* Do Not Disturb *

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 The road is unbearably bumpy as I sit in the passenger seat, my leg bouncing up and down and looking out the window at the dusky, scraggly fields, tinted purple and blue by the darkening sunset sky. Baseball's pale hands turn pink from gripping the steering wheel too hard. The awkward silence is broken by a buzzing in the cupholder. I hesitantly pick up my phone, my face draining of color when I see Suitcase is calling me. Shrinking into my seat, I cancel the call, returning my phone to the cup holder. The screen lights up yellow again, Suitcase's icon popping up again and again, incessantly buzzing. I swipe down, turning on Do Not Disturb, and shove the phone into my pocket.

"She's being quite persistent..." Baseball mutters when his own phone rings, reaching for his phone sitting on a holder attached to the air vent and turning it off.

"Yeah, I'd really rather not talk about it right now," Baseball's gaze flickers from the road for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Nickel, I know this just happened, but you can't just ignore her forever."

"Uh, I think I can and I will," I reached for my almost-dead vape for the 3rd time in 10 minutes, coughing when the burnt taste finally got the best of me. I hack out, "augh, fuck— c-can we stop at the gas station or something?"

"I guess, I have to fill up anyways," Baseball turns the car towards the glowing sign. Pulling up to one of the pumps, he takes the key out of the ignition delicately, like he was trying to not awaken a sleeping bear. I unbuckle the seatbelt and my hand lingers on the door handle, looking over to Baseball who simply stares into his lap. He glances quickly at me, as if waiting for something. I open the car door.

"Do... Do you want anything?"

"A Gatorade would be nice."

"Alright, I'll be back in a second," I head across the parking lot and pull open the glass door. A peeling sound erupts from the sticky floor contacting my shoes, I frown, heading to the fridges. Dark blue, light blue, white, green, I scan the bottles and grab the green Gatorade, Baseball's favorite, I thought it was gross though, why would they make a cucumber flavored Gatorade? I take a red one for myself, heading up to the counter as calmly as possible.

The attendant notices me, and puts on a customer service smile, "Hello, did you find everything ok?"

"Yeah, no problem," I say, "could I also get a refill for my vape?"

"I'm gonna need to see an ID for that," I sighed, though I had expected to hear that, reaching into my wallet and grabbing my fake ID. I hand it off to the clerk, who studies it for a moment, and looks up at me, "What's your date of birth?"

"Uh, March 31st, 1997."

"Ok... What's your address?"

"... 401 Dusky Grouse Drive."

"... look, kid, you clearly just came from a highschool event," He gestures to my clothes, I mentally facepalm, "you don't look old enough to be a parent, and this ID looks fake, you gave me the wrong address. I'll let you buy your drinks, and I'll give this back to you," he hands me the fake, "but just don't try to buy it here again, I can't get fired."

"Come on man, I just need one, no one would ever know."

"There are literally cameras all around, my boss is really strict with selling to underage folks. I'm technically putting myself at risk giving you that ID back," he crosses his arms.

"Ugh, whatever, " I say, sliding over the money for the two drinks and storming towards the door. A fly buzzes by my ear as I exit, and I kick an empty bottle by accident, rolling loudly against the cement. I see Baseball leaning against his car, spotlighted by the fluorescent lights that shine from the station's overhang. The purple and blue sky in the backdrop makes his face illuminated, a nice glow like a halo. He slouches against his car, one foot propping up his body and the other leg bent, with just the tip of his roughed up red shoe hitting the concrete. His hands tucked into his pockets, he stares out into the field across from the gas station, the grass swaying and the crickets chirping. The irritation I had before melts away instantly, replaced by that familiar warmth and I approach. Baseball looks in my direction, and the drinks suddenly feel like ice in my palms.

"Woah, they had the green one!" Baseball grins, eagerly taking the bottle from my hand, it looks so much smaller in his hand than in mine. I sip on the drink, the chill liquid trickling down my throat.

"Yeah, I think that flavor is gross," I lean against the car next to him, "but, I know what you like, Stitches."

"You say its gross, I think I just have a refined palette, Jefferson," he takes a drink, "You'd understand if you didn't ingest so much red 40—"

"Hey!"

"—I think they've proven it rots your brain!" He chuckles.

"You asshole!" I bump his elbow with mine, and the gas pump stops. I sigh, him still giggling, "If my brain rots, you gotta make sure to keep yours in good shape, one of us needs to be functional."

"Yeah, but it'd be better if both of us were functional," he takes the gas nozzle out and puts it back into the pump, "Y'know, we might not always have each other."

"Pfft— You're a genius if you think I'm leaving you," I say, heading towards the passenger door.

"...What?"

"Hm?" I tilt my head, peering through the car window. Baseball is frozen, lips in a tight line, looking like a deer in headlights straight at me. My palms feel sweaty again.

Baseball shakes his head, "You're... you're insufferable, just get in the fucking car." 

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+Word Count: 1003 +

【Shutting down...】

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