Chapter Text
June Egbert decided what kind of day it was going to be based on her earrings.
Today, she picked out a pair of dangly bunny-shaped ones that were almost obnoxiously cute. She hooked them through her ears carefully, pouting in concentration, observing her reflection in the mirror as they swung back and forth. Good – approachable.
Her dorm room was small, but she had made it comfortable in her own way. Her bed was shoved against the wall, her desk buried under sheet music and tangled earbuds, warm orange fairy lights hanging from her walls, her go-to hoodie draped over the back of her chair like a limp cat. June pulled the hoodie from the chair and tugged it over her body, fabric worn soft from wearing it so often. Comfortable and familiar; perfect!
She tied her curly dark hair into pigtails, deliberately leaving a few strands loose at the front to frame her face. Finalising her look, she picked out a couple of hair clips and put them on, humming to herself before hearing her phone buzz.
June sighed and hurriedly shoved her phone into her pocket, knowing exactly who was pestering her. She grabbed her keys and hesitated, then opened her desk drawer and pulled out a crumpled receipt. The paper was soft and nearly torn from being unfolded and refolded, the ink slightly smudged.
She didn’t read it again. She didn’t need to.
Instead, she folded it up and tucked it into the pocket of her flared jeans like it belonged there. She knew it was probably deemed unusual to purposely keep receipts on her that she didn’t need, but she digressed.
She shut the door behind her and headed out.
June slipped into the hallway just as someone’s door down the way slammed shut. The sound echoed loudly, making her ears ring unpleasantly. The dorm smelled faintly of burnt coffee and whatever industrial cleaner the janitors swore by, a scent she had grown to ignore over her time on the campus unless she thought about it. Flyers were taped up crookedly to the walls; battle of the bands, tutoring hours, a hand-drawn poster advertising tarot readings for five dollars, the open mic event that had been lingering in her mind – she scanned them all without really reading as she walked along. She passed by a few people she was vaguely acquainted with, giving them polite smiles before she rushed down the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator. The steps creaked under her sneakers almost rhythmically, each one counting down until she was outside again, where everything felt less cramped. Where she felt free.
The music major crossed campus, breathing easier once she was out in the open air.
She found her usual spot outside the student union, perched on a low brick wall.
Next to her was her best friend since childhood (thanks to unrestricted internet access as a kid), Dave Strider, who she smiled at as he monotonously said “No, yeah dude, you’re a fucking menace.”
The place had been unofficially designated as the meeting spot for all students and delinquents avoiding their responsibilities. June always knew to find Dave here. The sun was out and shining brightly upon the two, which gave Dave a proper excuse for wearing his shades other than for ‘cool’ or ‘ironic’ purposes. June strained her eyes as she looked in his direction.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” June replied, kicking her dangling feet back and forth, a grin tugging on her lips. “I’m just supporting a local business!”
Dave scoffed, running a hand through his fried blonde hair, his dark brown roots showing through. June, amongst many others, had told him off numerous times for damaging his hair so much, but of course he never listened. “Egbert, you order the same damn thing every time. A burger with nothing but a patty. No bun. No toppings. No sauce. Just a singular patty, and you make direct eye contact while you do it.”
June only shrugged at this, tapping her painted fingernails rhythmically against the brick wall. She still bore a shit-eating grin on her face. “Minimalism is in. Either way, I can only afford the barest of bones.”
Dave snorted, shaking his head. “You’re terrorising minimum wage fast food workers for sport.”
June cleared her throat and she chimed in, lifting her index finger up in a mock-serious gesture. “I prefer to say it’s for enrichment.”
The blonde shifted his body around to fully face her, legs dangling on either side of the wall as he leaned forward slightly, his blank expression turning into an intrigued smirk. “Okay, but like, how pissed off is the guy today? On a scale of one to murder.”
June’s grin widened, matching Dave’s menacing smirk. “He is absolutely furious. Like veins-out, teeth-gritted furious. I think he might genuinely hate me.”
“That rules,” Dave immediately replied, invested. “What’d he do to give you that impression?”
“He put my order down on the counter really hard,” June said in a strange tone that was almost as if she thought back fondly. Dave could almost hear the dreamy sigh escape her lips as if they were in one of those sappy rom-coms. “And he slid me this.”
