1994 (TATE LANGDON FANFIC)

Twenty-six

Although the bus stops we pass are no longer clustered with schoolchildren it's still early in the morning and we have barely dwindled down the time left in the school day. The time reads hardly 10:30.

After we pass a few undistinctive bus stops I begin to become wary about the route we're taking and if this is the right passage. Josh follows the open road to the left and that's when my surroundings begin to relate with places I've been before.

"This is the way to your house, right?" Josh speaks abruptly.

I raise my eyebrows. I'm surprised he didn't consult the new plans with me.

"You're dropping me back home? What about Michael? He'll think I ditched him," I protest. 

"I'll get him into school or I'll drop him back home. I just think we should send them off track if they come looking for you."

"Also, I have something I need to give you when we get to your house," he says briskly. 

There's not much more to say about that. I spend the rest of the car ride pondering over what could be the thing that Josh needs to give me. 

The car slows down in front of my house and comes to a gradual stop. When the car has lost all momentum I turn to Josh, expecting him to pull out something from the glove compartment. 

He instead delves deep into the pockets of his sweater and his hands clasp around something. I hear it brush against his fingers and I already know what it is. 

It's the return of the gun.

I didn't know it had been warming up in his pocket all this time. 

"You can have it. Do whatever you want with it," he says neutrally but there is a hint of speculation in his tone. He knows what I should do with it but he's trying to be cautious about giving me ideas.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, Just take it," he says adamantly.

I take it from his hands and my fingers find all the nooks and engravements as quickly as I did before. Between my palms, it feels like it's restored into the place it's supposed to be. 

"Actually, Tate. Maybe you would prefer this instead?" he offers suddenly and without waiting for a reply his hands move to the glove compartment. 

Sprawling across a stack of magazines is a gun that's triple in size and also in looks than the other one.

The moment I see it I lose any affection for the other gun and I cut off all sense of admiration for it. This one I must have. Its complexity doesn't even scare me. 

"You want it?" Josh asks.

"Yeah. I want that one," I demand, gazing at its silver skin.

"Fine. Take it. My gift to you," he says, carrying it ever so lightly like a grenade. His fingers only just scrape the metal.

"How do I use it though?"

"It's not that different from the other one. Give it here. I'll show you," he says and begins to instruct me on the anatomy of a gun. From the untrained eye, it looks like an intimidating piece of machinery however after my brief training it's as simple as using a computer.

"There are bullets in there by the way. I trust you to have them," he says, bestowing this responsibility on me.

We don't talk about what he's edging me to do but we're both thinking it over and over again in our minds. 

It's a gun. What else could I be expected to do with it?

"Thanks," I reply plainly, zipping it up inside of my sweater. I'm aware of the bulge it makes so I cross my arms hoping it will distract the eyes of anyone who cares to look.