Just Friends - Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Spencer's POV
"Rain, Rain go away."
I looked up from my sitting position in the bed with my book at Ethan, who was staring out of the window with one hand on the glass and the other in his pocket. "That doesn't actually work, you know."
He had been singing that stupid song for the past ten minutes. It started off being irritatingly cute but quickly became just plain irritating after he repeated it for the ninth time. The sky was still dark; so was the room and rain still pitter-patted harshly on the window's sill.
"I know that; what am I, stupid?"
"Debatable." I mumbled, absentmindedly turning another page.
He grunted, "Whatever, it's your birthday."
"And I'm quite happy that it's raining on said Day of Birth." I admitted, happily might I add. "No birthday parties, no dumb ass songs and most of all, no idiots in Donald Duck costumes."
He spun around, and leaned against the glass but the dreaded feeling of a cold surface shaking hands with bare skin instinctively caused him to bounce back off. "What is it with you and Donald Duck costumes?"
I shivered at the memory, "There is just something unsettling about a grown man in the late stages of a heat stroke at a kid's party in a Disney Character suit."
Ethan - clad in just a pair of gray sweat pants with nothing underneath (he said something about letting his 'boys' breathe), a pair of black socks and the dog tag swinging carelessly around his neck - smirked, crossing my room from the window "I thought he was adorable."
"There is nothing adorable about some guy passing out on top of the cake at your eleventh birthday party."
He snickered, sitting gently on the edge of the bed, "That was the best part and if I'm correct, that party is what made you popular." He smiled, "Let's not forget that's how we became best friends."
I scoffed, "Yeah, lucky me that I got cake in my ears and you got a candle in your left eye and both had to be rushed to the hospital together."
He laughed and raised a hand over the injured eye, "I still have a blind spot."
"That was the most traumatizing moment of my life."
He cocked his head, "What about that time you and I got lost in the woods and thought that Big Foot was chasing us but-"
"- It just turned out being a really big squirrel who went -"
" - Nuts?" he interjected, with a condescending smirk.
"You're an idiot." I chuckled. "And I can't believe you remember that joke."
He scoffed, only looking half offended, "We said that when we were in the back of the ambulance."
I nodded, "Because you got bitten by the squirrel and had to get shots for rabies."
Ethan narrowed his eyes, "Hey, Spielberg, you left out a huge chunk in the middle. Why don't you remind the audience how I ended up getting a chunk of my left arm gnawed out?"
I rolled my eyes, "You-we're-saving-me." I mumbled, looking down as to block the sound but, Ethan wasn't having it.
He crawled close enough so that he could look up into my eyes and cupped the ear that was most visible to me, "Oh, I'm sorry, I don't think we heard you?"
I sighed with the accompanying eye roll, "The dumb squirrel tried to attack me and you jumped in the way and got bitten." I answered drearily enough to making it known that this part of information painted me in a bad light and thus, was irrelevant.
He seemed satisfied though; smiling and sitting back up, keeping his position just about two feet away from me. "I had to get three shots."
My eyes brows slightly rose, "I'm surprised you remember all of this."
He cocked his head, "Why wouldn't I?"
"What did you eat for breakfast?"
Blank look + Open mouth = No answer.
"Exactly."
He shrugged that off, "It's not my fault I only remember the important memories that we share that, incidentally, all involve me getting maimed and or bitten-slash-infected while you get out unscathed."
I scoffed, "That's not true."
"It so is." He retorted, "Come to think of it, I can't remember a single adventure in which you have been hit, stung, beaten or attacked."
"That's not true. " I muttered, half (okay, a quarter) sure it wasn't true, "What about those April Fool's pranks?"
He shook his head, "Not applicable. Those were me versus you not us versus some mutated creature."
"What about that time we went camping and I got stung by all those red ants?"
"You mean the camping trip in ninth grade when you woke that bear after you screamed 'cause something bit your big toe?" he asked, facetiously so, "Because I remember being chased by said bear after that."
I scoffed, letting the book slide from my already loose grip to fall in my lap, "That wasn't that serious."
"Hey." He barked, "You weren't the one being chased by a demented Yogi." He scolded, "You were too busy being treated for your boo-boos."
I rolled my eyes, "You were rescued, weren't you?"
