Pride and Joy ✓

twenty

SATURDAY. 11. DECEMBER. 21. 

WHEN his phone rang, it was eleven minutes past two am.

Clumsily, he extended his arm and patted down his bedside table, eventually grabbing his phone and pulling the charger out of it, wincing at how brightly the screen illuminated his face in the darkness of his bedroom.

Groggily, he answered the call and pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello?" He groaned, his voice rough with sleep as he rolled onto his back in bed and dug the palm of his free hand into his eye.

"Den!" Nate called enthusiastically, his voice slurred and unsteady. "Hey, buttercup! You answered!"

"Always do, don't I?" He yawned, not even surprised that the voice on the other end of the phone was Nate's. "What's up?"

"Nothing! Nothing is up!" He cheered, music blaring and people shouting distantly in the background.

"Then why did you call me?" He mumbled.

"I missed you!" He called over the chaos. "I can't believe you didn't come tonight."

"How much have you had to drink?" He asked, ignoring the remark and forcing down the butterflies that were beginning to rise.

"Ten, maybe?"

"Ten what, Nate?" He pressed, his frown deepening. "What does that mean?"

"Den, I— fuck off, asshole!" He shouted, an indistinguishable commotion raging in the background.

"Nate?" He called, propping himself up on his elbow. "What's the matter?"

"This fucking dick keeps trying to argue with me and I'm trying not to argue with him, Den! Because if I argue with him then I'm going to kick his fucking ass!" He yelled, clearly offering a warning to someone rather than explaining the situation to Denver. "But I don't even want to fight tonight and you yelled at me last time I fought someone. I haven't argued with anyone for two weeks, Den!"

"I know," he murmured, "and I'm very proud of you."

"You're proud of me?" Nate echoed incredulously. "Really?"

"Course I am," he muttered, stifling both another yawn and the fluttering in his stomach. "Very proud of you, but I'll be even more proud of you if you stay out of trouble tonight."

Another member of the football team had decided to throw a party and pretty much everyone from school, and some of the other local schools, had decided to go, including Nate and Denver's entire friendship group (with the exception of him, of course).

His friends had been begging him to go for most of the week but he had remained firm in his decision to stay home. When he'd tried to explain this to Nate as they walked down the school steps together, Nate had interrupted him to ask (with expressive disappointment) why he wasn't going.

There wasn't any particular reason for it other than the fact he wasn't interested. He didn't feel like partying or drinking or trying to socialise; he was far too exhausted after a gruelling week to even think about it.

Once Nate had been made aware of this, he'd offered to skip the party so that they could hangout, but Denver had refused. He knew that Nate didn't like missing parties and his fear of missing out was bound to catch up with him at some point if he skipped it just so that they could hangout.