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TEENS IS DUMB
[Things have been getting progressively more rotten since the island fiasco. Most recently, of course, was probably the worst of it that Lars has endured yet. Last month was the last time Sadie stayed at his place, and it was decidedly the least successful—and in other ways, most successful—time had with her yet.
It seemed like things were going to get better, until absolutely fucking nothing made any sense and then everything was worse than before. And now they really weren't friends—they couldn't be, objectively, is what Lars has decided is Sadie's conclusion.
In any case, work has been awful. For the first week after the blizzard, Lars could barely handle looking at Sadie; his chest constantly ached and his heart raced. His stomach was often upset. He was never someone who handled this kind of stress well, and he had no one to really talk to about what was going on—and even if he did, he would be extremely reluctant at best to share it. The result, of course, is that Lars has been extra unpleasant—he's back to unapologetic tardiness; he's extra rude with the customers; he bristles obnoxiously when Ronaldo comes around, or if he thinks he and Sadie are texting; he takes more breaks than usual, and for longer amounts of time.
And tonight, he got in a fight with his mom. She would never do anything like throw Lars out, but he kinda threw himself out until it's late enough that she won't hear him come back. He'd been so useless at home—moreso than usual, than she kind of crawled up his ass about it. And she'd also found a carton of cigarettes, which she didn't take very well. Smoking was kind of an impulsive, stupid decision and a last-ditch effort for a coping mechanism in the face of all the hurt he didn't know what to do with. Even if he kind of dug the romance of self destruction, being a stupid tryhard of a teenaged boy, he was also a little embarrassed about this new habit. It was somewhat low-key, because he knew it was stupid.
Lars taps said carton against the rock he perches on, staring with a glum lack of enthusiasm at the way the sun sets over the ocean. Beautiful, objectively speaking, but Lars can't bother to care. As music blares with obnoxious loudness into his ears from his headphones, Lars's eyes dip to his hands, which shield his lighter as he ignites his cigarette.
He could be doing anything else, but Lars feels he doesn't have anyone to spend time with. His negativity has been clashing with the vibes of Jenny & co; Dewey has a vague idea of what's going on with Lars, but they're overall taking the "healing with distance" approach with him. They aren't very close, after all. He's not really a part of their inner circle.]
It seemed like things were going to get better, until absolutely fucking nothing made any sense and then everything was worse than before. And now they really weren't friends—they couldn't be, objectively, is what Lars has decided is Sadie's conclusion.
In any case, work has been awful. For the first week after the blizzard, Lars could barely handle looking at Sadie; his chest constantly ached and his heart raced. His stomach was often upset. He was never someone who handled this kind of stress well, and he had no one to really talk to about what was going on—and even if he did, he would be extremely reluctant at best to share it. The result, of course, is that Lars has been extra unpleasant—he's back to unapologetic tardiness; he's extra rude with the customers; he bristles obnoxiously when Ronaldo comes around, or if he thinks he and Sadie are texting; he takes more breaks than usual, and for longer amounts of time.
And tonight, he got in a fight with his mom. She would never do anything like throw Lars out, but he kinda threw himself out until it's late enough that she won't hear him come back. He'd been so useless at home—moreso than usual, than she kind of crawled up his ass about it. And she'd also found a carton of cigarettes, which she didn't take very well. Smoking was kind of an impulsive, stupid decision and a last-ditch effort for a coping mechanism in the face of all the hurt he didn't know what to do with. Even if he kind of dug the romance of self destruction, being a stupid tryhard of a teenaged boy, he was also a little embarrassed about this new habit. It was somewhat low-key, because he knew it was stupid.
Lars taps said carton against the rock he perches on, staring with a glum lack of enthusiasm at the way the sun sets over the ocean. Beautiful, objectively speaking, but Lars can't bother to care. As music blares with obnoxious loudness into his ears from his headphones, Lars's eyes dip to his hands, which shield his lighter as he ignites his cigarette.
He could be doing anything else, but Lars feels he doesn't have anyone to spend time with. His negativity has been clashing with the vibes of Jenny & co; Dewey has a vague idea of what's going on with Lars, but they're overall taking the "healing with distance" approach with him. They aren't very close, after all. He's not really a part of their inner circle.]
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Getting out of his selfish, panicked tizzy, though, Lars reflects on this information for a moment—then gives Sadie a suspicious glance, and a narrowing of his eyes.]
Kinda surprised he told you that stuff at all. Far as I know, he's not really into opening up about that—after all, no one really knew about our falling out... or our—[disgust face]—friendship.
He's got motives.
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[ and with most of sadie's friends being so far removed from beach city, she really knows how that loneliness can feel. especially with that self-imposed distance she'd established with lars. ]
People change, you know. You can't expect Ronaldo to be exactly like the guy you knew when you were both kids.
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Of course not. Whatever. All I'm saying is he's probably pretty pleased with himself.
[After all, Lars and Sadie's friendship, as far as Lars was currently concerned, was pretty much dead. She's just reaching out to Lars right now because he was having a rough night, because she was a good person. Meanwhile, Ronaldo and Sadie were getting chummy. Maybe Ronaldo didn't specifically plan for things to go this way, but as far as Lars figures, it's working out pretty fucking spectacularly for him...]
You're too nice, Sadie.
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[ people who are "too nice" don't set the mouths of the guys they like on fire.... even accidentally. but moving on. ]
I just really like people, and there's nothing wrong with that. Everyone deserves a little kindness. [ she almost says "besides, someone has to balance you out, right?" but it feels wrong before she even shapes the words with her mouth. maybe it's not her right to say stuff like that right now. ]
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Anyway, having a temper doesn't make you less of a good person, y'know. That's more like—bad decisions. People've got limits, even people like you. Prolly even people like Steven.
[His own words kinda sting, though unintentionally. Sadie had run out of patience with him, but while Lars was resenting Sadie all through earlier this month, he was beginning to move past it. He was pretty sure Ronaldo had the same fate in store with her...]
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but that was enough, right? those were good enough reasons to hang with someone, weren't they?
god, would the day that she stopped overthinking everything regarding lars ever come? ]
We're here, though. Hope you know what you want on your pizza.
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[Lars feels his stomach drop kind of weirdly when they arrive at Fish Stew Pizza. He awkwardly opens the door, squinting under the florescent lights. He'd gotten a little used to the darkness.
Thankfully, neither Jenny nor Ronaldo are there...
Pretending his nerves aren't on fire, Lars approaches the counter, leaning against it. It's sardines, jalapenos, and peppers. There's no accounting for Lars's (lack of) taste.......
Then he kinda just vaguely gestures towards Sadie, glancing off with a derisive sniff that causes Kiki to raise her eyebrow. She greets Sadie warmly, with a smile to match.]
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This place smells so much better than the donut shop.
[ she inhales, sliding into the seat with a half smile at him. ]
At least the food is cooked here.
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Lars sits heavily across from Sadie, and now that they're somewhere—less candid, maybe, or in front of other people—Lars feels awkward.]
Yeah. Probably you're just too used to the donut smell, though. [He leans heavily on his palm, elbow on the table.] Bet Jenny and Kiki are friggin' sick of how this place smells.
[He pauses, raising his eyebrows and glancing towards Sadie.]
Oh. Uh. Thanks, by the way.
[Lars is really bad at having manners, because he was raised by crabs.]