Five AM. It didn't require an alarm clock for him to be sure of the hour at which he woke himself up. He'd succumbed himself to a daily ritual resembling that of a farm animal, waking up with the roosters and going to sleep like a beast.
He'd been ambitious growing up, in grade school he always wanted to be an actor despite lacking in all real talent. What he found so appealing about that career was the possibility of being good one second and bad the next, losing your true self into a bunch of masks and facades.
No need to say that things had gone wrong along said path which caused him to stray and become a groundskeeper at the local park. A lot of mistakes during adolescents, streaks of depression and drug usage, an overall lack of motivation to become something.
No, he stopped caring about all of that.
This is what led to him waking up every morning at five in a bathtub with a decorative pillow and a cheap fleece blanket from Beyond Beds and Baths. Asking whether or not he was satisfied with the way things turned out would be redundant but there really had been no other option as to housing. Affording his "lifestyle" and housing at minimum wage would be less absurd had his family helped him economically. They were very close growing up, but now one of his brothers was in prison and the other was struggling to aid their ill father on the salary of a cop.
He was young, though, and they all expected him to pull through.
He found himself living inside a trailer amid the park in which he was employed with his co-worker, who he also claimed to be his best friend, Mitch Sorenstein. Mitch didn't like being referred to with his real name, so he was addressed as "Muscle Man", paying homage to his days of weight lifting glory in his teen years. Muscle Man was now overweight, somewhat jaundice, and very much disgusting in contrast to the days of his pride. All that remained now was the nickname.
Muscle Man slept on the trailer's couch, in the main room of the portable home. The only reason he was unable to sleep on the couch with his coworker was because the notion of two full grown men sleeping together was "So gay! Don't be gay, Fives!" Fives laughed when he was told this and nervously agreed to sleep in the tub as a result.
So now it was five in the morning and he was in his tub, trying to see the stars out of the trailer's back window but being blocked by an awning that doubled as a shutter when conditions needed it to. Unfortunately, there'd never been a need for it since they lived in a state without hurricanes or tornados, mostly afflicted by a small earthquake at the worst. This particular morning it occurred to him that he would never be able to see the stars from that window, as long as that shutter remained. But really what could he do about it?
Oh, but he really wanted to see the stars. He wanted to remind himself that these were the same stars that stood over him through his growing pains, through his tearful youths, and through his time with Celia. He wanted to know that the sky he was looking up at was part of him, would one day burst into billions of little particles, and rearrange to create another young man like himself, staring back up into the same sky. He wanted to feel that the stars were still glowing even when he wasn't.
Romanticism aside, it was time to wake up.
And so he lugged himself out of bed with a groan, droopy hollow eyes and a birds' nest of white locks. Fives dragged himself to the mirror to examine his physic, popping his cramped back and stretching so that he could enjoy the view of himself in the mirror.
He wasn't anorexic, because they said boys don't get eating disorders. He was just lanky, they said. He enjoyed the view of his rib cage and sunken stomach, he was tiny and pale like a little ghost. This image he found appealing because it victimized himself while also appearing to be the villain, but no one had the heart to question him on his appearance. Muscle Man would, but that would be "gay".
His hair was bleached white and his pupils were black from moderate Alkaptonuria. After his morning rituals, including urinating a black liquid gratis of his genetic disorder and brushing his teeth, he was forced to swallow a handful of different experimental treatments for his issue. Side effects of these medications included loss of appetite, for which he explained his severe weight issues.
Fives opened the door and entered the main room of the trailer to find Muscle Man still asleep on the filthy couch, snoring and drooling uncontrollably. He shared not much in common with his best friend, but he usually took pleasure in mentally mocking the man for his atrocious habits and disgusting appearance. He not so much considered Muscle Man to be his friend as he did a parody on modern American culture. Deep down, he held great affection, but refused to admit it.
