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The senior patrol scout of Wood Scouts Troop #818 didn’t hold much hope of his plan unfolding perfectly. He knew something bitter was going to tackle him to his knees; causing him to bite his tongue in both pain and embarrassment - it was simply his gut feeling. Though, he hadn’t thought it would go so terrible; not bitter, terrible. He assumed the wrongfulness of it would only sting inside his chest for only a moment, before hollering away at the cheesy memory, strolling his way back to his side of the lake - tears forming in his eyes due to the laughter he brought himself into.
Unfortunately for him, he didn’t realize how wrong he was.
Edward Pikeman stood in front of the Flower Scouts main cabin, standing as tall as he could; gripping onto a set of Tulip Flowers secured around his left hand behind his back. Looking down at himself, he made sure his homemade crafted tuxedo, which colors consisted of navy green and black, looked decently viewable. Brushing the suit one last time, he eyed the Cabin’s entrance. Taking a deep breath, he motioned his free hand towards the door, before harshly knocking it.
Knock, Knock, Knock
Knock, Knock, Knock
A few moments after making three additional knocks, a young, salmon colored haired, medium statured lady opened the door; answering.
“Ugh, Pikeman, what do you want? I swear if this is about recruits for your gross camp. Believe me, nobody besides from the virgins who already joined are going to want to willingly become a WoodScout; unless they’re a fag or something.” The lady brought her hand up in front of her lips, forming a smirk behind it, “Pfft, even a disgusting fag wouldn’t want to join. I mean, who would?”
From the millisecond the young lady laid eyes on the WoodScout, the only sensation of emotion she encountered was disgust, and an anxious urge to shut the door on him. Pikeman knew. Hilarious enough, the display of her loathe for him was transparent, completely seeable. She was so predictable, yet Pikeman hadn’t known what was coming for him. Or, at least he yearned for the opposite.
Looking straight into her eyes, gripping tightly onto the only source of confidence he had stored left, the WoodScout pulled the bouquet of flowers from behind his back - holding it towards the young woman.
Clearing his throat, he then began to speak,
“Sasha, I was wondering on behalf of you joining me for dinner tonight. I was planning we’d dine back at the WoodScouts camp; but if you aren’t pleased with that we could-”
Pikeman was then interrupted by the young woman, Sasha, shoving the flowers, along with him away from herself. She smirked, wider than Pikeman has ever in his thirteen years of living seen from someone, especially one he’s grown to adore. Her expression, as well as physical choice on interaction was so cruel - the cruel Pikeman never deemed to witness from a living creature, nevertheless human, not even from the annoying brat at CampCambell. He especially didn’t expect such cruelty during a moment like then, there’s a great difference between that and hardship.
Pikeman was mean, not cruel. He sees there’s an extremely important difference between the two. Outside from the occasional kidnaps for the WoodScout’s benefit and the rude remarks towards some, he has morals. If one gives him respect, he’ll give them respect back - respect is a two way deal.
Though, that doesn’t matter right now.
“-force the Camp Campbells to serve and cook for us.” He finished, however the little pride he started his sentence with was far long gone.
It only took the WoodScout a few seconds before realizing his mission to form a relationship, whether that being friendship or perhaps something more, with the girl was first of all hopeless right from the beginning, and second of all hopeless to even work out. It also only took one last laugh along with her index finger pointing towards the acne possessive camper for him to turn around from the Flower Scout’s camp, the set of Tulip flowers still resting in his hands - extremely loose though. Practically, Pikeman was dangling them; he swore a few of the flowers died by doing so.
Ironically, dramatic or not he felt like the flowers. He was still alive, his very well taken care of health kept him on his feet day and night - he was living. But, a part of him felt the opposite. The things Sasha said, the sneers she gave; and even the way she looked at Pikeman made him lower, extremely small.
Small… is that the word to describe the feeling? Or is it pathetic? Pikeman didn’t know, he isn’t a poet after all. He had no clue what he was, actually. Yeah, he’s the senior patriot scout for the WoodScouts, but that’s just stating the obvious. He’s more geared to understanding the emotional dynamic of describing himself, which wasn’t usual for him. He was in fact both a Boot Camp senior and male identifying, so most of the time his emotions were pushed under the rug - by both him and his surroundings.
The thing Pikeman stood by the most was feelings not mattering. At the end of the day, they aren’t going to change anything - it’s facts that will. Feelings will only do more harm than good, they’ll blind you in a cloud of distraction til you're weaker than the moment before. It’s power that matters the most, and to lose that to such a petite thing would be a shame.
Because of his strong viewpoints, he couldn’t bring his brain to why he was so affected by someone’s words - an annoying girl’s words of that matter. He couldn’t bring his brain to anything, it was all a jumble.
“No offense to you personally, but your face is disgusting - absolutely atrocious. The next time you ask me, or even anyone out - you should have all those disgusting pimples popped off.”
“Also, the next time you come here you better have money to buy our FlowerScout cookies.”
Those last words were spoken by another FlowerScout, Tabii, before both Sasha and her shooed the WoodScout away - threatening to call authority if he didn’t leave.
The WoodScout after that walked till he didn’t anymore, he thought til his mind went completely blank, and he smiled until his face eventually gave into the damned heavy, water filled rag which suffocated him.
By the time he reached the WoodScout camp, he was on the edge of tears - swearing he’d fall any second. He pondered to himself about everything that happened, from the words the one he adored the most said through snarls, the remarks towards his appearance, to the date rejection in general.
