A Fairly Emo Reboot

"Awesome!!" He exclaimed.

Yes, this was perfect. He had to use Claude. He couldn't break persona and say he was gay, though that would have been a great tactic. Instead, he'd just have to make it up as he went.

"I'm the same way! This is my shop! I mean, you saw the sign, right? Right? But whatever, we can totally work together now, eh?"

He purposefully ignored the second question. He knew Claude would probably prod him again, anyway.

He frowned, blushing.

"...You're moving awfully fast. At least tell me what you want, first--you're gay but you aren't?..."

"Haha, ew, no!" He wrinkled his nose, in what he hoped was a more playful way. "Of course I'm no fag. I mean. I'm not gay. Whatever. Duh. Anyway, we can be partners! ...but not in the gay way, just so we're clear."

He smiled again.

"You can be my sidekick! I'd say like Batman and Robin, but that kind of implies gayness, so, like, Captain America and Bucky? Just don't die so fuckin' much and we'll be fine."

"Bucky was a fag and I'm not interested," he lied, sipping his beer. Being Frederich's partner was more than he had dared to hope for. "Besides, I'm already in a business with my sister."

"Your sister?" He asked, then burst into obnoxious laughter. "Oh come on, I knew you were a fag, but a pussy, too? Man, you're so fuckin' lame. But fine, fine, whatever."

He knew Claude wouldn't say no. He just wanted to watch him squirm, now.

"If your precious family is too important, then fine. Just stay out of town and don't ruin my business, alright?" He laughed again, to indicate he was joking. Mostly.

"Have sex with me and I'll say yes," said Claude, joking a little less than Frederich.

"Gross!" He said, in what he hoped was a convincing knee jerk reaction. Actually, it kind of was genuine. Just a little. "No. Way. You may be cool now, but ew! Fuck no, man!"

"Oh, well," he said, shrugging. "So, tell me about yourself."

"No! If you're not gonna be my partner, I don't wanna talk to you." He sat back down, farther away from Claude now, and unpaused his game. "Get out."

"How can I agree if I know nothing about you?" he pointed out quickly. He wanted to know so desperately. "I can't just not know who I'm partnering up with."

"Fine, but you have to tell me more shit about yourself first!" He insisted stubbornly. The last thing he wanted was to explain his life story. Besides, it wasn't as if he was going to be truthful about it anyway. Claude was just wasting his time.

"Ask away," he said, smiling shyly. He toyed with the cheap metal pendant hanging from his neck. Claude had often imagined this moment happening; he went over the answers that he had mentally prepared in his mind so many times.

"How old are you?" He asked away, just like Claude asked. "Who are your parents? Where are they? How many siblings do you have? What's your birthday? You a virgin? Favorite color? What music do you like? Where do you shop?"

His head reeling, Claude struggled to remember all the things Frederich had just asked.

"Uh, let's see...I'm twenty-five years old, last I checked. I can totally be drinking this beer, that's for sure. But yeah, there was a two and a five on the cake Sigrid made...my birthday was in May, the 9th--I was born on a Wednesday. It was a little after my parents' anniversary. They're um, dead. They've been dead.

"My favorite color is probably black, it's really easy to coordinate. I like shopping at Hot Topic but also online and in thrift stores, I like vintage and alternative stuff. I don't really like video games, but books are pretty okay and I like lots of different music, mainly loud stuff. I like metal, I guess.

"I'm sorry, did you ask anything else?" He took a long sip of his beer, hiccuping; talking for such a long stretch had been exhausting. Beer was such a weird beverage, he thought to himself as he stared at the can. No wonder he never drank.

"No, that's it. You're really a fag." He replied truthfully. "You get to ask me 10 questions. I'll be counting. You have 30 seconds."

Not bothering to process Frederich's comments, Claude rapidly expelled a flood of questions.

"How old are you? When's your birthday? What about your parents? Who do you live with? Have you ever had a girlfriend? Do you have one now? What's your orientation? How has your life been since we met? Have you been thinking of me? Would you be willing to date me? What kind of food and movies do you like? What's your full name?"

"That's more than ten, fuckass." He replied, pausing his game again. "Since you broke the rules, I'll just choose the ones I want to answer.

"Lessee, I'm Frederich Michael Travers. Twenty-seven years old. I live with my sister and her imaginary friend Hayden. I'm straight, dumbass. My birthday's like in June or some shit," it's in December, "I like, like, pizza and bagels and stuff I guess. Movies? Isn't it obvious? I love action movies, stupid! Oh, and the Hangover was pretty fuckin' great. Uh, my parents are both dead. Miss mom, dad can suck a cock. I've had plenty of girlfriends, but I am flyin' solo right now. Prolly not for long, though."

"I'll trade you a question for another question," he said quickly. "Ask me anything, go on."

"Not interested in anything else." He replied simply.

Yes, this would be a great bargaining chip.

"Are you gonna join or not, already? I don't have time to play with you, I'm kind of busy." He gestured to the game system.

"...Date me and I'll join," he said on a whim. It was risky, sure, but he was determined; he had been waiting his entire life for this. He wasn't about to leave this conversation with a consolation prize.

He made a face.

"Are you fuckin' retarded? I'm not gay!" He snapped. "So, no. I don't need you. Get out."

"One date," he repeated. "You don't even have to kiss me, just have dinner with me."

"The answer is no!" He repeated simply. "Now get out, already! Stop being so fuckin' stubborn, it's not my fault you're a fag."

He sighed, standing up.

"...You're not how I remember, you know."

"Duh, I'm like, what? Fuckin' way older than I was before." He rolled his eyes, as if Claude was stupid. "Anyway, seeya, get out of town and don't take my business, pretty boy."