Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews! They warm my cold, cold heart.
You're almost amazed at how well the pieces of your plan are falling together. Originally, you did plan for Day 16 to commence Stage 4: Acceptance, but you didn't realize John would be quite so accepting. Yesterday's gift of the Rubik's cube was graciously received, and today is no different.
In fact, John meets you at your locker after school. When you close the door, there he is, smiling back at you widely. You blink in surprise from behind your shades, your hand instinctively flying to your pocket. Your fingers close protectively around the gift you have concealed for him there.
"Wanna walk back with me?" he asks slowly, feeling for a response. A little too quickly, you nod your head, hoisting your backpack over your shoulder and taking off. John chuckles and follows behind, taking two short steps to match each one of your long strides. When you reach the bike rack, your fingers fumble on the lock. Finally able to free your ride, you mount it and pedal slowly alongside John as he steps into the street.
At first, you fear that your conversation will be stiff, your questions forced. But you easily slip into the tempo established over years of friendship, effortlessly bantering back and forth. At one point, during a comfortable silence, John asks, "So, do you have anything for me today?"
"Patience," you drawl, smirking. John blushes. The rest of the walk passes quietly, with you weaving around John on your bike and him laughing periodically. When you reach his house, you slow to a stop and steady yourself with one red Converse flat against the pavement. John looks at you expectantly as you draw a smooth object out of your pocket.
"Dave, what – " he stutters, gaping at the gift as you slide it into his palm. You grin.
"Don't freak out, it's not diamond or anything," you explain, gripping the handlebars. "Crystal. Probably fake, but, it's – "
"My birthstone," John finishes for you, looking down at the heavy paperweight in his hands. It sparkles in the sunlight, reflecting colors into the air. John smiles up at you with eyes that outshine the crystal he holds. "I put up that poster you gave me a while back," he mentions offhandedly, after a significant pause. "The ConAir one. Is it really his signature at the bottom?"
"Nic Cage?" you ask, looking casually down the street like it's no big deal. "Yeah."
John beams. "You're the best, Dave. Thanks." He seems sincere as he envelops you in an awkward hug. You make an effort to steady yourself on the bicycle, grinning over his shoulder.
"I've been telling you that for years."