Whatever Makes You Happy (Cliffton book 1, chapter 2)

[n3m3sis43]

This is chapter 2 of Cliffton book 1. Concrit is much appreciated. The original version of this story was a <800-word attempt to cheer myself up after I wrote "Pretty Buttons". It did not, in fact, cheer me up at the time, in case you were wondering. If you're curious, the original version's over here.

If you're reading Cliffton for the first time, here's chapter 1 so you can catch up.


Wes starts babbling about the fucking Reaping Festival before I've even had my SynthBrew. Not that I'm listening. I just grunt at the appropriate places and again when he hands me a steaming mug. Doesn't stop him from fucking talking, though. Nothing ever does. It's not until after I'm showered and semi-awake that his words start to register.

"And there's a carnival with rocket racing and rides! We can get FunCakes, too. I love FunCakes!" Wes is chattering away like a warrior bat on StimTabs. Four years living on this side of the fence, and he's never once mentioned the Festival. This year, though, he's on a fucking mission.

"Carnivals are fucking crowded," I grumble. "Don't fucking like crowds." Don't know why I'm bothering to argue - just gonna end up giving in. Once Wes gets an idea in his head, it's all but impossible to change his mind. Don't even really want to - never could resist that brilliant fucking grin of his.

"They have blue MegaSlushes, Devin!" Now his grin's so huge I can't help but smile back.

Well, that settles it. Blue MegaSlushes are my fucking favorite.

"Fine. We'll go." Wish I didn't sound so grumpy. Don't like fucking mornings. "It'll be fucking epic."

"Yay!" Wes squeals with delight and flings himself at me, almost knocking my SynthBrew out of my hands. He hugs me so hard I feel my fucking internal organs shifting. "You're gonna love it! We'll have so much fun! We can ride all the rides and get our pictures taken and you can win me prizes on the midway and we'll fly the bumper planes and - " He's talking a mile a minute. Don't know how he hasn't passed out from lack of air. Think I might soon.

"Wes," I gasp. "Can't fucking breathe." Still smiling, though - don't need air for that.

Wes dashes into the kitchen to make breakfast. Can't help grinning again when he returns, a plate loaded down with enough food for three of me in his hands. "I made your favorite - speckleberry pancakes!" He hands me the plate, keeps prattling as I dig in. "I'm so excited, dude. Tomorrow's gonna be so much fun!"

Festival's tomorrow? Well, fuck. I set my fork down with a clatter. Not fucking hungry now. "Uh, Wes? Kalen's coming over tomorrow. Wanted me to help him with some circuitry. Said it might take a while. Guess he's working on some kind of new robot."

"Oh, yeah." Wes bites his lip, looks so deflated I can't fucking stand it. "I forgot that was tomorrow."

"Maybe we'll finish up early?" I offer. "We could go after."

"Maybe." He looks away - fucking knows how wrapped up Kalen and I get when we're working on a project. "Well, I guess I should clean up the dishes now. Gotta get ready to go grocery shopping soon."

"Want me to come with you?" Kinda can't believe I just asked that. Wes always does the shopping alone. Fucking hate shopping worse than I hate crowds, but it doesn't matter right now. All I want's to take that sad look off his face.

Fucking works, too. Wes throws himself at me, wraps his arms around me tight. My plate falls on the floor, spilling the remains of my breakfast everywhere. That speckleberry goo's gonna be a fucking nightmare to clean off our couch, but I don't fucking care. Just relieved to see Wes happy again.

* * * * *
"Weeeeeeeeee!" Wes screeches, clinging to the back of the RoboCart on our way home from the grocery store. He could walk faster than the cart can go - designed it that way on purpose so he wouldn't get hurt. Doesn't matter how slow the cart's moving, though - he's just enjoying the ride. Wonder what it's like to be that fucking joyful all the time. Makes me grin - that and the way his eyes shine when he looks at me.

Kinda weird how different grocery stores here are from the ones back home. Always hated it when my ma sent me shopping - the long lines, the suspicious fucking way the storekeeper eyed me as he ran my background check. Nothing like that here at all - no scans, no rations, no checks. Just wide, clean shelves stocked with everything imaginable. Even have cereal that tastes like chocolate. People on this side aren't always the brightest, but their food's fucking ingenious.

All those choices are kinda exhausting. Good thing we're almost home - fucking crowds wear me out. I yawn, all but trip over my own fucking feet going up the driveway to our house. Almost fall over again as Wes tackles me. Hugs me so hard I think I hear my ribs crack. Guy's even skinnier than I am - how's he fucking do that?

