It Starts With How Was Your Day.
by kyrioib
I decided to participate in the weekly writing challenge since it seemed interesting and by whim at 2 am.
So why not?
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“It’s a pleasant day isn’t it?” He raised a glass smiling to his comrade who was sitting glumly staring out at the happily chattering crowd. Turning his head slowly brushing stray locks of dirty blond hair out of his face to squint his eyes at the initiating party the corners of his lips turned downwards just a little more. “I’m not sure if that’s a rhetorical statement or if you’re trying to get something from me.” Laughing in a pleasant manner, the other brushed a rather sweaty palm through his auburn locks before hooking a finger on his collar and pulling it just a tiny bit. “No I’m just commenting about the weather and wondering if you think so too, why question my motives?” Looking to the side then back to his companion the blond stood at his full height, straightening out his back and leaning slightly his back slightly arched.
“I dunno. Maybe, if I didn’t find out that my best friend happened to, let’s say, seemingly disown my friendship, after my confession and hasn’t been talking to me for a full week then suddenly comes up to me during a wedding with a glass of wine in hand, hm, I wonder.” Scratching the back of his neck the brunette seemingly caught in the act looking everywhere but the slightly taller blond he glanced at his cup.
“Well, isn’t the best way to start conversation with the most mundane topic of the century?” Slowly moving his dark grey eyes to the blond catching his light brown ones, was he trying to tell him something? “Hrrumph!” Crossing his arms the blond man straightened his back crossing his arms and frowning, seemingly indignant. “Don’t tell me you wanted to talk with me just for the sake of talking, you have plenty of friends around here who you have been ‘hanging out’ with while you’ve been ignoring me.” Casually rotating his wrist the blond man tilted his head slightly to the right, an eyebrow raised with the other almost snorting. “I mean after my efforts to gain you attention, and being ignored before getting the message you wanted to ignore me and wanted nothing more to do with me, I question how I was previously classified as your ‘best’ friend. I mean how can we be ‘best friends’ if said presenter of the subject has absolutely no idea how terribly they have been treating me.” Brushing back stray blond locks somewhat irritated at the wind.
“I’ll have you know, it hurt. Right now to get it clear, it hurt!” Putting a hand to his chest, the gesture dramatic but his expression dead set as he straightened his white suit spinning on his heel to leave the company of the brunette before pausing, turning around and pressing a finger to his chest, evidently not finished with his diatribe. “Even when I confessed, you didn’t have to indulge my feelings to make yourself feel better and to play around with me.” Blinking quietly the brunette slowly registering what was being told he frowned mirroring the blond’s grimace before he himself returning the hostility.
“Well, What the hell, please excuse my language madame.” Pausing for a moment to turn to one of the women who’s attention had been nearby and turned her head to see what was going on nodded as if an indication to either go on or she didn’t give, quite a fuck.
” Was I supposed to know? Unfortunately for you Sir Adams, I am not an empathetic human being, I don’t know what the hell it’s like to be you, or anyone else caught up in the same situation, how the hell do I approach this? Hm? Considering who you’re dealing with, you of all people should know my reaction, hell, you should know twenty steps ahead since you’re so proud of your psychological analysis Sir!” Emphasizing the words sir to mock the blond, his voice rising in irritation as he repeated the gesture back to him prodding his chest with his index finger, the happily chattering crowd turned their attention from the soon to be married couple standing at the center to the harsh whispers and angry statements of the two men.
Adjusting his hat, sputtering indignantly Sir Adams, the now named individual scowled and crossed his arms refusing to prod back, knowing they would start to engage in a game of poke its and poke backs, which in his opinion was a rather low class and juvenile game for a 25 year old man to engage in. A 25 year old Dutch man, he mentally corrected the author. “Well Par-Don me Sir Hugby or would you prefer Ma-damn.” Quirking an eyebrow back at the brunette named Sir Hugby a corner of his lip tilting upwards in a slight mocking manner he could not help but take his gloved right hand, extend the middle finger and flick his nose. “I was never one to keep my own feelings bottled up like you, it should be pretty obvious that no matter what mask I wear I will always be quite loose tongued with my own internal workings.” Putting a hand to his mouth with a smile he tauntingly laughed, a kind of false chuckle meant to infuriate and mock. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t know me that well, since my blunder, clearly, masks what I am, so you’ve forgotten that. What a shame indeed.” Stammering, his face becoming red from rage, Sir Hugby attempted to straighten himself out, attempted, but it was quite evident his composure was lost and he wanted nothing more than to avoid the inevitable conclusion.
“Well I don’t know you, after all wh-” Cut off by a resounding slap, and a collective gasp from the now growing crowd of turned heads and the couple getting married in question the sermon paused in favor of watching such a dramatic turn of events of two men who seem to be caught up in a quarrel of sorts the burning sensation on Sir Hugby’s cheek and the extended hand of Sir Adam’s gloved right hand.
A pause.
“Son of a fucking bitch my hand fucking hurts.” Nursing his throbbing hand at how painful it had been to actually have his palm make contact with the brunette’s cheek, the blond man rubbed his wrist. The brunette on the other hand was so fixated on his pain that he did not pay attention to the pain his assailant had inflicted upon himself, fixated on how much he was hurt.
“Feel that? That’s the damn pain of reality. You did know me. You chose to deny it though and for that you completely deserved that slap.” Sir Adams commented not making eye contact, not even doing the courtesy of looking at the man he had just slapped.
“GOTTA KEEP THAT PIMP HAND STRONG!” An obnoxious voice called from the front where the pastor stood.
For a moment, there was an unnatural pause as both heads turned to the bold standing figure of the bride standing in a rather unladylike pose. Fist pumped smiling widely, her husband chuckling kindly, somewhat perturbed by the violence displayed. Another pause as the two men stared, realized their surroundings and their environment.
Safe to say that both straightened their suits, Sir Adams adjusted his tie and slicked back his blond locks, Sir Hugby adjusted his tie lightly coughing into his fist and both men turned their backs to each other.
This conflict would be saved for another day.
