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“Why are we doing this again?” Jonas voices the question with a sigh as they climb.
Ren, sounding way too energetic (probably just to match Alex’s determined enthusiasm) responds with a cheerily matter-of-fact, “Because Alex needs to make a grand romantic gesture to profess her love for you.”
Jonas’s eyes then dart to the fourth member of their party. “…And why is Michael filming?”
“To document this very important moment,” Michael grins, tapping at his screen. “Lighting is terrible, though.”
Jonas sighs heavily, and the hand rubbing tiredly at his face scrubs away the ghost of a wry smile. “You know I don’t need any of this, right?” He directs the bemused question to Alex, squeezing her hand in his. “Like… I believe you. I’m well aware that you care about me.”
“Yes, but the rest of the world has to know,” she nudges her elbow into him as they walk, a mischievous, cheeky grin on her lips.
“…Do they, though?” He raises a skeptical eyebrow, though the rueful quirk to his lips is back despite himself. “Really?”
“Jonas,” Alex has the overly patient amused air of someone breaking down a rather simple problem, and it’s as frustrating as it is entertaining. “I’ve noticed that you have a slight issue caring what people think; you do it too much.”
He huffs out a laugh, a small smirk growing. “I would say I do it about the right amount?”
“Like 3000% more than I do.” It’s a lighthearted mockery of breaking the bad news.
“So you’re saying you just… never care.” It’s a statement serving as a question. Then again, that’s kind of what he likes about her. Barreling headlong into anything she does. It’s super stressful for him, on occasion, but Alex is a breath of fresh air; the antithesis of the more typical teenage apathy. The light that never goes out.
“Correctomundo.” She kicks playfully at his ankle, and he steps out of her way without letting go of her hand, shooting her a playfully accusatory look.
Ren is only a couple feet ahead, and drops back with a conversational: “Oh, no, that’s fully factual; she gives the fewest fucks.”
“Yup,” Michael confirms, cheerily.
“Really.” Jonas’s deadpans.
Ren turns to his best friend, setting a scene as he melodramatically asks: “Alex, for one million dollars-”
Michael chimes in with a “dun-dunnnn,” of dramatic game show audio cue.
“-How much do you give a fuck what other people think? Is it: A) like, all the fucks are being given; B) kinda?; C) very much; or D) only when it suits you?”
Her brother sings out a familiar jingle-y tune as she fakes deep thought. Finally, Alex speaks, flippant: “Regis, the answer I’m going with is: just no– and that’s final.” She smirks to Jonas.
He rolls his eyes, “First off: that was Jeopardy,” a pointed look at Michael, “so get your shitty network TV straight. And second-” Ren has a toothy grin, and Jonas shakes his head with a bemused huff of laughter. “Christ, how are we friends?”
“Well, there was the terrifying bonding trip on Whore Island,” Alex’s words are casual, though Jonas thinks he might spot Ren wince a little. Then he can hear the smug smile in her voice as she adds: “And then the whole you’re completely and utterly in love with me thing.”
He lets out a full-on laugh. “This is about you professing your love? Really?” Though he isn’t letting go of her hand. As much shit as they give each other, they’re never too far out of the other’s reach.
“I mean, I’m fully willing to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known,” Alex jokes, bumping her shoulder against him. “But if you want to give it a go, I wouldn’t stop you.”
“That would be because you live to demean me.”
“Rude.”
“But also kinda true?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny.”
“Alex.” Jonas pulls up short, and she turns to him. Raising a hand to her cheek, he still has that wryly amused expression, even if there’s something unbearably soft underneath. “I don’t need you to prove anything to anybody. And I don’t need witnesses to hold me accountable,” he practically rolls his eyes. Then he’s ducking closer, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone, and his words are quiet. “I love you. Can’t that be enough?”
She always tastes like fresh air and too-high heights. Like jumping a chasm at 4am.
When they break apart, Ren is whooping a cat call, and Michael laughs.
Alex grins, grabs Jonas’s hand, tugs him along; “Nope.”