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"Fifty cents, please,” droned the middle-aged woman behind the counter. The boy with large, white headphones around his neck fumbled in the pocket of his red hoodie to withdraw the needed amount of change. The boy accepted his cherry slushee and began to exit.
"Son, are you alright?” The lady called.
The boy, referred to as "Headphones" by the cashier, turned and glanced at her. The boy had caramel skin, dark hair (which was very messy) matching his wide, almost-black eyes hidden behind his glasses. He wore an oversized hoodie, making it appear that the hoodie was wearing him, paired with dark skinny jeans and white converse. The well-worn headphones hanging around his neck blasted a reggae song, complete with steel drums and bongos.
The cashier glanced at his eyes; they were red and puffy, as if he had been crying, and his posture was incredibly slouched. Headphones realized this, and quickly straightened his back, slightly puffing out his chest.
"Yeah,” he replied nonchalantly, before half-heartedly waving and exiting. The Filipino looked around to bear his surroundings in the dark night, peering up at the gas station sign looming above the building. It was meant to say 7/11, but most of the lights were broken, leaving it to say /1.
He headed towards the back of the building and leaned on the white bricks behind him, staring up at the stars. Headphones wondered if HE was looking at the stars too, wondering where he was. Did he even regret any of it, of how he destroyed his best friend? The boy closed his eyes as he took a long sip of his red slushee, and thought about times that he knew would never come again.
"Yo,” a deep voice called from feet away. Headphones jumped, almost dropping his frozen drink. He cautiously turned to find a tall boy standing in front of him. The teen wore all black: a trench coat hanging down to mid-calf, and had a sweep of dark hair that contrasted with his ivory skin. Headphones smiled as he acknowledged the slushee in Trench Coat’s hand.
"What flavor?” Headphones asked.
"Cherry, you?”
"Same. My best f-,” Headphones paused, sucking in a deep breath. He continued. “A kid I used to know loved blue raspberry, though I could never understand why.” He leaned back onto the bricks once more. Trench Coat followed his action.
Yeah, that flavor has never been my thing, but my girlfriend loved it.” He paused. “Friend problems?” He asked softly, glancing at the shorter boy beside him.
"Yep,” Headphones whispered. Trench Coat knowingly smiled.
“Ah, I know what that feels like. You’re in it for the end with them, and all of a sudden, pow!” Trench Coat accompanied this with the hand motion of something exploding. “They leave.” Headphones vigorously nodded.
"Exactly.”
The two strangers stood in a comfortable silence for a while, with the occasional slurp of a slushee.
"This stuff is the shit, isn’t it?” Headphones chuckled, holding up his drink for examination.
"You have no idea, man,” Trench Coat added, shaking his head. “Who needs cocaine? You just gotta…freeze your brain," he chuckled, amusing himself with his accidental rhyme. "Try it,” he encouraged.
Headphones shrugged, and took a huge sip of his slushee, clutching his head and grimacing through clenched teeth as the freeze brain hit. They both laughed so hard the drink threatened to rise back up.
"So…what’s your deal?” Headphones asked.
Trench Coat smiled sadly. “My girlfriend says I’m a bad person, left me right then and there. Apparently murder is a bad thing.” Headphones nervously laughed, expecting him to be joking, but there was no trace of a smile on Trench Coat’s solemn face. The boy quickly cut his laughter, and began to speak.
"Yeah, my best friend called me a loser, and abandoned me in a bathroom at a party. I thought we were a team, a two player team. Apparently a computer in your head gives you the right to just throw all of that away.” This time, it was Trench Coat’s turn to laugh, before realizing that Headphones wasn’t kidding. They once again stood in silence, but this time a bit of uncomfortable tension rose between the two.
"Well, I guess we can be losers together. Our best friends left us, now what? We move on, right?” Trench Coat asked, and Headphones responded by grinning and raising his plastic cup.
"Cheers!” The two boys shouted, gently knocking the two cups together, then draining more of their drinks. They both howled with laughter as the brain freezes numbed all feeling in their heads.
"You’re right man, this is better than drugs, even better than a Squip,” Headphones exclaimed.
"...a Squip?” Trench Coat questioned, a puzzled expression planted on his face. Headphones dismissed this by shaking his head.
“Seriously though, I’m gonna have to come here more often.“
Soon, both slushee cups were empty. “Let’s go get refills?” Headphones suggested. Trench Coat nodded, and they ambled back around the small building. When their cups were once again filled to the brim with the red slush, Trench Coat began to place a dollar on the counter, but Headphones pushed his hands away.
"Nah, man, I got it,” he offered, and began to reach in his pocket once more.
The cashier smiled knowingly, and refused to accept the dollar bill Headphones had placed in front of her.
“You two look like you could use a free slushee. It’s on the house,” she said.
"Oh-oh, okay,” Headphones replied, and the boys quickly thanked her and returned back into the chilly air. “Well, I should probably head home,” the shorter boy groaned apologetically.
Trench Coat nodded, reaching out a hand to shake the other boy's. Headphones shifted so he could hold his drink and shake Trench Coat’s hand with the other. He nodded his goodbyes as he began to head back towards his PT Cruiser. He paused. “Wait, I didn’t catch your name,” he called.
"I didn’t throw it.” Trench Coat shrugged, then laughed. "Jason Dean. JD.“
"Nice to share an enjoyment of slushees, Jason Dean. I’m Michael Mell. See you around," he called, and the two boys parted ways, back to their own realities.