"Thanks again for going to the store with me, dude! It was so much fun having you there!" Wes still has a death-grip on me as he yammers into my ear. "Wanna play some SimFighting after lunch? We can play co-op - together, we're invincible! It'll be so much fun, and I promise not to shoot my rocket launcher inside a tunnel again like last time, and - " Hard to hear the rest of his words over my face-cracking yawn.

Want to help Wes out, so I start putting away the groceries. Too bad I don't know where anything goes - don't spend a lot of fucking time in the kitchen. Throw open all the cabinets, survey the empty spaces. Everything's out of fucking order - don't know Wes stands it. Take everything out, sort it by shape and color. Halfway done when Wes screeches like he's got a fucking green death-slug crawling up his arm.

"What's wrong?" Thought he'd be happy for the extra help.

"My cabinets," Wes squeaks. Think his voice is trembling a little. "Wh- what're you doing to them?"

"Organizing them. They're out of order. How do you fucking find anything?"

"Oh, Devin." His eyes are huge and shiny like he's gonna fucking kiss me or something. The fuck? "I have a system - like with your tools, y'know? This is where I keep all the breakfast stuff." He points to the cabinet where I just finished putting all the things in green containers, picks up a couple things off the counter.

Wait, what? He's gonna put that brown box of fucking cereal next to a white bag of... whatever that is?

Don't have much time to think about that, though. Wes puts down the groceries he's holding, wraps his arms around me from behind. "Here, let me help you put these things away. You've gotta see where everything goes!"

"Fine, Wes." Sound fucking grumpy but I'm grinning. "Just don't use this as a fucking excuse to grope me."

* * * * *
Rest of the afternoon's pretty normal. Organizing the kitchen. Soup and sandwiches for lunch - fucking delicious.

Wes brings up that fucking Festival every 20 minutes or so. Looks so hopeful when he does it, too. Wish more than anything I could just call Kalen and reschedule, but he said it was important. Just hope we finish up early tomorrow so Wes can get his wish. In the meantime, just have to keep him entertained. Good thing that isn't hard to do.

"Up for some SimFighting?" Reach for my headset before he gets a chance to answer.

No way is Wes gonna say no. Dude fucking loves SimFighting, even though he's terrible at it. Can't stay alive more than a minute or two on his own. We play co-op, and I cover Wes while he takes all the kills. Smirk at the way he moves his whole body when he plays. As if flailing his arms and legs is gonna somehow make his SimFighter jump better. Almost fucking knocks me over a few times. You know what, though? It's okay. Kinda hard not to enjoy myself when he's all fucking lit up like that.

"You got any plans tonight, dude?" Wes pulls off his SimFighting headset, stretches.

"Yeah, I'm pretty fucking busy tonight - busy watching Revenge of the Thirty-Fanged Growler with you."

"Dude!" Wes breathes. "I've been waiting forever for that to come out on neurovision."

Fucking know he has. Think he might explode or something. He's fucking quivering, bouncing up and down.

"This is gonna be so amazing! I'll make us pizza and crunchbugs and... and - " Wes cuts himself off, launches himself at me with a yelp of pure joy. Don't have the heart to tell him he's cracking my fucking vertebrae.

Too bad the vid doesn't start until ten at night. Wes is yawning his fucking head off a third of the way through. Poor dude's a morning person - not used to being up this late at all. Doesn't stop him from bouncing up and down so hard the whole fucking couch shakes. Doesn't keep him from squealing and clutching my arm at the scary parts, either.

Kinda don't notice how quiet he's gotten until I feel a weight on my shoulder. Look down to see his head resting against me, eyes closed and this tiny smile on his face. Think he might even be snoring a little. Cutest fucking thing I've ever seen.

"Hey, Wes," I whisper. "Wake up. Best part's about to come on."

"Nuh uh. Too comfy." Wes sighs, wraps his arms around me. Like I'm some kind of fucking stuffed toy.

I squirm, try to get away. Not sure I'm comfy. We're just roommates, okay? He's my best friend in the world, but cuddling? Think I draw the fucking line there. Or I would, if I could get Wes to move. No matter how I try to shift positions, he doesn't budge. Dude's stronger than he looks, because he's got a grip of fucking UberSteel.

No point in fighting it, right? Wes isn't gonna move unless I wake him up. Don't have the heart to do that. Drape my arm around his shoulders instead. Give his arm a pat. "Sleep well, buddy," I mutter. Might even smile as I say it - just a tiny bit.

What? Can't fucking get him off me anyway - might as well get comfortable, too.

* * * * *
"When's Kalen gonna get here?" Wes asks for the third time in the past 20 minutes. Poor dude's a nervous wreck - pacing our living room and all but wringing his fucking hands. "We're never gonna make it to the Festival if he doesn't hurry up."

