Title:           Working it Off
Author:          Anonymous
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/Z9r74bzT
First Edit:      Saturday 13th of February 2016 12:52:45 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Saturday 13th of February 2016 12:52:45 PM CDT

>You sheepishly look to your phone, checking the time.
>Jesus, when will this be over?
>Locking it and shoving the phone back into your pocket, you sigh.
>This date was going horribly.
>You try start a conversation with the girl sitting across from you, but get quickly shut down in a midst of stutters and a rather mean glare from her.
>Another sigh.
>You're never gonna trust another one of those online dating sites ever again.
>A few minutes of silence later, she whips her bag around her shoulder and stands up.
>"I need to go to the bathroom."
"Uh, yeah. Sure. I'll uh, be here."
>With another piercing look, she leaves the table and walks to the bathroom, high heels clicking all the way there.
>Again, you check your phone, looking for any way to get out of this nightmare.
>Maybe you could tell her you have an emergency?
>Nah, that's not gonna work.
>Way too cliche.
>She's pretty bitchy as a person, but using that excuse is just rude.
>You could just tell her you're not having a good time and call it off, you suppose.
>It doesn't seem as if she's enjoying her time here either, so it's not like you'd be breaking her heart.
>That's a bit too much of an alpha move for you, though.
>Gotta hand it to her, she's intimidating to boot.
>You swing back in your chair, biting your cheek and looking up to the ceiling.
>This place is fancy as hell.
>One of those girls, huh.
>Well, good thing you two aren't seeing each other after this if this is where she comes to eat.
>There ain't no way you could afford bringing her to places like this for every date.
>Pretty sure she had a designer bag, too.
>You accidentally stare into a light fixture, quickly turning your head away and down to blink the white spot out.
>Something hits the table and you look to the seat across from you expecting the woman you were with to sit back down.
>No, not her.
>You look down at the table.
>Oh, it's the bill.
>"That'll be £134.95, I hope you enjoyed your meal!"
>You nod, and the waitress walks away.
>£135?
>Ffuuuuaark.
>That's just extortionate.
>There's no way in hell you're paying for all of this.
>Splitting it would be alright, you suppose, as long as you kept a tight budget for the rest of this month.
>Christ, you shouldn't have come.
>You sigh again, getting out the half you're paying.
>You slide the bill across the table so that when your date gets back she knows what's up.
>She's taking a mighty long time in there, though.
>The waitress comes back asking if you'd like anything else, to which you instantly decline.
>You can't afford what you already got, much less any more.
>To be fair, you didn't even order the expensive crap.
>You look to the bottle of wine, which in itself cost about 20% of the bill.
>That was all her idea.
>You've got every right to tell her to pay for that, but oh well.
>Some tables clear out and others fill in as people come and go, with you just waiting for your date to step through the bathroom door.
>She'lll finish paying, you'll both lie about having a nice time and that you're glad you met, and go your separate ways.
>Might as well delete her off your phone now.
>The waitress comes back again, asking if you've paid the bill or not yet.
>You apologise and she leaves.
>This is... slightly worrying.
>Whipping your phone out again, you check the time.
>So, according to this...
>Your date's been in the bathroom for about 30 minutes.
>You bite your cheek again.
>That's not //too// long, is it?
>It's not like she just like, ditched you or anything.
>People don't //actually// do that, right?
>With every minute that goes by, the internal paranoia starts becoming very exernal.
>By the 45th minute, you're sweating up a storm.
>Shit shit shit shit shit.
>Did that chick just up and leave?
>With a bill like thi-
>And that's when it hits you.
>She couldn't afford to pay this shit either.
>That's why she ordered everything on the goddamn menu.
>You just got played.
>The waitress comes by again, looking a little more worried than she did any previous time.
>"Is- is everything alright, sir?"
>You sigh.
"No. No, I really don't think so."
>Again, she leaves, probably with an idea of what just happened.
>Over the next 15 minutes, you occasionally make eye contact as she serves other tables.
>She smiles at you, but something tells you that it's more out of pity than anything else.
>Craaap.
>At the one hour mark, the waitress comes back one last time.
