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☼ . * ｡ ● TASK ONE ( 2/? )

a smirk crept over her features at his silence. “ so what is that? like the hundredth time i’ve been right? or is that being too nice? ” she smiled over at him, their drive closing in on the last 5 minutes of their drive to his death bed, drama queen bed really. “ he’s just having a guys night. we aren’t together all the time you know? i mean a lot of it. but not all of it. we need me time too you know? how else do you think eight years works? ” her lies, little or big, in regards to their relationship were so good they even scared her every now and then. being that comfortable lying is never a good thing, but when its for a good reason then its fine, or at least thats what josie told herself.

“For the sake of our relationship, I’m not going to answer that.” He answered as he flipped through different radio stations. “Bodhi has guys nights? I didn’t even know he had guy friends -- are you sure they aren’t imaginary? Have you seen these alleged “friends”?” Ernest asked bluntly.  Sometimes -- well, often times -- he found it weird that Josie knew so much more about his own brother than he felt like he ever would, but at this point, Ernest had pretty much made his peace with it. Strange or not, most of what he knew about Bodhi was because of what he’d learned through Josie, and she was probably aware of it by now too.

          her breath hitched sharply as she registered the sudden accident she made in a split second; and in that moment she couldn’t help herself from cursing. “shit,” was all that left her lips as she tilted the glass back up and placed it far from the edge of the bar; her careless act leaving her unnoticed on how she had uttered a foreign word. “i’m sorry,” she apologized, over again and again; quickly reaching for napkins to aid ernest, and the mess she had made – as if they could help or fix anything. “i really– i really didn’t mean to– it just– it slipped.” her words were chopped as she tried to explain; not long after she was back to apologizing. her heart was still racing; and she wasn’t sure if it was because of how silly or clumsy she was for being so careless, or if her lips were just inches away from ernest’s a few minutes, seconds ago. “maybe sharing milkshakes wasn’t a good idea,” she muttered, chewing her bottom lip.

Ernest’s head snapped up as soon as “the s-word”, as Sophia always called it, left her mouth. “Are you kidding? Now? I wasn’t even recording, come on.” He complained, his frustration doubled at the fact that he’d missed the rare event of Sophia cursing. The two had been at this for years -- Sophia openly refrained from swearing, and Ernest made it his life mission to catch her doing it on tape. He’d gotten it once, but in a careless moment, she’d ended up with his phone and the recording ended up being erased. “Don’t worry about it.” He muttered, peeling his strawberry milkshake covered shirt off and draping it over the seat next to him as he grabbed napkins right along with Sophia, the two of them trying in vain to at least put a dent in half the mess. “You know, I think the people here have this covered.” He said finally after what seemed like an endless amount of silence, but was probably only a few short minutes. “Let me just drive you home, you can have the rest of my milkshake since yours is kind of -- on the ground.”

“he did ? oh, alright ! that’s okay, don’t worry. um, change the subject ? yeah, sure ! how do you feel about — um, what is it called… right. — how do you feel about apples ? i’ve heard people like androids — that’s what it is, right ? — too, but i haven’t really made up my mind. mostly because i have no clue what they are. and hey, i’ll remember that ! thank you. “

“Apples? You mean like the fruit? They’re alright, I guess. I like the red ones -- oh, androids? You’re talking about the phone then. Are you telling me you don’t have a phone? We need to get you a phone.”

“you’re such an ass,” sadie retorted, the sarcasm that leaked from ernest’s voice was similar to her own, “i could’ve made you just sit here and make you watch me eat. but i decided to be nice and share, and this is what i get? you suck, honestly.” there was a time where there would’ve been real heat behind her words, but now sadie imagined ernest is what a brother would be like: extremely annoying and has you question why you would ever want to spend time with him, but you love him anyways. “okay, meredith grey,” sadie quipped, “you barely even have a temperature. it just seems like you’ve been under a blanket a minute too long.” sadie would be concerned, well, slightly concerned, if it were anyone else complaining this much about their health. but it was ernest, he swore he had a new deathly disease each week and had always been fine two days later. “this may come as a shock,” sadie started off, putting her most grave face, “but you aren’t some genius when it comes to kitchen organization, you’re just like any other kitchen in the country.” sadie started digging through the containers to pile food onto her plate. “and you can stop being a spy for tuck,” sadie began with a pointed glare, “you were never that good at it anyways.”

Ernest stuck his tongue out at her. “Thanks for not making me watch you eat.” He answered sarcastically, though his smile was genuine as he joined her at the table, grabbing the sat across from her. Ever since Tuck had come back to town, the two spent significantly less time together -- not that they’d made it a habit to purposely seek each other out while he was gone, but an unlikely friendship had formed. It was nice that they could pick up right where they’d left off -- banter that had once been hateful but turned friendly. “What do you mean I barely have a temperature? I’m burning up.” He complained, dumping the contents of the nearest container onto his plate. “And not in the way the Jonas Brothers were talking about.” As Sadie glared at him, Ernest couldn’t even be bothered to hide the smirk on his face. “Never that good at it? Harsh, Brooks. Anyway, I’m not spying for him. I was just asking for my own curiosity. Why would I be spying for someone I promised to trash talk with you?”

