It's Worse Than You Think

I paused, thinking for a moment, and eventually decided to get out several shades of green paint for the project I was about to start. Maybe project was stretching it, it was just another painting, but at least it made it seem more official and not as much as a lame hobby.

For a while actually, I’ve had this image of a forest that I wanted to get down and out of my mind. I feel like I’ve been there, but I can’t place a specific memory of when it might have happened. When I was younger, my family and I rarely did anything outdoors, whether it be camping, or even have a Goddamn picnic. Partially because my dad was allergic to anything and everything, and partially because none of us had any interest in doing things like that anyways.

Seeing as how I’d woken up late it was almost eleven, but I still had plenty of time to do a bunch of shit around the apartment before I had to head down to Bridgeport.

It’s been a little over a week since I ran into my grandparents, and that completely fucking embarrassing episode in front of Finn and Marshall. I guess now that I’ve had plenty of time to calm down, I’m fine with seeing them. I’m fine with the chance that my grandparents are disappointed in everything about me. Okay, maybe not fine, but I’m not thinking about it nearly as much. I’m also not saying that I’m looking forward to another run in with them anytime soon, even if I should be. The point is, I’m done crying.

After spending a few hours working, I liked what it was turning into. I had half the canvas filled with clusters of trees, dark greens and dark browns. It was dreary, and it was different.

I jumped when the phone rang, and sauntered into the kitchen to answer it. “Hello?”

“Zeke, it’s Finn.”

I smiled softly, raising an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

I heard him laugh, and he lowered his tone, “Yeah, I should be. But I need you to do me a favour. Do you think before you head down, you can pick me up two packs of cigarettes?”

“Maybe I don’t have the time,” I teased, opening the fridge so I could find something quick to eat before I had to leave. God, I need to go grocery shopping.

He ignored me, knowing I’d do it. “Thank you so much, I’ve got to go. See you in a few minutes, Zeke.”

The dial tone rang in my ears before I had a chance to respond, and I hung the phone up, pulling on my black cardigan and grabbing my keys so I could leave. A smile crossed my face at the thought of seeing Marshall in less than ten minutes, and I picked up my pace as I walked down the sidewalk, heading into a small store to pick up Finn’s cigarettes.

“Can I have two packs of Camel, and one pack of Marlboro Lights, please?” I asked the cashier, who couldn’t have been older than seventeen, and was looking at me with a strange expression on his face.

“ID please?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “Oh, umm. Sure.” It was hard to believe that I could possibly look enough to be attempting to buy cigarettes illegally. He looked at it, looked up at me with a smirk on his face, and tossed me the three packs along with my change.

“Smoking is bad for you, you know.”

“I know,” I replied, before walking out to head down the familiar sidewalk to Bridgeport.

I struggled for a moment to open my pack, and lit one up, taking a drag with a grin on my face. I honestly have no fucking clue why I’m in such a good mood this afternoon. You’d think Marshall and I would have had sex or something in the past few hours. My fingers flicked the cigarette into the trashcan outside, and I made my way into my favourite place in the world, blushing as soon as I saw Marshall already looking at me.

“Hi Zeke,” he greeted, flashing a smile at me from across the counter. I returned it, and he met me halfway across the room, pressing his lips to mine for a quick kiss that made my head spin.

Finn was already sitting down, and I handed him the packs he’d asked for. When he reached in his wallet to pay me back, I shook my head. “No, don’t. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, and I nodded. “Alright, but only because we have something far more important to discuss. So,” Finn began, “Are you excited for your birthday?”

My mouth fell open, while Marshall looked over at me in disbelief. “What the hell?” he exclaimed, “You didn’t tell me it was almost your birthday!”

I laughed at his reaction, and shrugged, shooting a sideways glare in my best friend’s direction. “It’s December seventeenth, but it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“Really not that big of a deal?” he repeated slowly, looking back and forth between Finn and I with an exasperated expression. His eyebrows were furrowed, like he was legitimately concerned.

“Yeah, I know. I say the same exact thing every year,” Finn began, “It’s become a little routine of Zeke and I’s. But he’s not quite right in the head.”

