Comic Boys

"Danny, you really need to smile more," my older sister (by only a few minutes) sighed, bumping her shoulder into mine as she peered at me through her sunglasses. Why she was wearing them when we were in an air-conditioned car with the tinted windows rolled up was beyond me, but that was such a Jaimie thing to do. "You're going to be a wrinkly old man if you don't get those muscles the work they need. You look so grumpy all the time. I really don't get why people like you so much."

"That's because I am grumpy all the time, and they like me because they're brainless morons who only care about looks," I muttered, pulling my hood over my head as I pulled out my iTouch, turning it on. My fingers tapped impatiently on the glass screen as I pressed my rubber Superman earbuds in. I tapped in my code and quickly flicked through the abundant number of songs in my library. I didn't really have a particular genre that I listened to- if songs could be described in colours, my iPod would have been a rainbow with every shade imaginable. What music I listened to depended on my mood, I guess, but my mood didn't change all that often. At times I would listen to upbeat pop, and at other times I'd listen to heavy metal. I wasn't picky, and I wasn't a judgemental person either.

I call things as I see them, but don't label a person until I'm sure I can read them like the back of my hand. People these days were pretty easy to map out though- most girls wanted in my pants, most guys wanted to be me. At my last school it had been the same as every other. I had tried not to steal the spotlight, but somehow I had snagged it again, as much as I didn't want to. I wasn't exactly a people person, but I still attracted them like fucking maggots to a carcass.

People annoyed me. The only person I have managed not to completely snap at was Jaimie, but she was always hovering on the edge of the cliff, one move away from me cracking the shits at her. Don't get me wrong, I loved her as much as a brother should, but she annoyed the hell out of me at times. Everyone did, actually- some time, either early or later, I found something about them that I hated. I had said I wasn't judging, but I only judged once I saw who they were. People were ugly. They hurt people, they picked on people, and they betrayed other people.

I hadn't met one person that had made me want to become friends with them- and I doubted with every fibre in my body that I would ever meet someone like that. Even if at first they would seem perfectly fine and likeable, I knew down the road I would find something about them that just pissed me off, whether it be they had ulterior motives the entire relationship, or they were just always like that and hid it well.

The bottom line was, I hated people. In the end everyone died, so honestly, what was the point of meaningless relationships? Sure, one day I would find a girl who didn't annoy me a whole lot, have a few kids with her, raise them to be happy-go-lucky citizens and then that would be it. Finished. Done. The end.

I guess that's why I didn't really smile a whole lot- smiling gives off the impression that you like someone, and I hated giving off the wrong message. And I also think my hatred of people also brought me my love of stories, dabbling mainly in the graphic novel area. I had read my first comic the first moment I could read, and I had fallen in love with those little books straight away. They were what inspired me to draw and paint. I was an artist, but something about my works just lacked. I guess I had no real inspiration- you could only draw Batman so many times.

Something caught my interest outside as the car slowed for the red light, the word "Comics" etching itself into my head.

"Mum," I said suddenly, pulling out my earphones, stuffing my iPod into the pocket of my jeans as I unbuckled my seatbelt, the strap managing to slap my in the cheek as it retracted.

"Finally paying attention to your surroundings?" she asked tiredly, turning around in the passenger seat, her finger poised on the touch-sensative GPS.

"I want to get out here," I said simply, and she frowned, looking back down at the GPS. "I won't get lost, mum." She shared an exasperated look with dad and he shrugged, eyes staring down the lit-up traffic lights, as if he were mentally wiling them to flicker to green.

"You have to remember you're in a whole different city, Daniel," she reminded me, but jerked her head to the door. "But we're only a few blocks down from our house. You should be able to find your way back."

"Thanks," I said, before opening the door, earning a honk from the car behind us. I turned and gave them a cold look, stuffing my hands in my pockets as I jogged across the road to the store. It was a pretty shabby place, but radiated an air of contentment. I peered in, squinting as the glass pane glared back at me from the reflecting sun. I saw someone moving around inside, and I guessed it was the clerk. He disappeared through the back door and came back in a few moments later, his face covered by a massive box that seemed to be twice the size of him.

I opened the door, the little bell hanging above the frame chiming, and I slowly walked up to the check out desk, my eyes glued to the figurines that slowly bobbed on the sticker-covered surface. The shop had an odd smell to it, but it wasn't one to make you cringe. There was also a kind of sweet smell that got stronger as I neared the register. I think the guy smelled like that. It was such a strange smell, kind of sweet and sugary, but too feminine for a guy.

The clerk seemed to sense my arrival and snapped his head up, his mouth open as if he were about to say something. Maybe he mistook me for someone else, his co-worker probably.

His eyes widened a little, his cheeks flushing as he stared. A moment later his eyes flashed with something, hopping off his chair and coming around the side, clearing his throat lightly. He fiddled with the hem of his Superman T-shirt, nudging up his large glasses as he stared at his shuffling feet.

