, then the bit of scruff on his jaw, and finally the middle of his bare chest. The blanket had fallen away, exposing his body to the drafty room, and he shivered as the cool air touched his skin. He wanted to crawl back into the warmth, but the growling in his stomach couldn't be ignored. Feeling around in the dark, he found a pair of boxer-briefs and a heavy, hooded sweatshirt, pulling both on as he slid out of bed.

Shuffling to the window, he covered his head with the hood and closed his eyes before gently pushing aside the blackout curtain. Light streamed through his eyelids and he quickly dropped the thick fabric, putting a hand over his face and groaning for a third time.

He had slept longer than he hoped, the sun already over the horizon, but he didn't feel refreshed. Head aching, he maneuvered his sluggish body back around the bed to the dresser, grabbing his phone, earbuds, and sunglasses, and shoving them into the front pocket of his hoodie. He shuffled to the door and opened it only a crack, light from the hallway slowly seeping in, his eyes closed at first, then squinted, letting them adjust. As soon as he could open the door fully, he slipped out and headed toward the mouthwatering smell.

"It looks like my little Scotty finally decided to join us, hein?" said the man at the stove, in a high-pitched, motherly tone.

Amari stood on his toes and raised an arm to his roommate's shoulder, leaning forward to inhale the smell. The man stood at least half-a-foot taller than him, with a lanky build, and spoke in a light, French accent. His long, thin hair was down, brushing over Amari's arm as he moved his head side to side, humming gleefully and pushing the crackling strips around in the pan.

"It's Monday. You're usually up earlier, tsé?" He gestured to the square table in the middle of the open kitchen. "Sit. I'll get you a plate. Coffee? Black?"

Amari nodded and took an empty chair. Ziggy had been in New York for over twenty years now, but he still liked to use his native Canadian-French in normal conversation, dotting everything with Quebecois "eh" and "you know." The boy still hadn't decided if his eccentric friend did it out of habit or just for fun, but after three years, he was fluent enough not to care.

Across from him sat a person he didn't recognize, and to his right was a woman, her strong perfume a familiar smell that almost overpowered their breakfast.

"Feeling alright this morning, mon chou?" The woman's voice was pleasant and cheerful, her accent slightly thicker.

If anyone else had called him their pastry, he would have immediately responded with his fist, but from her it was sweet.

"Just a headache."

Amari reached out for the steaming mug of coffee she pushed toward him and took a long gulp, soothing his scratchy throat and warming his body. He let out a contented sigh and then looked toward the man at the stove.

"Why the fancy breakfast, Zig?"

Ziggy placed an overflowing plate of bacon, a basket of toasted bread, and a bowl of scrambled eggs on the table, then set an already made plate of food in front of the boy.

"It's Monday, tsé?" He added the "you know?" as if the answer was obvious. "No customers, no bands, no work." Sitting across from the woman, he began filling another plate. "I felt like cooking. Cate and Mik are here, so it's only right that I feed them, hein?"

He handed the full plate to the stranger and paused.

"Oh, I don't think you know Mik. Mik, this is Scotty, mon petit frère."

"Like hell am I your little brother."

Amari shoved two pieces of bacon into his mouth, his head down, but Ziggy pulled him back by his hood, uncovering his face and hair.

"Don't wear your hood at the table. It's rude. And what is wrong with being my little brother?"

The boy fluffed his messy curls and kept eating, mumbling through bites. "I don't wanna be in the same genepool as you, thanks."

"Ayoye! So ungrateful." Ziggy chuckled and slapped him lightly on the side of the head. "It's not like you turned out any better than me."

Amari didn't respond and looked back down at his plate, continuing to eat.

"Wait, what does that say about me?" asked Cate, her voice a bit dejected.

"Come on. You know he's gotta be adopted." The boy didn't lift his head, smirking at his food.

She giggled at the banter, usually too softhearted to joke around. "Ah, oui, c'est possible," she said lightly, giggling again.

Cheerfully brushing off the comments, familiar with Amari's grouchy attitude, Ziggy continued.

"Antèka, Mik is an old friend of mine. He's just in town for a few days from Montreal, so be nice, hein?"

Ziggy had a lot of friends who came and went - old and new, male, female, or other - so strangers staying at the apartment was nothing surprising. Amari didn't really care. This Mik person would be gone in a day or two and most likely never be back, and Amari had no interest in getting to know him. Instead, he just nodded with an "uh-huh" and finished drinking his coffee, slouching down into his chair.

Mik leaned forward, reaching out across the table to him.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," he said sweetly, in an accent thicker than the siblings, and the boy nodded again, not taking his hand. The man moved his arm back to his side and cleared his throat. "Ziggy has told me a lot about you."

"I doubt that."

Amari fiddled with the strings of his hood, not paying him much attention. He had no desire to have a conversation with this stranger, especially if it was just useless small talk, but Mik didn't seem to be put off.

"I hear you sing and play guitar. Ziggy says you are quite good."

The boy glared at his friend. This man must be in the music industry, and he hated when Ziggy talked about him like that.

"You have a very unique look, too. Quite beautiful."

::And there it is:: he thought.

"So people tell me," Amari muttered with a frown.

In truth, he was a beautiful young man. He was only five-foot-seven, and his frame was small and lean. Thin, but not scrawny. His father was African and his mother Irish, and Amari was a strange combination of the two, with thick, curly, brownish-black hair, light coffee-brown skin, bright hazel eyes, and hardly noticeable freckles dotting his high cheekbones. He was barely twenty-one, but his features were well-defined, not too soft, and with a long neck and prominent Adam's apple, the whole picture was rather pretty.

He hated it.

"More?" Cate grabbed his mug before he could respond, seeing he was uncomfortable. She set the full mug down in front of him, steam rising in his face, and he chugged the bitter liquid down in one go. "Plans today?"

He shook his head. "Just gonna wander."

Pushing his chair out from the table, he stood and stretched his arms above, then behind him, groaning as his joints popped. Cate grabbed the empty plate and mug, and brought them over to the sink to wash.

"Be careful, mon chéri. There is construction all along the G line, if you take the métro."

Amari just nodded at her and walked the few steps over to the couch, grabbing the pair of jeans he had left there the night before. He gave the pants a sniff and decided they didn't smell awful, so he pulled them on and headed down the short hall to the bathroom.

After splashing water over his face, he took a toothbrush from a small basket on the sink counter and brushed his teeth. From the same basket, he grabbed a small bottle of serum, running a little through his curls to tame them, then scratched at his scruff. Shaving seemed like a hassle, so he let it be.

Only a few minutes later, he was back in the living room, pulling a guitar case onto his back and grabbing his house key from the hook by the door.

"Going to the park?" Ziggy was still seated, slowly drinking his cup of coffee.

Amari shrugged, even though they both knew he would. He almost always did on Monday mornings.

"Why don't you do something about that frohawk of yours while you're out, hein? It's getting wild."

"Leave it."

Amari shoved the keys into the pocket of his pants and pushed an earbud into his ear, listening as it paired to his phone.

"I don't know when I'll be back. Call if you need anything."

"Ah, there's a pill bottle next to the door!" his friend shouted at him. "For your headache."

Amari quickly grabbed the bottle and was already out the door before Ziggy and Cate could say their goodbyes. Three flights down, he threw up his hood and put on his sunglasses before exiting onto the sunny street.