“Fuck… What an absolute disaster - a waste of money, time, and energy when I could have been doing something actually productive…” Hearing those words fall out of his mouth rather than being thrown around in his jungle-of-a brain was rather therapeutic. He must have been heard, though, from either him moving or muttering sweet something to himself; because one of his closest friends and fellow scout member approached him - he was none other than Snake. While motioning his non-covered eye on Pikeman, he adjusted the candy-cane in his mouth to the side - providing him room to speak.
“Boss, we’re still on for training, right? Petrol’s just getting the equipment ready now.” He paused for a moment, moving his eye off Pikeman and instead on the dirt ground; “We sorta’ lost track of time.”
Pikeman nodded - seeing the many splatters of water on Snake’s clothing; he assumed Petrol and him went fishing.
“How many times do I have to remind you, you can refer to me as Pikeman. And on a normal day I’d be furious about you forgetting training, for the sake of the WoodScouts is much more important than catching fish with your bud; but I’m not in the best mood right now.”
Snake frowned, his eye once more wandered onto Pikeman. He had a tight feeling in his gut.
“Oh, okay.”
Pikeman moved a few feet away from the other WoodScout, his fists bawled. Biting his lip, he tried keeping himself together - at least til he was alone with himself, and himself only. Allowing someone, especially a scout member, seeing him emotional would be terrible; outright horrendous. For sure, he couldn’t let that happen.
“You and the boys have off for the day, I need some alone time.” He announced, trying to keep himself together; “But tomorrow will be extra training to make up for today’s lack.”
Snake soluted, holding his right hand up to his forehead murmuring a “Okay,” before walking off. Pikeman watched as his figure fell further away, til he was only a small blur.
Moments following, Pikeman dragged himself to his tent; his tan work-boots dragging across the mud ground as he moved, dirtying them up into an unpleasant state. He rolled his eyes, that’s another thing added to his list of to-do’s. Yet, there’s such a lack of motivation to ever get to them. The WoodScout felt drained, like a car without gas. Motivation was his fuel, nonetheless he was all out of it. A car can’t move nor operate without gas.
Assuring the tent was completely zipped up, Edward slouched sluggishly onto his makeshift bed - his breath becoming fastened. Clutching his eyes shut, he imagined everything was some sort of nightmare; that he’d just been dreaming. Feeling his chest sink to his stomach, he couldn’t help but feel sick. He couldn’t help but think, too. Merely about earlier events, as well as other unfortunate things in his life he’d sell his soul to change - his face, getting rejected by Sasha, his face, the disappointment he caused upon his parents, his face, how much of a disgrace he was to his family and friends, and his face.
As a perfectionist, the idea of failure sends Pikeman down a rollercoaster of loathe by itself. Knowing he was a failure, however, made him feel different. He sensed an emotion of anger, a deep coat of it he never experienced in his life. He also felt numb, as if he predicted from as young as the age of five he was only brought to planet Earth to fuck up. Why would somebody similar to his patheticness deserve to ever experience any form of success, anyway?
He truly was pathetic, wasn’t he?
“I can’t fucking do anything…. I-I can’t even perform a simple task such as seeking new recruits for the camp; nonetheless getting a girlfriend.” He muttered under his breath, his eyes becoming more watery, as snot began dripping from his nostril. Wiping the snot and tears with his sleeve, he hiccuped.
“F-Fuck….”
A good amount of time has gone by, about a half a week. One day off for the WoodScouts turned into two, and two turned into three. Edward stated he was undertaking important business, saying he had no time to train the scouts, while also mentioning he’d train them another time to make up for the lack - it was the same thing repeated constantly.
Two days ago, Pikeman swore he was going to get up from his tent and do something productive, something worth living for. For the past four days, the only thing the teenage WoodScout has done was eat ramen noodle soup, as well as drink an unhealthy amount of soda - mostly CocoCola. He laid on the thick blanket in the tent, never moving an inch unless he needed to eat, hydrate, release human waste, or speak to a WoodScout for an extremely limited amount of time. Unproductiveness was eating him up, consuming his skin and bones - and he didn’t know how to stop it.
One day when Pikeman exited his tent momentarily to have a quick talk with his most knowledgeable campmates, Snake and Petrol; Snake pulled Pikeman to the side. Tugging onto the scout leader’s shirt collar to where he was on his level, he dashed his widened eyes to the other’s dull ones. Pikeman groaned, wanting to step away. Snake noticed and tightened his grip.
“I think it’s pathetic you’re not telling us anything. We’re concerned.”
Snake let go of Pikeman’s collar, allowing him to adjust his posture. Petrol then walked over, his hands resting on his hips.
“Mmmm mmm mm?” (What’s going on?) Petrol questioned, walking closer towards the senior scout; “Mmmm mmmm mmm mmm.” (We’re here for you.)
Pikeman sighed, rubbing his pinkish eyes; pink due to the excessive amount of crying he’s done. He wished to keep everything a secret, it was his business. Though, he was aware not sharing what he’s been going through, especially to ones who’s being affected towards it, would only leave a black hole of curiosity, and maybe a beginning of hatred.
“I’m not one to share personal struggles, but you two deserve to know - the shortage of training must have made all your muscles go weak.”
Snake rolled his eyes
“Enough with the training, tell us why you’ve been so distant!”
“Fine, god you have no patience! That’ll be added to the to-do list for training: Snake’s Patience Exercise.” Pikeman slightly giggled at his own half joke. Wait, giggled? That felt nice, after days of not doing so. Come to realize, it felt great being around people who cared for him. At that moment, it was as if nothing in the world mattered, but he and the two others.
“Sit down, I’ll explain everything.”