Author's Note: We're in the home stretch. Eternal thanks for all the support, and sorry for the wait! Maybe I'll finish this fic on its one year anniversary. How cool would that be?
You don't see John at school that day. Well, that's not exactly true. You spot a tuft of dark hair disappearing around a corner after lunch, but he seems intent on going in the other direction, so you let him. You get the feeling he's avoiding you, but it's important to give him space, especially after all you've put him through this April.
Everything was prepared this morning, set neatly on the kitchen counter, awaiting your return from school. But that's not how you find it when you get back from class, barging through the front door and letting your backpack drop off your shoulder to the tiled floor. Bro stands leaning casually against the counter, twirling the handle of a picnic basket lazily on his long pointer finger. When you enter, he casts a sideways glance at you.
"What's this?" he drawls, smirking. "Is little Davie going on a date?"
A month ago, you might have blushed furiously, stuffed your hands into your pockets, and denied it. You might have told your brother to shut up, or stormed past him like a child, or engaged him in a strife over the ownership of the picnic basket. But today, you're proud of how far you've come, you're glad that you're getting along well with John, and you know that being in love is nothing to be ashamed of.
So you hold your head high, level him with your gaze, and say simply, "Yeah, actually." Bro doesn't move. "Right now," you clarify, stepping toward him. He remains as still as a statue, so you point at the basket. "And I need that." Finally, he holds his hand toward you, and you slip the handle off of his finger.
You turn away, collecting a red and white checkered blanket from the countertop, and Bro bursts into peals of laughter. "I'm proud of you, kid," he manages, approaching you from behind and ruffling your hair. You groan, bat his hands away, and straighten your 'do. Bro only chuckles and disappears into his bedroom, and you're left alone in the kitchen to gather your things and exit out the front door again.
Instead of screeching to a halt at the curb, you maneuver your bike onto the sidewalk and ride across the lawn up to the stoop, where John sits waiting. He keeps wiping the palms of his hands on his jeans. You dismount the bicycle dramatically, scooping up the picnic basket and presenting it to him in a low, sweeping bow. John takes it from you hesitantly.
"Hey, Dave?" he ventures as you recover, facing him once more.
"Yeah?"
John pauses, then: "No, like, hey. Dave." His voice is strained and awkward.
You're suitably confused, but you laugh anyway. "That's the second time, Egbert," you note. "Learn inflection. So!" you blurt, brusquely changing topics. "Today, I was thinking…" you nod toward the basket and produce the checkered blanket from the carrier on your bike. "A picnic?"
Minutes later, you're grinning from ear to ear as John lays his head on your shoulder, clinging desperately to your back. Squeezing together on the thin seat of the bicycle, you're not sure if you've ever felt closer to him. The picnic basket sways wildly, looped precariously over one of the handlebars. John has tied the blanket around his neck, and it flares out behind him like a cape as you coast down a hill.
It doesn't take too long to reach your destination, but you almost wish it had. The warmth of John's chest against your back disappears as he dismounts, dragging the blanket with him. Unfortunately, the "cape" catches on the spokes of one wheel, and the next second you're toppling over, flailing and crazed as you try to brace yourself against John. You grunt as your elbow takes the brunt of the fall, crashing at an awkward angle into the grass.
In a moment, John is buzzing about you with a worried look on his face, disentangling the cape and lifting the bike off of your legs. You groan and roll over, and you have to raise your hand to block the sun as you peer up into John's bright, concerned baby blues.
"Are you okay?" he demands, walking around your head and offering you his hand. You clasp it, and he yanks you from the ground with a surprising amount of force. Standing, you brush off the back of your jeans while John rights the bicycle and retrieves the picnic basket, which has begun to roll away.
You're standing at the top of a hill, just outside the city. From your vantage point, it's easy to make out the tall buildings downtown in the valley below. A single magnolia tree with drooping branches looms over you, pink petals just now breaking out of their soft green buds. While John admires the view, you compose yourself and spread out the blanket. The picnic basket sits untouched at the corner of the checkered spread, as neither of you are hungry.
