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You loved Illi, you did. She was your best friend, you didn’t know what you would do without her. You were sure, at the tender age of 12, that middle school would eat you alive before you met her that year.
The things that were important to her, they were important to you— and you meant that earnestly. You had your fair share of intense passions, things no one else could wrap their mind around; so with this whole Winter Formal thing, you got that it was something she was fixated with. The reasoning made sense to you, after all. It was less expensive than prom in terms of tickets and outfits, less weird social importance placed around the event itself, and an opportunity to participate in one “normal” high school event with her friends before she graduated.
That being said; there were few activities more stressful than a last minute, extensive shopping trip for clothes that fit the vision. She told you it would all be quick— but no one goes into a thrift store for an in-and-out trip. That’s not how thrifting works. You were there to scavenge.
She thankfully wasn’t there for anything exact; she could truly just alter anything she needed in the end, but some solid base pieces were necessary to get to that point.
You already had your outfit planned yourself. You had a pale yellow dress that has gone unworn since your cousin’s wedding last spring. You never cared for the color and had always planned on dying it a nice deep red at some point, and now you had the perfect occasion to do just that.
So, most of your time in the thrift store was spent meandering through the racks of formalwear behind Illi, Frank and Ray while she shoved articles of clothing into their hands that she thought suited them well enough.
Mikey… actually— you didn’t know where Mikey went. He seemed to veer off course at some point. You did watch him go, honestly, and tightly refrained from following or asking what he was up to. He did that a lot when you all ended up somewhere he’d rather not be. He’d turn up eventually, and you weren’t going to let yourself care when that would be.
Though, you did make the decision to ditch everyone else for a bit and go sift through jewelry.
“Just come find me if you want my opinion on something,” you called out to Illi; she gave you a thumbs up, and you shuffled over to the varied accessories.
You were starting to get a killer headache (as usual when entering this particular store) and you couldn’t quite place where it was coming from, but maybe sorting through a display of shiny things would help. Maybe if you found something decent, you could buy it for parts. Like a nice pendant, or an unusual clasp, or anything with an assortment of pretty beads.
So you stayed there, gazing over that bin for as long as you could stand it. It seemed to not be a good day for the jewelry stock, because you found nothing usable to you, and your head hurt so bad at some point that you felt like you could vomit. That’s when you decided to go sift through the records and CDs in the back of the store.
Something about being back there eased the sharp feeling in the slightest, though you still weren’t sure why. Maybe you could just stay back there until everyone was done?
Your hands flipped through the record stacks. A lot were chewed up looking, or even completely empty sleeves. That tended to be a common thing in thrift stores, you noticed, but every now and then there was something cool.
The records this time around weren’t anything special, however, so you turned to the CDs. About seven cases down the stack, you came across Radiohead’s Pablo Honey, and then Kid A, then Amnesiac, OK Computer, The Bends…
All the CDs were in the cases too— this was a goldmine to find at the thrift. You couldn’t help but wonder who had to part with their collection like that.
…
Mikey likes Radiohead. That’s the thought that followed immediately after, and you started to grow warm. He’d probably think this is cool, right? Maybe? He definitely owns all these albums already, probably, but it’s still interesting enough, right? You weren’t just looking for excuses to go find him, you were engaging him in something he likes, which is a thing friends do. And you two were friends, technically, so—
Shut up. Just shut up, stop complicating it.
You pushed the stack back into place and looked around casually, trying to see if you spotted him anywhere. It’s not like he’s a short guy or anything… is he even in the building?
…
You stepped away from the shelves and started to head for the door you came in from, but you heard someone clear their throat from nearby before you could get anywhere close to it.
Your head whipped in that direction, and you spotted Mikey— he was hiding (?) in one of the two fitting rooms, the curtain half-drawn shut, while he tapped at the buttons on a Gameboy.
Huh.
He lifted his eyes just then, and you two blinked at each other in silence.
Then he… snorted in a short burst of laughter. “Hi.”
You seemed to smile on reflex. “Hi?”
“The lights in here are killing me, I had to get out of there,” he explained, answering your question without you having to ask.
You tilted your head. “The lights?”
He nodded. “Yeah, the ones out that way are more yellowish, and they’re making that godawful buzzing sound, and I just— I can’t do it. I don’t know how anyone spends longer than 5 minutes here.”
You looked up at the lights directly overhead, and then the ones more towards the center and front of the store. That… was true. The lights in the back were a softer white, and you realized it was quieter. You did notice the weird, sickly lighting up front before. Maybe they hadn’t gotten to upgrade all the fixtures in the store yet.
“Is that why I always get a headache in here?” You asked, feeling a little stupid that you didn’t connect the two. “I didn’t even think about that.”
He raised an eyebrow, and his smile grew a little. “Well, you do hate the lighting, right?”
“Yeah, I do, but I didn’t think that it was making me sick. Lights aren’t supposed to make you sick just cause you don’t like ‘em.”
The look on his face— you didn’t know how to describe it, but it felt so… fond?
“Unfortunately, it’s not about just ‘not likin’ em’,” he shook his head, and turned off his Gameboy to push it into his hoodie pocket.
You clicked your tongue. “True, um…”
He tilted his head at you, waiting for you to go on.
“I was looking through the CDs and stuff, and there’s a stack of Radiohead in there. Like, in good condition too,” you finally got to the point, jerking your thumb in the direction you just came from. He seemed to get a little excited at that.
“Really?” He pushed himself off the fitting room bench and walked over, right in front of you. “Show me.”
You led him back out to the music section, pushing the handful of CDs in the front away to reveal your earlier findings.