"Yeah," he huffed exaggeratedly, "after my screams alerted the hungry hyenas that fresh human meat was nearby that subsequently lead to the illegal poachers who were trying to hunt them."
It was my turn to huff, "You're exaggerating."
"Am I?" he shot back, amusingly sarcastic.
I couldn't help but let out a small snicker, "Okay, let's get off of the topic of your unfortunate incidents and on to what the hell are we going to do all day."
He thought for a second, "Let's go to the park."
"It's raining, dunderhead."
He shrugged, "More park for us."
"I'm not getting sick, Ethan. I plan to make a good impression on my teachers next week, not infect them with the common cold."
He groaned animatedly childish like he always did whenever I mentioned that school was already poking its head out of the sand, "Is summer over already?" he moaned and fell backwards, "It felt like yesterday I was in the first day of my reign as Queen of Pleasant Acres High."
I chuckled, "Well, the good part is that a new season of television is starting." I smiled, "Community is coming back."
He stayed in his lying down position but raised his two thumbs up, "Cool...CoolCoolCool." He answered before rising up again, "Speaking of new seasons, when's the last time you spoke with Karla?"
I frowned, "Last day of July. She said she would get real busy once she got to U of I and I guess she doesn't have the time to call anymore."
"Bummer." He muttered, "What's she studying? Feminism, Gay Best friends and You?"
"Har-Har." I dryly muttered, "She's studying Psychiatry."
"That's cool. Maybe when we run into another adventure and you get away and I get nearly killed again, she can give me a discount."
I rolled my eyes, "If you're so ticked about getting the short hand of our adventures – that, might I add, you get us into – why not just stop going on them?"
He snorted, "Are you kidding? They're the best part of our relationship. Even before we got together, I freaking loved going on side adventures with you."
I raised a brow, "Why?"
He gave me this 'duh' face before chuckling loudly, "Because not matter how much times I was nearly poisoned and or ripped to shreds by some deadly animal, it always ended with us having some memory together that you just can't forget. Besides," he mumbled, letting his eyes drift down to his chest where that red-inked tattoo he got – seemingly ages ago – still sat, "Not all were bad." He lifted his eyes, "Some were worth it."
A sharp pain ran through my chest...thing is, it didn't hurt. It was, to put it simply...to borrow a word from Ethan's range of adjectives, nice. "That's the sweetest-slash-most disturbing thing anyone has ever said to me."
He chuckled and crawled close enough to pushed whatever air and space that floated between us away. Close enough so that when he folded his legs, both of our knees were casually brushing passed one another. "I'd happily get mauled by tigers for you."
I threw him a blank stare, "Okay, that's a little weird, Ethan."
"I'd let zombies chew out my guts."
"You're making me sick."
"I'd let monkeys do things to me that would make Tarzan flip his loin cloth."
"Stop." I boomed and that made him fall back down with laughter. "You're sick." I chuckled.
He launched back up and before I could react, his hands coiled around me and brought me back down with him. He rolled me off from on top of him and got a single pillow, raised my head and placed it under us before he let it drop onto the plush head supporter.
He himself rested his head on it and for a brief time, he just stared and blinked at me with these dark eyes that still shined in a room that's only source of light was a lamp that sat on the night stand near my bedhead.
I looked him over. From his tussled and untamed hair to the stubble that was starting to form above his lips. Then traced jaw line that was starting to become more defined – masculine – until they finally rested on his chest where the tattoo rested casually above his heart.
That got me thinking. Ethan has done a lot to prove he's cared; from planning elaborate romantic events (I still don't know how we pays for them but, I could have sworn I had three hundred more dollars in my bank account than I have now), to the tattoo and the dog tags.
Even before we were together, he showed he cared. How many people do you know of that would take a bite from a squirrel that could have rabies just so it didn't bite you? Who would do that? I wouldn't.
"Thank you."
He furrowed his brows, "For..."
"Everything." I mumbled.
What everything meant was anyone's guess really.
And, for a brief moment he looked like he was going to take a chance at guessing, but mid-thought – before that first syllable could echo pass his lips – he gently sealed them back together and swallowed whatever thought lingered inside. "You're welcome."
"I'm not getting any tattoos though."
He snorted, "You're not man enough."
I mocked him, "Maybe I'm notthat stupid."