>"Sir, would you like me to... check the bathroom, perhaps?"
>How nice.
>She's just trying to be helpful.
>Ugh.
>Part of you doesn't want her to, because that's the one part that hasn't yet faced the truth.
>After nearly half a minute of silence, you nod and thank her.
>She walks off as you look around you, looking at all the other customers.
>There's barely anyone else in here.
>They've all packed up and left.
>Now it's just you and a few drunk folks.
>This is, by far, the worst way to spend a Sunday night.
>You see the bathroom door creak open again, the familiar waitress stepping out.
>The two of you make eye contact on her way over, and she shakes her head ever so slightly to give you the message.
>"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't find anyone in there."
>You nod again.
"Yeah, I figured as much."
>"I'll leave you alone a while, I'll - uh - come back later."
"Thank you, uh-"
>You try look for a name tag somewhere on her uniform, but she interjects.
>"Pinkie."
"Thank you, Pinkie."
>
>It's that feeling.
>That weird fight or flight one.
>As far removed as we are from our ancestral hunter-gatherer race, that's something that seems to have stuck with us.
>You can literally feel the epinephrine running through your system, telling you to just bolt straight out of this seat and never look back.
>It's almost making you feel sick.
>You look at the bill again.
>Fuck.
>There's no way you can pay that.
>You don't even have that much money on you.
>Can't use your card either.
>What can you do?
>There's-
>You're totally blanking.
>What-
>Someone appears at your side suddenly, startling you.
>Didn't hear them over the sound of your own thoughts.
>It's not the waitress.
>"Is there a problem here, sir?"
>Oh, God damnit.
>Is this the manager?
"I, I don't think so, I just- I don-"
>"You've been here alone for more than an hour, sir. Everyone else has left, we're closing up."
>What?
>Since when?
>You didn't notice any of this.
>"If you'd ever so kindly pay your bill and be on your way, I would appreciate that very much."
>Your heart sinks into your feet before shooting back up again into your throat, almost causing you to gag.
"I- ...."
>You trail off to just barely a mumble before you're able to finish a sentence.
>"I'm sorry, come again?"
"I- I don't think I can..."
>The woman pauses and clears her throat.
>She snatches the bill off the table, sighing at it.
>"Why'd you order all of this if you couldn't pay for it?"
>You try respond, but it's like your mental state had regressed completely.
>You've never been in this situation before, you have no idea what to do.
"I- I didn't."
>"Excuse me?"
>Oh crap, she really doesn't sound amused.
"I- I just... There was someone else here with me, I didn'-"
>"Ma'am, it's not his fault."
>You recognise that voice.
>It's the waitress.
>Uh.
>Pink... Ponk... Pontie?
>Shit.
>The waitress takes her manager aside, talking in hushed tones with her.
>About you, no doubt.
>You sigh again.
>This is without a doubt the worst night you've had in Ponyville so far.
>After about a minute, the manager comes back.
>She thinks over her words, probably trying to come off as nice as possible.
>"I understand what's happened sir, but the fact of the matter is I can't let you not pay, even if the circumstances are... unfortunate."
>You nod.
>"If you leave us your phone number and address, we could send you the receipt there, and you will just need to pay us once you're home."
>You shake your head.
"I don't have the money, ma'am, It's impossible for me to pay for this. I simply don't have the funds."
>Under her breath, you hear her swear before continuing.
>She puts her hands on her hips and clears her throat, sounding pretty damn annoyed.
>"It looks like you're going to have to work it off then. For £70, that's going to be four days of work here, four hours on each day."
>You look up at her, not sure what to respond with.
>She continues.
>"You might as well start now, with all the washing up. Pinkie, show him what to do."
>Pinkie, right.
>Off to the side, she responds.
>"Will do, ma'am. Thank you."
>The manager leaves, and now other than the sounds of the kitchen, everything is silent.
>Damn, they even shut down the speakers in here.
>They really were closing around you.
>"Come on, I'll show you what we need to do."
>Pinkie reaches her arm out towards you, helping you up and out of your seat.
>You stumble over, almost falling on her, but you manage to catch yourself before you do.
>"Did your legs fall asleep there? Makes sense, you were sitting there for like 3 hours."
