Illusion Shift

~ 16 ~

18:56

October 31st, Saturday

..｡o○　Oreo　○o｡..

"We're BOTH riding on your bike?" I ask Pudding Cup, not sure if I heard correctly.

"Yeah?" she tells me, eyebrow raised, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She holds her white bike by the handles, kicking the kickstand with the toe of her foot.

"It takes 15 minutes to walk there. Too long, dude. We gotta bike, it'll take a little over 5 minutes if we bike," she tells me, swinging her legs over the bike.

15 minutes isn't even that long??

"But there's no second seat," I protest, trying to find a way to get out of this.

I knew Pudding Cup was a bit more of an intense girl but -- I admit -- I'm a very fragile guy. Super brittle bones and really sensitive skin. Genetics have cursed me. Not to mention how I'm super skinny and don't have much to cushion me in case I fall.

"Yeah, but there's this carrier thing. Just sit on it and hold tight and you'll be fine," she assures me, patting the rear rack.

I walk up to the bike slightly hesitantly, before sitting on the bike and letting my legs dangle.

She passes me her helmet without looking at me, rustling her own hair.

"I wear your helmet??" I ask her, incredulous. 

"Why else do you think I'm giving it to you?" she asks me, leaning on her bike handlebars.

"Put it on and tell me when it's on and secure so I can start pedaling."

I put the bright yellow helmet on, buckling the black chin strap, and giving the plastic a couple taps before saying, "Done!"

I did feel a bit uneasy about this but I knew there was no arguing with Pudding Cup. She knew I was a bit of a fragile package and even though I felt a bit guilty I knew how tough Pudding Cup was, in all aspects. She would survive a bike fall with a couple scratches. I would break at LEAST one bone, and we need to make sure it's not my skull.

"Alright! I'm gonna start going but you gotta hang on tight, okay?" she asks me, head slightly turned back.

"What??" I ask her, face flushing. 

"MY GOD, dude, just wrap your arms around my stomach is it that hard?" she asks me loudly, throwing her hands up.

"Okay okay!" I yell back, laughing. I awkwardly back hug her, feeling my face get hot.

18:57

October 31st, Saturday

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　Pudding Cup　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊

I did have about 2 minutes of internal conflict after Watermelon asked me to go to the market with Oreo. 

If we walk it'll take 15 minutes. A fourth of an hour. We'll have to walk 30 minutes total including the return trip, half an HOUR. Way too fucking long. I will not be having it.

If I bike I'm going to be in the situation I'm in right now. Yeah, we'll be there in 5 minutes, less if I really step on it, but I'm gonna have to risk my crush on Oreo getting stronger. I barely have it under control now, what am I gonna do when Oreo's back hugging me for two bike rides, telling me shitty jokes?

"Okay okay! Hear me out, listen to this one... What concert costs just 45 cents?" Oreo asks me, snickering. I can literally feel his body shaking from laughter.

"50 Cent featuring Nickelback!" he hoots, not even giving me a chance to answer.

He is absolutely losing his shit, laughing so hard he might fall off the bike.

I feel myself flush, my stomach turning. 

God, he is so, so stupid. So fucking stupid. My god. An absolute dumbass.

19:04

October 31st, Saturday

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ 　Watermelon　⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

"So you can't come?" I ask Orange frowning, as I toss the empty piping bags into the trash.

"Yeah, sorry. Something came up," Orange tells me simply, shrugging.

The three trays of orange and black cupcakes sit on various cooling racks.

Orange was at the sink wearing elbow length pink rubber gloves, washing the dishes.

"You've been so busy lately," I say, laughing slightly as I go to the pantry, pulling out a stack of purple plates. "What're you even doing?"

"Stuff," Orange replies simply, scrubbing at a metal bowl coated in chocolate.

"Look, you don't need to tell me specifics, but I miss you!" I tell him, punching his arm lightly and placing the plates on the food table in the living room.

"I feel like we haven't hung out in ages. Sure, I guess were "hanging out" right now, but it was mostly me just needing your help," I say, giggling slightly.

Yes, I was still worried about him. I've known him since we were babies, I knew it wasn't only school that was stressing him out. There was something else. I just don't know what it is.

"Yeah. Maybe we can hang tomorrow? The thing I got today's kind of important. If it stretches to tomorrow maybe we could hang next weekend?" he asks me, peering at me and smiling slightly.

I puff my chest and straighten up, smiling.

"Yeah!" I agree, feeling suddenly much better. If I was reading Orange correctly, I think he feels lonely. Or like he doesn't belong... in a way? I haven't figured out the specifics, but if I'm right, I need to make sure that he spends a lot of time with me and the rest of us.

He loads the last dish into the dishwasher and pulls off the rubber gloves, wiping his dry hands on his shirt. As he wipes his shirt his phone vibrates from his jean pocket and he pulls it out. Upon seeing whatever was on his screen, his face immediately darkens and he frowns.

"What's... wrong?" I ask him. 

"Nothing. Looks like I gotta head," he tells me, tucking his phone into his back pocket, pointing his thumb in the direction of the front door.

"Oh! Okay!" I say, watching him pick up his cheap drawstring bag. "I'll watch you head out."

He walks over to the entrance, jamming his shoes on before opening the front door. The golden light from the sunset streams in, silhouetting Orange's figure.

"Golden hour..." I whisper, following Orange out of the door and stopping at the edge of the porch. Sunset was always my favorite time of the day.

"Sunset is nice," Orange says, voice weak, staring at the sky, his face washed in an orange yellow light. There's the soft sound of the fallen leaves shuffling around on the ground, moved by the wind. He tilts his head back down, staring ahead.

"I'll see you on Monday?" I ask him, watching him walk ahead.

"Sure," he replies, waving at me from the sidewalk before taking a turn and disappearing from sight.