"W-Welcome to Saviour Comics," he stammered, his voice soft and timid, and I saw his eyes, which were a liquid blue, so clear that it seemed as if I had been submerged deep in the Atlantic Ocean. He peeked through the curtain of dark lashes that framed his oval eyes, his glasses sliding down his slender nose, causing him to push them back up again. He coughed again, before speaking "Is there a-anything you want me to help you find?"

His lips curled into a warm smile as he gestured around the room. "Or you could just look around. The manga is over there, films are on that shelf, figurines are on the back wall as well as behind the counter, and the classics are everywhere else." I nodded, and he smiled again, shuffling back behind the counter where he picked up a thick black Sharpie marker, his eyes focusing on the stack of comics on the counter, his brow furrowed. He had jet black hair, which didn't seemed to have been dyed since it was still silky and healthy, the sun that hit is making some strands gleam brown. He was short, only reaching a few centimetres above my shoulders, and had a smatter of light freckles across his nose.

He seemed to be pretty young, but I doubted he was any younger than sixteen to be holding a job like this one. I gave him one more look, before walking over to the classics section, my eyes scoping for the Superman comics. They were personally my favourite- I didn't know why. I think it was because when I was younger my dad had given me a Superman costume which I had just adored.

I then heard a slight tinkle from the speakers that hung in the corners of the store, and turned my head back to the clerk, who was twiddling the dials on a speaker system, what seemed to be his iPod jammed into the dock. He flicked through songs, settling on one which made him bop on the balls of his feet slightly, his head nodding to the beat. I recognised the song- Massacre by Escape The Fate- and found my lips quirking up as he did a sort of odd dance. He must have heard me, since he whipped around, a furious blush spreading across his cheeks as he covered his mouth with his hoodie sleeve, not meeting my gaze, meekly sitting back down.

He was pretty adorable.

My mouth relaxed back into its usual stoic demeanour as I plucked an issue from the racks, walking up to the counter, placing my purchase on the counter. The clerk picked it up gingerly, as if it were a prized possession, and quickly scanned the item, the name and price lighting up on the screen.

"Do you want it in a bag?" he asked, and I shook my head, handing him a fifty dollar note. He processed the money, handing me the change, which I shook my head to. His eyes bugged out of his head as he opened his mouth, shocked.

"A-Are you sure?" he asked, and I found my lips curling back into the unfamiliar smile.

"Yeah, keep the change," I said, and he nodded, thanking me as he put the change back, getting a little strip of Wonder Woman sticky tape from the dispenser and slapping my receipt onto the front of my plastic-wrapped comic.

"U-Uhm, would you like to join our Comic Club?" he asked suddenly, eyes peering into mine.

Well, why the hell not? I had cash to spare, and he looked like he really wanted me to join. From the looks of the store, I doubted they got a lot of traffic, and I felt a little sorry for him. He honestly seemed to love this store, and the look he gave me was just something you couldn't say no to.

"OKay, sure. How much is it?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"No, it's okay- you don't have to pay. Well, you technically did with your tip, but I'll just take it out of that. You know, you're a really nice person, nobody ever tips me. I know I'm not a really good salesperson, but it really meant a lot to me for the tip. Oh god, I'm rambling now aren't I? I'm so sorry. I just get really excited sometimes and I can't really help it. I just wanted to say thank you for the tip. Oh my gosh, I'm still going. I am so sorry!" he spluttered, his cheeks heating up.

And then I did the unbelievable. I laughed.

Before I could really process what was happening, something flashed in my face, and I realised that it was a camera. The clerk smiled as he pushed the SD card into the computer, loading up my picture. He quickly printed something out, and I realised that he was making a sticker from those sticker-print-out sheets. He pulled something else from underneath the counter, and it was a little plastic card with a black striped running across its length, the words "Saviour Comics" slathered across in bright red lettering. He stuck my picture on it, and pushed a slip of paper my way and a Catwoman pen, her head bobbing off a spring at the end.

"Just write down the details with the asterisks next to them," he told me, as he carefully peeled the sticker of my face off the sheet, smoothing it out onto the card. I quickly filled in my information.

*Name: Easton Daniel Warner
*Age: 18
*Email: E.D.Warner@gmail.com.au
Phone: 0406782787

I didn't know why I gave him my mobile number, but he had taken the slip away from me before I could change it, typing in my details into a little sticker-making machine. He printed out my name, age and email and sticking it onto the card, handing it to me with a bright smile on his face.

"Thanks for joining. Um, every Saturday we hold a games day upstairs. It's pretty fun, so come along if you want. We'll send you notifications of new releases or specials, so check your email for updates. And you get a five-percent discount since you're a member," he said, handing my my comic.

"Have a nice day, Easton," he said softly, and I felt my stomach tighten strangely. Nobody called me Easton- it was always Daniel.

But for some strange reason, I didn't mind it. This was completely out of character for me, and it worried me. It worried me a whole lot.