Gil's POV

1 month later.

"Gil." Affection of candour is common enough—one meets it everywhere. "Gilbert." But to be candid without ostentation or design—to take the good of everybody's character and make it still better, and say nothing of the bad belongs to you alone. "Gilbert, I won't hesitate to fold a page corner." Instantly, I shut the book and looked up to Matt in front of me.

"No need to go that far."

"I've been trying to get your attention for like ten minutes." He frowned.

"Matt, you know better than to do that when I'm reading." 

"But I want to show you something important."

"Look, if this isn't important enough to interrupt my reading, someone's going to end up going missing." Matt simply gave me a confused look and turned his laptop around, sliding it closer to me. It was a digital painting of me painting. Matt's skill wasn't new but he had outdone himself with this one. The details were insane. It made me feel both proud,happy, and this strange bit of sad. Basically, I was having world war three in my head. And like the usual dissonance between my head and my mouth, my words didn't match anything I thought.

"Oh." I simply said.

"Do you—do you not like it?" The nerves on him were more than noticable. It was damn near panic.

"No! No!" I sputtered. "I love it! It's just–I don't know–weird?"

"Weird?"

"I'm not used to something like this."

"What does that even mean?"

"I honestly don't know." I grinned nervously at how funny this situation really is. "Point is, I love it and I'd absolutely hang it on my wall with the best frame in town." Matt's expression was confused but happy. He promptly turned the laptop back around.

"Well, I'm glad you like it." He looked prideful even with the confusion in his voice.

"Honestly, I just feel like I don't deserve something that great."

"You're right," He grinned. "but I'd push my luck trying to capture your real awesomeness so great is as good as it's going to get."

"Damn, alright then." .

~

I could practically feel that spring was right around the corner. I guess it's more of a literal feeling considering the warmer temperatures. Point is, it was weird. Don't get me wrong, warmer temperatures are pretty nice. I'm just going to suffer from still wearing long sleeves and hoodies.

Yes, I could very much stop doing that. Nothing's been all that bad lately. I just—I don't know—it feels like a cushion that keeps me sane. Which is pretty backwards thinking. But it's a constant and it's control. It's something, I guess.

A cooler breeze passed straight towards me. The chill passed through my whole body. I should've worn more layers. Some of the swings next to me creaked with the push of the wind. 

I haven't thought about the future very much. I don't really have all that much time left to decide. I don't really even know what I want to do in the future. To be honest, I never thought I'd get this far. I'm here and it's weird. Especially knowing that I have Matt in my life. I don't know how it's going to go with him. Perhaps getting out of it now could prevent some kind of awful fallout. Toni was right when he said that I don't really have the best reactions to things that I'm too emotionally involved with.

The quiet crunch of the grass coming from someone's approaching footsteps stole my attention. Rod was slowly but surely making his way to me. His slight limp was clearly from this distance. All too familiar. I still remember the gradual evolution of his ability to stand. Strange how we take such simple abilities for granted. If only I understood that when we were younger. I wouldn't have been such an asshole.

He sat in the swing next to me, catching his breath. I could swear I heard him wheeze.

"My God, I feel like an old man." He joked breathlessly.

"All you need is dementia; then you'll truly be fucked."

"I'd rather have the black plague."

"That could easily take you into some philosophical territory." I pushed the swing forward a little with my foot. "I mean, could you count those in the late stages of dementia as functionally dead just like those of the plague?"

"Well, considering that some survived the plague, I don't suppose you could compare them."

"Perhaps."

"What are you on?" He furrowed his brows, concerned.

"Nothing." I pushed myself back this time, getting a bit more swing. "I just might be going a bit insane at the moment."

"Insanity is nothing new when it comes to you." His lips quirked up to the slightest of smirks.

"You're so supportive." I rolled my eyes.

"I'm just implying that maybe you're overthinking whatever issue you're having. Maybe it's not a big deal."

"Yeah, I don't think my future plans are all that small."

"So, an existential crisis is it?"

"You are absolutely not going to be my personal therapist."

"Thank God, I wouldn't want to be."

"Well," I stopped the swing and stood up to stretch. "Would you care to revisit some old friends?"

"Oh, who?"

"My hands." I simply said as I pushed him off the swing. "And the ground." He laughed when he hit said ground.

"Are you ever going to get tired of pushing me off of things?"

"Are you going to get tired of me pushing you off of things?"

"No." He stood up, using the swing to pull himself up. He brushed off whatever dirt he could off himself.

"Well, there's your answer."

"I honestly hope that insanity isn't contagious because you might just drive me insane if it is."

"Poetic."

"Oh, well, you know me." He stepped forward and around back to the front of the swing, presumably to sit back down. It closed the distance between us. "I'm a musician and writer at heart. Can't help but be poetic."

"Nerd."

"Dork."

"If you're going to call me a slang term you might as well just say the actual word."

"Nerd."

"Damn, you got me there."

"You act as if I'm not the person that knows you best."

"To be fair, we didn't interact for years until recently."

"And not much has changed, I can tell you that."

"I suppose you're right. You're still a snobby asshole."

"And you're still an obnoxious prick but it doesn't make our conversations any less fun now, does it?"

"Nope."

"Glad you understand." He smiled. "To be honest, I wouldn't mind getting to know what's new about you."

"Not much, I can tell you that."

"So cynical." He shook his head.

"Guess we traded places in that department."

"Did I really affect you that much?"

"It wasn't entirely you."

"I still feel guilty about it." His smile dropped down to a frown.

"You're fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Rod, it doesn't matter anymore."

"If you say so."

"I'm tempted to push you again."

"You won't." I didn't hesitate to actually push him. He seemed ready for it because he pulled me down with him. Either that or he was using me as stability not to fall. As if I have a good stance on the ground. Point is that we both hit the ground and, like little kids, starting laughing about it. It all felt so simple. Rod felt simple because I knew all the depth and knew that it didn't entirely matter. The complexities of the world are blurred with him because he takes me back to the simple days. Nevermind all the bad stuff that pulled us apart, it doesn't matter anymore. We're practically brand new people. He's a lot more free and fun than he used to be. He's improved so much as a person that I feel a genuine admiration for him and the work he put into it. Even his looks have grown with him, seeming full and more structured. His eyes especially don't look hazy like they used to. They look optimistic. They look honest to god beautiful.

"To be honest," I said after a second of catching breath. "I've really missed you."

"I've missed you too." The tone in his voice made the words hit different.