He plucked out clothing from a pile on the floor near the couch, anything he could grab that would be equivalent to an entire outfit. This resulted in a pair of worn out slim cut jeans, a beige and green ombre sweater with spiked shoulders, a clean pair of adidas that he struggled to maintain clean but obviously liked enough to put forth the extra effort, and some sort of snapback. Well, he did put some actual effort into his outfit. He just chose to give the appearance that he didn't.
The electric clock that sat on a broken speaker near the door read "5:42" meaning he'd lingered some and that his mishap would most probably cause for Muscle Man to be late, which is a mistake he made rarely but enough that it wasn't drastic. Still, he felt uncomfortable with upsetting the man, so he nervously shook him awake with the warning that they'd be late.
"Calm down, Fives! We're running on time." He moaned in his usual tone, waking up fully dressed. Muscle Man had very low regard for hygiene and it wasn't an uncommon sight to find him sleeping in what he'd worn the day before. He made an attempt of flattening his greasy hair before drawing his attention back to Fives, "What time is it, dude?"
"Almost six, Muscle Man."
"Crap!" he exclaimed.
With this they resolved to go to the main house from which they took control of one of several carts, the one in particular that they favored. The leather seat was ripped and covered over with a sticker of a hoagie, and this was what showed it was their cart as opposed to their co-workers'.
They spent the whole drive listening to Muscle Man mutter a series of different profanity under his breathe concerning whether or not they be late.
"Why didn't you wake me up earlier, Fives?" He cried.
"I-I woke up late." Fives lied, unsure himself why he'd lingered in bed so long this morning.
"Ugh, I'm not gonna hold this against you, man. Because that's what bros do. And we're bros. And you know who else risks being late to work by stopping at Fast 'N' Easy for coffee first thing in the morning?"
A moment of silence was shared between them before Muscle Man awkwardly blurted out, "My mom!" which resulted in both of them breaking down into hysterical laughter in the Fast 'N' Easy parking lot. The sun was just rising and they were the only ones in the convenience store apart from the cashier and a bum who was buying two packs of cigarettes and a bottle of beer while giving the cashier a full on explanation of his political views, referring to who was president twenty years prior.
They walked over to the coffee station and poured themselves two large 99 cent cups of decaf, because they didn't want the coffee for the caffeine; they wanted it for the taste. Caffeine interfered with Fives' medication but both he and Muscle Man were accustomed to getting coffee together every morning, so they decided that they'd just get decaf to maintain the experience and simple pleasure of the hot acid water.
While they paid, Muscle Man asked the cashier if they'd seen the big monster truck race the night before to which he received a negative answer and responded with a joke that's punchline was "My mom!", and eventually resulted in Fives faking hysterical laughter once more.
Since they were in a rush, they were not granted the opportunity to sit in the cart and drink their coffees for a while as they usually did. The duo sped back to the park, successfully arriving around fifteen to seven, the designated time during which they were supposed to receive and distribute the mail of the park's residents. The mailman made his delivery four minutes before seven, and they were prepared to address it.
This had been accomplished within the span of twenty minutes, at which time Benson, their boss, arrived and spent around fifteen minutes discussing his love life with Muscle Man.
"Audrey is really starting to get along with Mr. Whiskers!"
"You know what that means, Benson, my man."
"Oh, I sure do, Muscle Man."
Fives smiled and laughed along with the conversation. Dull, dull, dull.
Skips eventually arrived, then Pops, Thomas, and finally Mordecai and Rigby.
"Okay, now that we're all here," Benson made sure to engage in eye contact with Mordecai and Rigby as him emphasized 'all' to allude to their lateness, "I can give out today's jobs."
A synchronized moan came from Mordecai and Rigby, who sat in the back.
"Muscle Man, High-five Ghost, you'll have to remove garbage from the east side of the park and replace two ferns that a bunch of teenagers… attacked."
"Got it!" exclaimed Muscle Man, before proceeding to give Fives a high five and venturing off to complete the light work they'd been assigned.
Somewhere between picking up trash and planting trees, Muscle Man and Fives engaged in a conversation about their plans for what they'd do after work.
