Chapter Text
Chapter One: In the Beginning
Around him, everything was silent, save for the occasional sound of the house settling and the distant chirping of birds outside. He sat at the dining room table facing the window, with three-quarters of a mug of black coffee in his hand and a relaxed smile on his face. The clock on the microwave displayed 5:02 a.m. in bright green numbers.
Though the sky outside was bone gray and the air was a bit foggy, Skips preferred this time of day because it meant he got four hours of peace before Mordecai, Rigby, and Benson got together and started the usual chaos. Pops woke up at seven, but the old-fashioned man didn’t do much in the way of talking until work actually started, so this never bothered Skips. It was the perfect amount of alone time to start his morning. Nice and quiet.
He took a sip of his coffee and was just poised to sigh contentedly when a loud thud followed by a yelp erupted from somewhere upstairs. The mug immediately connected with the table again as he rose from his seat. “That sounded like Rigby,” he said aloud, mentally scaling through all possible scenarios and methods of help. This process stopped dead in its tracks, however, when he heard someone stomping down the stairs.
Seconds later, Mordecai turned into the kitchen, and Skips blinked a few times at the disheveled sight of him. He’d gathered what he could of his hair into a rubber band and let the rest feather about his head messily. His eyes were cloudy and drooping, but his brows were poised above them like daggers aimed toward the bridge of his nose, and his mouth was curled into a frown. Oddly enough, he was already dressed, but his skinny jeans were chalk-stained and his shirt was tugged a little to the side.
It took Skips a second to realize that those were the clothes he’d been wearing yesterday.
“Mordecai,” he said evenly, watching the man’s face change once he’d realized someone else was in the room.
“Oh! Skips, uh, hey.”
“Did you even go to sleep last night?” There was a beat of silence. Skips pretended not to see the befuddled look Mordecai gave the microwave clock and took that as a no. “What was that sound I heard?”
Again, the young man’s face contorted to anger. “Ugh, nothing. I was just—Rigby was being—”
The stairs suddenly creaked with someone’s weight, and by the way Mordecai immediately shut up, Skips could tell who was descending.
The other trouble-maker arrived in much the same manner that his friend had: unkempt, irritated, and still dressed in yesterday’s outfit, which served as a testament to their all-nighter. There was something different about Rigby, though. Instead of looking angry, he looked more disappointed. With what, Skips couldn’t say.
“What the…?” He blinked quizzically at Skips. “Why’re you up so early?”
“I’m always up at this hour.”
“Really?” Rigby glanced at Mordecai, then pretended not to have seen him as he grabbed a box of cereal from the pantry. “I never knew that.” His voice was tight and higher than normal, which could only mean that he and Mordecai had been fighting—that much was obvious, but Skips still couldn’t put a finger on why the air was so tense. Their usual spats took no time off, as they were constantly at each other’s throats with their insults, typically childish in nature and thus fading away quickly. There was no time for tenseness. The longest fight Skips could remember had involved blond hair dye and an unusually sullen Rigby, but this was different, somehow.
The older man finally found his voice and replied, “Yeah… It’s just something I like to do.”
“You’re not tired?”
“Nope. I’m very well-rested.”
Mordecai, who’d apparently grown sick of being ignored, crossed his arms and shifted his weight onto one leg. “Tch, must be nice to feel well-rested at five in the morning.” His eyes were pointedly fixed in a glare at his best friend.
Before Skips could question this, Rigby had begun his retaliation, slamming the cereal box down with enthusiasm as if he’d been waiting for the other to say something the entire time. “Gee, I wouldn’t know, ‘cause someone decided to complain all night about how his girlfriend dumpedhim!”
“You brought it up!”
“Nuh-uh! I said one thing!”
“About her!”
“Not about that!”
“It was totally about that! And then you—”
Rigby’s eyes suddenly sharpened. “Don’t you dare say it.”
“See, you’re ashamed of it, aren’t you?” Mordecai crossed the kitchen to approach Rigby, and upon slowly unfolding his arms, he leaned down and poked him in the chest. “Because you knew it was a dick move.”
Rigby threw his hands up. “You let me!”
“What? No I didn’t! I—”
“Uh-huh, you’re the one who should be ashamed!”
Mordecai all but yelled, “You’re the one who kissed me!”
At that moment, silence returned to the house. Skips could even hear the birds chirping again. His coffee was probably lukewarm by this point, but that didn’t concern him at the moment, because all he could think about was what Mordecai had just said.
The duo before him held their stare for what seemed like forever, with Mordecai slowly realizing what he’d done and Rigby simply standing there with balled fists, gritting his teeth. Before too long, the latter turned and stalked away without a single word.
Mordecai’s boiling blood seemed to cool in an instant. His shoulders drooped, and his face softened. When he looked at Skips, the man’s expression was unreadable. He, too, exited the room, leaving Mordecai behind with a half-empty cup of coffee and a tight knot of guilt in his chest.