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."
You laugh and roll your eyes. You're both aware that the chatting software isn't the most reliable program, but as you've said before, it's the best you can get without the real thing. Your fingers begin tapping away at your keyboard, pulling up your browser and setting up the usual screen-sharing site, musing absently to him as you go.
"Okay, are you gonna give me the rundown on this stupid movie, or am I going in blind?"
"Y'see, I'd tell you if I had any idea myself, but the problem there is that I don't."
You laugh and slap a hand over your eyes, shaking your head before dragging it down your face.
"Dear god. Why do I ever give you any sort of responsibility?"
"Because you love watching me make grievous, terrifically painful mistakes and, subsequently, suffering alongside me. Pretty sure we've been over this before. Does it not have a description anywhere?"
Your hands start up again, thrumming away at the keys as your pointer finger slides over the trackpad of your laptop. Things have been going good lately. It feels like things are on comfortable ground. You don't feel like you're toeing any sorts of lines anymore, crossing any boundaries, taking any risks, because Jon knows everything already. He's been good to you, much better than you expected, and sometimes, although it might just be your imagination, you feel like he's returning some of the affections you toss out.
You'd never say anything, of course. You figure if anything like that were to ever come up, he'd come to you when he was ready. You wouldn't try to pry something of that measure out of him. Although the idea of him spilling something like that to you is awfully pleasant.
"I know I had a folder of all of the movies you tossed at me somewhere.... Here we go. 'Jonathan's Indie Trainwrecks'." You flash him a wicked grin, earning a solid flipping-off as you open up the movie.
"They're not that bad. You're looking at it the wrong way. Even if you can't appreciate them for their quality - which, just so we're clear, is absolutely fantastic every time without fail - you can acknowledge that they're at least an adventure. I keep you entertained."
You laugh and shush him softly, mainly because you have no way to refute that point, motioning to the screen as the program loads.
"Be quiet and watch the stupid movie that you made me pay for. Get my money's worth."
However, approximately ten minutes in, after laughable amounts of unrealistic gore and an onslaught of terrible clown puns (three in the first scene alone seems deserving of some kind of record), you can't stand any more of his snarky comments. You burst out in a wave of laughter so sudden and aggressive that you're nearly snorting, pressing a hand to your mouth and shaking your head. The look on Jon's face is just as funny as his words, biting at his lip to keep in his own snickers and tangling a hand in his light hair.
"You're such a dick! You're the one who roped me into all of this in the first place," you cackle over the screams of the actress in the background.
"I think the adventure has run its course," Jon retorts, flashing you a grin.
You spend the next few hours mocking the movie, exchanging links to clips from other subpar pieces, and doing your best imitations of underpaid and apathetic actors. The time passes much faster than you realize. In fact, you're finishing up your latest rendition of "Last Valley Girl Standing" when you notice the time, eyes widening.
"Jeez, nighttime already? I didn't even realize how quick it went by."
"Yeah, that tends to be how the whole time thing works. You do things, it passes. This is nothing new, man."
You scoff at him, though a smile curls your lips. You'd been entirely oblivious this entire time. You still have homework to do. Maybe it's about time you got off-
"Hey, Sock. Do you think I could tell you something?"
The thought completely disappears from your head before it's even fully formed, disregarded without haste.
"Huh? Of course, dude. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. Just some things I've been thinking about."
You hold up a finger, signaling him to wait for a moment as you change positions. After a few moments of adjusting, you're on your side with your laptop before you, cheek propped up in your hand, eyes scanning his features. You give him a brief thumbs-up and earn a small laugh in return. He rolls his eyes, though he readjusts himself, clasping his hands together beneath his chin.
"I'm not even sure if I have anything to 'tell you'. It's more like rambling off my inner monologue, just so you have a handle on it all."
The words make you a bit nervous, honestly. However, he looks calm, normal, as at ease as ever. He's watching you with careful ocean eyes, tipping his head a bit as messy blonde strands fall over them. It quite nearly takes your breath away every time your eyes flicker across his own. You know he has a habit of maintaining composure when telling you things that could mess you up. You're just praying this is not one of those times.
