[24]

Friends

No way was she going to fall asleep. 

In dubiousness, Skipper stared at the earbuds Wade had given her. Vivid visions of the day filled her exhausted mind. The terror brought on by the coaster. Wade retching miserably into the trash receptacle. Waterslides. Hot, salty fries. 

Sitting up, she put the earbuds in the cupholder and crawled over his seat, opening the door and peering down at him. He sat leaned back against the vehicle, head inclined to the night sky. But his eyes were closed. Quiet and careful, she sat in the driver's seat and leaned out the open door just enough to speak to him. "Are you mad at me?"

His right eye opened and it glanced at her. "Why would I be mad at you?"

She shrugged. "Maybe you're upset that I'd want us to be friends."

"Nah, it doesn't necessarily upset me..." Both eyes opened and he rubbed the back of his head as he turned to face her. "However, it does seem kind of pointless. You're dying, after all."

"So deny me companionship because I'm not going to be around eventually? Is that how this works?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"You're worse than I thought."

"Nobody's perfect," he muttered, blowing a small breath past his lips. Skipper lingered a few moments more in the driver's seat before descending and closing the door, sitting beside him and tipping her head back against the vehicle's metal exterior to gaze at the stars.

"Aren't you basically just giving up by taking this trip?" Wade finally queried, being the first to pull his gaze from the sky.

Skipper shrugged, pushing her hands into the pocket of her hoodie.

"I mean, like, you were in advanced courses and you were going to college even though you were obviously really sick. Why did you choose to see the world instead of...y'know...chasing your future? You could have still had a career, even if..." he seemed unsure how to continue.

The girl was silent for a long while, continuing to stare at the celestial jewels above. Her eyes were glassy as though they held back tears, and Wade questioned within himself whether or not he should have said anything. He didn't like making her cry. It was stupid. And he didn't like being the source of someone's pain, even if teasing her was unbearably fun. He didn't like that he never knew what to say to her. 

Maybe she was right. Maybe they did need to be friends. Friends knew what to say to each other, right? He couldn't say he knew for sure–his friends hadn't really been friends in the true sense of the term. Sure, he'd had plenty of good acquaintances over the years, but no one ever really stayed. No one was ever there when he really needed them. And he deeply resented being a single child, as that meant he had no siblings to have as companions either.

But why befriend a dying girl when she was going to disappear too? He probably would've been her friend years ago, had he not succumbed to peer pressure. 

Would things have been different?

He certainly wouldn't be stuck in this predicament now. Problem was, despite the fact that deep down he was crying out to be her friend, to accept her, his pride wouldn't allow it. The part of him that didn't trust anyone, the part that was still so hurt, refused to accept friendship from someone who wasn't going to be around much longer. 

He hadn't told her, but recently he'd been feeling like her time was rapidly growing shorter. He didn't know if she felt it too, but figured she probably did. After all, she was the one dying, was she not? He was merely a sensitive man. 

It was no wonder she had been feeling bored so suddenly. Maybe that's the only way she could explain how she was feeling. The only thing that remotely made sense to her. Spontaneity almost guaranteed she'd make the most of her quickly dwindling time. 

"I chose to see the world because I wanted to finish what my mother started," Skipper broke into his monologue with her soft voice. "As you know, I was raised without a father, and I'm single as single ever was. There's no one else to carry it on, and I promised her I'd finish that map. My education kind of prevented me from doing that. So, when I learned that this time would probably be it for me, that I'm not going to get better, I was faced with two choices: work myself to death taking exams and maybe hopefully make a name for myself, or see the world and fulfill the promise I made to my mother. Naturally, I chose this."

"When you put it that way...was school really that hard for you?" He bit his lip shyly, hoping he hadn't overstepped any boundaries. He had always been under the impression that if you were that good of a student, you must have superhuman abilities when it came to deal with deadlines and pressure. Now he wondered if it wasn't the exact opposite, especially in her case.

"It wasn't easy," she smirked bitterly. "Especially since I had to keep to myself so often, due to illness. I'm not like you, I'm a very social person. It killed me to not be able to spend time with my friends and those I loved. It felt like my career was becoming this all-consuming black hole. My mother reassured me about it countless times, until her untimely death of course. At that point I just put my head down and lost myself in work. I had friends to pull me through that, but they were quickly fading."

"You must've felt really alone," he stared down at the pavement. 

She nodded. "Yeah. It just sucked because here I am, a really social person with, like, all these connections...and they just...poof." She mimed a cloud of dust with her hands, and he cracked a tiny smirk. 

