Peter Kowalski was accustomed to Gary not understanding the meaning of personal space. So much so, in fact, that he'd given up fighting about it. He made no fuss when Gary fell asleep-- or, erm, crashed like he'd been on a sugar buzz-- on his bed and made Petey sleep in the common room. Petey didn't even argue when Gary stole his lunch, and then insisted that Petey NOT get up to go get more, because Gary was too busy talking. He justified Gary's weirdness by reminding himself that Gary at least wanted to pay him some attention. Some weird, controlling attention, but attention, nonetheless.
Still, even Petey had limits. Not many, granted, and even fewer when it came to Gary, but if you squinted hard, you could see the little line that could be crossed. At the same time, he knew Gary, so he wasn't exactly surprised when he walked into his dorm room and found Gary gleefully crossing that line.
"My- my-- Gary, are those my CLOTHES!?" Petey found himself stuttering, and he actually didn't do that very much. He mumbled, whispered, and mumbled some more, but he didn't usually get shocked into stuttering. "What are you doing with my luggage?"
Gary was standing in front of the wardrobe, his back to the door. On his left was a large white bag from Aquaberry. On his right was a large black garbage bag. Into which he was currently stuffing all of Petey's clothes. Every single uniform shirt, every single t-shirt, EVERY single sweater was tossed into the garbage bag, one by one. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Gary threw a look over his shoulder. He was completely serious, Petey realized with a twinge of worry and fear-- worry and fear for himself, though, not Gary. Who was ever scared FOR Gary?
"B-b-but..." Petey trudged into the room, his head lowered in misery. Whatever Gary was doing, there was no way that he could stop it. He knew that. Still, it hurt to watch. Petey was sure that his mother had spent quite a bit of money on those clothes...okay, so maybe her assistant had, but that wasn't the point. The point was, "...those are mine."
Petey blinked. "I like them." He took a couple of steps towards the white bag and reached out for it. He didn't actually get to touch it though, since Gary's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Hard. "Ow! Gary, damnit, let go."
"Quit squirming." He was NOT squirming. Much. "Behave for a minute. I'm giving you a present."
Gary released him, and Petey rubbed his wrist pitiably. Well, it would have been pitiable, had Gary understood what pity was. "Throwing away my clothes qualifies as giving me a present?" Gary nodded, still not looking Petey's way. Petey watched in awestruck horror as he watched his favorite sweater-- the red cashmere one that his grandmother had gotten him like a year ago, when she noticed that he had 'actually grown an inch'-- went, with everything else, into the black hole of a garbage bag. And, for some reason, all Petey could think to say was, "Don't people having fits of crazy tend to whistle while doing weird things?"
Gary DID turn at that, slowly. "Excuse me, Petey? Are you calling me crazy?" Petey's eyes went wide as he internally cursed himself for using the no-no word. He knew better than that. "Because, if you were, that'd be really ungrateful of you, considering everything I'm doing for you." Petey didn't know what Gary was doing for him, but he was sure that he was about to be told.
And, just as Petey knew he would, Gary continued. "All of this," Gary motioned towards the garbage bag, "Is boring. Normal. Everyone here has everything you own, and no one is impressed. How exactly are you supposed to stand out as Bullworth's premiere girl-boy amalgam if you don't stand out?"
Petey frowned. "But...I don't WANT to be-- that." He certainly didn't remember saying he wanted to be that. That was something he'd recall, right?
Gary put an arm around Petey's shoulders, which made Petey jump. "Shut up, don't contradict me. Petey, you've got an image to upload, and, frankly, your dorky threads aren't gonna do it for you." Petey wanted to shrink into non-existence. He tried, but Gary's arm was still on his shoulder, so every time he shrunk back, he just pressed himself into Gary's arm. Which was NOT non-existence. Not at all.
Gary's grin stretched like-- well, Petey knew that 'like a cat' was an overdone cliche, but goddamnit, that's exactly what Gary reminded him of! To be more specific, he reminded Petey of the old tabby that used to scratch the shit out of him when he was five, until animal control took it away. Petey used to leave a bowl of milk out for that Tabby.
"So?" Petey repeated, his voice higher and more concerned.
"So I bought you a new wardrobe." Petey could've figured THAT out on his own, but he didn't say anything. "And you will wear it everyday, everywhere. And you will love it, because I blew a lot of money on it. Is that clear?"
Petey's eyes drifted towards the white bag. This was what teenagers in horror movies felt like, when they stepped on the first step into the basement. At least they had the comfort of dying after their horrible trauma. Petey had the distinct, unfortunate feeling he was going to live through this.
Gary suddenly pushed Petey forward. Petey stumbled, and barely caught his balance. Gary laughed. "Go on, look. I want to see how it looks on you."
Petey glanced back at Gary, and then at the white bag. And then at Gary again. Gary's eyes narrowed threateningly. Petey swallowed a lump in his throat and crouched down. He reached his hands into the bag and braced himself
Which was a good thing, since the bag was filled with ten pink oxford shirts. Ten. Pink. Oxford shirts. A a few pairs of khakis underneath. He gulped
Behind him, he heard Gary plop himself down on the bed and arrange himself. "What, no thank you?"