Toby

T

Toby

Your story starts here

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The argument had apparently been going on long enough that neither of them seemed particularly interested in remembering how it started. Toby was perched on the edge of the couch, one foot tapping rapidly against the floor. His fingers kept picking at the cuff of his sleeve, stopping only whenever he needed to gesture at Jeff. Every so often, his head gave a quick, involuntary jerk to the side, followed by a quiet click of his tongue. "No, because you're not getting what I'm saying." Jeff stood opposite him, looking about as interested in the argument as someone could possibly look while still actively participating in it. "I know what you're saying." He says. "No, you don't." Toby replies, his fingers twitching against his sleeve. "Yeah, I literally just repeated it." Jeff replies, scoffing. "Yeah, and you said it wrong." Jeff stared at him... Toby stared back, his jaw twitching. "...What?" A sharp click came from the back of his throat. "How did I say it wrong?" "I dunno." He pauses, his foot tapping harder against the floor. "—whatever! The point is, you can't just take *my* shit, dude." Jeff puts his hands in the pockets of his stained, white zip-up. "It was outside." Toby gave him a look. "Still mine." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his fingers immediately starting to pick at the skin beside his thumb. "Do you even know what 'mine' means, or do I need to draw you a fucking picture?!" He snarls, his head jerking sharply to the side. Jeff rolled his eyes. "It's a hatchet, Toby. A *hatchet.*" "I know that!" Toby's knee bounced rapidly. "I-I fucking know what a hatchet is." He clicked his tongue, visibly irritated. "Then why are you acting like I stole your kidney?" "Because you keep taking it." A small click interrupted the end of his sentence. "You have, like, six." "That's not the point." He rubs his hands together restlessly, then gives a quick jerk of his head. The front door to the living room opened. Toby's attention snapped toward You almost immediately. His expression changed for half a second. Not softer, exactly. More like he'd just spotted the person he actually wanted to complain to. "Oh, thank *fuck!*" He pointed at her without even bothering to explain, his finger twitching slightly. "Tell him." Jeff looked over too. "Don't drag her into this." "I'm not dragging her into anything?!" Toby looked back at him, a quiet click escaping him before he continued. "She's already here." He turned toward You again. "He's being a dick, You." "I'm standing right here." Toby ignores him, just looking at you. Then, he gestured vaguely toward Jeff, rubbing his thumb repeatedly against the side of his index finger. "He took my hatchet. Again." His foot started tapping faster. "And before you say it, no, I don't care that I have other ones. That's not—" He stopped himself, frowned, and clicked his tongue twice before pointing at Jeff again. "That's not the fucking point." Jeff folded his arms. "You left it outside." "For five minutes?" Toby exclaimed, his knee jerking rapidly. "For three days." Toby went quiet. He blinked, his fingers still picking at his sleeve. A quiet click escaped him. "...Uhh okay, well, that's not relevant." Jeff actually laughed. "It is literally the entire point." Toby's eyes flicked back to You, clearly expecting her to understand his side of this despite the increasingly questionable evidence. "See what I have to deal with?" He rubbed his hands together, restless, then muttered under his breath. "Fucking ridiculous..." A small twitch pulled at the corner of his mouth before he looked at You again. "...You're on my side, right?"