(no subject)
Tom Hansen's life seriously could not have gotten any weirder. Or more pathetic. Really, take your pick.
When he'd seen that ring on Summer's finger, months of building hope and dreams permanently and violently shattered under her oh-so hip ballet flats, he'd thought that was it. That was what it felt like to have your whole world turned upside down. He'd been sure that nothing would ever surprise him again. Nothing would ever cut through the fog. The knee-deep swamp of shit his life had become, that he'd been wading through for the last month and a half.
But damn, he'd been so wrong.
Having Paul around helped. He didn't even care if that made him an asshole, he'd never been so glad to see somebody in his whole life, but Paul hadn't been without his girlfriend since they were in the seventh fucking grade, and Tom could take one look at him and tell it was only a matter of time before that sunk in.
And what a shitstorm that'd be.
Day 7 and creeping into Day 8, he'd ventured deeper into the jungle, checking out places he'd been pointed toward on his first day but had really been too much of a pussy to check out. That had been the plan, only he'd walked into The Winchester first, under the impression they had booze and red meat, but he'd taken one look at the guy behind the bar and backpedaled all the way to the boardwalk, nearly tripping twice.
That was really the sorta thing they should warn you about.
So, he'd ended up sticking closer to the Compound, and that was why he was now sitting alone, under a pterodactyl mural, drinking a beer alone like the sad sack he was.
To top it off, all the t-shirts that box gave him reminded him too much of her (Morrissey, Belle and Sebastian, Ringo Starr) so he'd finally settled on something with a faded unicorn on the front that reminded him more of something his sister had been into when she was five. Before she'd moved on to soccer and skateboarding. He would've been embarrassed, but honestly?
What was the point?
[[Walking, talking brokenhearted love song, at your service. Please, come keep him company. He needs it. LT obviously welcome.]]
When he'd seen that ring on Summer's finger, months of building hope and dreams permanently and violently shattered under her oh-so hip ballet flats, he'd thought that was it. That was what it felt like to have your whole world turned upside down. He'd been sure that nothing would ever surprise him again. Nothing would ever cut through the fog. The knee-deep swamp of shit his life had become, that he'd been wading through for the last month and a half.
But damn, he'd been so wrong.
Having Paul around helped. He didn't even care if that made him an asshole, he'd never been so glad to see somebody in his whole life, but Paul hadn't been without his girlfriend since they were in the seventh fucking grade, and Tom could take one look at him and tell it was only a matter of time before that sunk in.
And what a shitstorm that'd be.
Day 7 and creeping into Day 8, he'd ventured deeper into the jungle, checking out places he'd been pointed toward on his first day but had really been too much of a pussy to check out. That had been the plan, only he'd walked into The Winchester first, under the impression they had booze and red meat, but he'd taken one look at the guy behind the bar and backpedaled all the way to the boardwalk, nearly tripping twice.
That was really the sorta thing they should warn you about.
So, he'd ended up sticking closer to the Compound, and that was why he was now sitting alone, under a pterodactyl mural, drinking a beer alone like the sad sack he was.
To top it off, all the t-shirts that box gave him reminded him too much of her (Morrissey, Belle and Sebastian, Ringo Starr) so he'd finally settled on something with a faded unicorn on the front that reminded him more of something his sister had been into when she was five. Before she'd moved on to soccer and skateboarding. He would've been embarrassed, but honestly?
What was the point?
[[Walking, talking brokenhearted love song, at your service. Please, come keep him company. He needs it. LT obviously welcome.]]