"Well, well, well! Tweek! How goes it?" He saunters in, like he expects me to ignore the harsh bags under his eyes and his ruffled hair. And probably the black eye and bloody nose.
I stand in shock for a few seconds, and I just stare at him as he goes up to the counter like he owns the place (ironically enough) and leans on the counter shooting me a some what pained glance.
"Clyde?" I stupidly mutter, "W-What are you doing h-here?" I lean my mop against the wall and walk slowly and awkwardly behind the counter. Clyde doesn't notice or doesn't care (or both) and smiles at getting a response.
"Oh y'know, I wanted to buy some shoes," he says not laughing, but smiling at me, waiting to see if I laugh.
I didn't.
"O-Oh... uh... ha," I scratch at my wrist behind the counter where he can't see me do so. This is so weird and tense.
I should break the silence and make a joke or small talk or- "What happened to y-your face?"
...
Or I could say that.
Clyde's smile falters just for a second before he laughs. He snorts a little as he does so and it almost makes me smile.
"What?" He asks, smile still very bright, "Am I not pretty enough for you anymore? Oh woe is me-"
"C-Clyde," I interrupt, "D-Do you want a coffee and some help with-" I point at the blood slowly beginning to drip down his lip (again it seems) "...that?"
He smiles, "That would be great, actually."
YOU ARE READING
Muted Voices
FanfictionIt could be worse. It could be better. In the end, it matters who wakes up in his bed.
