I'm jealous of Goofy.

"Hey!" Slim greeted me yesterday, his smile uncharacteristically wide. "CM! I'm so glad to see you―"

I raise a hand. He shuts up. I love that I can do that. "Slim, come see me when you go on break. I have something for you before you go."

"What?" He furrows a brow and looks confused. I've seen this expression so often that I know it doesn't mean he doesn't understand. It just means he's curious.

"No questions, just do it."

"Okay... Hey, it's my last day here!"

I pout. "I know." He looks so damn happy, the bastard. I guess I kind of liked having him around, in spite of his annoying tendency to jump me from behind to stun me into a heart-attack. "You don't have to be so cocky about it."

He grins charmingly. "What can I say? It's what I do. I love making you jealous. I mean, while you'll be here tomorrow, folding children's socks, I'll be..." He leaves the sentence hanging, just long enough for me to shoot him the expected jealous death glare. "...That's right, CM, I'll be on the plane to Florida and the coolest theme park in the world!" He whoops, raising a fist and pumping it in the air. "Oh yeah. Oh yeah. Beat that, beat that."

I can't help but smile and squeak, "I'm so jealous, but I'm so excited for you, too."

He returns the smile with obvious good humour, his cockiness gone. "Yeah, it'll be good to see Rick hugging Mickey Mouse."

"But it also means you're finished with Sears..."

He doesn't look too disappointed. "Well, it was fun while it lasted, but I'm also ready to try new stuff out." He shoots me an eloquent look. "I mean, I really appreciate the opportunity I got to try out department store work," I think this is his way of saying thank you to me for having him hired in the first place, "but I think I'll try my hand at waitering at the same restaurant as Rick and Ban."

"I can't believe you're going to Disney World with your family and Rick, of all people, and didn't invite me."

He knows I'm joking, but he replies with the same indignation anyway, "Hey, we've been planning this for months now. Besides, I've known Rick for years. No offence but―"

"I know, Slim, it's okay, I was just kidding."

He snorts. "Well, you're the one who's planning an uber-cool trip to Europe and France for next summer with Kitty and Eva, and look who isn't invited this time."

He crosses his arms childishly and we last no more than five seconds before we start laughing.

"Anyway," Slim continues, "I should get back to my own department. Not that it matters because they can't fire me at this point."

I smirk. "Jerk. ... Hey, when's your lunch break?"

"1:30. You?"

"I'll arrange to have lunch with you, so come get me when it's time."

"Okay. See you in two minutes when I find another pretext to swing by your dept again."

"Slacker."

"It's what I do best."

Time passes agonizingly slowly, broken up only by Slim's occasional incursions into my territory. By 1:30, he comes to the counter where I'm folding children's pyjamas, grabs my arm, and says, "We are leaving. Now."

The cashiers around me shoot us quizzical glances. I disengage myself and say, to Slim, "Look, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but it's a little dramatic. You're freaking everybody out."

He grins broadly. "I know. Come on, though, I'm hungry."

I roll my eyes and grab my purse, as well as a nondescript envelope that I'd prepared the day before. "You're such a guy. Oh, speaking of lunch, will you―"

"Please say you want a Teenburger too."

"Um. Yeah, okay, but will you―"

"Because I would kill for a Double Teen right about now, and I don't want to walk all the way across the mall on my own."

"Yeah, fine, sure. Hey," I say, trying to match his purposely long strides (he's the only one who can actually make me jog to catch up with him―everyone else jogs to catch up to me!), "but hey, Sliiiim...?"

"What?" He glances at me over his shoulder, smirking at my light jog.

"Will you pay for my lunch?"

"Okay."

"Because you know, you owe me for that one time― wait, seriously?"

He blinks at me confusedly. "Yeah. Well, sure."

"Oh. ... Um, okay." I was only half-kidding, but hey, free food! "Uh... thanks."

"No problem. Hey, can't you keep up?"

I jog again to match his strides. "You're a real asshole, you know that?"

Fifteen minutes later, we re-enter the employee room with our A&W bag. Slim grabs the seat across from me and begins devouring his Double Teenburger. I watch him in amusement and eat my own. After a minute of quiet eating, Slim finally says, "You know what kind of disappoints me lately?"

I glance up and take a long sip of my ice tea. "What?"

He puts his hamburger down and wipes his fingers on a napkin, then motions to my ice tea questionningly. I nod, because I don't mind sharing drinks. I do it often enough at school with Josie, Kitty, Guy or Rick. He takes a small sip, then admits, "Well, I've been spending all my free time at Rick's lately, because I realised that not having a girlfriend leaves this sort of gaping hole in my social agenda."

