Mesa Negra

"Hnghaaa!" I happily moaned, bending back at the waist and using my hands intertwined above my head to stretch and engage a multitude of muscles, tendons, and joints.

"Are you done?" a man to my left, one who'd been my best friend since we'd been in literal diapers, mirthfully asked.

"Yeaahhagh!" I half-giddily shrieked in delight, half-yawned out due to the wonderfully-warm morning sun that was bathing my face with tingly pleasantness. "Ohhhhh, what a day, huh!"

Opening happy, partially glazed-over eyes to give him an exuberant grin, something deep within my belly bubbled up as I found a soft, warm smile being directed my way.

"You're not lying," he quietly chortled, his stormy, blue-gray eyes shifting from my frozen form to glance about the wilderness surrounding us. "What a day, indeed."

"GPS?" I quietly inquired, shifting my own gaze to a steep, brush-littered embankment that was a few feet off-trail.

"Backpack," he gruffly grunted, his tone utterly annoyed. "Please, Wallaby, can we just do the hike already? Pleaaaase?"

I sent a faux-frown his way, comfortable once more with looking in his direction, only to immediately allow the earlier-grin I hadn't quite loosed to remake, in full, its exuberant appearance.

"Last one to the top is a rotten egg!" I giddily shrieked, and with a knowing wink being sent his way, I took off at a light jog through the sparse-woods and up the steep mountain, my equipment bouncing about and clattering to and fro in an obscenely-noisy fashion upon my back.

From my heel, I heard a grunt that wouldn't have been out of place on a surly, old grizzly bear, as he jogged up behind me, his own-heavier equipment making an equally-obnoxious raucous as he tried to keep up.

For two minutes we continued our pace, weaving in and out of lush-green foliage and healthy-looking trees, all the whilst jogging up an incline with heavy loads upon our quickly-tiring legs.

"Give up?" I shouted through a sharp inhalation, a victorious, wide smirk already upon my sweaty face.

"Was it ever a question?!" he half-gasped, half-gagged back, and coming to a quick halt upon the steep incline, I turned and hopped in place twice.

Andy, my best friend in the whole world, was not a particularly fit individual. Sure, we went on hikes every other weekend, but he was no fitness freak or gym shark beyond those weekends. He was only 24 years old, or 24 years young, as I liked to more-commonly phrase it, but he was already more skinny-fat than lean-muscle.

"You should really try exercise some time," I breathily teased, giving a swipe to a handful of chaotic curls that were matted to my sweat-covered forehead.

"Ptew!" he spat, nearly choking on his own tongue as he gasped for more oxygen. "W... who... hahhhh... needs exercise when they... ha-hahhh... have friends like... ha... you!"

"I think the phrase is, who needs enemies when they have friends like you," I quipped with a knowing, sweet smile.

"Exercise!" he hissed, sending me a faux-scowl that forced a giggle or two from my grinning lips, which was then directed towards the mountain-side trees as a nearby bird began its morning song.

Allowing another deep inhalation to enter into my lungs from each flaring nostrils, I glanced back down the incline to where Andy was now bent over and panting.

"We'll be at Big Springs in half an hour," I stated, fairly certain he didn't need the encouragement, though fully aware it didn't hurt.

"Half an hour..." he groaned in affirmation, and raising his sight to my own, he gave me a small, roguish grin that made my eyes go searching for that singing bird.

Big Springs, otherwise known by its proper name, The Big Spring Falls, was a wonderful little tidbit of nature. It was one-part majestic waterfall and one-part small pond, with water as clear as day, where it was calm, anyway, and it was as deep as one could hope for. The crystalline cascade was lined by the shrubbiest of redwoods and its rock face consisted of only shimmering quartz, making it a natural, nearly-unheard-of wonder of the world. It was positively divine to gaze upon, and it would've probably been an extremely popular location to traffic if reaching it didn't require a long hike up such a steep incline that was smack dab in the middle of nowhere.

"Well?" I eagerly queried as I dropped my backpack onto dry, white sand, another wonderful feature of the falls.

"Well what?" he grunted out, doing much the same, only to flop down onto his pack with a loud, contented sigh.

"Did you remember to pack your swim trunks this time?" I asked, adopting an irate scowl, which was expertly ignored by him shutting his eyes.

"Forgot again, sorry," he easily replied without an ounce of remorse. "Why don't you go ahead, and I'll have a nap."

"Andrew!" I hissed between gritted teeth, now more angry than irate that he'd done it again, and on purpose, no doubt, which meant I had to swim alone, again, which always ruined it for me. "We're up here together for a reason!"

