Maybe I'm Just Allergic to Joy

Edgar hates philosophy.

Not that he hates thinking, because his head is better company than most people, but life is complicated enough without questioning the essence or purpose or meaning of whatever.

So it totally sucks that he keeps agonizing over why he's into Colette, like a pot of water simmering hotter and hotter.

"So stupid," he mutters to himself while playing Clans of Clash on another regular morning behind the gift shop counter. Ten minutes before opening.

"Hmm?" Colette hums beside him.

"Nothing," he grumbles. "This base I'm raiding just has the dumbest cannon placement." It's actually a plus for him. Easy wins are free treats.

Colette was always just his friend. Colette works with him. Colette loves Spike. Colette is crazy. The two of them are just teenagers. His Starr Park career isn't meant to last forever.

He deploys his last troops. Definitely a guaranteed full win.

Why does it hurt so deep? Why does it rake down his insides like nails on a chalkboard? Was he really that desperately lonely after all? One lunch where she chases Spike, and he's hopelessly after her now?

Colette gasps.

"What's up?" Edgar asks.

"Oh my gosh, Edgar, look at this!" He turns to see her phone on Instagram with a picture of Piper in a white dress.

"...Yeah?"

"She's so pretty!" Colette cries. "Look at her!" She double-taps a like and quickly types a comment: OMG U R SO PRETTY AND COOL ILY SO MUCH

Cool.

"Agh, she always leaves me breathless," she says dreamily, laying a hand on her forehead. "Love, love, love her so much!" Edgar makes a small laugh.

"Yeah, she really is pretty. That's a nice picture."

"That's just Piper for ya." She smiles at the picture one more time before continuing her scrolling. Edgar wonders if wearing a white lace dress would make her like him.

That's probably the most desperate thought he's had in the past three months. A real record-breaker.

He feels his breakfast swirling in his stomach as he picks up his phone again. It's not like he didn't know Colette liked brawlers other than Spike. Piper was always high up on the favorites too, and although Spike forever has a special place in his burning heart, the weight of Piper and everything else still threatens to crack his bones. Piper, Barley, 8-Bit, Sandy. There's really no end to it. There's no end to all the things that charm Colette. And on cue, the guilt drips in again. He's not entitled to be the only thing in Colette's mind. He's not even with her in a way that matters. She was just being happy about a pretty picture. Perfect, harmless happiness. Perfect pictures, perfect everything without him. Maybe he's just allergic to joy.

One more battle, he thinks, and rushes into the next enemy base.

-

The Security Office is a respectable building, since it gives Edgar the opportunity to do his business.

Hold up, he's not about to piss on it. Not even in the depths of his despair.

But it's a clean white wall, and no one hangs around here anyway. And Edgar is so tired of everything that before eating his packed lunch, he decides to kick the back of the building.

His shoe collides with the hard wall again and again. He kicks with the ball of his foot, the edge of it, the heel, and straight on. A patch of dirty footprints appear. The rain will wash it off sooner or later.