Sugar, we're going down

Un

Instant noodles.

Luke fucking hated instant noodles, yet it was all he’d been eating in the past few months. Safe for the weekly Pizza Friday, and the occasional Pizza Tuesday, and all the days he spent eating leftovers.

Comes with the college budget, his roommate had commented upon hearing his complaints. You get used to it, apparently.

Luke didn’t agree. His stomach was churning dangerously at the sight of the piles of plastic cups in his cart, or maybe that was because of the fact that he was in a supermarket. About to pay.

His heart sank as he pushed the cart from aisle to aisle, obviously stalling. As much as he hated instant noodles, he preferred finding them in his cupboard over having to pick them up at the store by himself. Niall usually did that, Luke’s saving grace. He knew about Luke’s condition and respected it, or maybe he was just willing to do anything as long as he wasn’t the one who had to clean their dorm. Little shit.

But Niall wasn’t here now, off with some new friend to play football in the park, and Luke had a paper to work on, so he had no choice but to move to the counter.

At least the UK had self-check outs, which were all occupied. Just his luck. His hands became sweaty at the thought of a cashier, but it wasn’t like he had a better option. If he stayed here, standing like an idiot, his self-loathing thoughts would inevitably catch up with him. Because who on earth camps out at the self-check-outs when there’s a cashier standing a mere 6 feet away from them. The boy probably thought he was lame, what with his sweating hands and his erratic breathing and the fact that he’d been standing there for a good two minutes now and all the check-outs were still occupied.

Oh well, one time wouldn’t hurt, right?

This dude sucked anyway. I mean, look at his fringe. Who even has a fringe anymore these days? And Luke’s not the one wearing a Tesco apron, for god’s sake.

“Good morning, sir.”

Shit, what was he thinking? Who even brings others down to make himself feel better? That’s just pathetic. Luke is pathetic and it’s probably written all over his face right now.

“Um, I, uh, hello.”

He pushed the corners of his mouth up in a weak attempt to smile. The cashier gave him a bored expression.

The silence that followed had an iron grip on Luke’s throat, squeezing and squeezing until he was choking on air and his face ran red with lack of oxygen. Who was he kidding? His face has been red since the moment he walked in.

“That’ll be 20.75, please.”

The cashier drummed his fingers on the cash register. Fuck, he was holding a twenty pound bill. His hands dug into his pockets, fishing for coins. He should have gathered them while his items were being scanned!

He breathed out in relief when he felt something metallic, and he carefully inspected the coins in his hand. With trembling fingers, he handed a few of them to the cashier, who took them without even looking at him.

“Sir, that’s 50p too much.”

“Oh yes, yeah, of course.”

His eyes were burning by now, a painful reminder that his anxiety wasn’t just something he could hide. The boy no doubt thought he was pathetic for crying over half a pound. His fingers were shaking too badly for him to just pick up the coin, so he sort of just had to slam his hand on the cash register and wipe it off without dropping it.

“Alright, have a nice day, sir.”

He gathered his items in his arms, stumbling back with way too many noodles in his arms, because he’d been too afraid to ask for a plastic bag and it was too fucking late now.