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The Orange
Wendy Cope
College and work has taken its toll. It’s obvious if you look close enough. There’s a collection of old coke cans on his bedside, littering his window sill and nightstand. It’s a gross room, and his sheets haven’t been washed in weeks. There’s a faint smell of burnt coffee imbedded into the mattress, one too many late nights spent sprawled over a laptop with crusty eyes and a shitty coffee in hand.
He can’t get the smell out of the sheets. Like it’s a part of him now.
Tubbo jokes about it. He opens the door to the car, and instantly, there’s a clatter. Tommy peers over sheepishly, craning his neck to see the empty fast-food bags fall out of his car. He scrunches his nose. “Tommy, man, you need to clean up.”
He knows.
The mess bothers him and stresses him out. It’s one more thing he needs to do, but somehow, he can’t bring himself to even try. Waking up is hard enough. He moves out of bed on autopilot, grabs his keys and throws on a sweatshirt.
“You ready to go? I don’t want to hit traffic.”
Tubbo throws his board into the backseat of the car. “Hold on, Ran’s on his way.”
Tommy threw his head back in anguish. “He’s already on thin fucking ice.”
Tubbo closed the passenger seat door and moved some of the bottles at his feet. Tommy bit his lip, but Tubbo didn’t seem to mind. He shoved the bottles into a grocery bag before tying the hoops up and gently placing it in the seat behind him.
The door creaks open, and Ranboo flies out, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He climbs into the car, carefully avoiding the low roof. “How do we do, fellow teens?”
Tommy gripped the steering wheel. He doesn’t even wait for Ranboo to finish buckling before pulling out of the driveway. “I hate you.” He turns to Tubbo. “I hate him.”
“You promised to teach him!” Tubbo said, kicking his feet up on the dashboard.
Tommy glared at him. “That’s not safe, Tubbo,” he remarked, nudging him. “Put your feet down.” He checked Ranboo in the rear view mirror, who was fastened away. “What if we got into a crash, and you died? Twitter would never forgive me.”
Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “You’re a good driver, Tommy.”
“So? Accidents happen.” He glances in the mirror as he changes lanes. “We could die at any minute. You never know.”
Ranboo rested his forehead against the glass. “He’s right. That could happen.”
“Well.” Tubbo shifted, lowering his window. “If we die, at least we’ll go to hell together.”
Tommy grinned and took a fast turn.
Tommy’s hand itches for his sunglasses. The bright rays stream through the front window, and he squints as he drives. He already has a headache brewing, and there’s a dark pit in his stomach. Has he eaten today? Has he drank anything?
It takes too much effort, at times. He forgets.
“I want a coffee,” Tubbo says, resting his head against the seat. “Can we grab some real quick?”
Tommy can’t say no. He gets himself a water, and as Tubbo and Ranboo order themselves a snack, he does too. A bowl of fruit and cheese, because he’s a healthy college student like that.
He makes a lot of money - between streaming and youtube. He works hard for it, and he’s very proud. And he likes to treat himself, buy coffee and dinner for him and his friends. He buys skateboards and other silly purchases at 3am.
Buying food isn’t as easy. It doesn’t happen on purpose. He likes eating, and he likes food. But sometimes he’s tired and he can’t find the energy to eat. Sometimes he doesn’t want to go grocery shopping, and if he does, he comes home with a basket full of caffeine and chocolate.
He’s falling apart a little. He doesn’t eat like he should, and his sleep schedule is fucked. He works, mostly, and his grades slip somewhat for it.
He tries really hard.
“You have a great day, sir!” Tommy tips the barista a $5 before speeding off for the park.
At lunchtime I bought a huge orange -
“A fruit box?” Tubbo quizzed, holding the bags in his hands as Tommy drives. They pull to a stop, and Tommy turns his head. “Oh my god, this orange is huge!”
The size of it made us all laugh.
Tubbo hands it over to Tommy, and he opens the box. He knows he should eat, but he’s just not hungry. His body’s grown use to not eating, and it’s hard for him to do it, to force it down. “Can I have a piece?” Tubbo asked. Tommy blinks at him. “It’s huge! I bet it’s good.”
“Wait, take a picture of it first.”