"Go for it, Jonathan. It's fine."
He purses his lips for a moment, fingers fiddling under his chin, and looks down, away from you. You think you're holding your breath but you're not entirely sure.
"I got the ticket."
You're confused for a moment.
"... Ticket?"
"The plane ticket. To come see you."
Oh.
"... Oh."
"Yeah."
"... Thank god."
You can tell that's not at all the answer he was expecting because his eyes widen for a moment before he exhales, shoulders slumping.
"Good lord, Sowachwoski, I thought you were gonna freak the fuck out."
You can't help but laugh, shaking your head softly.
"No way. I was freaked out at first - last time you mentioned it - but you told me you trusted me, and I guess it made me trust myself. I haven't had the dreams in a while. I've been good lately. Everything's been... better than before. I'm excited."
"Good. I thought that was gonna be hell." Now that he's actually relaxed, you can see the differences between the real thing and his previous act: the slouch of his shoulders, the way his head lolls to the side a bit, the relaxation of his slightly-clenched hands. However, his lips are still quietly pursed, and he's pressing his knuckles to the corner of his mouth, looking distant. He's not finished.
"... Was there anything else?"
His shoulders hitch up just a bit once more, and you can see him tense in spite of himself.
"I'm not too sure how to go about it, to be honest. I wasn't going to say anything until I worked it all out. And then I thought I did. And then I realized I most definitely did not. And then I decided to wait until... well, now, I guess. I wanted to figure myself out first. I wanted it all to make sense."
You look at the stunning boy who's had nearly all of your attention from the day you met him, the boy who's had you wrapped up around his fingertips for four years, the boy who's consumed your thoughts for endless nights. You hate to see him so conflicted over something. You offer him a small, genuine smile and shrug softly.
"I haven't even started figuring myself out, Jon. Just... talk to me. Let me know everything that's going on in your head."
He looks at you for a few quiet moments, and you're not sure you've ever been so attentive in your entire life. He exhales, heavy and slow, and you see some of the tension leave his shoulders. When he speaks, he motions with his hands, looks around his room like he's presenting his thoughts to an audience and not just a webcam. You listen in total silence.
"All that stuff you said that night, the night we stopped talking for a while, it got me thinking. I always noticed all of those things you did, everything you thought I was blind to, but I guess I never really... put all the pieces together. Puzzled everything out. I never connected any of that to the feelings behind it. I guess that's why I never had a second thought about all the things I was feeling.
"I knew I cared about you more than, well, anyone else in my life. I knew you were special, that you meant something to me, but I figured that was how it worked. You're my best friend. Of course I'm going to worry about you more than most people. Of course I'm going to pick up on your quirks and habits. What else can you expect when you talk to someone for four years? Of course I know your personality like the back of my hand, know the tiny tip-offs to your attitude. Doesn't anyone know that sort of thing about their best friend? Of course I like all the little things about you, or else we wouldn't have been friends in the first place, right? I didn't have anything to base it off of. I didn't have some other friend to compare to, some past experience to size it up with. All I had was you, and that was all I wanted.
"When you told me all of that, about wanting to be 'more than a best friend', it was a wakeup call for me. I knew that somewhere along the line, I'd made a wrong assumption. I'd slipped up. There was definitely something off about the way I'd worked this all out. It got me thinking, and I... haven't really stopped. I've been thinking about it more and more every day, and I've realized that I am an absolute fucking idiot.
"I feel like a dick for leaving you hanging for such a long time, but you've gotta understand that I didn't get it. I'm still trying to puzzle it out, even now, but for the most part, I think I know what all of that actually was. I think I understand it now. I just... I wanted to tell you in person. Face to face. I wanted it to be genuine. You can say anything from thousands of miles away, you know? I wanted to... do something to prove it."
