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Bert set his fabric marker down on the kitchen table, taking in his penmanship. Laid out in front of him is one of his shirts, a pale green, with carefully applied writing on the back.
"If lost, return to Bert."
Bert straightened his back, brow relaxing with satisfaction. Finally, a good solution to his shirts disappearing. As of late, with the days getting warmer and sun showing itself for longer, Bert wanted to swap the usual turtlenecks and cardigans with something loose and breezy instead. Though, every time he threw one into the wash, it never ended up back in his drawer.
At first, Bert was confused. Then, he was suspicious. After the third, he had an idea of exactly where his belongings were ending up. But he wanted to catch the culprit in the act.
As if on cue, Ernie entered their kitchen and slid around the table on his socks, pressing shoulder to shoulder against his friend.
"Whatcha doing, Bert?"
"Oh, just marking my shirt. Y'know, so that anybody who finds it, when it inevitably gets lost like the others," Bert coughed subtly, eyeing Ernie for any sign of guilt or worry, "they will know who to return it to."
"Well, gee, that's some real smart thinking," Ernie praised, smiling innocently up at Bert, "what about your other shirts?"
"That's the thing, Ernie… this is my last plain one," Bert, fiddled with the hem as he spoke, "if this one gets lost, at least it has my name on it. I don't want to buy a completely new set of shirts."
Ernie read the writing, head leaning on Bert's arm. "I see, I see." He patted Bert on the back gently, before turning around to fill a glass with water at the sink. As he did so, the two of them became unusually quiet.
Normally, Bert thought, Ernie would bombard him with question after question about what he was up to, endless curiosity within him. Yet Ernie stayed silent, save for his occasional sips. Bert couldn't hold back a smirk.
I've got him.
"Ernie…are you sure you don't know where my shirt collection went?"
"I told you, Bert, I have no idea!"
"Even when you took our laundry back from the dry cleaners? And offered to fold it? And cleaned our bedroom?"
Ernie took a long sip. He swallowed. He sighed.
"Nope! Sorry."
The next morning, while Ernie brushed his teeth, Bert snuck into his clothes pile; some hanging off the side of his drawers, some fallen on the floor, but none folded. Hidden underneath an impressive hill of colourful sweaters, Bert lifted his three missing shirts from the mess. He grumbled, taking them back to his side of the room. He will tell Ernie off, catch him off guard, maybe make him pay for the groceries this time as punishment.
Bert opened his shirt drawer, ready to return them back to their right places. It was a spectacle of neat, carefully folded clothing that made Ernie's side look like a tornado had it out for him personally.
His eyes widened at the collection. Or, rather, what was missing from it.
Where did his marked shirt go?
He couldn't take it anymore. This was the fourth and last time. He slammed the drawer shut.
"Ernie!"
"Yeah, Bert?"
Ernie entered the bedroom, smoothing the fabric of his shirt down. A pale green shirt.
"You thief! I knew it was you," Bert exclaimed, stomping over to his roommate, slippers making a dull thumping sound with each step, "why in the world do you need to steal my shirts?! You have plenty."
"Well you got them back, right?" Ernie replied, looking at the shirts draped over Bert's arm.
"Yes, I found them in your pile. Not folded properly, might I add!" Bert pointed to the shirt Ernie had on, "And now, you have the nerve to take the one I marked!"
"Well, I was thinking yesterday," Ernie walked past his angered friend, reaching for his worn, red shoes, "since we're going shopping today, maybe I should wear this, Bert."
"What are you talking about?" Bert huffed, folding his arms.
Ernie now looked up at him form his place on his bed where he was tying his shoelaces, familiar grin plastered across his face. "You know how I like to walk around the aisles. Remember when we ran in circles looking for each other one time?" he said, to which Bert nodded curtly, "Well, if I wear this shirt, everybody will know who to return me to if I get lost!"
"No, wh– Ernie, I specifically wrote on it so people know it's mine."
Ernie giggled, the same way as when his mission to drive Bert up all four walls has been successful.
"Well Bert, now people will know that I'm yours, too!"
Bert paused, relaxing the tense expression he wore. What Ernie was babbling about, he couldn't understand. All he knew is that his friend was now stood in front of him, in his shirt, with no shame. And, for some reason, Bert wasn't as angry about that anymore. But Ernie couldn't know that yet.
"Still," Bert stuttered, unibrow arching in some semblance of frustration, "how would you feel if I took all your shirts, even the ones you marked?"
When Ernie's face lit up, Bert knew it was too late to take back what he said. He watched as Ernie grabbed a baby blue shirt from his pile and turned back around to Bert, "I've got an idea!"
The pair stepped out of their apartment, Bert locking the door while Ernie breathed fresh air into his lungs.
Bert patted his pockets for the third time that morning, making sure he had absolutely everything needed for their quick grocery trip that day. Wallet, keys, shopping list, a few of his paperclips to fidget with…
"C'mon, Bert," Ernie hooked a hand under Bert's arm, dragging him onto the main sidewalk. Bert stopped worrying, but the feeling was quickly replaced with embarrassment.
"Ernie," he whined, hunched in on himself a little, "what if people stare?"
"Let 'em stare, maybe we'll start a new trend."
Together, they walked down the street to the grocery store. People walked past, engrossed in their own daily lives, with the occasional smile and wave from their friends. With every step, Bert became a little more confident in himself. With every step, Ernie's smile grew impossibly fonder of his partner.
Behind them, unknown to the pair, a few admired the matching writing on their shirts.
"If lost, return to Bert."
"If lost, return to Ernie."