Archive of Our Own

Charlie's hand slammed it's way down onto the breakroom table as he pushes himself up and out of his chair. The chair screeches as it drags against the outdated tile. His body contorts, arms stretching out behind him as his back arches. It cracks with a satisfying pop- presumably from sitting for more time than his body could take.

"Alright, man-- I'm heading out." Charlie says in between a yawn as he glances over to Pim, who was barely able to peek over his work laptop.

Pim looks up from the screen and gives Charlie a tired, but genuine smile. "Okay! Um- Have a good night." Though his tone was cheerful, Charlie could detect the tiredness in his voice. 

Pims eyes fell back down onto his laptop, his smile slightly fading as he continued with what he was doing. The vigorous clicking and clacking of Pim typing away instantly fills the room.

Charlie, about to leave, stops at the doorway. He turns to look back at Pim. "Dude, aren't you coming?"

Pim looks back up to him in shock, simply as if he forgot Charlie never left-- Then down to the laptop that was in front of him, and again, back up to Charlie.

He opened his mouth like he was caught in between trying to form a sentence and finding the right words to use-- either way, Charlie didn't give him enough time to even do this.

Charlie slapped a hand over his face, wiping it in a downward motion.

"God, Pim-" Before Charlie could ever argue that they've already been confined to staying at the office later than usual due to being involved with a client that basically threatened to hold the two hostage unless they both agreed to complete a deep-clean on their apartment. Which, of course, was two stories.

--Well, that was until they had to get the police involved because of the severed limbs they found in the bathtub.

He gets interrupted.

"Well, actually-" Pim notions with his eyes towards a rather large stack of papers-- they were laid out on the table beside him in a pile. It wasn't like the area was cluttered. An effort was noticeably made to arrange them in some sort of orderly fashion-- it was presentable. Though, an occasional paper here and there still jutted out from the mostly neat frame-- which took up whatever space the already-small table had to begin with.

"I need to get caught up with this, um-- mound of paperwork." Pim tryingly joked, maybe in a sad attempt to cushion the fact he actually had to sit and fill out each form from the ridiculously tall stack. And he was right to do so-- The amount of paper beside him was kind of... intense. Otherwise, anxiety Inducing to Charlie...

Charlie almost throws his head up with a groan when he gets reminded that he, too, has paperwork that needs to be dealt with. Though he shrugs it off rather quickly, remembering he wasn't someone like Pim. 

Charlie, unlike Pim, was undeniably good at putting things off-- often leaving problems he didn't feel like facing that day for Future-Charlie to deal with.

...it was the remembering of those problems he was bad at.

And he was okay with that--

Until it ultimately came back to bite him in the ass.

Charlie, every now and again, found himself in this sad cycle of suffering the consequences of actions he, himself made-- Like the many times he'd put his relationship with Zoey into jeopardy. ---Or, the lovely girlfriend his friends' would often dog on him for cause' she was "out of his league". And damn straight, were they right!

There was this one time, out of many-- When Charlie knew their anniversary was coming up, but he decided to wait last minute to get her anything.

That was arguably, a bad time for them.

Zoey always called him out on his bullshit though, and as she should-- there would be times throughout their relationship where Charlie's own ignorance was so bad, that the they had to seperate for a bit. But over the years, their situationship became quite predictable. They'd be fighting one moment, at eachothers' throats and totally fed up with eachother--  and then be back to spending weekends at eachothers places' the next-- So much so that Charlie didn't worry so much about "losing" her due to his idiocracy. Hell, it became so damn predictable-- that whenever they fought, he knew it would end by him giving her some half-assed excuse, that she would believe maybe 15% of the time-- and they'd be back to normal.

Like how he was gonna change for the better, and have a healthier outlook on life, or something sappy like that...

Yet, here we are. Back to the same shit excuses that let him continue his shit lifestyle, and even shittier life.

Charlie often credited his charm for being the main reason Zoey kept coming back to him-- the yellow smug fuck. The woman was a damned saint for putting up with him, bless her heart.

Pim clears his throat, carrying on stagnantly. "I've been putting it off for awhile now," he takes in a slow breath of air, and shortly after, sighs deeply. "I don't know how I let it pile up so high..." he brings a hand up to his temple and starts to rub at it, as if it would bring him instant relief. 

Charlie could tell it didn't.

Something about the way Pim sounded as he said that-- Exhaust prominent in his voice, spent from the day they now had behind them.

The way he looked-- almost defeated as he continued to slump over his laptop, holding his head in his hand...