“Hey!” I protested, causing both of them to grin, “It’s just any other day. Definitely not worth getting all worked up over.”

And I really feel that way, too. I honestly hate my birthday, and I’ve always thought this. Even when I was younger. I hated all the bullshit that came with birthday parties, friends that I could care less about giving me presents I didn’t want or need. My family would come from several states away for a weekend, making time specifically for me. I hate all the attention it comes with. I used to just get attention from Finn obviously, seeing as how I’m not close with anyone else, but even that I don’t like: when people have to go out of their way to do something for me, spending money on me when they could have saved it for something
useful.

“What are we going to do?” Marshall asked Finn, playing with my fingers mindlessly as he waited for his answer. I loved that, the way his fingers feel when they’re intertwined with mine.

“I was thinking just some sort of kickass party. Small, but kickass.”

“Who’s place?”

Finn paused, “How about mine?”

“Eh, fuck that.”

“Then why’d you even ask? Besides, mine’s bigger.”

“There’s going to be a total of three people there, Finn.”

“Fine.”

“You bring food?”

“I can’t cook.”

“Then buy something,” Marshall replied.

“Why don’t you?”

“Because it’s at my place, so you should bring the food and whatnot.”

“That makes no sense, you dick.”

I was full on smirking now, at how they were arguing and planning out everything like I wasn’t even there. When I pointed out that maybe there was a chance I wouldn’t even show up, they both just rolled their eyes in response simultaneously, which freaked me out for a moment. “You wouldn’t do that knowing how much effort and energy we will have spent into planning this for you,” Finn pointed out, smiling because he knew that he was right. Damn it.

Before I could respond with some lame, half assed defensive comment, Finn told us that he had to leave to go pick up Max at his place for something, and I watched as he shoved a pack of cigarettes in each of his back pockets. He gripped my shoulder as he walked by us, leaving the coffee shop without another word.

I turned to face my boyfriend, my lips pursed. Marshall laughed at my facial expression, “You love me.”

I rolled my eyes, leaning over to rest my head against his. “When’s your birthday?” I wondered, suddenly realizing that I had absolutely no clue. I know that he’s nineteen obviously, but did he just turn, or is he already almost twenty? Neither really affect me, and I could care less about Marshall’s age to be perfectly honest.

His nose wrinkled, “August twenty eighth. I’m barely nineteen.” Before I could comment, which I think he had planned, he continued with a question of his own. “Zeke, what were you going to do when the seventeenth rolled around?”

I swallowed hard, “Nothing. Just let it pass and hope you didn’t bring up birthdays for a while.”

Marshall smirked, “You’re insane.”

My eyes watched him for a moment, taking notice of his perfect complexion and skin tone. I think I’ll always envy him in that way, how naturally beautiful he is. Everything about his face is perfection, the eye color, the jaw line, his curve of his lips. My face flushed, becoming embarrassed when I realized that he could tell what I was doing. Like he wouldn’t fucking notice I’m staring at his face when I’m sitting right next to him in the middle of a conversation. “I think I better head over to Quimby’s.”

Marshall’s face dropped the slightest, “Okay. I would walk you, but I have to go straight to my place so I can give the landlord my rent check for this month. I’m sorry.”

I smiled, “That’s fine.”

“But I want to ask you something. Do you want to come over to my place this weekend, and have a… movie night? Jesus, that sounds really fucking lame, but I thought maybe we could watch some Wes Anderson movies and spend some time together.”

My lips curved up into a small grin, assuring him that it didn’t sound lame at all as we made our way down the street, stopping at the block his apartment was on. I never realized how close Marshall lives to me, it’s literally a ten minute walk. I’m confused as to why we don’t do things together more often. “I guess I’ll see you Saturday.”

“I guess so,” he returned, his hands curling around my waist. I looked down, pressing my lips to his for a brief, innocent kiss. Marshall and Wes Anderson. Maybe add a handful of minutes so I can do some chain smoking, but I can’t see an evening getting any more enjoyable than that.