Hate seeing him worked up like this. Almost never do. I wrack my brain, trying to think of something to distract him. Start to get a little nervous myself, but then inspiration strikes. "Don't worry, Wes." I walk over to him, rest a hand on his arm. "Gonna make sure you have your Festival one way or another. Why don't you go research it on the Splinternet now? Find out all the traditions. If we can't get there in time, we can just make our own Festival here at home."

The way his face lights up makes my heart fucking melt. Stomach feels a little funny, too - though that might be from all those crunchbugs I ate last night during our monster vid.

"Devin, dude, you're a genius!" Wes screeches. Gives me one of his bone-breaking hugs before he rushes out of the room. "This is gonna be the best Reaping Festival ever!"

Don't see him again until after Kalen leaves. I triple-bolt the door, arm the security system. Always good to be fucking safe. Try not to worry about whether we'll ever be safe again, now that I know what Kalen's been working on. Not a robot at all - a bomb. A fucking bomb. Asked him what it was for, and he said I didn't want to know. Kinda don't. Don't want to think about it much at all.

I expect Wes to be all over me, dragging me out the door to that fucking Festival. He's nowhere to be found. I'm about to go look for him when he appears, carrying the two ugliest hats I've ever seen.

"The fuck are those?" Pretty sure I'm not gonna like the answer to that question.

"They're for us! I made them!" Wes proclaims with a triumphant grin. "They're traditional Festival hats."

"They have fruit on them." I eye the hats with suspicion. "Fucking fruit, Wes."

"C'mon, dude, at least try it on." Wes holds one of the fruity monstrosities out to me. "I made it just for you."

Really don't want to. Hat's beyond hideous and it's made of straw. It's gonna mess up my hair, maybe even give me fucking split ends. But Wes is watching me and he probably spent all day on these ridiculous things.

Wes's eyes shine with pride as I put on the humiliating hat. He dons his own, beaming like the fucking sun.

"Feel like a fucking idiot with this thing on my head," I grumble, but make no move to take it off.

"Awww, but you look so pretty in it." Swear Wes fucking sighs. "Besides, everyone'll be wearing them."

But when we get to the Festival we're the only two morons wearing those fucking hats. Turns out that tradition was abandoned years ago. Of fucking course. We get a lot of comments from people walking by. They're just strangers, though. I don't give a shit.

"Wanna take our hats off now?" Wes asks, looking a little embarrassed.

I kinda do, but he spent all afternoon on these works of "art". I'm not gonna just hand mine to the nearest WasteBot. Besides, my hair's already messed up now anyway. "Fuck it, let's wear them anyway, man," I tell him. "Fruit is fucking cheerful."

Wes looks like he's about to hug me as his face lights up under the brim of his own fruity headpiece.

Definitely better to wear the stupid hat.

"So what do you wanna do first?" Wes chirps, grabbing my arm. "There's the SimCoasters and the real ones and a pie contest and the midway and this booth where you dress up like old-time swordsmasters and get a vidframe of it, and - "

Really do have to fucking wonder sometimes how he doesn't pass out from lack of air.

"Whatever." Even my enormous hat can't hide my ridiculous grin, but I can't fucking help it. "Whatever makes you happy."

* * * * *
It's late as fuck and I can't fucking sleep. Probably all the sugar in that blue MegaSlush I had at the Festival. I get out of bed, check the locks and the security system one more time. Fucking silly. The defenses on this house are fucking airtight. Wes and I are as safe as two people can be. For now, anyway.

Kalen's got a fucking bomb. I helped him build it. Everything could fucking change.

I kinda want to knock on Wes's door, just to talk. Not be alone with my fucking ridiculous thoughts. But he's asleep. Probably been out a couple hours already. Besides, I don't want to scare him. Wes hasn't been through the things I have. Doesn't deserve to be afraid for no fucking reason. Have to be strong for him if anything happens.

Not that anything's gonna happen anyway. Keep telling myself that as I wait for sleep to come.


(Next chapter is here)

Comments

Re: in conclusion

[jennickels.livejournal.com]

I always wonder at the creative process of the published authors. Sometimes I peak around blogs of writers and they'll talk about their process. One of the authors of a YA dystopian series I like actually suffers from some pretty bad anxiety and depression and had to go offline while writing the last half of her book because reading comments (to her blog posts, not her books) got her so down she couldn't write any more. That really hit a chord for me because that's how things went for me for years. One little thing online or in my real life could snag days of writing from me. She also put up some posts about her editing process which were really cool. But then she went offline again to actually do her editing.

There's another author I follow (she writes a mystery series) that was posting excerpts of whatever she was working on ever Wednesday which I thought was super cool of her but I avoided reading all of them because I didn't want to be spoiled when the book came out (this fall, I believe). I love those glimpses into how they work. Makes me feel like the way I do things isn't so strange. And, maybe I can learn something.