''Honestly, John, this is boring as shit and i'd rather not waste one of our super rare bro hangout jam times. Let's fuck some shit up or something. Rattle some trash cans, get some raccoons angsty,''

You laugh at your friend's proclivity to have an extremely strange idea and actually suggest it like it's plausible. ''Dave, no. Last time you rattled some trash cans the neighbours called the police and you were put under house arrest for a week. I don't know about you, but that ankle bracelet still haunts my nightmares. Besides, it's almost twelve. Can't we just go to sleep, like normal people?'' You say, leaning over the edge of your bed to look down at Dave, who has decided to lay on the ground. You briefly wonder who writes this longwinded bullshit, but then quickly stop after realizing that you are breaking the fourth wall.

He just laughs. ''Oh yeah, that goddamn ankle bracelet. That was assinine. And nobody goes to sleep at midnight, how old are you? Six? Let's go to Walmart.'' He suggests, clasping his hands over his shades on his stomach.

You stare at him blankly for a moment. ''What the fuck would we do at Walmart?!'' You sort of whisper-yell, minding the fact that your dad is probably still awake downstairs mixing some toxic pastry batter concoction. ''Besides, i'm wearing boxers and slippers.''

''You're lucky i'm so damn virtuous; I didn't even try to look. Put some clothes on, then.'' He deadpans.

''But I don't wannaaaaaaa.''

''Wear a fucking bathrobe or something. And please, for the love of God, never do that whiny sound with your voice again.''

You groan and roll off of the bed, charmed into submission by your friend's seemingly infinite charisma.

''John, please,'' He says, shielding his eyes, ''you're comprimising the integrity of my virgin eyes.''

''Oh, shut up.'' You laugh, rounding the corner. You grab a robe from the bathroom and slip it on, tying that wierd cloth belt thing as you walk back into your room. Dave gets up, his bunny slippers squeaking as he accompanies you down the stairs. You make it outside unnoticed, thankfully, and begin your short trek to Walmart. Neither of you speak, which has been a bit of a recurring theme lately. He says nothing's wrong when you ask, and you know he wouldn't tell you even if there was. You normally fill the void with absent chatter, but you're afraid to say something stupid, so you continue in silence. Suddenly, he puts his arm around your shoulders, and you smile.

''Sorry, too homo for you? I know how strict your hands-off-or-das-gay rules are.'' He jokes, but his monotone is a bit strained. You ignore it, mark it up as 'he's just tired.'

''Nah,'' You say. ''the gaydar only goes off if your hands are anywhere in the vicinity of my waist.''

''Alright, i'll keep that in mind. Hands off the merchandise.''

''Exactly.''

...

[A/N: I HAD THIS PART ALL TYPED OUT AND IT WAS WONDERFUL AND I DELETED IT. FUUUUUUCK MY LIFEEEEEEE. So have a short lazy version :').]

Your Walmart shopping experience mostly consists of Dave pushing you around in a cart, fuck the police. At one point he sings that goddamn Aladdin song in a stupid country falsetto.

You laugh at trivial things like tampons and viagra and everything in the 'planning/protection' aisle and fucking bandaids.

You're not sure why you find yourself laughing at bandaids, but you do.

And it's the best feeing you've had in a while.

Between the exausted delirium you're slipping into and your amazing best friend, everything seems funny.

Especially when you're buying 6 boxes of twinkies, Monsters, Cokes, and a bagel.

And the cashier asks how long you've been dating.

Aand Dave gets all tongue-tied and flustered.

''What was that all about?'' You ask as you both walk out of the store.

''What are you talking about?''

''Oh, hmm, I dunno, the whole 'Uh um hurr durr no we're not uh we're just um friends er yeah a herp derp,' debacle?''

There's a looong moment of awkward silence.

''I mean, I totally get it if you have a flaming homosexual crush on me.''

''Oh, good, because I do.''

''Hell, between the bad taste in movies and overall geekiness, what's not to - wait, what?''

''I have a flaming homosexual crush on you.'' He says, matter-of-factly.

''...''

''...''

''...Oh.'' You say, because you're a huge idiot and most of your brain is currently FLIPPING IT'S SHIT.

''Yep. Yeah. Just thought i'd throw that out there. Balls to the wall.''

''...I- Okay. Uh, that's... Wow. About how homo would you say?''

''On a scale of what? Holding hands to f-''

''You know what, nevermind. Nevermind, oh God.''

''Oops.'' He shrugs.

Your name is John Egbert, and sometimes you have sudden impulses.

And sometimes you act on them.

Like equipping a bunny to your strife deck.

Or going batshit crazy with a spring-powered sledgehammer.

Or grabbing your lousy best friend by the collar of his lousy eminem shirt and kissing him on his lousy mouth and god damnit you feel sparkly what the hell.

...

When you arrive back at your house, you eat like 23 twinkies between the two of you, and throw the bagel at each other like a bunch of idiots, and say gross sappy stuff because youlre gross.

You also do other things, though you won't include them here. [A/N: LENNY FACE^413000000]

You will, however, say that it was nice, as well as a lot of other adjectives that you aren't used to using with best-friend activities.

...

[i'm not sorry

ok

ok maybe a little

but eh

pointless bs

damn that walmart part was so good too

asdfghjkl stupid website

i curse alot too oops hahaaa...

cya next time aaa otps are gr8 hhhhh

it's like 1am wowzah i need to stfu and slEEP ]