Discord Comics

Cookies and Guilt
~by~ Shiva’s avatar

I was tempted to just spit out the stupid cookie, but then I realized I’d just have to clean it up. I just wanted the damn thing gone … I would’ve just thrown it out if I’d known it was ganna’ taste this bad. What did Steve make these with? Bastard probably used guilt rather then chocolate chips …

I heave a sigh after I finally manage to choke the stupid thing down, and throw the rest of the bag into the nearby trash can. I toss the still full glass of milk I’d just poured into the sink, and almost feel bad when I turn back around and see the blue cellophane the cookies were wrapped in peeking out of the garbage can. Steve probably worked really hard on them … he was always the most dedicated when we used to bake with his mom … then I remember that they were pity cookies made with guilt, not chocolate, and growling I stalk out of the room.

Who did he think he was anyway?! Where did he get off trying to cheer me up?! Did he really think his stupid bake good bribe was going to make me forgive him? Well it wasn’t!

When I asked if he wanted to fuck, he sure as hell didn’t say no! He was the one always staring at my ass! I mean seriously, when someone acts like that, what are you supposed to think? When they let you hug them. When they hug you. When they won’t screw your drunken ass because they know, despite being completely plastered themselves, that it’s hurting you. When they stare you with endless brown eyes always filled sympathy and empathy. When no matter how awkward they feel around you, they keep trying to cheer you up, just because they know you’re down …

Fuck. They might have tasted awful … but I want another cookie. I almost feel bad for throwing them out.

Black socks on white carpet, three more steps and I’d get back to the sanctuary of my room. I try to wonder if that would make good song lyrics … I try and wonder if Alex would like them. Leaning against a russet wall, a picture of my grandmother scowling over my shoulder, I try to think of anything and everything … anything other then Steve anyway. Avoiding the portraits soulless green eyes, I walk down the hall and lean against the third door on the left. His room … my brother’s room.

I don’t open the door; just rest my head against it, knowing that it’s not going to look like it’s supposed too. His bed was dragged down to the basement, most of his posters taken with him when he left. Everything else that was in there to remind him of him, Mom made sure to throw out. She even rented a dumpster for a day just to, as she put it, “clear out all the crap”. There’s new carpet in there now, complete with a desk, some bookcases and an exercise bike … daddy dears brand new home office.

I wish he was here …my big brother … he’d be able to tell me what to do. Or at least he’d be able to make me smile. No matter how much mom and dad fought, no matter how bad they treated him, no matter how alone I felt, he always went out of his way to make sure I never stayed feeling down …

God! I’m really craving another cookie now … I almost feel bad that I threw them up.

Figuring ansting isn’t going to make me feel any better, I march into my room. I pull out my CD player from a desk drawer, and with a quick twist of a dial have it blaring in my ears. Maybe if I flood my head with noise, it’ll stop being so stupid …

I consider, for a whole minute, doing some homework … but my bed is sending out nap wave just way to powerful for me to resist. I jump on the bed; let myself bounce a time or two, and then grapple a pillow, burying my face into it. It still smells vaguely of whatever coconut concoction Steve uses in his hair … it’s been weeks, I know, since that night … but I won’t let my mom wash this pillowcase. I know the scent is getting fainter, and it would probably seem really stalkerish to anyone else … but I just don’t want to let go of that night. That was the closest I was ever going to get to the boy I loved …

Crap … if I thought of him anymore, I was ganna cry again. I’d been doing that way too much lately.

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the music roaring in my ears, and for a little while I was able to stop thinking … at least until my stomach rumbled.

Because then I really wanted a cookie …

… and then I realized that no, I really didn’t want a fucking cookie …

I wanted Steve back … and I felt horrible for tossing his hard work away. Broken his cookies the same way I broke our friendship …

God … I really want my friend back … because I really need a hug right now.