>has it really been that long?
>Damn.
"Yeah, I suppose."
>Pinkie's smile slightly fades, probably in an effort to sympathise with you.
>"I promise it won't be that bad here. You'll be done before you know it, and hey, maybe you'll learn a thing or two, right?"
>You look at Pinkie, the smile back in full effect.
>You'd be lying if you said it wasn't at least slightly contagious.
>Mustering up everything you can to smile back, however weakly, you reply,
"Don't see why not."
>With a nod, Pinkie opens the door into the back of the restaurant, as the warm yellow lights of the floor change into the white fluorescents in the kitchen.
>Stainless steel railing and counters extend for a good 20 meters into the room, with all manners of apparatus dotting the spotless room.
>This really is a fancy place.
>At least you're not going to be stuck working someplace shitty.
>Well, if it was someplace shitty, you'd have been able to pay the whole bill.
>You try drive those thoughts from your mind.
>No use in dwelling in the past.
>"Follow me."
>Pinkie takes your hand in hers and pulls you through a rather tight spot, making you dodge a few hanging pots and a mop.
>You hit one with a resounding clang, causing all the other workers in the kitchen to turn towards you.
>Again, they don't look very happy.
>Pinkie's the only one in here with a smile.
>You wave at them in an effort to alleviate the situation before Pinkie carts you off into another room, facing you with a tower of dishes as tall as you are.
"Wow."
>She giggles.
>"It's something, isn't it?"
"You can say that again."
>She points at one specific pile, just as high as the others.
>"That's all from your table."
>Christ.
>"Looks a whole lot bigger when they're all stacked up, right?"
"Sure do."
>Pinkie drags you to the sink, patting you on the back and picking 20 plates off of one of the piles.
>"We'll start with the large ones."
>She places them in front of you, taking another stack and placing it in the sink next to yours.
>Turning the water on, she gets to rinsing them.
>"If you don't start you won't be able to pay Mrs. Cake back, silly."
>Oh, right.
>You turn the faucet on, rinsing off the plates and scrubbing them down.
>Pinkie gets around three dishes done it takes you to do one, and she starts on her second pile by the time you're finished with half of yours.
>The two of you work in a rather awkward silence, with you really not being able to process everything that's happened in the last few hours.
>So you got stood up with a massive bill, couldn't pay, and now you're washing dishes in the back of this restaurant to pay it all back.
>How did you get yourself into this, Anon?
>You catch Pinkie glancing over to you ever so often as she's doing her work, maybe trying to talk about something. Anything.
>You'd be trying the same, but after all the emotions you've gone through today, conversation isn't coming to you easily.
>"Don't let it get you down, you could do better than her, anyway." Pinkie remarks as she plops another pile down in the sink.
>Oh Christ.
"I- I'm fine, I don't need a pep talk or anything."
>"I wasn't tryi-"
"I just - don't wanna talk about it."
>She huffs, but obliges.
>"Alright then. We don't need to."
>Silence ensues amongst the two of you again, with you just getting your piles done as fast as you can.
>If you don't think about anything, you can get through them pretty quick.
>"You know,"
>Oh, boy.
>Something tells you Pinkie isn't the type to be quiet when she's around people.
>"I got stood up once."
>You stop.
"You really don't need t-"
>"Well, it wasn't like your situation, really."
>She squints her eyes.
>"Nothing like it, actually. It was in middle school, with a guy I had a crush on at the time. He promised to meet me at the movies on a Saturday morning, but he didn't ever show up."
>You glance over at her, still continuing with your share of plates.
>"I was so excited for it, too, looking back. I got up a whole hour before I needed to, just to make sure I was ready and perfect. I even tried to straighten my hair."
>Pinkie chuckles to herself slightly as you look to her hair, the massive globular poof almost staring back at you.
>"It didn't work out. Anyway, I got to the cinema early and got the tickets, sitting down and waiting in the lobby until he showed up."
>She turns off the water and carries her plates out of the sink, laying her pile out to dry before getting another one.
>"But he never did. I waited and waited, until of course, the movie started. I waited a little longer after that and once the movie was 15 minutes into running, I decided to just go inside."