I refrain from laughing. "Well, that's how it is. Don't you dare pick up with her again though."

He snorts.

"I saw your girlfriend here the other day."

He shoots me a good-humoured smile and raises a brow. "I'm sorry, what? You used a word in there that isn't―"
"Oh my god, sorry. I meant 'ex'. I saw your ex the other day." He nods and looks satisfied, before processing what I just said. I raise my brows. "You know, when you called in sick―you were hungover from the session party, though, weren't you?"

"Yeah, and are you kidding me? Katie? Here? Are you sure?" He makes a funny oops-I-hope-she-doesn't-want-to-wear-my-guts-for-garters face. "What did she, um, look like?"

"Pissed off and a little depressed."

He purses his lips. "That's it?"

"Well, and maybe a bit murderous. But shouldn't that worry you enough?"

"Not really." He eats a slow bite of hamburger. "Truth be told, the more I think about it and the more I realise she was always like that. I was just too blind to see it." He chews, swallows, and says, thoughtfully, "I think the only time I ever saw her smiling was when I was personally overseeing her general happiness."

I cringe and bluntly offer, "You really know how to pick 'em, don't you?"

He shrugs helplessly. "Mostly I think I did the right thing. Which doesn't change the fact that, well, Rick doesn't exactly make up for the girlfriend benefits..."

And because he's trying to be so subtle, I break the hints and plainly say, "You mean you can't snog Rick the way you snogged her?"

He smiles at my destruction of his allusions, then chokes a little as he laughs. "Yeah, I guess you could put it that way."

"Well, give it some time. It's not like you have a deadline."

"I know." He watches as I finish my Teenburger off, and finishes his a couple of bites later.

Something weird happens then. We just sit there in silence. This very rarely happens, as we usually have so much to say, so much to reply to, so much to share, so much laughter to cause. I can tell he's not thinking of anything in particular, and I know I don't feel the necessity of rekindling conversation. There's nothing awkward. We're just sitting there, each in our own thoughts. I absently examine his traits. Mom says that while most of my guy friends are really attractive, Slim has a little special something. In her words, 'CM, you can say what you want, but Slim is really gorgeous. I mean, really.'

I think I know what she means. Not only does Slim have the most expressive and likeable face I know, his traits also make him rather handsome. While most of the time I focus on his funny expressions and grimaces, all those faces that make him the fun friend that he is, I rarely take the time to appreciate his actual face.

It's not perfect. His skin is sometimes broken by a zit or two. He only shaves once a week, so most of the time his chin has an uneven start of beard. He says that the fact that one of his cheeks tends to be hairier than the other is embarrassing and that it's the reason he'll never grow a full beard, but I don't see it. He's cute, in a ruffled way.

His lower lip juts out a little more than the top lip, giving him the sort of strange edge you find on gritty drawings, but it's so subtle that it makes him look thoughtful more than menacing. It curls a little. It made me wonder what it'd be like to trace it with a finger. His lips aren't chapped, like Rick's tend to be, so I'd imagine it'd be soft.

He's got a larger nose than Rick or PB or Guy. He says that if he had a smaller nose, he could be hot. While he says this with a smile, I know it bothers him. One day I'll tell him that if he had a smaller nose, he wouldn't be nearly as handsome. It's not huge or anything, and could never evoke the image of a hawk or eagle. It's strong, but it's got a smooth bridge, so it doesn't stick out. In a face that manages to balance softness with expressiveness, his nose is actually more than adequate. Not to mention that, caught in the right angle, it makes him cuter than some TV actors.

His eyes are my favourite, though. A mix between brown, gold and green, they're so easy to read, but only if he lets them be. They're not sad; they don't droop. Often, his cheekbones bunch up below them and give them that mirthful upward curve that make him look so cheerful and amused. He's got crinkles on the corners from smiling all the time, and if the light catches on properly, you can tell that his lashes are as long as mine (very).

His face, overall, is much like the rest of him: long. It's oval-shaped, his chin is well-defined but doesn't jut out, and it's framed by dark auburn hair (with lighter streaks that sometimes catch the light and seem dark blonde) that covers his ears. Perhaps my favourite after his eyes, his hair has the same big waves that mine does. His bangs spread at the middle of his forehead, giving him an understated "Link" look. They rise a little, fall over his outer-brows, before curving out a little. They're always clean, too, and very soft to the touch. (He doesn't mind me placing his hair when it's crazy with static from the dry winter, so I've gathered this much information.)

