=John's POV

I lay on my bed in pitiful boredom, watching the shadows on my ceiling slowly become more defined as the sun set over the house. I can't believe I have nothing to do today! What a waste of a Saturday afternoon. I place my hand over my stomach in a vain attempt to silence it's sudden uproar. The thought of food flickers in my head, but I press myself to ignore it. There's no point in eating right now, and I find myself thinking that a lot lately.

My gaze travels to my computer. Neither Jade or Rose have pestered me all day. This usually doesn't bother me on the rare occasion that it happens, but, since I opened myself to Dave Strider, I felt a lot lonelier nowadays whenever I was on my own. We've only known each other for a little over a week and I already feel like I can't get him out of my head. What's so special about him that makes me so outspoken and carefree?

Suddenly, my cellphone starts vibrating like crazy on my nightstand. I dimly wonder who it could be. I never really get phone calls from anyone besides my dad, and he's at the bakery working a late shift today. I sit up and hurriedly grab my cell. My eyes scan the screen and immediately widen. Speak of the devil.

"H-Hey, Dave." I bite my tongue in an attempt to control my nerves.

"Let me take you to a movie." Dave's voice sounds lighthearted over the crackle of the phone line.

I blink and switch the phone to my other ear. Typical Dave, as blunt as a hammer. "Uh, when?"

Dave's laugh makes my stomach twist. "Tonight, Egderp. When else?"

Tonight? "Oh, uh," I jump up off my bed, trying to figure out what else to say. Should I say yes? Oh god, I haven't been to the movies in years. What if I make a goof of myself in front of Dave or..?

"Okay." My voice is pretty chill, but on the outside I'm jumping on my feet like a kangaroo around my room. My face starts hurting from smiling like an idiot. I'm so glad he can't see me right now. I'd probably kill over from embarrassment.

"All right, then." I think I can hear Dave smiling too. "I'll meet you at the school in a bit. Sound cool?"

I manage to suppress my excitement enough to utter "yeah, okay, yeah, that sounds good." Then I'm off the phone, staring at it in surprise. Holy crap, did I really just do that? My anxiety is shot, yet I feel like I'm floating on cloud nine. I rush over and pull my closet open to decide what to wear. He didn't even tell me what movie we're seeing. I'm so excited to be with him again that I don't even care.

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=Dave's POV

I've been working up to calling John for days. We exchanged our cell numbers last Tuesday, but shit I never expected it to be so hard to simply make a phone call. Instead of just dialing the number like all normal people do, I'd sat there for what seemed like an eternity, staring stupidly at the slip of paper on my desk, wondering if I should even bother to call. It was like a conflict within myself, which was so not the Strider way. Strider's don't get nervous, especially when it comes to dialing cute boys.

Yet here I am, despite fighting myself for days about it, waiting for that certain boy to show up any time now. I sighed outwardly and smiled. There's a part of me that wants to know every single thing I possibly can about John Egbert. Not only his favorite primary color or what desert he enjoys, but what makes him smile. What holy thing can I do to hear his laugh again? What's his biggest dream or his worst fear? That's the John I've been longing to know.

Someone scuffs their shoe against the sidewalk in the distance. I snap out of my thoughts and look up; John's coming towards me, a shy grin plastered on his face. He's wearing a blue flannel over a white t shirt with a Ghostbusters logo on the front. It seems like he put some effort into fixing his unruly black hair, although it only made it more messy and, in my eyes, a-fucking-dorable.

I shove my shades up my nose and clear my throat. "You look nice."

What the fuck? You look nice? Come on, that was so lame. All of a sudden my converse were definitely more interesting than John's perplexed expression. Huh, it looks like one of my shoelaces is coming lose.

John's giggling forces me to look at him again. He's holding his arms around his middle and inspecting something on the pavement. I think I see a little tint of blush blooming on his pale cheeks. I note that his cheek bones are a little sharper than they probably should be.

"Thank you." He glances up at me, then back down sheepishly. "You do too."

