That One Time I Died

What hits harder - an unwanted confession or an avalanche?

"When was the last time there was a bear sighting around here? If you're scared to go so far from the village just say so."

"Oh piss off, mate." I replied, manufacturing my best impression of our Northern accent.

"You didn't deny it, you didn't deny it." he laughingly teased.

I picked up a bunch of snow off the ground and hurled it at him, also laughing.

"Imagine having the AUDACITY to hit your elders!" he scolded, stifling another chuckle. I didn't retain the same composure and continued cackling.

"And I'd do it again too!" I finally replied, picking more snow off the ground, this time taking the time to mold it into a snowball.

"Back in my day-" he didn't finish that sentence. The snowball had hit him right in the nose.

Caught off guard, he stopped dramatically massaging his forehead and immediately prepared for retaliation.

What resulted was a fifteen minute long, heated battle. Finally, exhausted, we both leaned on a tree, trying to catch our breath.

"I definitely won." He boasted, in between panting.

"No the fuck you didn't." I replied, between both coughing and panting.

"Imagine being in denial." he coughed.

"Imagine being short." I retaliated, mocking his cough.

"Imagine being built like a godsdamn giraffe."

"But that's different, aren't you supposed to be taller than me?"

"Not when your entire family tree are out here looking like actual trees."

"Well at least I don't have the fashion sense of a braindead pterodactyl. This outfit you have is not giving-"

"Girl, I know you ain't talking, that yellow jacket makes you look like a taxisled."

Not having a suitable comeback to that, I fell upon the one strategy that never failed me, "Izrod takuv-" (You bastard)
Robin, however, was quick too, "I know where you live."

"I swear to the gods, I will find your exact address." I replied.

"Hmph, well you're not invited to my birthday party!" he said, in his best high-pitched voice, finally letting go of that tree in order to put his hands on his hips.

"Shut up, catboy!" I responded, bringing up dirt from when six-year-old me had made the mistake of letting him look through my wardrobe.

"HEY JUST BECAUSE I WANTED TO SEE HOW YOUR SKIRT WOULD LOOK ON ME DOESN'T MAKE ME A-"

"YOU ALSO STOLE MY PINK HEADBAND-"

"I WAS SEVEN!"

"IT HAD 𝗖𝗔𝗧 𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦, ROBIN! 𝗖𝗔𝗧 𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦!"

"I WAS SEVEN I JUST WANTED TO SEE HOW IT'D LOOK LIKE-"

During that entire conversation, we hadn't stopped laughing, and now, we were so out of breath that we were forced to lean on the tree again.

I started coughing again.

"You good?

I laughed in between coughs.

"No seriously, you good?" He asked, this time with visible concern. I gave him the thumbs up as I continued to cough.

He took his scarf and wrapped it around me.

"Are you trying to strangle me or something?" I asked, laughing in-between more coughs.

"Can't you let me be nice for a second?" he asked, tipping an imaginary fedora when he finished fixing the scarf.