shit show ⋆ bo burnham

03.

bo indulged in cautious gazes towards y / n as they walked down an aisle of tables and chairs, eventually seating themselves at one.

the sight of her was surreal; despite all of the unfortunate dates, brief flings, and lamentable hookups bo experienced since their departure — no one had ever impacted him this horrendously.

bo was petrified of her. of the power she unknowingly dangled just out of his reach, tormenting his every thought. it fucking sucked, but it was simultaneous bliss — especially now that she was present.

in addition to his cocktail of overbearing emotions, a horrid wave of iniquity crashed into his chest every time she'd momentarily lock eyes with him. they were never able to have closure; their ending lingered, like a chronic wound in desperate need of cauterization. bo couldn't help but feel like he was to blame, and wondered if it effected her the same way to see him again after four years of abrupt silence.

he tucked his backpack into the seat next to him, being mindful of his legs under the table. it was rare that bo sat comfortably in any conventional seating arrangement due to his legs extending half a mile from below him. he felt like an awkward, stilted freak; a flailing stork in high winds. just thinking about his knee bumping into her under the table made his skin crawl with humiliation.

"are you okay?"

the comedian snapped out of his self-conscious trance, raising a brow in her direction. "hm? oh— yeah, why?"

y / n's smile faltered just a bit. "you just . . . haven't said hi to me yet, and you look—"

"constipated?"

bo watched as her concerned disposition melted into an amused one, her soft giggle ringing through his ears. it was such a foreign sound, as if he'd only recognized that laugh from a dream he'd conjured on a restless night.

"yes, very constipated."

a soft stifle of a laugh emitted past bo's lips as he shook his head softly. "no, no. i'm fine. and hi, yes, hello. i meant to say that, but i—" he stopped himself mid-sentence, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. "you look—"

"constipated?"

"— great; stunning, even."

the words immediately prompted a sudden glow about her features, her smile growing wide while she attempted to stow it away by looking elsewhere.

"great, now i feel like an ass for saying you look constipated."

"oh, no — it's fine," bo shifted slightly in his seat while his nimble fingers shifted up to the loose strands of hair in his face, moving the toffee locks back and out of the way. "i'll just cry myself to sleep about it tonight."

"god dammit, bo." another hint of a laugh emitted from y / n as she rolled her eyes, her shoulders easing from their strict — or perhaps nervously pristine — posture. she seemed to visibly relax the more bo joked, and it was a double-win because he was able to hear her laugh fill the air between them.

as if on a subtle cue, the barista appeared swiftly with the two drinks they'd ordered. she leaned in just enough for him to catch her name tag; taryn. "black with heavy cream," taryn's tone was soft and sweet as she set bo's coffee down in front of him, "and an iced white girl drink with whole milk."

bo shook his head in faux disappointment towards  y / n,  watching her cup being set on the table. she caught bo's gaze and nearly rolled her eyes once more.

"don't incite his humor." she mumbled playfully to the barista, who was tucking the serving tray under her arm. taryn gave bo a playful glance before turning back to y / n .