Ranboo likes to take a lot of pictures. Most of them are of Tubbo and Tommy or of his pets. He likes to take pictures of sunny things, cool things, cute things. Anything that makes him happy.
He has his camera out a lot, and it’s not really annoying. It may look to others he’s trying to find content or something, but he just likes them.
He takes a picture of Tubbo gasping at the orange as Tommy smiled at him. An orange light shines on them both.
“Golden hour’s so good for pictures, innit?”
It is.
The picture is nice.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave.
“Here, Tubbo.” He splits it and hands a piece over to Tubbo, who happily plops it into his mouth. He turns around and passes one to Ranboo. “You want one?”
Ranboo doesn’t really like the taste of oranges. “Yes, thank you.” He bites into it with unsteady teeth. It’s sour and burns his mouth. He swallows it quickly and gags, chasing it down with his coffee.
“If you didn’t like it, why’d you say yes?” Tubbo’s snickering, and Tommy is squawking at him, getting upset for no reason.
“You never offer me things!” Ranboo cried. “How could I say no?”
“By saying you hate oranges, dickhead!” Tommy’s laughing, a slight wheeze with every bark. He’s lightheaded and fuzzy, but it’s not as pained as it was earlier.
He eats the rest of the orange.
And that orange, it made me so happy.
As ordinary things often do.
“You look like the deer from that film.”
Ranboo is padded up, an oversized helmet falling in front of his head. He rests one hand on Tubbo’s as he tries to balance himself on the longboard. “Bambi?” Tubbo snickered. “You do, you do!”
Ranboo slipped, falling off the board and sighed. “It’s hard to concentrate with you bullying me.”
“Just get good.” Tommy stands on his board and rolls past him. “See? Like a pro.”
“I’m gonna squash you.”
Tommy cupped his ear. “You’re going to what?”
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
“I think we need to buy some more milk,” Tubbo said, squeezing his eyes together in concentration. “After Ranboo’s done falling on his ass, we should stop by the store.”
“I think we need some more soda, too.” Tommy’s gone through it quicker this time.
Maybe he should quit.
The sun is starting to set, and soon enough, it’s too dark to try and skate. They load the boards into the back and climb into the car.
Tommy’s stomach growls when Tubbo talks of what they should make for dinner. He starts the car quickly before heading to the store.
In his rush, he doesn’t set his playlist on. His bluetooth connects automatically, and the music starts playing on shuffle.
It’s an old song, one he used to listen to in middleschool. It’s cringy, and he raises his hand to press skip, but Tubbo cheers. “Oh my god, I haven’t heard this in so long!” He cranks the dial up louder and rolls down his window.
He checks on Ranboo, who is doing the same. He’s singing along to the song - it’s a sad one and angsty, but it’s loud and deep, and they sing along with it.
They’re smiling.
Tommy smiles too, rolls down his window. The wind is harsh against his ears, and his hair falls in front of his face. He needs to cut it.
He turns the music louder.
This is peace and contentment. This is new.
They pick up something easy for dinner. Ranboo’s going to cook pasta, but they get the special kind of sauce Tommy likes. He’s picky, when it comes to food. He likes the comfort, the consistency.
They get a box of ice cream, a can of soda, a gallon of milk, and they head home.
It’s a small home, but it’s theirs. Their very own streamer house. They’re young and tired, but it’s home. It’s theirs.
The rest of the day was quite easy.
As Ranboo cooks dinner, Tommy grabs a trash bag. He starts to throw the half-empty cans into the bag. His room looks better.
I did all the jobs on my list,
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
“Hey, Toms?” Tubbo’s knocking at his door. His bedsheets are on the floor. He’s too exhausted to wash them, but they’re off and replaced by a new blanket. It’s progress. “What movie do we want to watch with dinner?”
Ranboo already has the drinks set out and bowls at the table when Tommy returns from taking out the trash. He settles onto the couch next to his friends, who pass over the blanket to share.
It’s warm, and he’s tired. He closes his eyes and rests his head on Tubbo’s shoulder as he starts up the movie.
Ranboo passes him an ice cream cone from the freezer. He mouths a thank you as the movie starts, and the lights turn off.
I love you. I’m glad I exist.