My heart pounds frantically in my ears. "So, you ready to see a movie?"

"Uh, yeah. Which one?"

"Anything you wanna see, man. It's totes your choice today." I wrap my arm around his shoulder and steer him towards the movie theater. The closeness feels nice.

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=John's POV

I walk with him on my side in silence until we arrive at the movie theater. He does most of the talking for sure this time, and I'm quite content with just listening to what Dave has to say.

"So, what do you do for fun?" He asks.

My smile falters as we step into the lobby. There's a lot of people here today. "Well, I really like to read."

Dave grins. "No kidding?"

"Yeah, uh," My chest aches. I want to respond but I feel like the crowd is taking my breath away. I've always despised crowds. I'm so accustomed to being separate from the flock that it's become increasingly difficult for me to be apart of one. It appears that everyone's eyes are on us. Despite my irrational thinking, I know deep down that its not true, but the sensation is growing ever stronger in my head. I consciously snuggle closer into Dave's side. He notices my change in attitude almost instantly.

"Hey," He drops his head closer to whisper into my ear. People are coasting around us like we're not even here. "Do you wanna wait on the couch over there?" He points to an empty chair across the room. "I can come get you when I've get our tickets and shit. It shouldn't take long."

I shake my head. It feels like its been detached from my neck. I know I'm already ruining our evening together.

However, Dave shows no signs of impatience. He actually looks pretty troubled. For a moment, we stand in the middle of the already expanding crowd. My legs won't even move if I try. This is horrible. Dave's going to see what a huge burden I am and leave, and just when I was getting used to having a friend..

Dave's hand slips into mine, our fingers intertwining with each other until he held me loosely. A rise of apprehension built inside my chest, and I gape at him in question. He looks back at me, his shades still covering his mysterious eyes. Something passes between us, an unspoken plea that requires no words to understand its meaning. I feel elated with a feeling of tenderness that he has never shown me before. His hand grasps mine more confidently now, and I hold his just as sternly. For some reason, I never want him to let go.

He steps forward and I follow him, our hands firmly linked together. I can feel the crowd shifting around me, but it doesn't even bother me much. His comfort blankets me like a shield. Before I can blink, we're waiting in a long line of strangers to get our tickets and our popcorn. I faintly remember that we had decided to see an action film, although I can't really recall which one we're going to watch. My brain feels a little muddled at the moment. It seems that he's stolen all of my thoughts, along with my heart.

To be honest, holding Dave's hand in my own is exhilarating. If I had a penny for every time that I've felt this way about someone else, it would be exactly one penny. And I'm not even entirely sure how I feel about Dave. Words fail to describe what the chaos in my chest and my head are desperately trying to define.

I slink away from my thoughts when a young lady comes back to the counter holding two buckets of popcorn and two fountain drinks. Dave hands me my food, who is still looking a little reserved, although he doesn't say anything about it, which is a-okay in my book right now. We somehow manage to hold everything in our arms without releasing each others hands and make it to our seats. I abruptly realize that I can't dig into this bucket of delicious popcorn without letting go of Dave. He comes to this conclusion as well, and we both avoid each others gaze when we relinquish our hold. Well, that's kind of a bummer.

I stare at the bucket in my hands. The popcorn's buttery aroma is driving my stomach wild. For the first time in days, I feel a ravaging hunger that I've never felt before. I select a piece with my fingers and pop it into my watery mouth. The combination of salt and fat leave a heavenly aftertaste. Suddenly, I'm scooping up generous handfuls and shoving them into my gob, barely even taking time to chew in between every bite. It tastes so wonderful, and I can't get enough of it. It's probably the best thing I've had to eat in months.

Then, the nausea comes swiftly. I freeze with the popcorn bucket on my lap. Please, no. Please. However, the feeling only heightens the more I try to ignore it, until my body is urging me to get to a bathroom. I bolt up out of my chair and cast Dave a quick "I'll be right back." before I practically run out of the cinema. I push open the bathroom door, my stomach sloshing uncomfortably, my mouth over salivating and my forehead as hot as an iron.