The combination of his words, his genuine tone, and the thought of what "proving it" might entail has rendered you speechless, a chill running through your body. Your mouth opens uselessly, hanging there for a moment before your emotions catch up to you and the blood rushes into your cheeks. Your hand slides further up your face in an attempt to hide your flush, but you know it only draws more attention. Jon looks at you curiously, raising a brow a bit, and you find a way to clear your throat and your mind enough to form a coherent sentence. You look down at your hands, fiddling your thumbs quietly.
"You don't have to... prove anything to me, Jon. I trust you. And I know you wouldn't just tell me things you don't mean. Well, the you that I know wouldn't, at least."
"The me you know is the real me, Sock."
His voice is so soft, so sincere, you can't help but look up, and his face is like a punch in the gut. The way he's looking at you makes your heart patter uselessly against your ribs and his eyes are boring straight into your soul, the expression on his gorgeous features so open and truthful it hurts. You understand the things he's saying, but the concept is so unreal, so impossible, you feel compelled to ask. You need the validation, to know beyond any doubt that you haven't misconstrued the things he's said, haven't tricked yourself into believing in something that'll never be.
"Even after everything I told you, you still feel all those things?"
"Yes."
"... So you feel the same way I do?"
Every second piles another pound of pressure onto your lungs, squeezing the life out of you. When he finally answers, you feel like you might burst.
"I think so. Yeah. I do."
The silence hangs in the air for a moment, until you burst out in a spurt of joyous laughter. Your response catches Jon off-guard, and you see him jump, eyes widening. It's contagious, though, because in a moment, he's joining in, cackling wildly. Soon enough, you're both laughing so hard there are tears in your eyes and you can barely breathe, and you're not sure why but you think it has a lot to do with the invisible knot that had buried itself in the pit of your stomach, the one that has now miraculously undone itself with a single tug. It takes you ages to stop laughing, and even then, you both start up in a storm of snorting and snickering again the second you look at each other. When you finally stop, gasping for breath, you wipe the wetness from your eyes and let your cheek rest in your hand once more, letting out a small breath and looking to the laptop screen.
You're giving him the most obvious, undisguised, dreamy gaze you've ever given, and you can tell he notices because of the grin that tugs at his own lips. He looks just as content as you feel, his own face reddened from his laughing fit, and he looks so breathless and beautiful that everything in you aches to reach through the screen and grab his face and kiss him until you pass out.
"When are you coming?"
"A month and a half, I think. Maybe two."
"Not soon enough."
He laughs, but when he looks at you, it's clear that his gaze is affectionate.
"You're such a fucking dork."
"Your fucking dork, hot stuff."
"What an honor."
You give him a dopey, sideways smile, your mind swimming in deep blue. You wonder if your daydreams were premonitions, because you're almost positive you've seen that blissful expression on his face in them, the same one he's wearing right now. His eyes scan your image, the slightest of smiles on his lips, looking at every last detail like you're all that matters in the world. You imagine him looking at you like that without the screen in between, face to face, and it sends a shiver through your entire body.
Jonathan is laughing as he tells you that your face is so similar to a tomato right now, it's actually concerning.
You laugh right back as you tell him to get the hell away from you, both of you fully aware that that's the last thing you really want.
(note : hooooooly shit okay. so i wrote this whole chapter earlier. i was done by 3:15. it was like 3800 words. and then i opened the app version to add my usual heart emoji at the end, and i saved the wrong version, and boom. everything was gone. the first version was way, way better than this one (probably because it wasnt written between 3 and 5:30 AM). it just sounded so much nicer, but the storyline was the same, so this will have to do. i'm just.... so upset and angry at myself. i spent 2 and a half hours rewriting the chapter and i'm honestly not even happy with how it turned out, but i really wanna get this out. i'll tweak it if i find something i can do to fix it. i hope you enjoy it anyway, despite the wait and also my mistake. i am now thoroughly exhausted and very upset, so i might go to bed. in any case, thank you for the support & patience, and thank you so, so much for reading <3 )