When he's sure he can't be seen from the house, he gets on all fours and bolts for the dumpsters. His ribs ache and scream for him to stop as his head pounds in time with his racing heart, but Rigby pushes through the pain and picks up speed. There are more park visitors than usual that he must dodge on his way, the people likely drawn to the plastic sculptures if the groups of people taking pictures were anything to go by. However, as Rigby nears the dumpsters, the sound of creaky hydraulics and grinding metal catches his ears. Rounding the last corner, he comes tumbling to a stop. A large garbage truck is picking up the garbage dumpster, its contents shifting in preparation for being tipped into the back.
"NO! STOP!" he cries. But nobody is seemingly around to see or hear him say it. Mind in a panic, he sees a metal rung ladder on the side of the truck leading up to the top and rushes to it; the trash is now being dumped into the back of the garbage truck. Ears ringing from the loud crashing sounds, he crests the top and peers inside as the dumpster is shaken back and forth to ensure all its contents have been disgorged. Inside is a rotten, smelly mess filled with bloated plastic bags, broken electronics, and many other piles of trash. With no time left to spare, Rigby takes a breath of tainted air and throws himself into the pit of waste. Quickly gaining his bearings he starts going through the bags as fast as possible. He finds lots of expired food from the snack bar miscellaneous, and trash from the bins around the park, but no plastic wads nor the bag full of them can be found.
"Come on, come on! They've got to be around here somewhere!" Without warning, the truck around Rigby gives a mighty shudder, and the sound of the engine picks up and reverberates off the metal walls. Before he can ponder the reason, the whine of more hydraulics kicks in, and the trash around him shifts; the walls close in slowly on him. Heart thudding nearly out of his chest, he redoubles his efforts and digs deeper. But it is in vain; there is no sign of the plastic wads anywhere, and now the walls and trash are nearly suffocating.
Before his panic can get any worse, he scrambles back up through the hole he had dug and up to the top. Everything is far away, though, and no matter how fast he feels he is going, it seems the top of the pile is getting further away with every step, but the walls close in faster. He's at the top, breath ragged, filling his lungs with putrid air. Looking up at his only means of escape, Rigby feels nothing but despair as the hole, which appeared large when he dove in, is now just a pinprick above. The distance is impossible. He is going to be crushed to death. A trashy being rotting below under a mountain of his fellow refuse. He's shrinking, but the world grows tighter and more compact no matter how small he gets. He's going to die.
Something roughly grabs him by his arm and pulls him harshly. He screams, voice cracking from the strain, as he is yanked into blinding light. He lands on hard metal harshly, which rattles his aching bones. The iron-like grip on his arm leaves him to sit there and calm down from his panic attack. Before long, his breathing becomes even, and when he regains his senses, Rigby can see his savior coming down from their own panicked experience not far away.
"T-Thomas?" The goat in question looks him in the eye, and Rigby shudders, seeing the fear quickly become anger.
"What the heck, Rigby! Do you have some secret death wish I should know about?! Like seriously, you've done some dumb stuff before, but this has to take the cake. You could have died! What possessed you to throw yourself in there-" He keeps going, and while each new thing causes that massive hole in his chest to grow, he can't bring himself to care. Thomas is going to be fired, and it's all his fault.
He's going to get hit for it. He doesn't deserve to do this to Thomas, but he can't help his selfishness. In the middle of Thomas' rant, Rigby flings himself at the goat and clings onto him in a crushing hug for dear life.
"I'm sorry!" Rigby sobs, hot tears spilling from his eyes. His throat is tight, but he needs to say this: he needs to tell Thomas, "You shouldn't have trusted me." Thomas, for his part, has gone stiff in Rigby's grip but remains still and silent, so the raccoon presses on, "I didn't recycle the plastic like I was supposed to and tossed it in the trash. I couldn't stand the thought of people using that gross stuff to make cups people drink out of and toys and… and… you're going to be fired because of me. I couldn't find them! They're buried in there, and I couldn't…" He's cut off by a harsh sob. Rigby feels like an absolute mess, these flooding of emotions making him not be like his usual self. The last 24 hours, in general, seem to have taken their toll on him. Thomas relaxes under his hold and returns the hug, albeit with a flinch from Rigby, who expected a fist rather than warm arms. The goat sighs and holds him awkwardly, clearly not used to something like this.