Something about the scene in front of him made Charlie feel... uh-

Charlie scratches his neck, and for whatever reason-- almost feels bad for the critter in front of him. "Right-- Sorry about that, I guess."

Pim quickly takes his head out of his hands, blinking up to Charlie with polite eyes. He sits up, straightening his posture-- as if he's shown too much. "No, no- don't feel like it's your fault or anything. I just thought I'd get a jump on it while I'm still here, so I dont have to deal with it later or... I dunno-- take it home with me."

Charlie's eyes fall to the floor as he scuffs at something stuck on the tile with his shoe.

"Yeah, yeah- no I get it-- uh..." Charlie's mouth hangs open like he's forgotten what he was going to say.

The room once again gets silent. Except this time, Pim doesn't return to typing. He stares, giving his full attention to Charlie as he waits for him to say anything else he evidently had on his mind.

"So... when do you think you'll make it home?"

Maybe if it wasn't him in this interaction he'd put himself into with his coworker-- maybe it could be something he could look back to, and laugh at later.

But no.

Charlie felt stupid.

He could've been on his merry way to the bus stop-- on his way home. But instead, found himself there. 

There in the office breakroom-- which smelled faintly of old paper and stale coffee brewed from earlier that morning. He stood there- Under those same fluorescent lights that've been there since the first day he became "one of the boys"--

Just talking to Pim.

Ah, who was he kidding?

He felt himself staying longer than he should be, carrying on this meaningless conversation by asking dumb questions-- as if he didn't have better things be doing-- as if Pim wasn't right in front of him, obviously having better things to be doing.

And he didnt know why.

Charlie's train of thought broke as he watched Pims' eyes slowly meander back to the comedically high stack of papers. They stayed there. Oh yeah-- he asked a question...

"I don't know."

Pim's voice was soft. 

Soft in a way that felt unfair.

Soft in a way that made it easier for Charlie to feel bad- which was, needless to say-- Rare.

Maybe it was the conversation between them that made Charlie feel this way-- but he knew it wouldn't be right to just, well-- leave him there?

Charlie stiffled back a laugh.

He was tired.

It had been a long day, and he was tired.

So why the fuck would he offer to spend more of his precious time here? Fucking stupid.

Charlie rubbed at his neck with a free hand.

'Sucks to be you dude, but I gotta bounce on sum rs'

It was all he had to say-- or something along those lines... 

Easy enough, right?

So Charlie spoke.

Against his better judgement, Charlie spoke.

"Should I... stay?

Ah, shit.

Charlie almost punched himself in face when he heard that come out of his mouth-- only stopping himself on the account of Pim being... right there. So instead, he shut his eyes in spite of himself.

Sure, he maybe wouldn't have minded being in the same vicinity as Pim while he was doing whatever he was doing, and whatnot... maybe!

But not at this hour--

not at work--

And especially not after he already clocked out--Like, what's the point in staying afterwork, at work-- when you aren't even getting paid for doing so?...

It was obvious the fat yellow was ready to be home.

Charlie opened his eyes and was met with Pim staring right back.

Pim's expression was blank, though Charlie detected a bit of shock-- probably from that stupid question he asked that didn't need answering.

Charlie hesitated, ready to retract his question-- but paused once he noticed the corners of Pims mouth curving into a faint smile.

"Charlie, go home!" Pim said playfully before throwing a hand up, whisking him towards the door from the comfort of his own chair.

Charlie quietly sighed a breath of relief to himself, feeling not as obligated to stay. He knew that the paperwork, which was only a few papers shy of totally towering over Pim, would be a bitch to get done-- but he knew Pim had it. Pim always had it.

And, its not that he would or anything-- Y'know, stay?...

It's just-- if Pim really did need him, Charlie knew he'd--

Not even letting himself finish whatever thought that was, Charlie shrugged nonchalantly. "Cool- well uh, get home safe, man."

Pim bobbed his head in agreement, quickly flashing one last smile as Charlie turned to leave- making sure that was the last image he had of him. "You too."

He watched Charlie as he stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket, and promptly as he walked out the breakroom door-- sitting still until he heard Charlie slam the front office door forcefully shut, locking Pim in behind him. Charlie always had a bad habit of shutting things a bit harder than they need to be.

Pim stayed in that seat, unmoving-- eyes still on the doorway he saw Charlie exit through not too long ago-- as if he'd pop in again to grab the keys he frequently left on the counter. He didn't.