"I know, but... I don't have your stamina, Wallaby," he argued, quite ineptly, in my opinion, all the whilst keeping his eyes closed to ensure he couldn't visibly view my featurial wrath.

"I don't want to swim alone," I whispered, not quite loud enough to be heard, and not quite as angrily as I truly felt.

With a soft sigh, I began to strip, starting with my hiking boots and socks, followed by my jean shorts and short-sleeved shirt, which had, up until now, hidden my bland one-piece.

"You should learn to exercise," I quietly poked, giving him a long, disappointed look.

The swim, whilst nice, just didn't hold up to what it would've been had Andy joined me. It should've been a fun experience for the both of us, something we could enjoy together, albeit for slightly different reasons. His would, of course, be that he was swimming and splashing about with his best friend, and whilst my reason wouldn't be that different...

'Just do it. Make today the day,' I silently encouraged myself, dipping my head below cool water as my light-brown cheeks became a little darker.

I didn't think there would ever be a time where we, as best friends, wouldn't be able to go on an adventure together, but I couldn't remember a time where I wanted us to go on one as 'best friends'. I would probably never have the courage to admit it aloud, to risk our current bond for a better one, potentially, but I wished for such courage. Day and night, I wished for the nerve to tell him my deepest desire. No matter how encouraging my thoughts may have been, I knew, from long experience, that they had little to no substance.

After my swim was complete, and after he'd had his infernal rest, we continued our journey up the mountain, only stopping to break periodically, knowing our total hikage was eight hours up, and that we would be on a massive incline past dusk if we didn't make it to our destination on time. Fortunately, however, we arrived at Mesa Negra, an obsidian rock formation left over from a century-past eruption that wouldn't have looked out of place within a giant's dining hall, and the sun still had a couple hours of light left, which meant easy tent construction.

"It makes you feel insignificant," Andy suddenly said as he and I finished building the fire pit that would give us warmth throughout the night.

"Huh?" I bemusedly queried, and sending my sight about, I found him squatting next to the formation's cliff.

Shifting my sight to where his own seemed to be pointed, I found a vast valley arrayed below, one I'd seen many times before, and one that was no less and no more impressive than any other mountainside view I'd ever surveyed.

"I suppose," I quietly affirmed, allowing my eyes to wander back to his squatted form, a sight I would've much rather have pondered upon. "You... have good mobility."

"Wh... what?" he unsurely asked, and furrowing his brow and turning his gaze to me, he sent my own squatted-self a bewildered look.

"Not very many people can do a full primal, and you don't even really work out," I explained, though judging by his continued-bemusement, I apparently didn't do a very good job. "I mean... how you're squatting. It's how our ancestors used to sit, so it's called a primal squat. Not many have the innate mobility to do it anymore though, believe it or not."

"Huh..." he hum-grunted, not at all sounding impressed with himself, which caused me to send him a soft smile, and to which he readily returned.

'Relax,' I silently told my heart as it picked up a beat or two from the shared smilage between us. 'Re-friggin'-lax...'

"Why do you care about things like that?" he suddenly asked, never allowing his smile to drop.

"About... things like what?" I returned, almost losing my smile due to my confusion.

"Like... how I'm squatting or about earlier, how you wanted to swim together. Why do you care to even note how I'm squatting and what's it matter whether I swim with you or not?" he elaborated, his expression turning speculative, and my heart began to race in earnest like it was a NASCAR superstar.

'Does he know?!' I silently shrieked, whilst externally, I did everything in my power to heroforth a calm facade.

"Th... that's... urugh..." I croaked out, unsure what I could say at this point to keep my secret.

'Wait a minute! I don't want to keep it-'

Before I could comprehend what was occurring, his speculation visibly vanished, only to leave alarm in its place, which increased my anxiety tenfold, as the implication of what was frightening him settled in.

'He thinks... the idea of us... together... it's revolti-'

"S... sorry, Willow, I didn't mean to come off like that!" he exclaimed, catching me off-guard entirely.

"Wh-" I bafflingly began, though I didn't manage a single word before he continued.

"I didn't mean to come off as, you know, cold-hearted or anything, it's just..." he quietly said, trailing off and shying his gaze from my own as he used a small stick to fiddle and fidget with the prepared kindling, and I felt a sudden sense of familiarity at the same time as complete uncertainty began a take-over. "Do you... think I'm self-centered?"

"Whuagh?" I intelligently grunted out, unsure how, precisely, we had arrived at this conversational point.

