Take A Walk With Me (One-Shots and More)

Seven Minutes (Merome)

"A Dark and Stormy, please?"

I glare at Jerome. "So you're going to get drunk and eat me out of house and home tonight?"

"Yeah," he smirked, and I rolled my eyes, settling back in the hard-as-rock chair.

We were on our way to Seattle for MineCon 2016. Our flight didn't take off until eight the next morning, as our previous flight tonight had been canceled. We'd found a restaurant called Aleworks, and Jerome decided to be the bane of my existence.

"A virgin blackberry margarita," I say, when the waiter looks at me expectantly. When she gives me the look of doubt, I just gesture to Jerome and say jokingly, "Someone has to make sure he doesn't try to sleep with me."

"I hate you," Jerome mumbled, realizing I'd called him out for his low tolerance. The woman chuckles and walks away with our orders.

"What're you getting? Please, not the forty dollar elk sliders."

"Miiitch... You ruin everything."

"You don't even like game meat."

I smirk, victorious, as he slams his menu down on the table.

The Aleworks wasn't a low class restaurant. There wasn't a single person here who was wearing casual clothing. Simple dipping appetizers were twenty dollars. In all honesty, I'd only taken Jerome because I wanted to impress him. I wasn't even going to eat.

The lady comes back, setting our drinks on the table. "Are you ready to order?"

"Yeah, um..."

Awkward as all hell, Jerome gives his order, and, to my surprise, asks for a side-dish of poutine. Him ordering bison wasn't normal either. Usually, he stuck to beef steaks and such.

I tell the waitress I'm not here to eat, then turn to Jerome. "You hate game meat."

"But you like it."

I stare at him for a moment, catching on. "Jerome, I'm not hungry."

"Yes, you are. You have to be. You haven't eaten since we left this morning. Not even on the flight up here. On top of that, you ate nothing yesterday, except a slice of pizza. Mitch, you're a complete foodie. This isn't like you."

"I... I don't need to eat," I argue, and Jerome bites his lip. He's probably trying not to scream at me.

"Mitchell Donnell Ralph Hughes. You need to fucking eat. Don't give me that bullshit. You're not overweight. You don't need to loose pounds. You're completely in shape. You have the highest metabolism I've ever seen in anyone ever. Fucking eat."

"Why are you so worried about me?" I snap.

"Because you're my best friend. I know I'm being hard on you, but... Mitch, I'm scared. You mean too much to me..."

"What have I ever done to deserve you?"

"Don't make me answer that... Look around you. This is a five-star place, and yet you took me, offering to pay for everything, even after you paid the fee for changing our flight and sending our bags. For a man your age, you're polite and thoughtful. If anything, I'm the one who doesn't deserve you."

"You talk as if we're dating," I tease him, thinking over what he said.

"Who says we're not?"

There was no joke in his voice. He looked completely serious. At first, I didn't understand what he meant. As soon as I did, I was kind of shocked.

We'd known each other forever. Even when we were separated, we talked daily. Neither of us were anything without the other. We may not cuddle up on the couch and kiss each other, but we told each other we loved the other on a day to day basis. I had told myself he was my brother for the longest time, but was that true?

"Me. We're not dating, Jerome."

Our food was brought out right then, cutting off his answer. He pushed the plate of poutine over to me, and I picked at the fries. It would probably make me sick, but Jerome wasn't going to give up. He never did.

"Why not?"

I look up at him, shocked. "Are... Are you kidding me? Jerome... That's wrong."

"Why's it wrong?"

"Well... I..."

"You just don't like the idea. Why?"

"You sound like a five-year-old," I groan. "What if something happens, Jerome? If we get together, we might break up. If we break up, we might stop being friends, and... I don't want that to happen."

"Did you take your meds this morning, Mitch? Your mood swings--"

"I'm under a lot of stress, alright?!"

Jerome stops talking for a moment or so. "You don't have the money for your meds, do you? Your Bipolar has been acting up badly, too. One moment you act like you love me, and the next, you couldn't hate me more. And yet, you spend everything in your pocket to treat me to something nice... How much spending money do you really have?"

I don't answer him. Instead, I just rest my head in my arms on the table. "Mitch..."

"Just... Eat, and tell me when your ready to go. I don't want to talk."

I heard him get up, and within a minute, I felt an arm wrap around me as he crouched next to my chair. "Mitch, you need to tell me these things."

"No, I do--"

····

They say that for seven minutes after you die, your brain flashes your life. It may only be only a few moments in the real world, but in your mind, it feels like a lifetime.

My seven minutes ended right then.

Maybe you want to know what happened after I tried to protest...

A gun went off, someone shooting from the back of the room.

I'll leave the rest for you to think about.

····

This was another one-shot that was supposed to be fluffy. If I had just left it...

Never mind. Don't question me.

Anyways...

See you next chapter?

Baiii