"I'm taking Starla out for some romantic bites and to a movie." 'Romantic bites' obviously meant Wing Kingdom and 'a movie' was clearly some chick flick with Glamio as the leading male.
"Nice," he grinned with a high five. An optimistic attitude was retribution to Muscle Man's good treatment and friendship. Granting each other positivity was mutually helpful and one could go as far to say necessary.
"You got any plans, Fives?"
He shook his head in response, though he was fully aware of what he'd most likely be doing later on. His life was a constant rewind every day with a few mismatched details connecting the dots. He told himself that this wasn't bothering him though. He always said he was happy.
Maybe he was happy, but to be something transcendent would never really qualify as an indicative use of "to be". We never really "are" a state of mind, not when you're so confused with the world that green is red but you're not even colorblind, the dog is sick and not even dead but you've bought it's tomb. The superego withheld him from the knowledge of his own emotions, but also painted the smile on his face that would allow him to be societally happy.
"You wanna take a break?" Fives looked up with his perpetual smirk and nodded, reaffirming his good spirits to his best known acquaintance.
They checked in with their boss who green lit their venture, the time being around noon. The duo drove the cart to Cheezers, where Muscle Man had a two hefty grilled cheese sandwiches to himself, plus an extra-large "diet" soda. Fives snagged a lemon lime type soda that had no caffeine and claimed to have no appetite. Muscle Man withheld himself from questioning this and remained silent other than discussing aloud to himself ways to woo Starla. Fives smiled and nodded along, in usual fashion, to this one-sided conversation and mentally reviewed his plans for the evening.
They discarded of their waste and resumed working at the park. They finished all designated tasks early and Benson appointed them to spend the rest of the shift at the snack bar, which had originally been the job of Mordecai and Rigby for the day but clearly had some obstacles in actual attentiveness.
More interactions with customers, more jokes with the punchline "My mom!", and a ridiculous lot of more staged laughter. It hadn't come to his own attention how he was particularly down that day, nor the cause of why he felt such a way. He brushed negativity off and managed to sit through his shift until 4:30, when his workday ended.
Muscle Man and Fives retreated to their trailer after announcing to Benson that they'd completed everything he'd scheduled for them. Muscle Man asked Fives his opinion on what he ought to wear to impress Starla on their very chic, very classy date night. Fives reassured him that he looked fine the way he was, saying nothing extraneous to get the message across.
Muscle Man slicked his hair back using a dabble of saliva and bid adieu, leaving Fives the trailer to himself, unsure what his sickly peer would do during his absence.
Fives plans for the evening weren't set off immediately, but he began by texting some of the guys if they were up for some chilling, to which they all responded accordingly. Pleased by this, he went to the bathroom to freshen up, whispering a word or two of farewell to a postcard he kept inside the casing of his decorative pillow.
It was several years old, sent to him by a girl named Celia that he'd met at a coffee shop and felt an instant attachment to. His feelings no longer applied and he felt aromantic from a lack in relationships since then, so he was unsure why he still spoke to the postcard before he got stoned. He just felt like if fate was going to reunite them eventually, he should put some effort into missing her. He promised that their love would never fade, but his affections had receded due to time and change.
Fives considered himself to be sentimental; that was all.
An hour later, he found himself to be on a rooftop of a seven story building in the slums of the city, with a group of negative influences larger and more intimidating than he. He wasn't a central part of the group, more like the man everyone set out to mock but in a benign sort of way. They drank cheap beer, Goblin energy drinks, and smoked god only knows what. No straight forward was allowed in the presence of these men, and Fives had his mind in the sky with the stars.
"Yo, HFG! You still livin' with that ogre Muscle Milk?" asked one of his peers teasingly. Fives giggled at his slurred mispronunciation of Muscle Man's name and took a chug before he answered.
"Yeah, he's on a date with his lady tonight!" An excited whisper spread among them like first graders with "juicy" insight on second graders.
"You mean his mama?" another junkie urged on, causing erupting laughter.
