Once Murdoc and I got to the grocery store, he smiled a toothy smile and said "That old lady doesn't like my cross. She's staring daggers into me and hoping looks can kill," He said, fearlessly, staring her dead in the eyes and pointing at her. She went back to picking out produce instead of observing us.

"So, kid, what do you like to eat?" He asked grabbing a basket. 

"I'm not really picky. At least, I don't think I am. I hate cheese, though, which so many people find blasphemous. I also don't really eat beef, so maybe I'm not as carefree as I thought," I said, with a nervous laugh escaping my lips

"Cheese is overrated," he agreed. "I'm not really a big fan of dairy, anyway. But you don't eat beef?" He asked, sounding shocked. "Why's that?"

"I don't know," I sighed. "I guess I like cows too much," I replied.

We strolled down the isles before Murdoc let out an exasperated sigh.

"I'm bored," he muttered, biting his lip. He whipped his head around to view his surroundings before telling me to get in the basket. Puzzled, I did so. Soon thereafter, he started running down a wide aisle, pushing me in the cart.

Murdoc smirked and then jumped onto the bar that connected the back wheels. At first, I was a little anxious, but then the nervousness turned into excitement.

"My brother and I used to do this," he began. "Y'know, before he turned into a massive shiteater," Murdoc continued, as his feet touched the ground, stopping the cart abruptly.

"When I was living with my dad, oh God, I had to be around 9," he chuckled. "Hannibal, my brother, was maybe 13. He used to send us to the store all by ourselves with some money. Hannibal changed around the age of 16. Got more aggressive and more violent. I think he's in jail or something,"

A gave him a sympathetic look, still crouched in the shopping cart.

"It's fine though. Really, it is. If we make up, we make up. If we don't, well, we don't. It doesn't really bother me one way or another. I don't think I've forgiven him for breaking my nose, anyway," he chuckled a sort of desperate, sad chuckle, pointing to his crooked nose, with a pained smile.

"If it makes you feel any better, I like your nose," I say booping his nose with my index finger and watching his smile become more genuine. "I think it fits your face perfectly,"

We stared into each other's eyes with goofy smiles on our faces. It felt like a few minutes before we snapped back into reality. 

I felt my face go red as I began anxiously biting my lip. Murdoc shook his head in what seemed to be disbelief and looked away as I hoisted myself out of the cart.

"No, you can't like him," I thought to myself. "He's older than you. You're a kid to him,"  I looked back to see Murdoc with a box of cereal in his hand, reading the label.

Maybe I should go with Chris to that show. I mean, the pros are seeing Morrissey and Interpol and getting to know someone who is obviously interested in me, which could lead to my first IRL boyfriend and maybe get my mind off Murdoc. Cons? Well, maybe leading someone on that I'm probably not interested in, but maybe I could be if I tried. I open my phone and text the number Chris put into my phone.
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Chris

Hey Chris, it's Stuart :)

Hey! What's up

Nothing much how about you?

I'm doing pretty good. It was nice to meet you today, by the way.

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