With no one to talk to, Pim was alone. And the office was silent-- too silent for Pim's liking, anyway.

Even the all-too-familiar noise pollution known as that ancient Box TV was gone-- Which was found mounted off to the side of the nicely sized kitchen-turned-lounge area, usually blasting some random show none of them really cared to watch. Allan had kindly turned it off before leaving the office earlier that day, being that he was the only one tall enough there to manually do that-- since a certain someone "broke" the remote.

And, now that he was thinking about it... Pim didn't even have the option to have it on for background noise! Which sucked because it was always so uncanny-- The quiet. Like... that DEFINITELY didn't make him feel any less alone than he already was.

He didn't mind being alone, as he often was-- but he couldn't say it was something he enjoyed--nor the thoughts it frequently came with.

His eyes turned to the table in front of him--Fixating on a crumb that had fallen off of a muffin (or three) Charlie had indulged himself on earlier.

That morning, Mr Boss brought in a box of your usual breakfast items. Bagels, muffins, donuts, etc... It was nothing fancy, but it was a kind gesture. Pim happily picked out a Poppyseed Bagel to enjoy-- though, not before personally thanking his Boss.

Pim tilted his head lightly to the side as his mind continued to wander.

Charlie must have not seen it-- the crumb... or maybe he did, and just couldn't be bothered enough to clean it up.

Maybe he left it there because he knew someone else would clean it up.

Pim would clean it up-

The sound of a notification from his email on his laptop rang throughout the breakroom, earning a small gasp from Pim. 

Pim swallowed thickly.

He shouldnt be thinking like that.

It was wrong.

...Wasn't it?

Except,

Charlie was simply just that type of critter.

The type that didn't seem to concern himself with the task of being nice if he didn't have to.

That didn't seem to experience guilt after every negative interaction.

That didn't seem to have to worry about the world around him-- the people around him--

Pim shut his eyes, pressing his lips together into a straight line.

Disgusting.

Pim was disgusting for housing these... unkindly thoughts.

Charlie was his coworker-- his friend...

His best friend--

So why why did he feel such--

Pim puffed.

He was never really one to get this way-- or atleast, so he thought...

But he knew this feeling.

Hell, he knew it well.

Jealousy.

Pim hunched over and buried his head into his hands, as if that would rid him of his pestering thoughts.

He was tired!

He just wasn't being himself!

Which could always be the case.

-- If it weren't for the many times he's felt like this before. 

It was just unfair. 

Charlie had it so good, and he didnt even know it!

The bazillions of people he would have genuine connections with, in the span of like-- less time than the two knew eachother, seemingly everywhere they went-- like he was showing off his ability to get all buddy-buddy with someone-- without working hard for it!

Pim felt his neck start to warm, as if God were looking down upon the pathetic excuse of a critter he ultimately turned out to be.

A waste.

What a waste.

His lip gave in, beginning to quiver. Small tears swelled in his eyes.

Of course.

Of course he was crying-- didn't take much this time either, did it? And for what? Because his best friend is probably living more of a life than he ever will?

Warmth trickled down his cheeks, only causing him to fold further into himself. Pim slinked down until his elbows met the top of his thighs. He pressed his hands harder into his face, as if that would magically make everything go away.

And as his breathes hitched-- sniffles that were once quiet, turned into small sobs. Pim removed his hands from his eyes, to over his mouth-- as if anyone were actually there to overhear him and his unwanted weeps of sadness.

Maybe that what he wanted? 

For someone-- Anyone to notice his hurt?

--or whatever it was that he was experiencing...

Pim couldnt imagine it.

And then he did.

Someone walking in on him-- doubled over, crying by himself.

Someone caring enough to ask what's wrong. 

Someone tending to him-- to comfort him in a way he, himself couldn't.

The thought was short-lived though, as Pim reminded himself that it was all in his head.

No one was there to do that.

Not that they would.

Not that he would.

His cries amplify, and all he can think is

"How pathetic".

The muffled sound of Pims' futile attempts at silently sobbing into the security of his hands seemed to resonate throughout the whole office building.

Like it was mocking him.

Him and his loneliness.

And then he stopped.

This was silly.

He was a grown man, for christ sake!

Pims hands fell from his mouth. He didn't know exactly what to do with them, so he opted to gripping his arms, just below the shoulders-- holding himself.

He took a drawn-out breath and sighed deeply.