"His mama don't even like him!" Fives never held back with dirt talking Muscle Man on occasions such as these, making it out to be that he only lived with the slob for entertainment purposes. It wasn't like he expected jokes of this nature to earn him good friendships with his associates, but it helped relieve stress.
Fives didn't truly believe that Muscle Man was there for him, but that was because Muscle Man didn't have the heart to call him out on what he noticed off. Fives didn't receive attention from his family like he did as a child and neglect from his best friend caused him to feel unwanted. Celia's absence, moreover the absence of all women in his life, reinforced this ideology and was part of the slippery slope that led to him getting messed up on a rooftop in the middle of a pit.
A lot had gone wrong with his life, a lot.
The posse intended on continuing the party at one of their apartments but Fives forgot this on route via the public transport system and accidently took himself home, forgetting all else.
He stumbled over to the house, leading on to be more delirious than he was so that he could allow himself the pleasure of looking away from his anxieties. He tripped over to the fridge and removed an orange for dinner. The time was now nine thirty and he was unsure of why all his mates had abandoned him, as he cried while peeling his orange over the sink. His skin felt sensitive to the acid of the citrus under his finger nails and he was repulsed by how he'd managed to pop the skin of several slices, causing the juices to flow out and burn his eyes when he rubbed his tears away.
Talking from upstairs distracted him and he left the majority of his orange on the kitchen counter, trudging the stairs to investigate. The sounds lead him to the room of Mordecai and Rigby, where the door was shut and presumably locked. Despite this, the words from the other side were distinctly clear.
"Just stop it, dude."
"But Rigby, remember, we used to do it all the time?"
"Yeah but I'm over that, man!
Fives got bored after that and stalked away from the door, uncaring of the personal business between Mordecai and Rigby.
He navigated the staircase down carefully, clinging to the railing with one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other. The TV was now on, a change from what had been when he was there no more than a moment prior, or maybe he hadn't noticed it the first time around.
"Oh, hello, High-Fives!" greeted the cheerful old man sitting in front of it, looking up from his programming on nature. "Would it interest you to partake in some tele time?"
Fives continued to rub his eyes and hesitated in answering for a moment.
"No thanks, Pops. I'm-I'm probably gonna go hit the sack."
By that time, Pops focus was returned to the screen, now depicting the fascinating sight of a butterfly on a daisy. Fives rubbed the side of his thigh awkwardly and walked out of the house, careful once again on the stairs.
He walked around the park for a few minutes, still disoriented and confused as to where the trailer was situated. The park was so peaceful at night aside from its homeless residents that had a tendency of fighting when not under the radar. Occasionally, a group of rowdy teenagers or some she-wolves* selling their goods would linger after hours, usually on weekends. Tonight was absolutely dead and Fives walked alone in the ghost town's jungle.
Eventually, Fives found himself back the trailer and entered the hell he shared with the demons inside of his head, because Muscle Man hadn't arrived home from his date yet. Fives looked over at the empty couch and dropped a sigh, throwing his hat back down into his pile of belongings and shutting himself away in the bathroom.
He crashed into the tub and unknowingly fell asleep thinking about his bros that he'd hung out with for the majority of the night, Mordecai and Rigby's conversation, and Celia.
Fives awoke not too much later for no particular reason and spent a few minutes reviewing the shutters outside his window. He wondered what it would be like to see the suns inside the night from such a mundane location as a bathtub, from his bed. He really wanted that.
No, he was really tired of not being able to see the stars. He needed them now and they wouldn't shine without him. He stormed outside, bypassing Muscle Man and Starla's love-making on the couch, and stood up on the ramp, pulling himself up by the shutter and climbing to the roof. He proceeded by kicking at the shutter, stomping and pushing it down. When this didn't work, he thought "screw it", and jumped onto the shutter itself, no longer caring if he got injured when it was to fall.
See, he was jumping up and down on the back shutter of a trailer because he thought it was holding him back. What he was too blind to realize, though, was that the stars were visible above him the whole time.
*A she-wolf is an old term for prostitute.