>She turns the water on and begins her next pile, but cringes and laughs before she can start.
>"Ah, I even asked the guy at the front to tell me if he saw a boy coming in for this movie, so that I could get him if he was just late."
>You try to stop yourself from smiling at Pinkie's obviously very embarrassing memory.
>"So I get into the movie, constantly checking behind me to see if he was coming in, always thinking the movement at the corner of my eye would be him. In my imagination, he would have a grand excuse as to why he was late, but it would still turn out to be the perfect date, and we'd kiss and hug and get married, you know, like middle schoolers do."
>A chuckle escapes you, something that you really didn't think anyone could do for you in your current state.
>"But as you can probably figure out, that didn't happen. 30 minutes into the movie I just started crying. It wasn't even a sad film. I'm pretty sure it was Shrek. But boy, did I cry. The tears couldn't stop."
>Damn, now you feel bad.
>"You should've seen my sisters when I came home and told them what happened. I thought he would be dead the next time I saw him."
>Pinkie pats you on the back, finishing another pile of dishes.
>"But that's all in the past now, just like this'll be. Maybe you'll be able to tell it as a story and laugh about it, even."
>You nod.
"I'd like that. Thanks, Pinkie. That was surprisingly... uplifting."
>She clicks her tongue, pointing finger guns at you.
>"All in a day's work."
>You continue your work just like before, albeit now with a little more optimism.
>The silence that ensues between the two of you isn't even awkward.
>It's pretty comforting.
>You wonder if Pinkie does this to everyone she meets.
>You've known her, at least formally, for around 20 minutes.
>But you already feel somewhat like friends.
>Conversations come easy with her.
"Hey, so I wasn't gonna ask, but my curiosity is getting the better of me."
>"What's up?"
>You finish putting another stack of plates away, content with your pace.
"Don't you guys like, have dishwashers for this sort of stuff? Surely a big place like this can afford them. It would take way fewer man-hours, too."
>Picking up your next stack and placing them in the sink, Pinkie answers.
>"I think it's just faster to do them by hand, instead of waiting on a machine to take an hour cleaning a set amount of dishes. You can prioritise what you need right then, depending on what people order that day."
"Oh, right. Can't really take out a bowl if you really need it mid-wash."
>"Mhmm. And it's probably cheaper, too. Running them constantly like that takes a lot of power."
>She finishes up her side of dishes, washing off her hands and drying them.
>Woah, she's actually done?
>There were more on her side too, that's why you took this one.
>"You better hurry up, it's almost midnight. You'll still be here at three if you continue like that."
>Ugh.
"Is there that much more?"
>She laughs.
>"Oh, you don't know the half of it."
"Aauuugh."
>You feel a slap on your back.
>"Fine, fine. I guess I'll help you out, since it's your first day and all."
>She takes a few plates from your pile, sitting them down in her sink.
>"But don't expect me to carry you forever!"
"I won't, I won't."
>Again, she starts finishing up her stacks faster than you can do yours.
"Thanks, though."
>She just smiles in response.
>After a few more stacks and a few more to fit on the drying rack, you dry your hands and turn off the running water.
>That took...
>An hour.
>Wow.
"So, what did we need to do next?"
>Pinkie wipes down the counters of any excess water and shows you out.
>"Ho ho! No whining for a break? You're exceeding expectations already!"
"I'm not that bad, you can afford to raise the bar just a little."
>She raises her brows at you.
>"We'll see about that. //This// is our next job."
>You look around, unsure of what she means.
>It's the kitchen.
>What is she focusing on?
"Wh- where's the job?"
>"Here!"
"Yeah, but which part?"
>"All of it!"
>All of...?
"Alright, you can lower that bar back down again."
>Out of seemingly nowhere, Pinkie shoves a bucket into you, already full with soapy water and a sponge.
>"Let's do this! Lemme hear some enthusiasm!"
"Woo."
>Pinkie wrings her arm around your neck, squishing her face up to yours.
>"Wow, you're almost as bad as Fluttershy."
"Who?"
>"Shoot now, ask questions later!"
"Yes ma'am."