I assess all this with a bit of wistfulness, and only get back to normal when I notice he's staring back. His look, though, isn't a teasing glower, the way he usually looks at me. He's just staring back openly, without any intentions, without any shame or embarrassment. I don't feel any omen, good or bad, from his look. Somehow, it's comforting.

Suddenly, he says, "You know, I can't believe we're reaching the end of 2007. It was insane, don't you think?"

I smile. "It was. I wouldn't have made it through the past few months without you, either. You kept me sane with all that thing with Dom and Gen. Seriously."

He chuckles a little. "It was a pleasure to learn how to manipulate, lie, procrastinate, bitch against people behind their backs, miss sleep hours and backstab with you this term."

I laugh. "Hey, it's what we learned in high school."

"It's what you learned in high school. I was in the regular program. Non-IEP, remember? I only did three years in your class before dropping down into the normal one."

"You could have stayed."

"What? To get a diploma that says I know how to bullshit my way through a writing assignment? Bah. I could do it on my own time."

"As you proved this term when you helped me bullshit in all our projects."

"Yeah." He smiles at nothing in particular. "Remember that time you came over to work and we did nothing but play Portal, A Link to the Past, Link's Awakening, Majora's Mask, watch Six Feet Under in my room until one in the morning when Dom had told us to get work done, and when he saw the unchanged project..."

"He was really impressed by the progress we'd made, even though we hadn't touched it since the last time he'd seen it?" I try not to giggle too loud. "Yeah, that was it. He lost all his credibility for me that day."

"I know. Me too. It told me he was as full of it as we were. Funny, though, you didn't lose your credibility for me. Probably because you were my partner in crime―What the?"

I just handed him the envelope I'd been carrying around for the whole lunch. He eyes it suspiciously, like he doesn't know what to do with it. I shake, and he takes it carefully, then shoots me a questionning look.

"What is this?"

I smile and take a long sip of my ice tea. "It's for you."

He blinks. The envelope isn't thick or heavy. In fact, it contains almost nothing. He shoots me a confused look, this one genuinely confused.

"For me?" He can't seem to process this information. "What for?"

I shoot him a flat look. "Slim, just―"

He peers inside it, his expression a little dark in suspicion.

I don't expect his sudden reaction though, and I just sit back in happy shock as his face brightens up like a thousand watt light bulb. He reveals a row of perfect white teeth ―seriously, I maintain that he bleaches, no way can they be like this naturally; as for their straightness, it's due to orthodontia, if I recall from our early high school years― and shoots me the biggest beaming smile I ever saw him give me. Especially since this one is neither sarcastic or stupid. It's just... well, happy.

"It's...! It's...!" He can't seem to keep from grinning as he pulls out a single sheet of paper from the envelope. He's laughing nervously, like he has trouble containing his joy and mirth. "It's my diploma!"

He bursts into sincere laughter when he sees the fake diploma I made for him. It says:

CONGRATULATIONS!

The superior beings of the planet confirm that

SLIM D.

has attained a maximum level of mastery in

BULLSHIT and OTHER CONSPIRINGS

on Dec. 13th, 2007

At the bottom left, I signed on a line titled "Person who is well-respected in their field of study but whom no one else has ever heard about", and on the other side is a fake seal that says "Seal of Authenticity; Absolutely Credible, Much Like Slim's Work".

He is cracking up as he reads this, and shoots me one of the happiest, most laughing smiles I ever got from him. "This," he says between laughs, "is the best freaking present I got this year."

I shoot him a flat look as I try to hide my own amusement.

He seems to concede to my raised brow. "Okay, best gift so far. But still, it's genius work. Thank you."

I raise my ice tea. "Hey, a toast to the two of us not losing our edge in dire moments."

"Cheers," he replies. "And now our break is over. I'll got put this with my coat in the locker room."

"Okay. I'll get back to work."

"Thanks again, CM, seriously."

"You deserved it. Believe me."

He laughs again.

The end of the day rolls around. Something tells me there's something off.

And then it hits me.

It's Slim's last day. I won't see him again at work, let alone this year. Because he'll be off partying in Walt Disney World with his family and Rick.

... I guess you could say I'm kind of sad...?

I hurry into his department, where he's using his last fifteen minutes to fix the sock bundles in the men's department. He doesn't seem to understand why I'm standing in front of him awkwardly.

"Um..." I start. "Hey. I'm, uh, done for the day, so..."

