> Be the cool kid.
Your name is Dave Strider. You are 16 years old. It is currently 7:28 a.m on a Saturday. Which is to say, too fucking early for this shit. You roll over and check your phone, which as expected, has no new messages. You sit up in your bed and stretch, your back cracking with a few satisfying *pops*.
Now, to get up and get ready. For what exactly? Well, you're not really sure. But, acting like you have something to do is better than doing nothing at all. You get out of bed and slide your shades on, walking over to the pile of clothes that next to your laundry hamper rather than inside it, because you've never been an organized dude, and you do NOT plan on starting today.
Although before you can dig out a somewhat clean outfit, your stomach grumbles in protest. "Alright, I hear ya." You say as you stifle a yawn, careful not to make the floorboards creak as you step out and peek down the hall. You stay silent for a few moments, but breathe a sigh of relief when you realize that your Bro is out of the apartment today.
You continue your walk across the hall and into the kitchen, which of course is a giant fucking mess. You roll your eyes and make your way over to the fridge and crack open the door, it's lightbulb humming loudly as you skim the shelves. Which as per usual, has nothing residing on them other than a few cans of soda and last week's leftovers. You groan as you weren't really sure what you were expecting.
When you shut the fridge door you notice a note taped on the front. You pull it off of the fridge and skim its contents.
*Dave, I'm out for the day. I will be back later tonight. You better have this mess of a house cleaned up when I get back or it's your ass. -Bro* You frown, crumpling the note into a ball before tossing it into the trash.
"Fucking of course, he wants me to clean up his mess." You mutter under your breath before heading back to your room, deciding that you may as well head out and pick up some groceries if you want to eat today. You quickly get dressed and grab your wallet and your phone, stuffing them in your pocket before heading out the door of your shitty apartment. You plug in your earbuds to listen to some music as you walk the couple of blocks to the store.
> We get it, hurry up and get inside.
You stow away earbuds in your pocket as you walk through, the doors sliding open and chiming a rather loud *ba-dum* as you walk past the sensors. You've hardly had time to grab a basket before you hear your name called out behind you. "Dave! Dave over here!" You turn around and are greeted by the familiar face of your best friend John Egbert.
> Be the slightly less cool kid.
Your name is John Egbert. You are also 16 years old. It's currently 8:03 a.m on a Saturday, and you're here to get yourself some coffee. You're simply minding your business as you wait in line, when you hear the doors ding behind you. As it usually does, your curiosity gets the better of you and you glance behind you, surprised to see your best friend Dave Strider walking through the doors.
You grin, waving enthusiastically at him. "Dave! Dave over here!" You shout a bit louder than intended, earning a few annoyed glances from the patrons around you. You can see Dave chuckle to himself before heading your way, a grocery basket in hand. "Sup man?" He asks, before stopping to stand next to you in line. You shrug, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose. "Not much, just here to get some coffee. You?"
He nods to himself before responding. "Same here. Just here to grab a couple things so that I can make breakfast." You snicker and he raises an eyebrow. "What? I'm serious." You hold your hands up defensively, still laughing a bit. "Yeah yeah, of course! I just can't really see you as the cooking type." He laughs a bit too, shaking his head. "You're just jealous because I could definitely pull off an apron better than you."
