Clark and Hershel got along like little kids. This was quite weird, considering they were both about nineteen. Claire and Brenda would tease them for it, but neither of them really cared all that much.
Clark and Hershel also argued like little kids. It would almost always be about some unimportant matter that both would forget in an hour's time. One would say they weren't going to invite the other to their birthday party, or call the other a meanie. Before long, there would be apologies and friendly hugs.
Then one day it got real.
"HERSHEL! YOU ATE ALL THE PIE!"
"IT WAS MY PIE!"
"HAVEN'T YOU HEARD OF SHARING?"
"BUT MA MADE IT FOR ME!"
"BUT I'M YOUR ROOMMATE! WHY WOULDN'T YOU OFFER ME SOME?"
"BECAUSE IT'S MINE!"
"THAT'S RUDE, HERSHEL!"
"YOU DON'T GIVE ME YOUR DESSERTS!"
"WELL THEN… I'M NOT GONNA BE YOUR FRIEND ANYMORE!"
The senseless anger died when no response was given. Hershel was looking at Clark with a dazed expression. Clark opened his mouth to say something else, but Hershel turned and ran.
"Hersh!"
Nothing.
This was bad. Somehow he had upset Hershel a lot, and he didn't know what was trulythe cause of it.
You fucked up, Triton.
He ran away from Gressenheller. There was class in ten minutes, bloody hell it was archaeology, but right now making his friend feel better was more important.
It took him all of seven minutes to find the quirky corner store that, for some reason, sold American treats. Clark was pretty sure that it was mostly his friends keeping this shop in business. Ah, the perks of having money in a capitalist country.
He ran in, grabbed a box of chocolates, ran over to the cashier, and put a fifty pound note on the table. "Thanks bye!" he blurted, dashing out the door. The cashier just rolled his eyes.
It took Clark nine minutes to get back to his dorm room. Hershel still wasn't using the couch. He was curled up on his bed, silent. Clark walked over and sat down next to him. "Hey, Hersh."
"I'm sorry," whispered Hershel softly.
"Don't worry about it. I… I messed up back there. I-"
"You don't know."
"What?"
Hershel just cried. Clark couldn't understand anything that Hershel tried to say.
"Hersh, it's okay. Really. I shouldn't have freaked out over pie. I got you that American chocolate that you like for some reason."
Hershel sat up. "Really?"
"Of course! It's for you." The box was handed over with little fanfare.
The door to their dorm opened. Clark looked over to see… "Brenda?" Oh right, I gave her my spare key.
"CLARK TRITON, WHY DID CLAIRE TELL ME THAT HERSHEL WAS ACTING UPSET?"
"Sorry."
"YOU BETTER APOLOGISE RIGHT NOW!"
Brenda seemed put off, so Clark assumed that he now had to apologise to her as well. He left the dorm and went to the florist, who worked right next to the corner store that sold American treats. "My girlfriend's mad. I need help."
The florist nodded in understanding and handed him a bouquet of flowers. Clark handed the florist a fifty pound note and ran back to his dorm, yelling his thanks behind him. He would then realise that he just skipped class and proceeded to blow a hundred quid in the span of about half an hour.
Well, nothing to do about it now.
He tossed the door open. "I'm sorry, Brenda."
"Don't apologise to me, Clark! Aplogise to Hershel!"
"But I di-"
"Well, do it anyway!"
He held out the bouquet. "Do you want the flowers?"
"I don't want your bloody apology flowers!"
Flinching, Clark turned away and walked over to Hershel. "Hey, Hersh. Brenda's mad at me and wants me to apologise again."
Hershel looked at his friend and shook his head. "Well, you alr-"
"Also, I don't know what to do with these apology flowers. Do you forgive me, friend?" He shoved the flowers into Hershel's hands. Then-
"Uh, Hersh? Why are you hugging me."
"You're a great friend," he cried.
"CLARK! YOU BETTER NOT BE MAKING HIM CRY!"
Here we go again.