>You take the sponge out of its bucket, wringing it out and wiping on the counter-top.
>From what you swore was about 10 meters away, Pinkie appears in a blur right beside you, instantly barking commands.
>"I want these counters looking like mirrors when you're done, is that understood!?"
>It almost makes you drop the damn bucket in surprise.
"Jesus Christ! You just scared the shit outta me, Pi-"
>"Is that understood!?"
"Wh- Yes, yeah - uh - understood."
>"I can't hear you!"
"Understood!"
>Pinkie chuckles to herself, hopping off in the opposite direction to do her job.
>That took the energy right out of you.
>How can she still be so upbeat at midnight?
>From across the room, you hear her humming a little tune while working, deciding to just carry on with your job.
>Wipe with soap, wipe with water, dry with cloth.
>Repeat.
>Wipe with soap, wipe with water, dry with cloth.
>Repeat.
>Wipe with soap, wipe with water, dry with cloth.
>Repeat.
>
>Ah, shit.
>Almost fell asleep there.
>You look to your right, back at all the countertops you've done.
>Almost there.
>Not too many more to go.
"Say, Pinkie. Is this your job, usually?"
>"Hm?"
"The washing up, I mean. I saw that there were a few other guys in here before, do they not stay behind with you?"
>She looks up to the ceiling, recollecting her thoughts.
>"Uuh, not most times. Usually I stay behind to do it."
"Alone?"
>Pinkie just shrugs.
>"Yeah."
>You almost smile.
>Pinkie doesn't seem like the type of person to be fine on her own.
>Well, you'll be joining her for the next few days, you suppose.
>Might as well make a nice time out of i-
"Oof!"
>Something large and wet pelts you in the side of your head, jolting you back into being alert.
>The fuck was-
>You look down at the object at your feet.
>A sponge.
>How did it get- Oh.
>Quickly, you scan the room for any visual confirmation of Pinkie.
>Nothing, nothing, nothing.
>HA.
>A pink tuft of hair stick out from behind the fridge, leading you to know exactly where she's hiding.
"I know you're behind the fridge, come out so you ca- Oof!"
>In a mere few microseconds, Pinkie dashes out from her hiding spot and hits you again.
>Square in the face.
>All you hear are laughs, cut up every so often by a breath.
>Alright, fine.
>We'll do it that way.
>You take both sponges she threw at you and douse them in water, holding them ready and primed to throw.
>A pink blur in your peripheral vision is all you need.
>You throw a meter in front of it and hope for the best.
>Quickly ducking behind some cover, you hear the resounding slap of wet sponge against human skin.
>Silence ensues.
>You peek your head out from the countertop, looking for your target.
>Still have to pay her back one more time.
>Nothing.
>No tufts of hair, even.
>Looks like she wizened up.
>You hear the slap before you notice the wetness on your back, growing as the water runs down.
>Pinkie giggles from directly behind you, squeezing the sponge to ensure maximum soakage.
>Okay then.
>You turn with the sponge, keeping it in your hand and aiming right for her.
>It makes contact with her left arm, the water running down and off her elbow.
>Pinkie runs away again, as do you, preparing for the next bout.
>It's a good thing you two are the only ones in tonight.
>You doubt any manager would approve of this behaviour.
>Sponges fly and clothes are ruined as minutes ride on into the night.
>Pinkie manages to find around sixteen new sponges, you have no clue where from, but she put them to good use, that's for sure.
>You lay with your back to a counter, sitting and listening for Pinkie's next move.
>If you listen just right, you can hear her before you can see her.
>To your right.
>Just after you hear her, pink eclipses the light over you as she hops over the barriers, sponge in hand.
>If you're going down, you'll be damned if she's not coming with you.
>You rise up, the wettest sponge of them all dripping from your palm, aiming right for her face.
>As she does the same.
>Pinkie lands, two wet sloshes are heard, and your worlds goes dark.
>The wet and now familiar texture slides off your face, splatting onto the floor, and you look to see where you hit Pinkie.
>Her...
>Shoulder.
>Damn.
>Amongst her pants, she manages to get the last word in.
>"I - win."
>You hold your arms up, admitting defeat.
