You have to wait until 5:45-ish to start getting consistent responses from Jon again on school days, because he gets out of class at 3:00 in his time. The last fifteen minutes are calm enough for him to return to his typical lightning-speed texting style. Thank god because by the time the quick texts roll around, his brief responses have you so deprived you're practically begging for attention.
[5:40 PM] you: come on come on come onnnnnnnn. i've done my waiting. this is sickening
[5:42 PM] you: you're a cruel man, combs. i'm deprived!
[5:43 PM] you: alone!
[5:43 PM] you: abandoned!
[5:43 PM] you: must i continue?
[5:44 PM] jon: Jesus fuck, Sock. I can't get through a single period without everyone thinking I have a faulty vibrator in my pocket or something. You are relentless.
[5:45 PM] you: i cannot be blamed for you exposing your own disgusting hobbies
[5:46 PM] jon: Screw you, Sowachowski.
[5:46 PM] you: you wish, buddy. <3
[5:47 PM] you: okay but really, innuendos aside, what are you up to tonight?
[5:49 PM] jon: "Innuendos aside", huh?
[5:49 PM] you: oh, bite me
[5:51 PM] you: i'm being serious! those stupid horror movies you made me pay real, actual money for are begging to be marathoned. i refuse to ignore their cries any longer. it's trash abuse to neglect them for so long
[5:53 PM] jon: Movies sound good. We both have class tomorrow, though. You sure you're up for it?
[5:54 PM] you: me? up for not sleeping? oh, never.
[5:55 PM] you: please, combs. i'm more worried about you
[5:57 PM] jon: I know how to hang, you ass.
[5:57 PM] you: although i am doubtful, i can't make your choices for you, so a marathon it is!
[5:59 PM] jon: Can't wait. What did I even make you buy?
[6:00 PM] you: lemme pull em up.
[6:04 PM] you: okay, so we've got: some shitty, grainy one about the human psyche, a goofy-looking handheld-camera piece on cannibalism, and something about clowns. why.
[6:04 PM] you: i often wonder why i entrust you to distribute my minimal movie funding
[6:06 PM] jon: Throw away your inhibitions. We're busting into that clown trash the second I get home.
[6:07 PM] you: you sicken me, hot stuff
[6:08 PM] jon: You dig it.
You shake your head as you lay your phone down, knowing that's about all of the substance you'll get out of that trainwreck of a chat, smiling to yourself and shifting your attention to your laptop screen. You'll talk again when he gets home in a few minutes and leaps online. For now, you skim through your last Skype conversation and smile quietly to yourself.
You're normally on a call so the typed exchanges are rare but sometimes, when you're too tired and hoarse to talk, you'll tap out short messages to one another. Those conversations are short-lived, though, because Jon always drifts off. Talking is the one thing that keeps him alert.
Reading through them, you can't help but grin dopily, each one calling to mind a memory of the night they occurred. Jonathan's messages are the best; a collection of misspellings, grammatical errors, and lack of capitalization, things he'd never let himself get away with under normal circumstances. The way he lets his guard down with you never ceases to get your heart thumping. Your mind wanders off on its own tangent, entirely Jon-centric, and your thoughts drift away, dreamy and adoring and warm.
The familiar bubbling sound of an incoming Skype call breaks you from your trance, blinking for a few moments before realizing it can be no other than Jonathan himself. Your goofy grin widens as you accept the call. Your face pops up in the small box in the corner, and you quickly try to adjust your messy mop of hair even a bit before your image loads up on Jon's screen. You get a few seconds before his face pops up, accompanied by a crackling cacophony of sounds that you can only assume were supposed to be a greeting. Your eyes skim across his face for a moment, heart fluttering, before you speak up.
"Wanna run that one by me again?"
"I only said 'hey, Sock'. God, I can't even get a word in before Skype starts giving out on me."
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ФанфикSaying that a boy is your biggest problem sounds shallow, so you won't. But god, do you want to. long-distance sockathan trash sock's alive, jon's his best friend / target of unrequited affection. all of the angst and internal conflict for the small...