He didn’t have to wait long for Ernest to join him, though from the look on his face, his best friend was anything but pleased about the hour. A smug smile found itself on Tuck’s lips. “They’re not fucking poison, Ernest.. Mine are made from the same batter,” he said, noting the suspicion from across the table. He made an example by taking a large bite and moving his eyebrows as if to say ‘see?’. They sat silently for a moment before Ernest spoke up. “It was pretty nice,” Tuck responded, taking another bite and revelling in the awkward tension. “I’d been wanting to go again for a while, so I enjoyed it. Get up to anything fun this weekend?”

Despite witnessing Tuck eating his own pancakes without going through the side effect of sudden death, Ernest was still skeptical about his own. He could’ve split the batter and only poisoned his half. He briefly considered casually testing the pancake on Burrito first, but the moral conflict going on in the back of his mind that told him his life was no more precious than their dog’s forced him to suck it up and brace himself as he dug into the plate in front of him. “Fun? I -- no. I was waiting for you to get back, I didn’t do much of anything.” Ernest shrugged, wondering if the small talk was Tuck’s way of stalling before he dropped dead. He’d been expecting to get reamed out the second Tuck walked through the door. Awaiting death was stressful enough, he couldn’t wait for that and a fight. Tuck seemed to know that though -- keeping him anxious and waiting for any sign of the conversation they should be having was synonymous to torture. “How do you feel? I mean -- uh, did you get a chance to clear your head?” He stuttered in an attempt to subtly allude to the elephant in the room without being the one to bring it up directly. 

@fohernest

Tuck’s presence was bittersweet. Ernest had been anticipating him coming back -- the first night he was gone, he couldn’t sleep at all going over in his mind everything he was going to tell him as soon as he got back. The more days that passed, though, and the closer they were getting to Tuck’s return date, the more Ernest found himself dreading it. He didn’t enjoy confrontation, and his hatred for it outweighed his eagerness to mend their bond. So when Tuck came home, Ernest did what any best friend would do -- he stayed in his room, only going out when he knew Tuck was also in his. The tiptoeing didn’t last long -- it couldn’t last long, Ernest knew that, but the last thing he was expecting was for Tuck to drag him out of bed at an hour where not even nocturnal animals were up. He’d been thinking noon would be a good time to talk things over. “You serious?” Ernest groaned, tempted to ignore him and roll back over. It wasn’t fair though, he knew the least he owed Tuck was a conversation. Even if it was at six in the morning. He eyed the pancakes in front of him wearily, wondering in the back of his mind how he could subtly check them for poison. “So -- uh, New Hampshire looked nice.” He said as he picked at the breakfast with his fork.

Tuck was aware that he was jumping to conclusions and being petty, but in this situation, the way that Ernest had explained it – It left him no choice. “Distancing yourself from what, Ernest? I didn’t even know you had feelings for her, how the hell was I supposed to know?” Tuck’s frustration was through the roof. He wanted nothing more than to leave the room, and claw the guilt out of his chest that should not have been making its home there. “It’s pretty obvious that Sage and I have shit to talk about, but you know what? This little talk has really been enough for me today. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did.. So.. I just need – I don’t know. But I think I’m going to go.” Tuck walked to his room as he finished his sentence, grabbing up the black duffle bag in the corner and stuffing it with a few items of the laundry folded on his bed. 

“It’s not like that.” He protested again, following Tuck around the apartment. The phrase seemed to be his favorite in this particular conversation, and Ernest could hear how whiny he sounded. It was driving him crazy, but he couldn’t help it -- all he wanted was for Tuck to understand, and most of all, to forgive him. It was his pride that was hurt more than anything, the fact that Sage had gone for his best friend instead of him, and he was beginning to realize now how ridiculous it was that this mess began because of his ego. “What do you mean you’re going to go? Go where?” He demanded, trailing behind Tuck as he stormed into his room. Flashbacks of him leaving to Boston came back all over again, and Ernest couldn’t shake the desperate worry in the back of his mind that if Tuck left while he was this angry, he wouldn’t come back. “Come on, Tuck, we can talk about this.” Ernest begged, tempted to reach for the clothes inside the bag and pull them out. He started to, but stopped himself, half afraid that if he initiated something physical, Tuck would strike back with a vengeance. A black eye was the last thing he needed -- though he would've gladly accepted it, if it meant Tuck staying. 

Emily rolled her eyes, tempted now to kick Ernest out and deal with the child on her own. “The best part of babysitting is spending time with the kid – or in this case, getting paid.” She hissed, slamming the refrigerator doors shut. She could tell Ernest was about to protest, but she didn’t give him the chance, pushing him out of the kitchen and into the living room where the little boy was drawing. “Guess he couldn’t find the paper.” She groaned, taking in the newly marked up walls in despair. “Look,” Emily turned then, facing Ernest. “Either help me, or get out.”

“Fine.” Ernest grumbled, allowing himself to, literally, be pushed around by his little sister. They were met by the sight of the little boy scribbling furiously on the walls -- as if he were punishing them for being a color he didn’t like. “Hey, hey.” Ernest got down to his level, taking the markers gently from his hands and setting them down on the floor. “Don’t you think this would be more fun on paper? Let’s go find some.” He turned to mouth “get sponges” at Emily, hoping he could distract the boy long enough for the two of them to scrub the walls clean.