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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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