His colleague was the last penguin Rookie expected to meet when he sat down at the bar in the Nightclub next to an unaccompanied red penguin. Rookie, in his innocence and good intent, had figured that maybe this unidentified friend might want someone to talk to. He wasn't greeted with as kind of a reaction as he had expected, but as it turned out, this bachelor happened to be one he knew.
"What are you doing here?" snapped Guy.
Rookie paid no mind to his question. A surprised smile spread across his beak. "J.P.G.!" he exclaimed.
"Don't call me that," Guy hissed in quick response. "I've told you before. I don't like it when you call me that."
Rookie reeled a bit at the outburst, and was silent as he took in the appearance of the penguin he considered his friend. Guy's feathers were usually well groomed and orderly, but tonight, they were a fluffed, greasy mess. His suit, normally buttoned up tightly, was now unbuttoned. The sleeves were rolled up and the white polo shirt he wore below his suit jacket was visible. His tie - and, surprisingly, his jet pack - didn't seem to be on his person. The thing that Rookie took most note of was Guy's sunglasses, which he no longer had on. His exposed eyes seemed tired and sick. For one of the few times Rookie saw them, he sure didn't like the way they looked at that moment.
"What should I call you, then?" asked the chinstrap penguin.
"Call me by my name. Guy."
"Oh," muttered Rookie, "okay."
"Thanks," he grumbled. "And what should I call you?" His tone was still hostile; annoyed. "I feel weird calling you by your rank outside of our work setting."
"Oh, no, it's okay. Rookie is my name."
"That's your real name?"
"Yes," replied Rookie. "Well, it is now, anyway. I used to have a different name. But that name belonged to who my parents thought I was, before I figured it out myself."
Guy didn't respond. Rookie didn't say anything more.
"Aren't you a year too young to be here?" the red penguin spoke up finally.
"Not if I don't order anything alcoholic." At that moment, a bartender happened to come by, and Rookie asked for "the usual". A chocolate milkshake was slid down the bar a minute later. Guy looked on dumbfounded for a moment, then chugged the whiskey left in his glass and ordered another.
"You still haven't answered my question. Why are you here?" he asked.
"It's Saturday night and I felt like going out," Rookie answered. "What about you? Why are you here?"
Guy averted his glance. "I don't have to tell you shit."
Rookie startled at the use of the swear word, but he allowed himself to mellow. The space between the two off-duty agents went silent, shy of the background noise reverberating from the club that served as their setting. It remained this way for awhile. Guy rested his flippers, folded, on the counter of the bar, and let his head fall downwards into them, covering his face. Rookie sat contentedly, slowly sucking on the straw of his drink.
Abruptly, Guy lifted his head and stared hauntingly at Rookie. "Why are you still here?" he barked.
The feathers on the green penguin's shoulders and neck stood on end for a moment. "Wh-what?"
"And why do you like me so much? Why are you always around me? Watching my every move? Touching me? Why?!"
It became increasingly apparent to Rookie that the emperor penguin sitting next to him had been here for some time, and was already quite drunk. He didn't know how to respond. "Because I idolize you," he started slowly, finally. "You're really cool and strong and smart. And I aspire to be like you."
"But you just mess everything up," the bigger snapped.
Rookie looked away from him. "...I'm really trying to get better." He took another swallow of milkshake. He had to remember that Guy was intoxicated. He wasn't thinking straight.
Then again, alcohol can cause people to be painfully honest.
Guy shut his beak for another minute or so. When he spoke again, it was a low, weak croak. "Why do you like me so much?"
"I told you," responded Rookie, level-headedly, "I idolize you."
Guy chuffed. "You shouldn't."
"And why not?"
"Because," exclaimed Guy, with a sudden force that hadn't previously been present, "I'm horrible! I'm mean and violent and my heart is a fucking block of stone! I don't understand why ANYONE would ever want to spend time with me!" Rookie's pupils were locked with Guy's. Still Rookie saw anguish in them. And pain. He saw pain, now, too. He didn't like that. "But of course, the one person that likes me the most is YOU. My polar fucking opposite."
