Maybe I'm Just Allergic to Joy

In My Best Fit

It's one more week after the Spike Airs arrival when Edgar tells Colette how he feels.

He would've written it down, but he didn't know what to write. And then he just told himself he could improvise. Like parkour.

They're meeting at McDenald's. Why McDenald's? So either of them could easily get away if things turned awkward. Fast food, fast exit routes.

He's not expecting much from this. He just wants to let her know.

Screw it, she doesn't have to know?

He just wants to get the feelings out.

Maybe it's good for her to know?

He's swiping around his Clans of Clash base at a table when Colette says hi to him. She's wearing a yellow Starr Park t-shirt.

"Hi," Edgar pulls on a smile. His fingers fiddle with the end of his scarf. "You gonna go order?"

"Oh, yeah. Be right back."

He nods and sips the cup of water he asked for with his regular fries. His nervousness rises up his neck.

Colette comes back with chicken nuggets.

"Hey," she says.

"Hey."

"What's up?"

Edgar looks down. It's improv time.

He's gonna make a total fool of himself.

"We are friends, right?"

"Yeess?" She slowly says. Way to go.

"Cool." He looks away with what he thinks is a wise smile. That's all he wanted to say.

"Why do you ask? Did I do something?"

"No, you didn't do anything," he says. He's probably looking more obvious by the second. He smooths his hair back for it to fall back in his eyes. "I, uhm. I think you're cool."

"Thanks," she says, dipping a nugget in BBQ sauce. "You are too." He presses his lips firmly. He feels so stupid right now.

"Thanks." She probably might not think he's so cool after this.

And you know what? That's exactly why they're here.

"Colette, you are the coolest person I have worked with. And that's because you're the only person I've ever worked with." She huffs in amusement. He tries to steel his fluttering insides. "But for real, you work hard, you're nice, you're funny. You're weird, but that's. Cool."

She's paying attention to him. She's looking at him while eating those chicken nuggets and hearing those words come out of his mouth. He wants to disappear.

"You make me feel different," he hastily says before this turns into a compliment chain. "You make me cry." A ghost of a laugh escapes him as her eyes widen. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that in a bad way."

"Okay," she replies, nervous but still listening. He should just stop thinking.

"I know this is probably dumb and whatever and we're just young, and we won't keep working together in Starr Park forever." That rhymes. "I just wanted you to know that I — I like being with you. And not just in an ooh you're such a cool friend kind of way." That sounds dangerous. "You're different." He clenches his fist. "Everything about you is so cool, and it all makes me happy, and it all makes me sad, because I don't know how to tell you that. But I'm telling you now, right? And this is so dumb, but—"

He pauses. He avoids her stare. He focuses on the small pack of fries in front of him.

"You're my inspiration," Edgar says, because he knows what it means now. "I've been doing pretty bad the past three months? Three and a half months because I'm into you. I've been so. Upset. But you make me want to stop dodging around. I think I could actually tell you this. I'm telling you this. 'Cause you'll understand, right?" His eyes flicker to hers for a second. "Yes. I cry. It's so annoying. It's so freaking annoying. But this is more than just a feeling, because I've been happy and sad and so angry in three months. You make me wish I could stop holding it all inside. You make me wish I could just hang out with you and, I don't know, be nicer and cooler like you." He breathes. "You make me want to be the kind of person who can be there for you, if you want." He breathes. He stares at the fries like they burned his house down and he wants to cry. "And I care about you. I really care about you. I think I— I just— I kinda just."

"Hey, it's okay," Colette says with that gentle voice. It makes him want to cry more.

He's practiced saying this. He's practiced this.

"I love you." He swipes at his eyes and tries to smooth out his expression. "But don't worry about it. I just wanted you to know."

He breathes through the silence. Even breathing. Just like parkour.

"Edgar. Thanks for telling me this," Colette says.

"No problem," he replies with a thumbs up. Maybe work won't end up too awkward after all.

"Hey," she says, and he looks at her. She looks like the way she did after he bruised his shin mixed with the way she looks after he tells a joke. "I love you too."

"What?" He laughs. No. And why is it so easy for her to say that?

"No, seriously!"

"No!" Edgar says, screwing things up just 'cause he's stupid like that. "But— but what about Spike?" He laughs more until the tears overtake him and he covers his ugly face with his hands.

"Wait, what?"

He cries into his hands. Colette sits down next to him and hugs him, which is super weird but it's okay 'cause he's a mess anyway. 

"Gosh, you thought I loved Spike that way?!" He cries harder. But she's so crazy for him!

"Y-yeah."

"Spike's not you!" He sniffles, the salt stinging in his nose.

"But he's cooler than me..." he wails, because he can't possibly look more stupid than he already does right now.

"No, he's not! Gosh, I'm so sorry," Colette laughs. "Hey, it's okay. Hey." He can't stop. Everything is weird and awesome and so. Weird. Here he was, making Spike his sworn rival and everything. Here he was, hating his guts out so bad. Now it's like he just won everything. And he keeps crying, and it feels like such an unbelievable relief, and she keeps him in her arms for a few minutes.

"Ugh. I need tissue," he croaks. She hands him some. "Thanks."

"Hey," she says softly for what feels like the twentieth time that day. "It's okay." He's quiet, 'cause he doesn't know what to say anymore. She hugs him close again, and he freaks out a little before accepting the familiarity of her soft arms. "I'm really happy to be your friend. And maybe more," she quickly says. Edgar swallows nervously before she continues. "Don't worry about it! And our Starr Park jobs not lasting forever? Gosh, I wouldn't forget you just 'cause we stopped working together! How could you think that?!"

"Sorry," he says awkwardly.

"Don't worry about it," she says again. "You're special to me too. You're such a great person, and I love being with you. And you make me want to be better, too. You make me feel like I can take on the world." He buries his face in her shoulder, heart settling like a dove in a cozy nest.

"Glad to know that."

"I'm glad to have you. And Spike? I'm really sorry about that. I'm just a fan! And you're just." She giggles softly. "The coolest person I work with too. The coolest person I know."

"Stop, that's my line," Edgar mutters, warmth in his cheeks.

"Awwww, okay. How's this for my line: you're the sweetest, cutest, most adorable boy in the world."

"Ugh, stop." That's even worse. And too good. "You're so lame. Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Eh, I didn't wanna risk it too," she says sheepishly. "Gosh, I never would've guessed you felt the same way."

"It's not obvious?" Edgar remembers the way he slammed his locker door after she teased him about Spike. "Man. I'm sorry. At least you know now."

"Mhm." She rests her head on him.

It's funny how all the chaos of the past three and a half months feels so small now. It's funny how Colette smiles at him and holds his hand, tells him how he shows her how to be calm, how to keep pushing through the most annoying things and the gloomiest days. Wow, he says, then laughs a little 'cause he never saw it that way, and 'cause she shows him the opposite. She makes him want to punch things less, run away less, pick himself up and be with her. To hell with Spike. To hell with everything he's called stupid and everything compelling him to curse the world. 'Cause what a shocker! Edgar knows how to smile too. He's not allergic to joy.