Comic Book Heroes: Alex/Holly/Billy
Pushing through the front door of the comic book shop didn’t feel like coming home so much as going to church. Okay, so it should be attending synagogue, technically - but his family had been a super secular variety of Reform and the metaphor just felt like it worked better with Christianity vibes in his head. Like, he knew the sound of the little bell above the door tinkling to announce somebody’s arrival as well as he imagined tiny old ladies knowing all the hymns, or whatever. It made more sense than the Shabbat prayer songs, because he didn’t know anyone who actually, like, knew the words to those. Oh, and the dust motes floating through beams of muted light that shone through the posters taped on the windows? Hello, totally serving you stained glass realness.
Alright, so, admittedly it’d be a bit of a stretch to compare a bean bag chair that was probably older than Billy to a pew. And the kid currently lounging behind the counter didn’t look like he was brewing up much of a sermon, not that he had any flock to speak of besides Billy himself and somebody he could hear shuffling through a stack in one of the alcoves.
But the point of this messy metaphor that had already gotten entirely away from Billy by the time the door swung shut behind him, was that he’d been more devoted to this place than anywhere else. Ever since he showed up in Repose, he used to hang out and read the new arrivals in the daytime hours when he didn’t have much else to do around town. He’d barely known anyone outside of Hookerville for the first year, at least. And while, yeah, he’d known it was sort of a dick move to go most days without actually buying anything, he tried to make up for it by being as unobtrusive as possible. Sometimes he was even successful. And when he started getting regulars? After food, most of his money ended up in the register here.
But it’d been a while, this time. Maybe a month or two. He’d been working part-time at the music store, and trying to figure out whether he wanted to stay in his trailer or get a place of his own for real. Hitching rides into the Capital to score some seriously excellent threads in the best thrift shop. So it did feel, like, legit sacred being back in the shop when it was quiet and he had that little anticipatory thrill of a new issue waiting for him on the hold shelf. The soles of his Docs sounded too loud against the creaky floorboards, blasphemous almost, but he was at least glad that he hadn’t worn shorts instead of the oversized pyjama pants that he’d tied over his favourite t-shirt. The shop was warm, and he knew that he’d only make it warmer with the heat that rose off his exposed skin.
"Hey," he said, with a nod and a smile in the direction of the kid behind the register. "How's it going?"