“That’s sick,” he approved, already reaching forward to look through them himself. “Wonder who donated these.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” was your immediate reply, hovering right next to his side as he picked through the cases behind just the Radiohead ones. “Like, who died and got their collection pawned off? I want my music buried with me.”
He laughed at that, genuinely laughed at that, and you smiled so hard your cheeks hurt.
“Or pass some of it on to someone who needs to listen to better music,” he joked back, “You could put it in your will.”
“Right, yeah, could send it to my uncle who listens to strictly country and dubstep.”
“Oh my god, you’re joking? That’s awful.”
You and Mikey hung around the media for a while, giggling and flicking through the stock. It’s weird how easy it actually was to talk to him. You were really starting to see that Mikey wasn’t difficult to figure out— you were just a nervous wreck. He’d only ever been nice to you, anyway.
“I don’t really care to go to this thing,” he eventually dragged you both back into the subject of the dance. “I’d do it for Illi. But it’s not my thing.”
You nodded, leaning yourself against the shelf right next to him. “Yeah. That’s… me too. Not that getting dressed up isn’t fun. It’s more the whole… other people being there, loud and soaked in perfume or cologne or whatever.”
“Right, yeah. It would be better if the music at these things was good, but school events are notorious for being bland.”
Your lips picked up in the faintest of sheepish smiles, and you drummed your fingers against the side of a shelf.
“Maybe we can just hide outside together, or something,” you joked, and immediately cringed internally at how that sounded.
Then you heard the scuffle of multiple pairs of shoes nearby, moving over your way across the linoleum.
“Oh— there you are!” Illi called out, and you and Mikey looked her way at the same time. She was carrying a few different pieces, and Frank and Ray were some feet behind her, engaged in their own conversation. “You guys are elusive.”
She approached the both of you, and pushed a red tie into Mikey’s hands. “You need a tie. One that’s, like, normal, not ugly like the other ones you have.”
He scoffed. “It’s not like I picked those other ones out.”
“That doesn’t make them not-ugly.”
You got a good look at the tie in his hands, and you couldn’t stop from blurting out. “Hey— that’s, like… the exact color of the dress I’m gonna wear.”
Illi’s eyebrows raised at you. “Really?”
Mikey looked back down at the tie. “Really?” He echoed, and rubbed the material between his fingers. “It’s a nice color, I might have to fight you for it.”
You scoffed lightheartedly, and playfully nudged his arm. “It was literally my idea first? Go browse ties and pick a different color.”
“I’m not going back into that section of the store and standing in the murky lighting of doom and despair to pick out a tie for a thing I don’t even want to go to.”
“That sounds like not my problem.”
“Well it’s not happening, so I guess we’re both wearing red,” he sighed, poorly feigning annoyance. You could feel yourself smiling again, like a big, dumb, embarrassing idiot, and the lack of control you had over your body was astounding to you.
“Yeah, cause you can’t help but copy me, I guess. I see how it is,” you snorted— and you caught Illi’s eyes as she stood there with the most… well, you didn’t know how to describe the expression on her face, but it dampened the grin on yours real fast.
Mikey didn’t seem to take note, though, and he just returned your nudge from a moment ago. “It’s not copying, it’s matching. Matching is fun.”
…The expression on your face grew a lot more bashful at that.
“Who’s matching?” Ray chimed in, sidling up to Illi with Frank in tow. She just… scoffed, weakly.
“Those two, apparently,” she muttered, and gestured a hand at you and Mikey. His expression seemed to take on an equal amount of sheepishness as yours.
“Not intentionally,” you tacked on immediately. “Don’t make it weird.”
“No one even said anything,” Frank stated, leaning himself up against a display of DVDs.
“…Anyway,” Illi huffed, and held up the dress she was holding in her hands. It was a simple black gown with a slit that looked like it would hit about mid-thigh. “I was thinking for this. I don’t care for how high the slit is but I still have a bunch of that sparkly fabric from that one project awhile ago, so I wanted to fill that spot with it and then maybe lacy detailing along the bust and hems and whatnot?”
You tilted your head, trying to get the vision.
“Yeah— I think that would look awesome. You always put together nice stuff anyway.”
“Thank youuu,” she grinned, and laid the dress back over her arm alongside a couple belts she had been carrying. “I think we’re all set, then.”
“Let me check out first, please, my eyeballs are going to explode if I stand in this building for another second,” Mikey immediately spoke up, starting to speed walk to the counter.
Frank took off after him, and then Ray— so it was you and Illi hanging behind everyone.
“What if I want to check out first?” You heard Frank call after him.
“He’s literally going to turn evil, dude, just let him have this,” You heard Ray’s voice follow.
“I’m so hungry, dude,” Illi muttered, trudging alongside you up to the front. “You wanna get pizza, or are you over it with all of us already?”
You snorted, and shook your head.
“I could eat,” you shrugged, your eyes following Mikey as he paid for that lone tie that he didn’t even pick out for himself. “I don’t really care, I’m just ready to be somewhere that isn’t as grating on the senses.”
“Awesome!”
The rest of the day wasn’t particularly of note. You and Mikey didn’t really get to interact one on one anymore, and you were realizing that that’s the easiest way to talk to him. You both tended to be the kind of people who retreated into themselves when in any group settings; it made sense that you never quite bonded around the group if you both couldn’t figure how to act around groups.
You liked telling yourself, over and over again, that you were just getting to know him a little better anyway. Not knowing him through what Illi told you, not knowing him based off just observing. Maybe you weren’t totally screwed— if you became good enough friends with him, maybe the crush would go away. That’s happened before. Sometimes knowing someone better makes the exciting fuzzy feelings dwindle.
You hoped, anyway.