Turnips and a scapegoat - Chapter 1

Sebastian and Oliver found themselves where they always were at this time on a Friday evening, at the swankiest supermarket Dorking had to offer. Some nasty child had been allowed to sneeze into their hands and with nasty snotty digits was now meticulously fingering all the carrots and potatoes with the exactness of an accountant - making sure he handled each one. Eww. More than eww, this was downright revolting. Where on earth was this vile rat’s parents? This was not the sort of thing you’d expect from the customers of this establishment. As always, the staff did their best to keep out of the way with a smile as they re-priced the goods reaching the end of their shelf life.

Oliver thought of running into the kid with their shopping trolley, already half-filled with the usual - artisan sourdough, locally sourced honey, and a bottle of wine that cost more than he liked to admit. But he held back. 

It had been a long week: Sebastian, weary from crafting yet another mind-numbing digital campaign for a client he privately loathed, trailed behind Oliver, who, despite his own exhaustion from a week of personal training sessions, seemed to radiate energy as he reached for a pair of avocados.

“Look at these, Seb” Oliver said, grinning as he held them in front of his eyes, doing an impression of a chameleon, flicking his tongue in and out in a way that he knew would irritate Sebastian. “They’re little green miracles. Packed with 20 different nutrients - heart-healthy unsaturated fats, fibre, vitamin K, vitamin E, potassium. They’re nature’s multivitamin, except they don’t taste like beige and regret.”

Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his dyed blonde, wavy hair. “Right, but have you considered the other 20 things they’re packed with? Deforestation, biodiversity loss, gallons of chemicals, and more carbon than an Elon Musk rocket launch. Each bite is like a knife in the Earth’s back.”

Oliver pouted slightly, though there was a teasing glint in his eye. “But Seb, they’re anti-inflammatory, antimicrobial, anticancer… They might even be the secret to immortality. How can you say no to that? They practically scream, ‘Eat me if you want to live!’”

Sebastian crossed his arms, trying to stand firm, though he could already feel the ground beneath him shift. “And the planet screams back, ‘Please don’t!’ These avocados are tiny, green environmental catastrophes. They’re like edible jet lag, flown in from who knows where. It’s hypocrisy wrapped in leathery skin. Waitrose’s own organic grenades.”

But Oliver, ever unfazed, just tilted his head, examining one of the avocados as if it were a precious gem. “So, you’re saying we should give up the very thing that could help us live long enough to see how the world actually ends? Seems counterproductive. Besides, how do you expect me to keep my clients happy with just kale and quinoa? I’m not running a 14th-century monastery here, darling.”

Exasperated, but smiling despite himself, Sebastian said, “Come on, Ols, You can’t save your heart while breaking the Earth’s. That’s just… bad karma. Or maybe irony. Or both, in some cosmic joke we’re too dense to get.”

Oliver stepped closer, lowering his voice into a mock-serious tone, his eyes sparkling and the dimples in his cheeks betraying mischief. “Alright, how about this: I’ll promise to offset our avocado sins by planting a tree for every one we buy. Maybe two. I could start a personal rainforest in Brockham if it’ll make you feel better.”

Sebastian’s resolve wavered, as it always did in the face of Oliver’s relentless optimism. He was suddenly struck by a vision of their life together - two avocado lovers lost in the ethical quagmire of modern consumerism, and yet somehow happier for it. Like so many other moments, he couldn’t help but feel that this one was more significant than it seemed. If he didn’t give in, who knew what avalanche of domestic doom he might unleash?

“Fine,” he said, reluctantly, a blush creeping up his neck. “Put them in the cart. But if the world ends in a fiery apocalypse, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

Oliver grinned, his victory sweet as he dropped the avocados into the cart with a flourish. “If the world ends, my love, we’ll face it together. Preferably with guacamole.”

As they moved to continue their shopping, Sebastian’s smile lingered, a familiar warmth spreading through him. The avocados had won, but so had love, and in that small, absurd triumph, Sebastian found solace. Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world after all.

Just then, a voice cut through the hum of the fridges, a rich, melodious tone with a hint of Spanish. “Good choice. Life is too short to argue over something as uninteresting as avocados.”

Sebastian and Oliver both turned, startled, to find a strikingly handsome man standing beside them, holding a bunch of bananas. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement, his smile wide and genuine. He was, quite simply, stunning. The kind of good looks that made Sebastian’s heart skip a beat and Oliver’s playful confidence falter for just a moment.

The stranger chuckled at their stunned expressions. “Sure, you’re right about the planet, but sometimes, you have to live a little, no?”

Sebastian and Oliver exchanged a glance, feeling a sudden shift in the air, as if the universe itself had just nudged them with a wink and a knowing smile. They’d often fantasised about leaving Dorking, slipping free of their small suburban life. But it had always been just that - talk. Now, something about the way this gorgeous man spoke, with such carefree confidence, stirred something deep within both of them. This wasn’t just a random encounter; it felt like a sign from some higher power.

“Are you Spanish? We’ve always dreamed of moving to Spain,” Oliver said, forward as ever. “England just feels so… done.”

The handsome stranger winked. “Now that sounds like a good idea. Spain has much better food anyway.”

Oliver, grinning, couldn’t resist asking, “Whereabouts are you from, then, gorgeous?”

With a wry smile, the man replied, “Carlos. My name is Carlos.” He held out his hand and Oliver keenly shook it. 

“Ollie. And this is Seb.”

“I’m from Croydon. But my family’s from a beautiful small village called Piornal, in Extremadura. And yes, that is in Spain.”

“Pee normal... Joking! Sorry, how do you spell that?” Oliver already had his phone out, making a note to check later.

Before Sebastian could think of anything interesting to say that might distract from Oliver’s terrible attempt at humour, they were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a tantrum in progress. The snotty child from earlier had reappeared, now sprawled on the floor, his mother desperately trying to pry him up as he reached for something unpleasant lurking under one of the shelves.

Sebastian’s initial irritation softened into pity as he watched the frazzled mother struggle. She was the very picture of exhaustion, her face flushed and her patience hanging by a thread. But as she bent down to scoop up her wailing offspring, Sebastian’s sympathy quickly evaporated. He noticed, with a start, that she had several slabs of chocolate stuffed awkwardly down the back of her track pants.

“Well,” Sebastian muttered to Oliver, “at least we’re not the only ones with questionable morals in this establishment.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, barely suppressing a grin. He turned to Carlos - “Fancy a chocolate bar on the way out? I hear they’re free if you’re quick enough.”