The smaller green penguin allowed his shoulders to sink. Guy was breathing heavily, and Rookie saw tears stinging the corner of his eyes. The red penguin looked away as quickly as he could. He chugged his fresh glass of whiskey and held his head in his palms.
Something took hold of Rookie, and the sentence that left his throat was beyond his control. "I have a crush on you."
Guy's cheeks sunk a deeper shade of red. He lifted his head. "I know. I've known for months," he snapped.
Rookie's heart rate increased. His own cheeks warmed.
"And even had I not known," continued the emperor penguin angrily, "what in your right fucking mind would make you think now was a good time to tell me?!"
Rookie trembled. "I-I don't know. I'm sorry."
Awkward silence, broken only by the red penguin's sigh, followed and filled the next two minutes.
"Rookie, what is your family like?" he asked then. His voice was again a weak croak. It made the chinstrap shudder, realizing the sick difference in comparison to his usual strong, stern command.
"I have," he broke his sentence with a sigh, "a lot of siblings."
Guy snorted through his nose, offering a tiny smile that wasn't at all genuine. "Yeah, my mom died when I was six," he glowered.
"Oh, I'm so sorry-" began the smaller, but Guy didn't let him finish.
"She was the link between my dad and I. Without her, I never had much to relate to with him. We were always at silent odds. For weeks after losing her, our dinners would be quiet. Neither of us would say a word, because never knew what to say." The red penguin's expression was stoic, but the pain that had been a flicker in his pupils now grew to a small flame. "And then, as I got older, he started taking his loneliness, his failures, all his negative feelings out on me. I was forced to participate in so many sports in middle school that I never had time to make friends. I always had to have straight A's or I'd lose privileges, and the disappointment on my shoulders that came with it was even worse. I had to wake up in high school early enough that I'd have time to pump iron for an hour before class in the weight room." As he speaks the next sentence, the bridge of his beak scrunches up and he squeezes his eyes shut. As if even recalling it brings him pain. "Some mornings, I would just lock myself in the locker room bathroom stall and sob, and pray that nobody would come in.
"I had aspirations once. I can't remember what any of them were. They were all beaten out of me."
The emperor penguin was shaking, but his eyes remained dry still. He had assumed a position with his head lowered and his shoulders like thick stone, arched over the back of his neck.
He turned his head to meet the chinstrap penguin's eyes, and finally, his own welled up.
"I wasn't ever fucking good enough, Rookie."
Guy broke down, his shoulders slumping hopelessly as he again shielded his features in his forearms. His sick sobs made his upper back tremble. And all the while Rookie sat there next to him, unsure what to do or say, because he knew nothing could truly fix the wounds.
But at last, he thought maybe he had figured out the words. "Guy," he started. It felt weird calling his friend that.
The red penguin stopped shuddering and it took him a full minute or so to regain his composure. He turned away from the green penguin, wiping his face, before turning around again. He looked ashamed of himself. His eyes were so tired.
"You're good enough for the Director, and Gary, and Dot and P.H. You're one of the best agents we have, by far," Rookie soothed. "You're good enough for me," he added.
Guy sniffled, numb and tired. Around them, the music played, and the penguins talked, but it felt silent.
"I think I would prefer if you called me J.P.G."
Rookie smiled a bit sadly, but genuinely. "Okay. If you're sure."
J.P.G. stood up, but what little legs he had shook and he held tightly to the stool he'd been seated on to keep himself from tipping. "I'm going home," he muttered. Rookie was filled with an immediate sense of dread.
"Oh, no," he insisted. "I'm walking you home."
"You don't know where I live and I'm too drunk to remember."
Rookie sighed. "You're crashing on my couch, then."
J.P.G. grumbled something, but didn't negate any further as Rookie draped the red penguin's flipper over his shoulder. Rookie told the bartender to put the bill on their tabs, and as they waddled out of the Nightclub, J.P.G.'s eyelids already started to droop. The small green penguin sighed. Then, tired too, he smiled.