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Chapter 2: In Remembrance

Summary:

You were right where you said you'd be, nursing a cigarette and staring off into the lake. I sat next to you, prepared with my own.

We both kept our eyes straight ahead as I lit it. Smoking wasn't normally my sort of thing, but it seemed like the right thing to do given the circumstances.

It felt like we were there in that moment forever, but it was probably just a matter of minutes before you released a heavy sigh and flicked your used cigarette away. "You sure about this, then?"

I nodded.

"Sixer, I need to hear you say it." Your voice was calm, yet stern. "Tell me. You sure?"

Chapter Text

I glanced over at you. My chest was tight with nerves and my throat was dry with fear. Or maybe that was the smoke.

Yet, you waited. That was something I always appreciated, Stanley. You tried your best to be patient with me; sometimes it took me quite awhile to find my words.

"Yes," I said with as much confidence as I could muster. "I'm sure."

Your eyes searched mine for doubt; I could see a mix of emotions buried in yours. It was the perfect storm for me to start over analyzing the unknown. "Do you not want me to come?"

"Nah, it's not that, dork. I like having you around; you keep me in check."

"Then, what is it?"

You squinted off at nothing in particular, chewing on your lip. "How would you feel dragging me into danger?"

"You're not dragging me into anything, Stanley. This is my decision. And you should…you should respect that."

You thought that over for a moment, ultimately giving a slow, casual nod. "Ya, guess I should."

I gulped, squeezing the straps of my backpack. "So. Can I come?"

"Course. But you gotta promise me something." You stood up, towering over me. After putting a heavy hand on my shoulder, you knelt down to meet my eyes. "Remember when we'd sleep out here to get away from pa?"

I nodded.

"And that one night, when it started pouring and we ran back to the house?"

"We can't do that. I know."

You gave a bittersweet smile and dusted your thumb over my cheek. "I'm gonna keep us safe, Sixer. But you gotta be brave for me, alright?"

"I'm going to keep you safe too, Stanley."

You pulled me into a hug, trying to hide the tears that were forming in the corner of your eyes. "You got my smokes, nerd?"

"I brought more lighters too. And matches."

You chuckled under your breath. "Course you did," you breathed out, lingering on the words as you rested your forehead against mine.

Before I could respond, you were back on your feet. You turned away from me, not so discretely wiping off your face. "Come on, then. This'll be the first place he'll check."

I looked down at the ground and then up to your outstretched hand. And, with a shaky breath, I took the first step into our new life.

One turned into dozens, which soon turned into hundreds. Counting kept me calm, though I lost track once I got into the thousands.

All the while, I kept hold of your hand. We stayed at the woods edge, but the void of darkness beside us still made me uneasy. "Stanley?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are we going?"

"Dunno. Got any ideas?"

"No. Darn, I should've grabbed my map."

You laughed. It was reassuring to hear your normal, authentic laughter at a time like that. "Now I'm curious, what's in that bag, anyway?"

"Uh, nothing really. Clothes, toiletries, a few books. Oh, and all those snack bars we like."

"Toilet trees?"

"Bathroom essentials, Stanley. You know, like toothbrushes and deodorant. I took all the extra stuff Ma keeps in the guest one."

"Ah. No wonder I wasn't valedictorian."

That got me laughing as well. "I grabbed that too."

"Grabbed what?"

"My plaque."

You rolled your eyes under furrowed brows, but looked more amused than anything. "Course you did, nerd."

I blushed, and you patted my shoulder to let me know that you weren't actually judging me. "Are our Torahs in there?"

I nodded. "I wasn't sure if you'd want yours so I just…I brought it just in case."

"Eh, it doesn't hurt. Little faith might be nice when we're freezing our balls off under a bridge somewhere."

That wasn't a very nice mental image, to put it lightly. I walked a bit closer to you, holding onto your coat.

You sighed, wrapping an arm around my waist. "Remember when you used to be scared of the dark?"

I blushed. "Why's that important?"

"Cause, this is kinda like that. What'd I always tell you?"

"Stanley, I was eight."

"Just answer the damn question."

I huffed, puffing out my cheeks a bit with stubbornness. But, in the end, I reluctantly answered. "That you'd punch the dark. And when I told you that didn't make any sense, you'd…you'd wildly swing at the air until I wasn't scared anymore."

"Exactly." You stopped, tilting your head to look at me. And once again, you thumbed over my cheek. "Whatever's scaring you…don't let those fuckers win."

I tried to give you a smile, but it came out shakily, and just lead to a stream of hot tears. I leaned against you to hide them, and you enveloped me in a tight hug.

"Breathe, Sixer. Come on, nerd," you teased with a voice crack as you pet the top of my head. "It's alright. Your big, scary brother is here to scare away all the darkness."

My brain was full of fog; you were the only thing keeping me grounded. I'm glad that, if anything, I didn't end up stuck out there alone. I don't think I could've done it.

"Stanley?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you scared too?"

"Terrified."

I took the situation in, reacting methodically like I'd always done.

After a few calming breaths, I stepped away from you and faced the darkness, my fists blocking my face. "Alright, how do I do this?"

"You'd know if you went to our lessons."

I glanced back at you with furrowed eyebrows and a slight smile.

You threw your hands up in mock defense as you approached me. "Fine, fine. I can show you the ropes. But my pro strats are pretty advanced."

"Shut up," I laughed, my words drawn out in glee. "Stanley!"

You picked me up at the waist, continuing on down the lakeside. "This one's called, 'The Dork Carry'."

"Put me down!"

"Ah, ah. First you must learn the- Hey!"

I shoved you, and you shoved me back in retaliation. I don't remember the last time we wrestled like that, with the intensity of a boxing match but the severity of a tickle fight.

We ended up on the ground; you had me in a headlock and I was laughing so hard that I was crying happy tears.

And then, all at once, we relaxed. My backpack had fallen off in the scuffle; I picked it up and pulled it closer as I cuddled into your arms.

You brushed your fingers through my hair and we stared off at a night illuminated by the full moon as I rested against your chest. I sighed, my eyelids fluttering closed.

Don't let the fuckers win. Crude wording, but a solid message nonetheless. You were right, Stanley. We definitely wouldn't, no matter what happened.