Chapter Text
When Ray proclaimed his competency, he had no clue of the sheer difficulty of camping.
Not the process of setting up the camping ground- that could be accomplished by referring to an instruction manual which Ray was quite sure he could understand. It was not the process of finding food to eat, because they were minors and their mothers had frantically packed them sandwiches to last them for a week. It was not navigation- Don took charge with the map and he was an expert navigator according to his profile approved officially by the guys who ran the Boy Scout sessions he attended. It was not entertainment, because Emma brought her laptop which was proudly loaded with pirated anime episodes.
No, it was the difficulty of keeping sane.
If everyone was a clone of Ray, they would’ve all simultaneously given up and fallen off a cliff much earlier in the journey. Even so, Ray had his reputation to uphold. His friendship with Norman was dangerously on the line ever since they made that bet that one night. That they would go on a camping trip for a week and whoever would call quits before the end of the week would be publicly humiliated.
It went something like this:
“Ray,” Norman had called nonchalantly, staring at a poster on Ray’s bedroom wall while he leaned back on his bed, supporting himself by his hands. “I wonder if I’ll ever live to the day I get to see your entire forehead.”
“What?” Ray had responded, also nonchalantly, while he browsed an online bookstore.
“Wouldn’t it be amazing?” Norman said wonderingly. “To see the mysterious area of skin hidden behind the raven strands of your hair? Gosh, I’d probably collapse from the heart failure such an occurrence would induce.”
“No,” was Ray’s curt response.
“Let’s make a bet,” Norman began, propping himself up and leaning towards Ray.
“Please no.”
“Don’s planning to drag us along on a camping trip, and you know what that means for the both of us.” He gestured to himself, and then to Ray with a suggestive look in his owl-like eyes. “We’ll die.”
“Absolutely.”
“So, I propose that whoever dies first-”
“I’m going to endgame myself then.”
“No, Ray,” Norman insisted harshly. “Listen. Pay attention. Whoever succumbs to the will of the evil environment first- by which I’m referring to losing your mental stability- will have to sacrifice one thing that defines who they are to the other. If I lose- which I absolutely definitely will not do- you can take advantage of one thing that defines me.”
“Emma.”
“No.”
“Your innocence?”
“Hell no.”
“Your virgini-”
“RAY,” Norman erupted, shortly before he calmed down and his face went pleasantly blank again. He smiled. “There are certain limitations to the rewards of the bet."
“Oh?” Ray questioned. “How about you suggest something I can sacrifice if you don’t fail?”
“Easy,” Norman grinned. He held up a number of fingers. “You keep your hair up for three days.”
Since then, it was hard keeping Norman from lifting Ray’s terribly long bangs to take a premature glimpse of his ‘phantom forehead’ as Norman liked to say. Ray was scared he was going to have to sleep with one eye open in case he and Norman were sharing a tent. When hearing the explanation for the reason for their willing participation in the camping trip, Don was dumfounded as heck but wisely decided not to question his friends’ shenanigans. He was used to their strange customs and was aware of the numerous bets the idiots made because they were stupidly competitive and very very very stupidly smart.
“Hey nerds,” Don called. “We have, like, three hundred metres left until we reach the campsite.”
And if they did the math, hiking another three hundred metres through the bushes and undergrowth on an inclined plane (which was the mountain of course) would still take a stupidly long time. The books in Ray’s rucksack were digging painfully into his middle back, because of course he had to pack at least four books with him (there were originally ten but Emma forced him to take them back home because he was going to ‘socialise’ instead of read).
Ray sighed, breathing slowly to soothe his aching lungs. Sweat was accumulating all over his body, and yes it sounded gross when put in that way. He had already gone through most of his water, but there was reportedly a spring near the campsite where they were going to stay. Ray checked his watch. Oh! It was about time to begin another session of brooding about how he missed his house and unlimited internet access!
“Cheer up, Ray,” Emma said in a tone of voice that did not cheer Ray up at all.
He inwardly groaned. Another difficult aspect of camping.
Emma.
Sweet, obnoxious Emma.
Who had been pestering Ray about how to use his camera for the past half-hour.
“I swear to God,” Ray began grumpily. “You better have not filled it up with pictures of interesting weeds.”
“Wildflowers,” Emma replied with a somewhat scary smile.
“Ah,” exclaimed Norman, walking up to Ray from behind. He wasn’t visibly panting, but Ray could see the fatigue in his azure eyes, contradicting any face of persistence Norman attempted to put on. Norman placed his hand on Ray’s shoulder as he typically did, then with a hopeful grin commented. “The thought of seeing your forehead motivates me to climb many mountains.”
“His forehead?” Emma chirped questioningly, looking over at Norman inquisitively.
“Don’t. Fucking. Say. Anything,” hissed Ray.
“You’ll see when he loses the bet,” Norman explained smugly.
“If I lose the bet,” Ray added, rubbing his temple (on his right side of course).
“What bet?” Emma asked.
“I’ll tell you later when we’re alone,” Norman said happily.
Emma blinked, looking utterly confused, but smiled back at the platinum-haired boy. She ran ahead with Ray’s camera again, pausing to stare at a tiny ladybug that settled softly onto a leaf. Ray could see Norman’s eyes burn into her for a moment, but as he stared at the girl, Ray noticed Norman’s facial expression sag, sweet condensing on his forehead and his eyes becoming strangely and rapidly hazy. Before he knew it, Norman was lying face-down on the gravel path, limbs splayed out on either side of him.
“Norman?!” Emma screeched in astonishment.
“He fainted,” Ray observed. He was not surprised.
“So much for persisting.”
As Gilda quickly rushed down to help Norman to his feet (the poor boy had collapsed from lack of oxygen because he was being a coward and not breathing normally like the rest of them), volunteered Emma to throw water on his face, Ray managed to catch up to Don who was far ahead of the trio already. Fortunately, however, there was no need to fret and call for drastic measures. They had reached the campsite.