When he closed his eyes, he was rather quickly reminded of how tired he originally was, not to mention the fact they were dry... super fucking dry-- being borderline painful. Crying most definitely didn't help.

Shit.

Pim curses himself-- Of course he forgets his eye-drops at home the one day he needs them. Though, it wasnt unbearable. It was kinda nice-- in that hurts-so-good kind of way, if that even makes sense.

Pim kept his eyes closed, threatening to leave them that way-- but he knew he had to finish what he started.

He wiped the tears from his eyes.

They were so puffy-- geez, he didn't know he cried that hard.

Pim tried to imagine what he looked like at the moment. Already-strange eyes glossed over-- irritated from being rubbed so harshly, his face blotchy and reddish from the tears, a crease likely left where his brows met.

He could laugh.

He should laugh.

This was all so ridiculous, and weird, and-- confusing?-- All in a way that somehow makes him feel similar to an early memory of his.

He was give or take 3 years old all over again, being scolded at by his mother for the first time for touching something he knew he shouldn't have in the first place. It always came odd to him, how certain memories stick out more than others. 

Pim turns his attention elsewhere, and quietly hopes to himself that there isn't a camera in the office.

The grip on his arm lessens as he blinks his eyes back open. 

Coffee.

Coffee sounded nice.

To take his mind off of things, as he often did-- Pim decided to do just that!-- get up and start himself a pot of Coffee-- though only half a pot as there was no one else there to help him finish it off.

Whilst his Coffee was brewing, he decided to busy himself by straightening up the breakroom.

Pim started simply by wiping down the table, finally getting rid of that stupid crumb from earlier. As he walked by to discard the leftover mess, he noticed that there were only a few dishes remaining in the sink. It wasnt like there was anyone else there to do it-- so he began scrubbing.

Seeing that his Coffee wasn't yet ready, he decided to take a look at the microwave-- who knows how long it's been since that thing has last been cleaned?--

Along the way, he knew the fridge needed some reorganizing-- surprised to find that most of the items were well past their expiration date-- so he had to weed out all the bad from the good. He thought he might as well do the pantry since he already did the fridge. 

Before he knew it, there was nothing else to "straighten up". 

Pim climbed into his chair and slouched as he puffed a content sigh-- trying not to acknowledge the fact he felt heavy for some reason.

He took a deep breath in, and--

It maybe took him a little while before he ever even noticed that the room was filled with the familiar scent of Coffee.

Right.

Only the whole reason he did all that.

Pim came to the stark realization that the wait on his Coffee was most likely done a little over forty minutes ago...

Despite sitting down only seconds ago, Pim forced himself to trudge over to the half pot of Coffee, which he hoped was atleast warm still-- and made himself a good mugs' worth.

Pim looked down at the black, murky liquid-- only to see himself looking back. The sight gave him a little more than dissatisfaction, to say the least.

And before ever taking a sip, he held it to his face where semi-warmth met him. 

That wasn't promising.

He took a experimental sip, finding that it wasnt cold, but it wasn't hot-- definitely wasnt hot...

Being damn near fed up by the fact he had already spent so much time waiting on this disappointing excuse for Coffee, and not wanting to waste it for nothing-- he opted to throwing it in the microwave for a couple of minutes-- sure it makes for a lazy solution, and makes your coffee taste a little more like dishwater than, well-- Coffee.

but he was desperate. 

So, so desperate to feel anything else than what he was currently feeling.

ONCE the microwaves' COUNTDOWN reached 0:00 and BEEPED its TERRIBLE HIGH-PITCHED BEEP to ALARM it was DONE-- Pim unhurriedly opened the microwave door and took out his mug.

Without even inspecting it, he took a sip.

He shuddered slightly.

The liquid was bitter, and bit back-- But it wasnt like he was drinking it for it's taste.

It was hot, and it had caffeine.

It was good enough.

Pim took his mug of microwaved Coffee, and carefully made his way back to the seat where his work laptop and pile of papers were waiting for him. He pulled himself up on the old, but surprisingly comfortable wooden chair-- worn out from years of being put to good use. Knowing he'd be sitting tight and filling out forms for atleast a few more hours, he tried his best to get settled in. Though, to Pim's dismay, the chair began to whine out in retort, as if it were about to give out from under him.

Damn. 

He knew he was getting a little chunkier, but getting called out by his chair lowkey made him feel a little self conscious. 

He made a mental note to work on himself later, sure--

But now, he had work to do!

Pim rubbed his eyes with the heels of his stubby pink hands-- sighing one last time before getting back to work.