"Okay, bye."

"Well..." God, does he have to be so casual about it? "It's just, um, I probably won't see you before the end of the year, so, uh..."

He turns and shoots me a are-you-okay-why-won't-you-just-spit-it-out-you-weirdo look. Not exactly the best look he can give me.

"I guess... I guess I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year." This is really strange. I never wish this to people who aren't family. It was only in a surprising access of maturity that PB and I had exchanged these polite wishes last week, and it had left me with an inexplicable sense of pride in our group of friends.

Slim, though, doesn't seem won by the polite maturity of wishing one another happy holidays. He just stands there, shooting me his usual stern CM-I-think-you-should-have-your-brain-checked-for-irregularities-you-nutter look.

"Um. Okay. You too."

And he turns to get back to work. I feel like grabbing one of the sock bundles and whacking him with it. Just as I reach for one, our big cheese of a boss stops in front of us. This man is pretty much the most feared in the whole store. My heart leaps as I hurry to think of an excuse to justify me distracting Slim in his work.

"Um. Hi, sir."

"Is everything alright?" He asks with his usual efficient smile.

"Um. Yeah. Yes." I motion to Slim, awkwardly, who is avoiding my gaze and our boss'. "I was just, uh... it's his last day and I won't see him again before the end of the year so I was just saying bye."

Our boss nods in understanding, leaning forward to raise an eloquent brow. "Well, you better hug him now, then, before he slips away."

I freeze, and I can feel the awkwardness radiating off Slim like heat.

"Um. Yeah. Haha. Yeah. I'll keep that in mind."

Slim and I don't hug. We don't kiss cheeks, we don't hug, we don't massage. We just don't. Occasionally, we grab one another's shoulders or arms, or shake each other a little for emphasis, or, if we're just the two of us and feeling distressed, we pass one arm around the other's shoulder, but this is rare and only in particular situations.

But hugs? Yeah, no.

But I turn to Slim anyway, and we exchange testy glances, wondering if I'm going to dare, and if he's going to go along with it. It's awkward, and it's freaky, and I don't know what I want. On one hand, a hug would be nice, I guess. But then, I don't have practice in giving genuine hugs. Especially not to guys who are six feet two.

And then I figure, hell, I won't be seeing him before another month when school starts again, so whatever. He'll have forgotten by then.

So I open my arms and shoot him an inquiring look.

He stands there, screwing his lips into a pensive pout. I sigh, roll my eyes, and make the two steps forward that bring my arms around his neck. I feel him tentatively reach up to encircle my waist, and we both squeeze a little, and then, as I stare up at his ear and a few locks of his hair, I say, with a laugh, "This is really awkward, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he says. "It is."

"Okay." I hurry to let go of him, and he does the same. "Um. Yeah. Let's, uh... strike that from memory."

"Good plan."

"So, um, have a nice trip. Give my best wishes to Rick. I haven't gotten the occasion to speak to him myself."

"You know I'm going to forget that."

"Whatever. Write it in your own blood or something. And um, yeah. Have a nice winter break." I back away, mortified by the awkward encounter. He's gone back to placing socks. I just want to run home now.

But before I can make the final few steps away, he looks up, frowns, and says, "Don't make it sound so final."

"What?"

He looks down at the socks. "I'll see you in January, right?" He peers up at me again.

"Um. Yeah. When school starts again―"

"No, I'll see you before that."

This surprises me. He has no obligation to seek my company during the break. In fact, I'd have suspected him of being tired of me, considering all the badgering I've been doing. So I don't know what to say to this.

"Um... how―"

He shoots me a grin. "I mean, we have our own movie screenplay to write."

This stuns me. Our movie... He had suggested that we make our own movie on the side during the term, but I'd chucked it up to another wouldn't-it-be-cool-if plan that wouldn't actually get done. Of course I'd be overpsyched to work on another movie with him, but I hadn't expected him to remember something he'd suggested three months ago.

So I beam back. "Yeah. You're right. Call me."

"I will." He grins brightly again, then returns to his socks.

And I return home.

And so, as of the 22nd of December, until the 29th, Slim, his family, and Rick are in Disney World.

It would be a lie to say that I don't miss him a little. Of course I'm not losing sleep over him, and I still eat properly, but it sucks that I keep expecting to see him or hear from him before remembering that he's down south and therefore impossible to contact.

He better take a good picture with Goofy, though.

Love,
CM

P.S. FG still moving along. I'm three pages away from the 100 pages mark!