August shrugged. "I don't know and I don't care. It's been years, get over it." His tone sounded quite mean, but the relaxed and friendly expression on his face, and the fact that he was mostly concentrated on his candy, made the comment much less harsh. "What are you up to? Besides inane conspiracy theories, that is."
She glared playfully. "Fight me." She said, tossing a guitar pick at him. "But mostly music and trying-to-avoid-an-existential-crisis naps." She said, shrugging.
"Oh, mood," he said, trying to deflect the guitar pick from hitting him. He failed miserably –he ended up slapping himself in the face moments after the pick also slapped him in the face. "Ouch."
She let out a snort of laughter. "You okay?"
"Only thing hurt is my dignity," he said, sitting down cross legged and picking up one of her conspiracy magazines. "And my face, it also hurts." He thumbed through the magazine. "Hoax, trash, fake news, trash, unscientific, trash…"
She glared playfully at him. "One more word, August. One more word."
"Hmmm…" he paused, elongating his word, stretching out the one syllable, "Traaaash. How's that?"
She just yeeted a pillow at him. "Fuck off. At least I only pay attention to the ones that make sense."
"You have a very subjective view of sense," he responded in a pretentious way, catching the pillow at the expense of the food in his hands.
"Why am I friends with you when you just insult me?" She asked, flopping backwards and sighing dramatically.
He shrugged, "I don't know, poor taste? Anyway, what other theories do you believe? Besides the inane Kurt Cobain one."
"Hey, it's not that insane." She said, looking up. "But Oswald couldn't have been the only gunman to kill JFK."
(i love how i actually agree with all of these conspiracies)
August rolled his eyes. "There is no definitive proof of that. Until there is, its just a story. What else?"
((Those are the only two I actually believe lol))
"You really wanna get into this?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.
(dude i believe in extraterrestrials tbh im a pretty big conspiracy theorist)
August thought it over. Thunder rumbled low in the distance. "Why not? I'm not going anywhere for a while."
She sat up, going into rambling mode.
((AKA I am too lazy to list a bunch of conspiracies sooo…))
"Uh huh, interesting," he said with a yawn. "I got a bit bored at the whole 'Bush did 9/11' thing, but the artificial intelligence taking over the world, and the illuminati? Hilarious."
She flipped him off. "Oh, fuck off! Why did I even invite you over?"
"Because secretly you like it when I poke holes in your theories," August teased, scraping the last of the ice cream out of the container. "Science and logic always win."
She rolled her eyes, accidentally knocking another notebook off her bed.
"Ooh, is this your diary? Where you document how many times you got abducted or saw a ghost?" August grabbed the notebook that fell off the bed.
"H-hey! You're supposed to see that!" She said, reaching fruitlessly for the notebook. "Give it back!"
((It's supposed to be her songbook by the way))
He flipped it open, reading a bit out loud before realizing what it was. Somewhat sheepish, he said innocently, "Oh, is this Nirvana? I never really listened to it…"
"Not… exactly…" She muttered, looking away.
"What is it?" he prompted, although he was pretty sure he knew.
"Nothing!" She said quickly. "Can I have it back, please?"
"Alright," he said, slouching some as he tossed it back. "I just like it."
She blushed, shoving it under her pillow.
He rolled his eyes a little. "Ugh, you're emoting again. I told you not to blush around me."
"Oh, fuck you!" She said, laughing.