kickthestickz ~ the habit of pursuing happiness

chapter three

Chris had beaten him at Mario Kart at least twice now, and PJ felt properly defeated. They had ordered a pizza, which now lay open and empty on the bed as the two stared intently at the TV, attempting to talk as they played.

"So where did you grow up— shoot!" Chris exclaimed as he drove right into a banana peel.

"Haha! And, here in Brighton. Before I went to college I lived here with my dad, and he still lives here too, but his house is more northern Brighton. What about you?"

"Harrogate. My mum and brother and I moved here because my brother got some kind of scholarship to Sussex to study... I don't remember. My mother saw it mandatory that we pick up and move wherever he went, so here we are."

"You seemed to work a lot of hours at the cafe this morning, is it a full-time job— Yes!" PJ celebrated as he hit another player with a turtle shell.

Chris began to cuss out Yoshi for sending him a blue shell, dropping his place to fourth. "No, it's just part-time, but I kept covering shifts and ended up working most of the day. They seem to enjoy me working there."

"I've been going there for a long time, and I don't think I've seen anyone as exuberant as you so early in the morning."

"Well, I try my best. Making people laugh or even just smile is pretty important to me."

The rest of their time went on like this, making casual conversation while playing round after round of Mario Kart. Although Chris won most of the time, PJ still had a few victories. Before they knew it, the clock read almost midnight. Both of them had gotten tired of Mario Kart and PJ ended up reclining on the bed, watching Chris play Portal.

The conversation had turned a little more serious. "Why'd your mum leave?" Chris had asked. PJ stared at the ceiling.

"My dad used to insist it wasn't because of me, but it really was. She always got so frustrated with him for spending so much money—money we didn't have—on video games or movie tickets. He would always tell me that nothing that happened had been my fault, but I'm fairly sure if I hadn't been around, they would both be better off."

Chris took a moment to think. "Some marriages are doomed to fail. It's like rocks on a cliff. If there are two rocks on top of each other, just barely balancing, they are going to fall due to the wind or something like that. Just a small rock on top—you—could topple the balancing act, but it was inevitable." He had paused the portal game. "You wouldn't be who you are today if it hadn't have happened."

PJ couldn't find a proper way to respond. "I-I guess so," He said lamely. "Why'd your dad leave?"

"He didn't," Chris said shortly without moving a muscle. "He died." The sleepy atmosphere had shattered, the tension surrounding them. The room felt too small. PJ had said the wrong thing.

He tried to backtrack. "Chris I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up, I just thought-"

"It's fine."

A long silence stretched between them. PJ was struggling with something to say when Chris spoke again. "He supported me through everything. While the rest of my family made fun of my acting, he never did. He encouraged me to pursue what made me happy and that I was never happier than when I was performing."

Chris's shoulders dropped, and he held the controller so loosely it was almost about to fall. "It was the end of my junior year in high school. Car crash," His voice faltered, but he kept on. "I wanted to quit acting. Without him there, I didn't feel like anyone cared. Maybe a few did, I don't know. But I tried, oh, God, I tried so hard to keep on. I had to force myself to even join the theater troop the next year, and even then, everyone knew something was off. Rumors started. It was shit for a long while." It was evident that he was choosing his next words carefully. "There were people in my group that encouraged me, and things did get better. All bad times are meant to get better, it just takes time."

If PJ didn't know what to say before, he was certainly at a loss for words now. "I'm glad you did what you loved. You went against your family to pursue your happiness, and that's real courage." He heard himself say.

Chris had turned off the TV and spun around to face PJ. "Is that so?" A smirk had spread across his face. "Then maybe you should pursue your happiness and quit your dismal job."

PJ laughed. "It's not that simple. I don't have anything else to do."

"Hmm," Chris pondered. "Maybe one day." He suddenly swung his legs around and stood up. He stretched. "So! Tell me all about this cozy little place. I like the framed art posters," He eyed the posters, running a finger along the frame.

PJ explained that they had been memories of games he used to play with his dad, and he keeps them up there to remember them. Chris then went around and asked about everything in the room, from the story of picking the fairy lights on his headboard to how long he had owned his shoes near the door.

He had gotten around to the small desk and the blue folder that laid on top. PJ eyed this folder most every day, staying away from it. He was fairly sure it had a layer of dust on the top. Chris advanced towards it, opening it up. sure enough, dust swept into the air. With each page Chris studied in the pocket, his eyebrows raised higher. His mouth formed a little 'o'.

"PJ," He said at last. "These are incredible. I didn't know by sketch you meant actual artwork. How long did it take you to do this?" He took out a paper, and PJ recognized it immediately.

It was a rocket ship with intricate details on each design part, flying through space. Earth was a small dot in the distance, with oddly colored and shaped planets in the background. PJ had been particularly proud of that one. "I-I don't remember," He lowered his gaze. If he looked at it too long, he might get tempted.

He could tell Chris was about to ask another question, so he told him to take it if he liked it so much. "Do you not?" He asked. PJ shrugged. Chris muttered thank you, placed the drawing on top of the closed folder face down, and stopped asking about the room. He went and sat on the bed again.

"Want to watch The Simpsons?" PJ asked suddenly, desperately wanting to change the subject. Chris could tell, decided to drop the matter, and agreed.

They only watched two episodes before Chris decided it was getting late and he ought to go home now. They said goodbye and promised each other to do it again soon, and he was gone.

PJ showered quickly and changed for bed, drinking a glass of water before laying down, pulling back the sheets.

He tried to watch some cartoons, but couldn't stop thinking about Chris and how much PJ had liked having someone else in the flat, and how happy he felt when they were talking. Even about the sensitive stuff, it felt nice to be honest with someone.