"Alright. I admit it this time. It's your win."
>Changing stance, she defiantly puts her hands on her hips and brings out her chest.
>"What does that make it now? 12 to 7?"
>She's mocking you.
>Maybe you could just...
>While she's not looking?
>No.
>She's too good.
"12 to 7, my loss."
>She smiles widely, doing what you can only describe as a sort of jig.
>You smile back, leaving her to relish in her victory.
>Walking across the kitchen floor, you pick up the multitudes of sponges left over from the intense battle, wringing them out and stuffing them back into a bucket.
>You lay them out next to the sink to dry out and go back to Pinkie, sitting on one of the countertops.
"So, what now?"
>"What, what now?"
>You tilt your head.
>She tilts hers.
"I mean, what are we gonna do. We wasted a good hour and some, and wasn't there a ton more?"
>"Like what?"
"I don't know, you said we had a lot to do."
>"We did."
"And? We only washed the dishes and then started chucking stuff at each other."
>"But we finished everything."
"Washing dishes is all we had to do?"
>She tilts her head towards the room around you.
>"Look around. We did everything."
>Did everything?
"What do you mean by- ..."
>Looking to your left and right, the stainless steel and marble room is spotless.
>The metal gleams like a mirror, the marble as white as the day it was purchased.
>All grease stains and scratches have seemingly vanished, as little sense as that makes.
"H- how did we?"
>Pinkie shrugs.
>"No reason you can't work and have fun while doing it."
>You take another look around the room, stopping at Pinkie, sitting there with an all too wide grin.
"Well I'll be damned."
>20 minutes later, you walk with Pinkie out of the restaurant through the back door, one that's very much less posh than the front.
>It's just a large metal door, as opposed to the illustrious and expensive looking wood engraved entrance.
>Pinkie steps inside for a second to check all the lights are off, and locks the door with a loud click.
>"Achoo!"
"Bless you."
>She sniffles, wiping it with her coat.
>"Thanks."
>Looking down, you watch as the cold air freezes the water in your breath.
"Yeah, January was the worst time to do what we just did."
>Pinkie sniffles again and walks down the steps, joining your side.
>"You can say that again."
>The two of you walk out of the alleyway the back door is located in and onto the sidewalk, taking steps like you've both got something up your arse.
>You're still dripping wet, so Pinkie must be pretty much the same.
>You both stand there a minute, fully taking in just how much of a shitty idea this was.
"S- so. How're you getting home?"
>Pinkie shivers before quietly responding.
>"I usually t- take the bus, but I mi- might as well t- take a taxi this time."
"I don't blame you."
>"How about y- you?"
"I can walk. It's not th- that far away."
>Pinkie does a few hops and rubs her hands together for warmth, to little avail.
>"Y- you sure? I kinda feel bad, now. Wanna g- get dropped off, at least?"
>It takes you a moment to think, but in the end you shake your head.
"Nah, really, it's fi- fine. I live pretty much 200 meters aw- away."
>"Okie d- dokie. I'll see you tomorrow then, I g- guess."
"What time should I b- be there?"
>"F- four would be good."
>You nod, quickly regretting it as water drips off of your hair down your neck.
"Yeah. I'll see you then, Pinkie."
>"S- see you then... uh."
>You stand there a few seconds, watching as Pinkie slowly... heats up?
>Her face goes red, the water almost visibly evaporating from her as the seconds tick by.
>"I- I just realised... I never go to know - your name."
>Half expecting her eyes to suddenly bluescreen on you, you try calm Pinkie down from her ensuing panic attack.
>"Aah! I can't believe I didn't know your name all this time, I never even remembered to ask you! I-"
"P-"
>"Oh no, did I already ask you!? That means I forgot it! I don't forget names, I never forget names! How di-"
"Pinki-"
>"I'm such a terrible friend! I can never make friends again! What will I tell my grandchildr-"
"Pinkie!"
>She settles down, still grabbing her hair in large clumps, a weird kind of mania in her eyes.
"It's fine, I never told you my name. It's Anon, by the way."
>Slowly but surely, Pinkie stops hyperventilating and calms herself.
>"Anon. I'll remember that."