"I guess it shows you who's actually loyal," she sighed, hugging her knees and resting her chin on them. "If they don't stick with you during the hard times, can you really call them friends?"

"I don't even call people friends when they think we're friends because I can usually see how it ends," he shrugged. "All I need is to observe their habits and the way they treat others, and how they interact with me. Honestly, I'd rather not waste the time."

"Are people a waste of time, though? What do you need to save time for? Yourself?" 

His face took on a look of defensiveness, and she quickly backtracked. "I mean, like, I know you like to be alone and all that. Is that what you need more time for, since that's how you make sense of the world around you?"

"I just don't see the point in wasting time helping people who aren't going to back you up when you need them."

"But you don't know the impact you have in their lives," she reasoned.

"No, and I don't care. Look, I don't believe in surrounding myself with toxic people just so I'm not alone. I'd much rather be alone with my own toxicity, because at least I know I can work on myself. You can't change other people. You can't control them, you can't trust them."

She didn't say anything to this, just looked at him and held his gaze when he looked to her for a response. She saw that he was hurt inside. Someone had betrayed him, someone had wounded him, and he was still healing. She would not be the one to tear that wound back open. 

"Not everybody is toxic, but I understand what you mean," she nodded, closing her eyes briefly. "Everyone left me after round two of this. They didn't want to be burdened. I remember one friend–we had been especially close, by the way–when she found out, she railed me. Asked me why I didn't just make up my mind. Live or die, not this constant tug of war."

"The nerve!" he scoffed. "As if you had a choice. Your body was doing what it could."

"I didn't even try to get her to understand. Part of me wishes I had, even though she probably wouldn't have seen things from my side anyway."

"She'd already made up her mind," Wade nodded, brows drawn together in a frown. "Cruel."

"After that I just focused on me. Focused on getting treatment and pursuing my studies. When it seemed I'd made it, a few friends came crawling back with apologies. I accepted them with open arms because it made me feel better."

"But when round three happened they all left." 

"Exactly. And then I put out that ad. Why did you answer it?"

"It seemed interesting, I dunno," he shrugged, not wanting to admit that it was because he had felt bad for never reaching out to her in high school.

Skipper merely smirked at his response, sighing a bit and staring skyward once more. "Interesting, huh?"

"I mean, yeah. Who takes an Uber to see the world?"

"True," she let out a small laugh. It didn't sound happy, though. More like it hurt. Wade fiddled with the paracord bracelet he always wore, unsure what to think now. In a way he felt attacked, having been called out for saving more time for himself than he gave to others. Part of him also felt justified.

"Earlier, I was thinking," he began slowly. "Um. Do you feel like your time is even less now than it was?"

"Huh?" she looked genuinely confused, whipping her head to look at him in shock.

"I mean, like...your sudden boredom. Do you think it stems from the fact that maybe...maybe you have less time than they allotted you?"

She let out a bitter little laugh, and he felt shame for some reason. Was she mocking him when he was actually concerned? 

"Wade... I don't know why I've been bored, I just know that I wanted to spice things up. I've been feeling pretty good lately."

Guarded vulnerability darkened his eyes, forehead creased in concern. "I've just had this... I don't know if you'd call it a premonition...but it's almost like your time is running out."

The teasing manner dropped from her, and she regarded him gently. "Of course my time is running out, Wade. It has been since my diagnosis. That's why we took this trip. That's why we're here."

He shook his head in mild frustration. She wasn't understanding. Or she was, and she was just playing it down to dispel any worries he might have. 

If she felt so alone in this world, with her time running out, why didn't she want anyone to care?

Maybe she didn't want to be a burden. 

"Wade. You're like a skittish kitten, so I'm going to give you a heads up. I'm going to hug you."

"Why?" he looked on the verge of panic, and felt equally as such. Skipper wrapped her arms around him; he was tense. She didn't let go and he felt his instincts urging him to run away. He wasn't a hugger.

But he didn't want her to be upset, so he let her hug him. And slowly, he found he didn't mind it quite so much. She didn't hug like a predatory snake. She didn't hug like a clingy annoying girlfriend. She hugged like a comforting soul.

Tentative, he eventually reciprocated. It broke something; he didn't realize he needed this. She looked so peaceful. Her breathing was calm. He was blinking back tears.

   "Why?" He whispered, voice muffled as his face sank into her shoulder.

   "Because. You looked like you needed it."