Being able to converse for hours on end about the most mundane subjects is undoubtedly the best thing about being childhood friends. You and John arrange yourselves on the blanket and chat until the sun starts to set, casting brilliant orange hues across the landscape. Beautiful pink and purple clouds hang just over the horizon. Toward the east, however, a swirling gray mass approaches.
"Maybe we should start eating?" John suggests. You nod, and you both reach to open the picnic basket at the same time. Smiling, he releases the handle, allowing you to draw the basket into your lap and produce two plastic-wrapped chicken salad sandwiches, two bags of Doritos, four Cosmic Brownies, one peach iced tea, and two paper cups.
John gasps theatrically, snatching up one of the Cosmic Brownies and unwrapping it immediately. You laugh as he stuffs half of it into his mouth and colorful sprinkles go flying. Meanwhile, you divide the iced tea between the two cups and hand him one, which he uses to wash down the other half of the Brownie.
His love of Cosmic Brownies is rivaled only by your obsession with Doritos. You crack open a bag, and John grins widely at the expression of ecstasy on your face as you bite into a chip. Continuing to make idle conversation, you sit together and enjoy your picnic, content to just share each other's company.
When the food is gone – John ate more than his fair share of Cosmic Brownies – you begin to pack up the picnic basket while John folds the blanket. The dark clouds are now low and threatening overhead, so you move with haste, hurriedly collecting wrappers and stuffing them into the wicker container.
You turn to see John, still kneeling as he makes careful creases in the blanket. Impulsively, you move toward him, wrapping your arms around his chest. He starts against your unexpected touch, losing his balance and sending you both toppling to the ground. Surprised, you start to roll down the hill, John in close pursuit. At first, you try to scramble to a halt, but eventually you gain enough momentum that resistance is futile. Snowballing down the incline, you stretch your hands above your head while John tucks his arms against his chest.
When you reach the end of the hill, you slow to a standstill, laughing. John barrels into you, crushing the air out of your lungs with his weight and ending up on the other side of you, staring up at the sky. Light raindrops begin to fall, plopping on your sunglasses. One bead settles on John's neck, making him shiver and curl into you.
A deep rumbling can be heard, but no lightning strikes. Feeling safe, you drape an arm around John, the crook of your elbow fitting comfortably against his shoulder. You lie like that for a few minutes, eyes closed, until you feel John shift. One of his hands is reaching across his body, hovering over your face.
John taps your nose lightly with one finger. "Hey Dave?"
You giggle, then mentally facepalm. Striders don't giggle, even if they are totally head over heels. Bro would be ashamed. "Hey."
"No," he says abruptly. "It was a question. Like, hey, Dave?"
"Oh," you stutter, unsure. "Um…yeah?"
There is a long, drawn out pause.
"Um." John averts his gaze, taking the time to extract himself from your grip. He then straightens and wrings his hands together, looking just past you into the street at the bottom of the hill. You stand with him, and instinctively take his hands in yours. Finally he meets your gaze.
Just as he opens his mouth, you remember with a jolt: today is the 26th day. Meaning you've commenced Stage 6, titled Reciprocation. A loud buzzing creeps into your ears, blocking out the sound and making it impossible to hear what John says next. You drop your eyes down to his lips, where you watch his mouth form around the words…
I love you.
It starts to rain. Hard.
You want to crush your lips into his, but the sudden shower takes you by surprise. A torrent of raindrops floods down in sheets. John immediately clings to you, already bearing a striking resemblance to a wet puppy. Gasping against the freezing onslaught, you pull him up the hill toward your bike. Water streams down your face from your flattened hair, dripping into your parted mouth. John starts to stumble, sending you both slipping and sliding down the slick slope.
Eventually, your struggle leads you to the zenith of the hill, where you snatch the picnic basket from the grass and throw it haphazardly over the handlebars as you mount the bicycle. John flings open the blanket, climbing on behind you and using it to shield both of your heads. The rain starts to patter furiously against the canvas, and soon it will be soaked through. But for just a moment, you and John are dry and alone under the blanket.
So you twist around on the seat, cup his chin in your hand, and kiss him.
And it is fucking great.