>You stand on the sidewalk a few moments longer in silence, just smiling to yourselves.
"I'll see you tomorrow then, right?"
>"Right! Don't be late!"
>You raise both your arms up from your sides, shrugging your shoulders and tilting your head.
>She gets the message and raises hers too, the two of you wrapping them into a hug.
>
>
>And you immediately regret this decision.
>The water from you and her just dripped down your everything again.
>You and Pinkie both jump back from each other, shivering uncontrollably again.
>"Bad idea, bad idea."
"Shouldn't have done that. Noooooo sir."
>As Pinkie does, she starts giggling to herself through the cold and shivers, which you soon do too.
>It's contagious as hell.
>She sticks her arm out, holding it out in front of her.
>You chuckle.
"That seems like a better idea."
>Reaching your own hand out, you shake hers goodbye before she walks in the opposite direction and across the street to a taxi parked on the curb.
>Time to walk home and get these clothes off.
>On the way back you get a few funny looks from passer-by, probably wondering if you just swam out of a damn lake.
>Might as well have.
>Shivering all the way back, you finally make it inside and endure the long haul up the stairs to your flat.
>With shaky fingers and a many failed attempt you get the key in the door and turn, thankful that the journey is finally over.
>As soon as you step inside you throw off all your clothes and chuck them in the bathroom, going to your dresser drawers and taking out the fuzziest, warmest winter clothes youve got.
>Pretty sure all of your toes are frozen stiff at this point, honestly.
>Got a lecture tomorrow, damn.
>Can't start skipping them this close to exam time, either.
>You dry off your slightly wet phone and check the time.
>Looks like you're getting 5 hours of sleep tonight.
>Oh well.
>Hitting the bed with a thunk, you try get to sleep as fast as possible.
>
>
>...
>The alarm digs it's way into your subconscious, an ominous ringing echoing through your dreams.
>Finally, you wisen up to the sound and wake up, groggily shutting it off.
>Oh, what you would give to skip class today.
>Maybe you could ask Flash to take notes for you.
>Nah, he barely writes anything down.
>You sigh, rolling out of the bed and flopping down to the floor.
>Still wrapped in your blankets.
>Fuck winter.
>You fly out from inside the covers and put your clothes on in 0.6 seconds for maximum body heat preservation, sliding into your slippers.
>Wiping sleep from your eyes, you turn on the kettle and get breakfast ready.
>At least you aren't late.
>Once out the door you pull on the handle to make sure it's locked before walking off.
>Is it worth driving to class today?
>Yeah, screw walking in this weather.
>Unlocking the car and hopping in, you shiver as you come into contact with the seat.
>Somehow, it's colder in here than outside.
>The hell is up with that?
>You start the car, turning on the seat heating as you drive off.
>It cost a hella lot more, sure, but you're really glad you fished out that extra cash.
>Winter wouldn't even be so bad if there was snow everywhere, but the few days of snow you get don't make up for the bastard cold.
>The drive isn't long, so sometimes you just walk up to campus, but you did not get enough sleep to warrant that much energy wastage today.
>You manage to find a parking pretty easily, since basically no one had classes this early.
>Just your luck you had class this early on a goddamn Monday.
>You walk in through the glass sliding doors, relishing in the heated interior.
>It's at least 20 degrees warmer in here.
>Campus is warmer than your apartment.
>Hell, you should just sleep in the library.
>It would probably take them a week or more to notice, considering some students stay here for days doing their essays.
>Up the stairs, across the hall, and to the right.
>You enter the relatively small lecture hall, some students already here before you waiting for the professor.
>Some are fast asleep, while others are waiting patiently, all of their study materials out and colour coded.
>Fuckin' nerds.
>You sit down next to your friend and take your stuff out, the noise not stirring him from slumber.
>With a quick hit to the back of the head, he rouses from sleep, taking a second to recognise you.
>"Oh, hey Anon."
"Sup Flash."
>"You look like shit."
>You sigh.
>Seconds.
>It took him literally 20 seconds to tell you had a shitty night.
"You don't know the half of it."
>"What do you mean? Ooooh shit, you had that date yesterday, right?"