She pulled a crumpled up receipt paper out of the pocket of her flared jeans and smoothed it out against her thigh before handing it to Dave. On the back, written in aggressive all capital block letters was a single sentence which read:
‘IF YOU COME IN HERE AND ORDER THIS BULLSHIT AGAIN I’M CALLING THE COPS.’
Dave leaned in close, read it once, and then twice over, furrowing his bushy eyebrows. “Oh,” he said, still computing what was written on the receipt. “Oh, this is getting personal as fuck now.”
June snatched the receipt from Dave’s calloused hands and tucked it back into her pocket carefully before shrugging. “I think it’s kind of sweet.”
Dave shot her a glare, raising an eyebrow. “You are seriously unwell.”
“Thank you,” she jokingly replied, twirling the front strands of her hair with her finger.
The two sat in silence for a dragged out moment, the distant sound of traffic, people chattering and someone practicing the drums in the background. All of the different noises and rackets bombarded the air as June swung her feet idly, her mind already focused on the topic of lunch despite it still being quite early.
The silence was eventually interrupted by Dave though, of course, as if he was testing the structural integrity of an idea. Sometimes it’s hard for June to tell what goes on in his head.
“So, Egbert, what’s the endgame here?” Dave inquired, snapping the girl out of her thoughts as she lifted her head to look in his direction.
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Dave started, cracking his knuckles. “Right now this is just some funny recurring bit, yeah? But bits evolve, Egbert. You gotta escalate eventually or the audience gets bored outta their minds.”
“I’m the audience,” June dismissed, blankly.
“Exactly. And you,” Dave teases, poking June’s forehead, earning a disgruntled groan from her. “You are impossible to please.”
June would correct him and tell him that she is in fact not impossible to please whatsoever, but she doesn’t have the energy to banter. Instead, she tilts her head in suspicion like a confused puppy. “What are you suggesting?”
A sly grin forms on Dave’s face before simply laying it down on the table. “I’m suggesting that you should commit.”
June’s heart gave a little jump that she absolutely did not, would not interrogate. “Commit… how, exactly?” She asked carefully, voice barely above a whisper as if they were talking confidential business.
Dave started ticking points off of his fingers. “You go every day. Same time. Same order. You don’t break character, you let him get used to you.”
“I’m already doing that.”
“No,” Dave quipped out, putting his finger over her lips to shush her. June gives him a look of disgust and pushes his hand away. “Right now, you’re improvising. I’m talking long-term psychological warfare, dude.”
June opened her mouth to speak again, but was quickly cut off.
“And then,” Dave continued, drumming his hands against the brick wall as if he’s trying to build the tension. “You change one thing.”
Dave leaned forward with his hands, sunglasses slipping down his face as he tilted his head to look at her. He is making this way more dramatic than he needs to, but that’s the fun in it for the both of them. “One day you order two patties instead of one.”
June pictured the escalation of the prank in her mind instantly; the look on his face, the way his mouth would twitch and twist like he was trying not to scream at the top of his lungs…
She felt the excitement bubble up within her to elicit such a reaction from him.
“That’s evil,” she said.
Dave gave himself a mental pat on the back. He jested, tipping his imaginary tophat. “Thank you.”
June rolled her eyes and smiled at his joking gesture before lifting herself up from the wall and landing on the floor, brushing off her jeans just in case. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
Dave blinked, straightening his posture. “Shit, seriously?”
June began walking off to the street, not even sparing a glance behind her – only walking straight ahead. “I am not a coward.”
Dave hurriedly scrambled to his feet, rushing after her. “Okay, yeah, but listen – you have got to be prepared for any consequences that come from this. That Grubshack guy already hates your guts.”
“Dave,” June started, patting his shoulder. “I am more than prepared. I find his reactions endearing and kind of adorable, to be honest.”
“Eugh, well that’s just about the sappiest thing I’ve ever heard. You in love with the guy or something?” He teased. His words left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she felt her stomach churn.
June didn’t reply, she only scoffed and walked off as she stepped off the curb. Her mind was already focused on her plans for tomorrow; the order, and the poor angry troll employee who has absolutely no clue what’s yet to come.