I crouch in the nearest stall just in time to puke up everything that I had just ate. Let me say that popcorn is a lot more pleasant going down than it is coming up. I don't really want to describe how god awful it truly was, so I'll spare you the details. My throat felt raw from all the salt that had been expelled from my protesting stomach. It feels like hours until I can at last stop to catch my breath. I lean forward to weakly flush the toilet, then rest my head against the cool plastic wall of the stall and close my eyes. This is going too far..

Suddenly, Dave is in front of me, looking very distressed. "John? Can you hear me, man? Come on, this isn't funny." He shakes my shoulder when my eye lids drift closed again. "John?"

I force them open, the florescent light of the restroom agony on my eyes. I wish I could go back to sleep, but Dave is here. Dave is crouching in front of me.. on the floor..oh no. Tears prick my eyes and I screw them shut.

"I-I'm sorry," I push my sweaty hand against the chilly tile of the floor and try to stand, but Dave ends up catching me anyway. I feel weak, exhausted actually. He's holding me up and begging to know what happened, and all I can do is shake my head wordlessly and mutter apologies.

"Did you get sick?" He asks again, hopelessly waiting for an answer that I'm not willing to give. Then, he gives up asking, and it makes me feel even worse. I wish I could just curl into a ball and hide away for eternity now. "I'll take you home, okay?"

And oh so slowly, Dave held his arm around my waist and guided me out through the lobby and into the crisp night air. Tears are streaming down my face. If I had the strength, I'd walk home on my own and beg Dave to forget about all this, but he's literally the only thing keeping me from falling on my knees. I'm thankful that I told him my address a while back.

The walk home is excruciatingly slow. We both say nothing, and I absolutely hate it. I hate myself most of all. What a stupid mistake. I should have grabbed something to eat before I left, maybe a granola bar or something. The thought of any food makes my stomach turn, so I decide not to think about it too much for now. I just want to get home as soon as I can. I never thought this would happen to me, especially in front of Dave. I feel terribly sick, like every ounce of energy was drained from my body all at once. God, he'll never want to talk to me again. The mere thought is depressing.

We arrive at my home after a long, terrible journey from the theater. I avoid looking Dave in the eye when we gradually climb the porch steps to the front door. I lean on the screen door and he finally steps back, his stoic expression long replaced by worry. A pang of guilt hurts my chest, but I keep my mouth shut. My face feels wet from all the tear streaks on my cheeks, and I angrily wipe them away with the sleeve of my flannel. I grasp the doorknob for comfort, knowing that I'll be alone soon.

Dave shifts his weight. "Are you going to be okay, man? I mean," He flicks his tongue against his teeth, something I've noticed him do often when he's unsure of what to say. "What happened, John?"

I laugh it off despite the crippling misery filling my chest. Oh, how I wish I could tell him. "I'll be okay. It's just a stomach bug, Dave. No worries." That's not good enough. "I-I've been feeling queasy for a few days now. It must have caught up with me tonight."

He nods his head in grim silence.

"Anyway, I'll uh, see you Monday. Thanks for walking me home."

Dave runs his hand through his hair in clear exasperation. "Yeah, sure, dude. I'll catch you later." He turns to me midway down the steps. "If you need to be alone, you take your time, okay? Text me if you wanna talk."

I watch his back all the way down the drive. My stomach is even more nauseated than it was earlier. I feel like it was only just minutes ago when he held my hand in his, and the mere thought makes me want to break down all over again. This was all a huge mistake. I should have never let someone as incredible as Dave Strider into my lonesome bubble. What have I done to ever deserve him? Nothing, absolutely nothing. I should know that I'm better off on my own.

I ignore the tears of frustration falling down my face. Frustration at myself, towards Dave and the stupid, confusing feelings he gives me. I shut the door and slide down onto the floor of my living room, holding my legs to my chest. I won't be texting him any time soon.

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I'm really sorry for the two year hiatus. It feels good to be back.