It was the end of a long shift for Bart who was standing outside the café, savoring the quiet as the place was empty now. To his relief, this Saturday hadn't been as busy as it usually was and he didn't feel as drained as he thought he'd be. He leaned against the side wall and sighed, happy this week was finally over nonetheless, and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it up with Bob's lighter, then kept the small object in his hand, staring blankly at it. It had been over a week since he'd last seen Bob in person and he'd kept his gift and used it carelessly, despite already having one of his own. He simply liked the fancy look of it, sophisticated as its previous owner; he wondered if he should just keep it unused so that he would hold onto it longer.

He'd been looking forward to Bob being back in town. He hated to admit it, but he'd dreamed about him more than once in the past few nights, in ways far from innocent. It felt like Bob had crept inside his head to haunt him inside his dreams, this time in a more... suggestive setting. It all felt wrong, forbidden, yet all the more thrilling. Biting his bottom lip, he tried not to think about it too much. Shit, he was obsessed. If that was Bob's final revenge, the bastard had finally got it.

Sighing again, he started thinking about his evening instead. Milhouse had insisted that they hang out tonight as his best friend needed to talk. He could have simply phoned him, but he supposed he was feeling too guilty and wanted to make it up to him. The fact that someone cared that much, it made him feel warm inside.

"You alright, there?" Sarah asked, pulling him from his thoughts as she joined him outside.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," he replied, quickly putting the lighter back in his pocket.

They chatted for a bit, the conversation revolving mainly around the job. Not that Bart was too keen on the topic, but at least it kept his mind away from his current troubles.

"I've seen so many people come and go in the past few years, I'm surprised Dave still trusts new recruits. The guy before you didn't even bother to tell us he'd found a new job," she snorted bitterly. "We just hope you'll notify us when you do."

"When I do?"

"Find a new job, I mean. We'd be happy if you last a year, but the turnover in this kind of job is astounding. You know, I'm not going to work here forever. It's a living, but it's not a passion."

Bart simply looked at her, not knowing what to say. He was so glad he'd found a job that accepted him, he hadn't thought about quitting to find another, better one. It all felt like luck was finally smiling upon him, he didn't want to jinx it, especially since it was all thanks to Lisa. He had no idea what he would do in a year, he just wanted to keep working one day after another. What else could he do? The glorious ambitions of his childhood never seemed to make the cut for society, his dreams too far-fetched or never working out. For the longest time he'd imagined himself stuck in a dead-end job, and even that he had trouble staying in, and that certainly didn't help with his self-confidence. Perhaps depression had overtaken him and he was only now getting his head above water. His new job wasn't always easy, what with the hectic shifts and rude customers, but he made a living and hoped to save up for a car and an apartment. He could always find a new, better job later, when he found the amibitions to. If he ever did.

"Heh, Robert asked for you, by the way," she added with a amused smile. "Ever the popular guy with this one."

Bart's heart skipped a beat. "Wha- Bob? What do you mean?"

"He didn't want me to tell you, but yeah, he stopped by last Thursday. He was busy, though, so that's why you haven't seen him around."

He groaned. Of course Bob had to come by on his day off. In truth, it struck a nerve and Bart had to hide his irritation. That jerk had been back in town two whole days and didn't even bother to tell him. Then again, he owed nothing to him, and neither did Bart.

"Mph, he'd better tip me generously next week," Bart retorted with false irritation, making Sarah laugh.

Another part of him was obviously excited. Since he now had Bob's address, he could go and visit him as soon as tonight... if it wasn't for Milhouse. No, he shook his head. He shouldn't think like that. Milhouse needed to talk to him and Bart wasn't going to cancel their hangout. Perhaps he needed to talk to him, too. Like Hell he'd tell anyone about Bob, though. He could just hardly wait. The man's address was already saved on his phone, he'd looked it up on his computer, he knew exactly where to go, all he needed was time. Now that he thought about it, since Bob had called him, twice no less, wasn't it his turn to get revenge?

A car stopped in front of Bart and Sarah.

"Uh-oh, a date?"

"No, my best friend," he said smiling.

.

After polite yet awkward formalities in the car, the two friends drove to the same fast-food restaurant Bart had gone in with Bob. He found it fitting and funny, but he certainly didn't mention it to his friend. He even ordered the same burger, remembering the last time he'd been here and what had happened next. Maybe he would get lucky again tonight, he thought with a wicked grin.

"Look, Bart. I'm really sorry about Angela," Milhouse began shyly as they started eating around a table. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Well, next time you should ask the main person involved," he retorted, more coldly than he intended.

"Yeah..." Milhouse murmured sheepishly.

Bart rolled his eyes. "It's fine, I know you meant well."

"So, uh, how's work going?" He asked, looking more comfortable.

He told Milhouse about his colleague, his boss, the difficult parts of his new job and the fact that it was just to make some money to afford his own place. He was careful not to mention a good-tipping customer, hoping his friend had forgotten all about him.

"And err," Milhouse went on. "What else have you been up to lately? You haven't told me."

"Mil, please," Bart pleaded with his mouth full. "I don't wanna get into another argument."

"Why don't you want to tell me?"

"Because! It's nothing important... It's not worth it, don't worry."

Despite his objection, they resumed joking around. Yet Bart's guilt came back to nag him as he remembered his promise to his best friend when it came to Bob, especially now that he planned to go to his house. But he knew he would be fine. There was no threat to tell his friend about. That was, after all, what Milhouse was worried about, wasn't it? So there was no harm done, he figured.

"Anyway, it's getting late..."

Milhouse laughed. "What do you mean, it's getting late? It's Saturday!"

"Yeah, well, I'm pooped. I've been busting my ass off all day, I ain't gonna party out all night, sorry, dude," he joked.

"Alright, I'll drop you off home..."

Bart hesitated. "Oh, uhm, could you drop me off around here?" He showed him the map on his phone, a few streets away from Bob's house. "I can take the bus there."

"Why, though? We both live in Springfield," Milhouse was staring at him unconvinced, probably suspicious, too.

"Yeah, but... We live on opposite sides of town, I don't want you to drive me all the way to my house. I'll be fine, don't worry."

Milhouse sighed and accepted reluctantly. Bart didn't push the matter any further, he knew it was probably a lot to ask without answering any questions. So they went back to his car and on they drove for a while, until they arrived at their destination. Bart stepped out and started walking off when his friend called out after him.

"Bart?"

"Yeah?" He turned around towards him.

"Will you tell me what's going on someday?" He was looking at him dismayed and worried, probably out of being left out.

Bart shrugged casually. "Sure," he lied.