"Umm, well, see, the thing is Rigby… I kinda knew that already." Rigby looks up from the wet spot his tears have left on the other's shirt.
"What?" Thomas' cheeks flushed pink.
"Yeah… before we went to lunch yesterday, I checked the dumpsters after I talked with my mom and put the plastic where it was supposed to be."
"What about the bag?"
"I figured you threw it away when I saw you cleaned the whole restroom and swapped it before rescuing you guys."
"So… that means that I-"
"Almost got crushed for nothing. Yeah." Rigby thumps his forehead against Thomas' chest. Thomas knew. He stuck his neck out for him when he knew he couldn't be trusted, which confuses Rigby. He pulls back and looks the goat in the eye, his question demanding an answer.
"But why did you stand up for me earlier when you knew I lied?" For his part, Thomas ducks his head a bit, looking more embarrassed.
"I kinda wanted to see what you'd do afterward. I know that sounds messed up, but I wanted to see if you would freak out or not care if I got fired. I mean, you did clean up the bathroom but you also didn't listen to what I told you to do with the wads so I didn't know what to really think and so I hope you understand even if it was under handed and uncool, but you have to admit that… uh… oh I'm rambling now aren't I? " Rigby lightly punches Thomas on his shoulder.
"Jerk… well, are you satisfied?" Thomas 'hmmmms' and looks around, making an exaggerated show of thinking about it.
"I guess, yeah." They both chuckle, "But Rigby."
"Yeah?"
"Don't worry so much. It'll be rough with the others for a while but after this and the restroom. I know you can be useful. And a good friend. Just please do what I ask you to do the first time in the future, so you don't end up smelling like a ripe compost heap." Rigby laughs.
"Alright, fine… sooo Thomas… about that solid. I think I'd like to cash it in."
"Oh, uh, for what?" Rigby doesn't know why but he suddenly feels nervous, his palms getting sweaty for no apparent reason. It's not like Thomas can say no because of the solid, but… maybe it was time he started branching out of his current friend group. Mordecai being a pill and everyone else at the park, sans Thomas and mostly Pops, turning on him really showed he didn't have anyone other than the blue jay as an actual friend, and no friends when Mordecai and he are fighting. Ignoring the weird feeling in his gut he then asks.
"Do me a solid and come with me to a Fist Pump cover band concert this Sunday? I'd ask Mordecai but he's been so busy with CJ he never has time to hang out with me and be bros anymore. Not to mention, y'know, going on my own sucks."
"Oh, uhhhh… I don't really have extra cash to pay for a ticket."
"Already got a pair. No worries." Thomas looks dumbfounded but that soon becomes almost emotional. As he's about to speak when his phone goes off in his pocket. Rummaging for it he pulls it out, the little screen blinking 'Mom' between them. Rigby watches in anticipation as the goat looks between the raccoon and his phone before pressing the cancel button, forwarding it to voicemail. The strange tension that had built up from that passing just as quickly as it had come.
"Sure Rigby, that sounds awesome."
"Sweet." They both smile and then, awkwardly, undo their hug; the two having held onto each other longer than is probably normal. Weird new feelings and the small gnawing pit in the back of his chest aside, things look like they'll be alright. Sudden clapping, though, causes both young men to jump and peer over the edge of the truck to see a garbage worker clapping while looking up at them.
"Well, isn't that just precious? If you two homos don't find it an inconvenience, would you mind GETTING OFF MY FRIGGIN' TRUCK? Some of us have to work for a living!"