His eyes brows shot up, "You're saying that getting this was stupid?" he didn't sound angry; just amused.
"No, I'm saying getting a tattoo in general is stupid." I answered. "Think of how stupid red ink is going to look on your chest when you're eighty-five."
He scoffed, "Think of how awesome I'm going to sound when I'm telling our grand kids about how I got this red ink on my chest."
Time kind of stopped. "......Grandkids?"
For a second, he looked confused. That was until he backtracked to what he said and then, the subsequent look of realization aptly followed before subtle embarrassment took over, "I mean...I guessed...aren't we? Uh... are we? I kind of thought..."
I smacked him on the forehead, "Spit it out, moron."
Once he shook his head of the sudden trauma, he refocused and grunted, "I just assumed that we were going to get married, adopt a few kids and have grandkids."
I blinked, "You think that we're going to be together that long?"
That obviously took him by surprise. His eyes widened just slightly enough that wouldn't be noticed by someone who wasn't me, "You...don't?"
Did I? "I think we're going to be together for a long time as in, the rest of our high school lives but, after that, honestly, things get blurry."
"Why?" he asked, sounding surprisingly calm, "Is something supposed to change between us after high school?"
"No, but less than half of high school relationships transfer over into the real world and who knows where we are going to college?"
"If those are excuses not to put up with my sloppiness when we're married-"
"They're not." I interjected, stopping him midsentence and evoking a more subtle, glassy look from him, "They're facts."
His chest rose harshly, "And who gives a damn about facts?"
Here we go. "That's not the point, Ethan."
"Then what is the point? Are you planning to just forget about me and I have to carry around this tattoo on my chest as a constant reminder?" A certain form of awareness dawned in his eyes, "Is that why you won't get a tattoo?"
I narrowed my eyes, genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?"
"The reason you don't want to get a tattoo is because you don't want that constant memory of us when we, as your facts suggest, inevitably break up."
I readjusted myself on the pillow and closed a little part of the gap that had been sleeping between our noses, "No, I just don't like tattoos."
"Liar." He blurted.
"Are not." I gasped, nearly matching his level of childishness. "I'm just saying the odds are against us and I would rather not think about the future when there are so many variables."
He huffed, "I don't care about variables or constants or whatever geometrical phenomena that you come up with." He answered sternly, "We're getting married, we're going to have kids and then grandkids and I'm going to be telling them stories of my awesome, sagging tattoos and what each of them mean." He pointed down at his chest, "Including the first one I got." The flare in his eyes dulled a bit and was quickly replaced by a more reflective gaze, "I love you. I don't care about facts or statistics, okay?"
I took a moment before answering, "...Okay."
The amused glint came flying back after that, "Now that that's settled, let's talk baby names."
I blinked, "You're kidding."
He snickered, "Sort of. Kind of. Almost. Nope."
I rolled my eyes as the tense atmosphere was slowly starting to be replaced, "I'm not discussing baby names."
He frowned, "Why not?"
"Like I said, there are too many variables." I raised a hand before he could refute and he immediately closed his trap. "By variables, I'm talking about gender."
"Unisex names; Spencer is the most unisex-y name, like, ever." he retorted, "I was thinking that I name one after my favorite character from one of my video games and you could name one after a character off your favorite show. Then, we could name the third after someone we really care about."
I blinked, "That is a horrible idea."
His lip flared, "Really?"
"Really."
"Hey, I'm just throwing out ideas."
"How about we leave those ideas for later and just focus on the now?"
He thought about it for a moment before huffing in defeat, "Fine. No more baby talk...for now." he paused, "What about homes?"
"Ethan."
"Joint checking accounts?"
"Ethan."
"Honeymoon locations?"
"You're an ass."
"I love you." He countered with an amused glint.
I rolled my eyes, "Unfortunately, I love you too."
He stared, "Always?"
I went to answer but remembered what he said. Screw statistics, facts, research...fears.
"Spencer?" I refocused on his dark browns eyes, "Always?"
"Forever."
"Happy Birthday, baby." He said after the most comfortable seconds of silence that one could ever have the privilege of feeling - tasting. And in those brief moments, a sound of thunder could have rolled and I promise you I would'nt have heard it; lightning could have flashed and I swore I did'nt saw it.
"It is now."