A/N: And now, I present to you, something my terrible mind produced late at night.
I slam my car door shut with all the anger I was feeling towards life. I'm actually genuinely surprised when the window doesn't shatter. Damn, would've been freaking awesome if it shattered. Probably would've been the most exciting event in the past ten years. I crossly shoved my hands in my coat pocket as I burst through the doors of the café.
"What's your problem today, Derik?" Cecilia, the cashier who had befriended me in the past couple of weeks, asks me. Please note, the term 'befriended' is used quite loosely.
"I hate life." With a burning passion, really. Cecilia rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hip, probably about to start the 'Optimism Address', as I had mentally dubbed it. I would tell her, but I knew she wouldn't find it funny in the least. Stupid bitch. A shame she's my only friend. Well, I have her, and a paraplegic Mexican who only spoke Spanish at the hospital. And to be honest, my paraplegic buddy was more companionable than her. If only I spoke Spanish, that way I would know what he was really saying.
"… Are you even listening to me?!" Cecilia suddenly shouts, flailing her hands about in her odd fashion. She blames it on her Italian heritage. I blame it on her obvious mental illness. If she took Ritalin, maybe she'd be… less herself, and maybe normal.
"No," I answer honestly. She huffs like a five-year-old. Five is her mental age. Twenty is her real age. Seeing the issues here? A red light was flashing in my head when I first met her. The fact she randomly started jabbering to me about her life, without any proper introduction, threw me off. I was not a sociable person, more like a wallflower. But Cecilia had brought out the inner frustration I was keeping locked up. So now, according to her, I'm just 'an angry elf'.
"You need to find a way to solve your anger issues," she states bluntly, loudly. If she were an amp, her volume would be set to eleven. All. The. Time. "Sex could be a good outlet for you! You like guys, don't you?! My boyfriend has got this one sexy friend—"
"I don't! I don't like men, so shut up!" I hiss back, fighting the urge to grab her shirt collar and shake her to death. Half of the shop is finding this amusing, by the way they're stifling their laughs with their hand. Go to Hell, you fuckers. It's not funny.
"You do. I can tell," she pops the bubble she was blowing with her gum obnoxiously. "So, what are you?"
"Am I what?" This is getting frustrating. All I wanted was a soda, not a life lesson.
"Oh, you know…" She absentmindedly plays with one of her hoops earrings and twirls a strand of hair with her finger. "Top or bottom?!"
"What?!" I boom. She grins, ear to ear.
"You know—do you like it up the ass, or do you like to give it to the whimpering suckers beneath you?"
"Why do you want to know whether I like to give it or get it?"
"Ha, you are a fag! Any male nurse has got to be gay!" she screams, pointing at me with her manicured nail. "Or, maybe you like guys and the lady folk?"
"The term is 'bisexual'."
"So you're a bi guy? You beast! Is it true that every person you see is hot to you?"
"Is it true that you're really very ignorant of people and their lifestyles?" Please, get the hint I'm being sarcastic.
"Probably." She shrugs, letting the conversation drop. "So, the usual?"
"I have a usual now?"
"Medium Pepsi, no ice," she rattles off as if it's second nature. "You've gotten one of those every Thursday and Tuesday for the past five weeks. And I figure you're going to be coming back for a while. To see me, ain't that right?"
"That's the exact reason." She laughs, as she goes over the drink machine to fill up one of those cheap plastic cups.
"You know," she begins as she places the drink down on the counter. "You really do need to get a life."
"How would you know?" I ask. She holds out her hand, and I give her the dollar bills from my pocket. She fumbles around with the cash register like she always does.
"I go to college," she mutters, messing with the buttons.
"That's your answer to everything," I state. She sticks her tongue out at me.
"College students are geniuses."
"If you are the genius you claim to be, why is that you have trouble with the register every time?" She narrows her brown eyes in my direct, and I smirk.
"Go fuck yourself," she grumbles, kicking the counter with her foot. "Since you have no one to do it for you." She finally gets the contraption to work, and then haughtily hands me back the amount of change, with an accomplished smile on her face. You have nothing to be proud of! my mind shouts at her. "Thank you for your patronage." She spits out the line, and hands me the beverage.
"No lid?" I ask. Her lips turn up at the corners smugly.
"Over there." She points vaguely in front of her. "I figured you could get it yourself."
"Yeah, whatever. See you Tuesday."
"See you Tuesday!" she sings, twirling around. Happy fluffy pink sparkles are basically radiating from her. It sickens me.
I begin walking over to the counter with the lids and straws, when I bump into something. And it's not a wall, as I hoped it to be, because walls don't say 'motherfucker'. Coffee and soda splash all over me, and most likely the person I bumped into.
"I'm so sorry!" I start apologizing right away.
"Yeah, me too," comes the gruff voice. I paused, breath hitching in my throat. I know that voice. Oh my God, please don't be who I think you are…
I look up.
Yeah, it's who I think it is.
I've just decided fate hates me like the anti-Christ hates God.
Deep chocolate brown eyes catch mine, and they widen slightly behind glasses. "Derik?" the man asks.
"James?" I whisper quietly.
"So it is you," he growls gruffly, irritably pulling the glasses off of his face wiping them on his shirt. In the background, I hear Cecilia laughing hysterically. Fuck you! I mentally holler. I turn my attention back to the brown-haired man. He puts his glasses back on his face, and eyes me critically.
"You look… well," he says awkwardly. I nod, shifting from foot to foot.
"You too?" I reply.
What are you supposed to say to the man who broke your heart ten years ago?
"You're shirt's going to stain," I say stupidly. He parts his lips in a sigh.
Oh, good, he's still the jackass I remember him being.
"Derik, if we were a book, consider this the end."
My eyes automatically flash to his finger. I grin automatically. His wedding ring is gone! Carpe fucking Diem.
"What's so humorous?" he asks. I grin wider.
"You know James, if we were a book, consider this the sequel."
A/N: Review~? Like, dislike, suggestions? Constructive criticism is also always welcome.