sweet talk

shake me out of these chains

chapter five

The trees were tall in the small wooded area near the back of the park, Rigby realized. Much taller than he could ever be. This thought made him feel, strangely, comforted. He can be snug in the crook of two trees while the world, even vaster than the woods, spins with ease. Nothing could stop him from doing this, nothing-- except for maybe his stupid park job.

"Rigby! Pay attention. You know what Benson said. Keep up with Pops and help clean up!" Mordecai hissed, nudging him.

"We're always cleaning! Why can't we get the snack bar again--" Rigby huffed, as he noticed a gum wrapper. He picked it up and put it in the trash bag.

"Muscle Man and Hi-Five already have it today. I don't think Benson is going to trust us with that job any time soon."

"Ah, suck it. I just can't wait to get it back--"

The two then noticed Pops was much ahead of them, so they lightly jogged to keep up, slowing only until they came to the older man. He giggled as they came, giddy as usual.

"Oh, I have an idea! We should hold hands so we don't get lost! When we see some stray litter disposal, we say 'stop!'' Pops explained, turning to them. He offered to come with the two, because he liked walking around and helping out once in a while, especially when it was in the small wood.

Rigby frowned. "But Pops... that's kinda... dumb."

Mordecai nudged him again, harder, but Pops didn't seem to take offense.

"Oh, nonsense! It actually works!" He assured the two. He turned to the forest, taking Rigby's hand. "Come on, Mordecai! Take Rigby's other hand!"

The Auburn raccoon's eyes widened, and he grimaced. He jerked his hand from Pops, and turned to the old man. "No way! I'm not letting him hold my hand!"

Pops looked hurt for a second, but he kept a small smile. "But... why?"

"Yeah, what?" Mordecai spoke up.

Rigby winced, and felt his face heat up. He knew the reason: he didn't want to fall. Fall in love. Seeing Mordecai, now, after last night and the night before and ever since the night Margaret came... something angry began to stir up inside him, something questionable and weird. He can only imagine what it would be to hold his hand and walk through the forest. He'd look up, see the bird, and--

"Rigby? Are you okay?" Pops asked, "You are frowning quite a lot!"

Rigby jumped, the voice jarring him from his thoughts. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I just--" he glanced between Pops and Mordecai, and felt his hands begin to shake for no entire reason... stupid feelings.

"I just don't feel good." He finally got his words out, and placed a hand on his head as if in a fake trance. "Everything's spinning..." he pretended to look ill.

Pops' eyes widened at this. "Oh no! You should rest, then. Mordecai and I can finish the job!"

The blue jay grimaced. "Yeah." He looked at Rigby with those sickeningly beautiful blue orbs, like the sky... Rigby internally gagged at this thought, and turned back to Pops.

"If it's not too much..." he mumbled, pretending to pout. He really did begin to feel sick, however. Why did he have to feel? And of all people, towards Mordecai? His head was beginning to spin, truly, the words he wanted to say turning to a bitter bile that built up inside his throat.

"Of course not! Go rest--" Pops ushered him away, eyes gentle, and Rigby turned, walking out of the wood and towards the back porch of the house. He was like a zombie-- he stumbled to the door, forced it open, and stood in the house, eyes wide. He was freed from the chains of his crush... but only for now.

He debated on going to the room, and then wondered about the coffee shop. And then he thought of a nice, hot shower. Or maybe he could walk the city. Or go to the pond.

Rigby blinked at the voice in the back of his head-- why did the pond come to mind? He shook his little head and scampered up the stairs, going into the room. He shall not pick a fight with himself. He shall not ruin his thoughts with decisions. He still needs to rest his mind, after all.

Flopping onto the bed, he stared at the ceiling, letting out a small breath. And then, slowly, his gaze trailed over to Mordecai's bed, and the thoughts filled his brain again. And the chains seemed to tighten.

It was killing him, his emotions, choking him alive. He groaned, loudly, and slapped himself with his hands, trying to get himself together-- dammit, Rigby, come on!-- He can't be in love with his best friend. He can't be in love with Mordecai. It's impossible.

Then he sat up, and moved to the window, gazing outside. His hand tightened on the windowsill, and he could see the pond from where he stood. Something seemed to draw him closer. He had a strange itch to go down and sit by the pond. Yes, that sounded nice. He retreated back to his bed and looked through his clothes, until he found his headphones plugged into an old MP3 player.

Music. Yes, this will relax him. He slipped the headphones over his ears, and pressed the play button. A tune began to fill his ears, and the music drowned him. He was pulled out of his thoughts and into a strange new universe, a strange new palette of oils, of colors, of everything he ever seemed to felt. It inspired him. Inspired him to not be in love with his friend.

She's got her halo and wings, hidden under his eyes.

He walked out of the room and headed downstairs, pausing just at the doorway, he threw it open, and stepped out into the warm, summer air. He was moved by the music, and suddenly he didn't want to go to the pond anymore. He wanted to go to the woods again.

But she's an angel for sure, she just can't stop telling lies.

He let his feet take him, carry him. The cold, yet mild, earth pressed against his feet with each step. As he passed the snack bar, Muscle Man teased him, yelled at him, then gave up when he didn't respond. He passed the old shed, where Skips was painting, but didn't pay no attention. He passed, what it seemed, his days and years. He was changing, ever so slowly.

But it's too late for his love, already caught in a trap.

Rigby stopped. He saw Mordecai was cleaning up stray litter just outside the treeline. Pops was heading back towards the house. He was alone. They could be alone. Smiling, he quickly jogged over.

His angel's kiss was a joke, and she is not coming back.

Mordecai saw him, and his eyes widened, before narrowing. "Look who decided to show up, Mr. I-Have-A-Headache. What the heck, dude?! You bailed on me to finish the job with Pops, and then come back-- what are you even listening to?" His eyes switched from angry to curious in a matter of seconds, and Rigby took off his headphones, handing them to the blue jay.

He slipped them on. And then he, too, slipped into the different world, and fell under the spell that was called music. A small smile was on his lips, and he looked down at the raccoon. "Killers, dude! I love their songs--"

"Me too."

But Mordecai wasn't listening, now. He was singing. "'Keep him tied up to a dream, and only she can set him free, and then he says--'"

Rigby laughed, knowing this part. He sang along. "'Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now--!'"

Mordecai laughed too, and then he took off the headphones, unplugging them. The music played out loud as the two continued to sing along, dancing to the tune that would forever be stuck in their heads. '"Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now, kill me now!'"

They laughed some more, and Rigby let the music take over, both of their voices trailing away. They looked at each others, eyes gleaming, and the raccoon knew he was already forgiven.

Yeah she's got a criminal mind, he's got a reason to pray--

Maybe his mind wasn't so bad.