>You nod, preparing yourself to go over all the embarrassing details.
>"Did you get some? That why you so tired? Anon, my man, I didn't think you had it in you!"
"I don't."
>He looks puzzled.
>Being the typical testosterone controlled male he is, Flash doesn't understand many of the thing you say or do.
>There's a pause between you as you think, trying to word this in the most delicate way possible.
>Eh, screw it.
"I got stood up with the bill."
>You watch as the gears in Flash's brain turn, breaking down and analysing every word and syllable of your sentence, putting together a picture of what happened.
>At the same time his face lights up with one of the largest smiles you've seen from him yet, with his eyes only showing pity.
>It takes you concious control to not punch him in the face.
>"Dohohohoho. Where was this?"
"You know that resturant with the glass walls down the street from mine?"
>He takes a second, but after Flash realises what you're talking about the smile just grows more.
>"Oooh shit, you know what that means right? That means she planned it! Oh my Gooood."
>Flash puts his face in his hands, trying to hold back his manic laughter.
>Laughing out loud this early in the morning would make everyone in the room hate you.
>"Dude, holy shit, was the bill like 100 quid? That's screwed up, man. Wow."
"Try more like 130."
>"HA!"
"Shut up."
>Flash reels again, breathing in and out amidst short bursts of laughter.
>"Duuuude. You don't even have that much money in your spendings account. What did you do?"
"I..."
>The door behind you slides open, the heavy and lumbering steps of the professor echoing throughout the room.
>All the groans responding to the noise key you in on who's hungover to hell.
>You whisper to Flash, getting your notes ready.
"I'll tell you later."
>He nods, smiling in anticipation of how you got the hell out of your mess.
>Class begins and class ends, the professor dismissing everyone as you pack up.
>Flash leans over, eager for you to finish your story.
>"So, what'd you do?"
>You both walk out the room, talking along the way.
"I had to work the money off."
>He stops and keels over.
>Well now it's just overreacting.
>"Oh my God, I literally cannot believe this. I would chop off one of my balls to have been there."
"It wasn't very pretty."
>"And so? You workin' for them now? For how long?"
"Rest of the week."
>"Daaaaaaamn son. No pay?"
>You furrow your brows.
"Of course not. Not paying was what got me into this mess."
>"Right, right."
>You continue walking through the hall and down the stairs as he processes everything.
>"You ever worked in a restaurant before?"
"Nah."
>"What'd they make you do?"
"Just some dishes, and then cleaning the kitchens."
>"Damn, all by yourself."
>You smile, albeit lightly.
"Nah, I had some help. That's the good part about this story."
>He raises a brow, waiting for you to continue.
"There's a chick that works there, really nice. She stayed with me the whole time, helping me out."
>"Aaay. You gonna hit that?"
>You roll your eyes, clicking your tongue.
"Gross, man."
>"I'm only kidding, bitch. What's she like?"
>You think about her most defining features, easily picking it out.
"Her name's Pinkie. She-"
>"Wait."
>Flash stops in his tracks, looking very confused.
>"Pinkie? Does she have big ass pink hair?"
>Now it's your turn to look confused.
"Yes? How did you-"
>"Dude I went to highschool with her! She's there now? And you're trying to - hm. Good luck."
"Good luck?"
>Flash shrugs, shaking his head.
>"I 'unno man. She was asked out by a crap-ton of guys and turned down every single one. I don't know if she's even into men."
"Seriously? How do you know this?"
>"She was pretty popular back in the day. She was best friends with this girl I liked, too."
"You actually held feelings of affection towards one of your girls? What a different Flash you must have been."
>"Whatever, she turned me down anyway. Still though, I never thought I'd ever hear of Pinkie again."
"Why's that?"
>He bites his cheek, looking away.
>"She dropped out in senior year. No idea why."
>Dropped out?
"So she never graduated?"
>"Nah. I heard that it had something to do with her family, but nobody really talked about it much."
>Hm.
>As you get to the doors, Flash takes a right as you go left back to your car.
>"You going to work now, pal?"
>You groan.
"Not yet. Going home and sleeping first."
>"Good luuuuuck."
"Fuck you."