Disarray unfurling

He served him the tea, gently pouring the highly fragrant, extremely hot content. The two men sat at their usual small, rounded table, their fingers wrapped around wooden, misshapen cups. The subtle red glow of the orange sunset matched the red, sticky splattered around the table, perfectly setting out their weekly tea, which followed that horrifying, gorging feast that they had devoured hours prior. Each week was the same—a gorging feast and a tranquil tea to settle the banquet and start the debate regarding the future of what surrounded them.

It was a tranquil afternoon for them in an out-of-date café that had bypassed the external turmoil. In that out-of-date cafe, the sunlight bounced back at the boarded-up window, providing a warm, golden glow onto the worn wooden table and the faded floral wallpaper that kept itself covered in blood each week. It offered one of them comfort while providing the other a bit of despair. Still, it remained a comfort bubble for both worlds apart from the chaos.

“I can not believe they are at it yet again,” the man in black whispered, his voice low and pensive, as the man in white served him the tea. He absent-mindedly stirred it, adding just one spoonful of sugar and clinking the teaspoon gently against the cup as he peered to his left. In the distance, a great cloud of dark smoke curled upward, unfurling sinisterly into the sky.

“Hmm,” the man in white served himself with half a smile as he turned to the right, his tone serene and calculated as he inhaled deeply the aroma around him and took a sip of his tea. " Death, anguish, wrath, misery. Aren't those are usual issues each week?" He brought the cup to his nose as he took in the scent of the chamomile tea that sparked a hint of honey, its aroma encircling him in a delicate haze, making the madness next to them almost laughable. “I suppose it’s just another day in paradise, right?” His eyebrow lifted as he gazed at him, and his eyes sparkled with mischief as he lounged back into the plush chair as if he were the king of this ironic, peaceful realm.

The man in black let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slowly. “Paradise indeed. Look at how the world is crumbling,” he said, gesturing toward the scene outside. Frantic people raced past, faces lined with worry and fear. "Yet again, it is crumbling," he let out an exhausted sigh. In the table's intimate space, the ticking of his watch and the gentle rustle of leaves seemed to create a silence that suspended them in time.

“I have always wondered why you are not worried?” the man in white pondered aloud, his voice deeper yet monotonous, as if discussing the mundane happenings of daily life. "You should be more worried. Soon enough, all of them will be gone." He poured more tea into his cup, the ground shaking from a nearby explosion as he rolled his eyes at the chaos. The warm liquid swirled as it filled, creating perfect ripples that danced with the disorder outside, and a single drop of tea fell into his coat. He hissed at the crowds that gathered outside, those calling for protection against the ones that held the weapons and those that had the weapons crying out for aid.

“Not really,” The man in black sat back, crossing his arms over his chest as a smile began to form. “Maybe it’s because we have seen it all before." he pointed across from them to a woman holding onto the hand of another as they sat on the ground in silent protest. " The world has always been a stage for madness, between brothers and sisters, a center for hate, between parents and children, a society of torture between neighbors, and we... Well, we are only two spectators savoring a particularly chaotic exhibition.” He lifted his cup in a mock toast, and the man in white started to laugh, echoing his gesture with a glint in his eye.

A loud crash reverberated through the air, a window breaking somewhere down the block, the shattered glass and flying debris smashing against the protesting women as they fell on the ground. The man in black turned his head slightly but quickly returned his gaze to the man in white, who was now eyeing a small yet beautifully crafted piece of pastry on his plate—a tart, gleaming with a glossy glaze that seemed to taunt them for a bite. “Did you try this yet?” the man in white asked, raising his fork with a dramatic swift. “It’s simply delightful.” He grabbed a piece, closing his eyes slowly, savoring the pastry that danced in his tongue.

“Not yet,” the man in black looked over, amusement dancing in his face, marveling over his light blue eyes as he extended over to grab his utensils. “I’m still savoring the tea." He slowly stabbed the pastry with the fork, excitedly bringing the piece to his mouth, suddenly stopping. "How can we always focus on tea and dessert with all this…you know, disarray unfurling?”

“Chaos has its peculiar allure,” his voice calmed as he took a generous bite of the tart; the bright tang of raspberry and the sweetness of sugar seemed to brighten the darkness of the black eyes the man in the white bore. “It offers a unique perspective. Here we are, insulated within our little bubble, enjoying good tea and delectable treats while others are swept away in the storm. It’s rather beautiful, wouldn’t you agree?”

The sounds of sirens crescendoed, and shadows dissipated as the moon slowly rose behind the cafe. The walls started to fall behind them, claiming the end of the anxious phantoms of the café barriers. "I guess so. It is our fault. Our creation unfolded before us." The man in white chuckled, almost spitting out his tea as he grabbed a napkin, tapping slowly at his cheeks. He lifted his eyebrow at his reaction as he placed the cup back down. "I am expecting some rhetorical remark from you, H. Go on, spit it out."

"It is your creation, Y—your doing. I got punished. But these creatures. These mortal beings, eradicating, loathing, blaspheming at each turn they get. They spread lies about what you created and desired out of your masterpiece. What was it now, your purpose, your... Hmm. Aspirations for them?" he smirked at his question, trying to get a response out of Y only to get a chuckle and a deep gruntle of regret. "Say it, my old friend, was it serenity, love, understanding, and compassion? Everything they seem to lack. They are worthless varmints, undeserving of such beauty, yet you let them live."

"They were created out of love and desire to prosper the world." The chaos outside raged on, but at their small table, the surroundings became a cozy sanctuary where time felt suspended. "Even I make mistakes. It seems." The two friends continued indulging in tea, and each other's company and one thought pushing back the next like the leaves on a bloody stream in the pavement next to their table.

" Oh no, what a tragedy." H laughed deeply as Y joined him, bringing the last piece of pastry to his mouth and indulging himself again. "I thought you realized that when you created me." Finally, Y set down his cup with a contented sigh, a radiant smile spreading. Glancing around, the cries echoed loudly from the massacres—the coughs from those who lay on the streets in sickness and the screams of those who demanded justice.

"You are the only creation I do not regret, my friend." A bullet trespassed his head, landing with a loud bang at boarded-up windows that had claimed the background of their setting. He sighed deeply, scratting his forehead as if nothing had happened, with a disgruntled look. "This is why I like you, H. This shared moment holds such significance during times like these. As you called them, these creatures chase after the whirlwind of drama, but we…sit and appreciate the tea.” H nodded in agreement, his eyes sparkling with delight and mischief.

“Precisely my sentiment." With that warm, inviting sentiment, they clinked their cups together again, savoring the rich brew and the bond they shared. They left the world outside to grapple with its chaos while they reveled in their serene oasis. "Let’s enjoy this and retreat in our peaceful little corner of the universe.” H served Y more tea, gently pouring the highly fragrant, still extremely hot content as they continued to sit at their usual small, rounded table, their fingers wrapped around wooden, misshapen cups. They watched the world fall apart once again.