How the fuck—THE FUCK—are we only halfway? You mean I still need to get through all that AGAIN?! FUCK, DEREK.
Derek:
You’ve done so good.
Xander:
Fuck good. I hate good. I wish I’d told you that you weren’t allowed to leave.
Derek:
Keep going, you’re making me feel really good about my decision to be over seven thousand miles away.
Xander:
Seven THOUSAND. What if I die before you get back?
Derek:
I’ll leave early to cry at your funeral.
Xander:
You’re such an asshole.
Derek:
Just matching tone here, bug. This really how you want to spend this conversation?
Xander:
Fiiiiiine. Happy halfway. It’s been three weeks since my last panic attack.
Derek:
Fuck. Wow. I’m so proud of you.
Xander:
Thanks. I think … I’m maybe a little proud of me, too.
NOVEMBER
Xander:
How do you hit fast forward on this thing?
Derek:
What thing?
Xander:
Time. Life. Everything. I’m getting impatient.
Derek:
You? Impatient?