"I mean... you've been that way your whole life. You notice things about me, like... you take note of things and pay attention. And when you think up something new and fun... you always make sure to invite me along," he quietly said, giving the kindling a good, hard jab, and all I could do was stare at the narrowed intersection where his two eyebrows met as dawning realization settled in. "You always make sure I'm part of the fun. Or... you try to, anyway. And me? Willow, I don't notice things like that about people, and I don't ever think about how much fun other people are having. It's like... it doesn't matter to me if we're together or not... except-"

"It does matter to you, silly," I quietly quipped, allowing the warmest and most sincere smile I could produce to envelope my soft features, though there was the barest hint of mirth underlining it. "You wouldn't keep coming with me if it didn't. I mean, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you and physical activity... well, you're not exactly a match made in Heaven."

"You're not lying, that's for sure," he snorted out, and allowing his gaze to finally leave the unlit campfire, he met my own with the same, warm sincerity I was giving in turn. "I guess I'm just... I don't know, a bit more introverted, I suppose."

"You're less concerned about what others think about you, so you end up less socially aware, I think," I ruefully replied, giving the pouch on his belly a pointed look. "A lot of people our age... in fact, a lot of people, in general, have some form of body dysmorphia, me included. But... I've never known you to care in the least about what others think of your appearance. You're just... okay with yourself, and so you've ended up, I guess, less socially conscious about yourself than I have."

With my little analysis finished, I shifted my eyes back up to his own, expecting relief, happiness, or understanding to be found, but what I was greeted with was blatant confusion.

"You have body dysmorphia?" he bluntly asked, which caused my jaw to flop open in disbelief that that was what he'd latched onto. "What, have you never looked in the mirror before?"

Joining my gaping jaw, my eyes bulged in their sockets, my heart began to race anew, and my cheeks exploded with heat at the insanely-blunt yet entirely-off handed compliment.

"I... we.... w... well, I... I mean... people can be in... insecure about all s... sorts of things, Andy," I anxiously stuttered out, hoping, praying even, that would be the end of it.

Unfortunately, however, it wasn't.

"What are you insecure about?" he bluntly continued, his tone now curious instead of confused, as though the subject was of genuine and profound interest.

'I can't say it!' I silently shrieked, knowing that if I did tell him, he might be able to piece together what I had never had the courage to say.

Only once had the topic of his type of women come up, and it had somehow, against all unnatural odds, ended up on my mother, a woman who'd hailed from a Japanese house of Hokkaidon nobility or some such rubbish. Rubbish, I thought, yet she truly was the perfect image of traditional, Japanese beauty. Her hair was that of a raven waterfall, blacker, glossier, and silkier than the finest of linen. Her skin was like the purest of snow, more flawless than any beauty influencer could dream to possess. Her eyes were like obsidian gems, as dark and glistening as the rock formation we sat next to. Her features were as soft yet defined as any Asianic royalty could hope to genetically adorn. Even her height was a modest five-two, perfection in the form of daintiness for any woman of her descent. She was an ethereal wonder, a once-in-a-lifetime beauty that any straight man would want to have at his side, and she was everything I'd dreamt of being ever since Andy's taste in women had been brought up, with her, of course, as the focal point.

I'd inherited her outlandishly-beautiful facial features, but that was where the similarities ended. My father was a six-eight mountain-of-muscle, born in west LA, with skin as dark as my mother's eyes, and with hair that had to be kept to the scalp due to its chaotically-kinky nature. I loved the man dearly, and I was not ashamed to be of his blood or carry some of his likeness, but where my mother was blessed with a raven waterfall, I'd somehow been doomed to an almond-brown rat nest. Where her skin was that of purest snow, mine was a light-brown mix, not black, not white, just... something in-between. Where her eyes were black gems, mine were mere mud puddles. Where she was a modest, dainty five-two, and even where my father was a titanic six-eight, I'd somehow ended up a whopping-diminutive, childlike four-five.

And that was without counting all the muscle I'd built over the years of gymnastics, calisthenics, and karate, which obliterated the image of a traditional woman in lieu of one a good deal more toned and limbly-rotund, which was not a good look for someone of my short stature. She was a petite beauty, delicate and supple, whereas I was more of a bipedal, fat-limbed feline, graceful and light of foot through training, but unmistakable for anything effeminately prey-like. I wasn't ashamed of my features, not in any way, I was just... not what he preferred. Or, until this very moment, so I'd thought.

"You think I'm... good-looking?" I timidly asked, sending the abused kindling he'd earlier been prodding a shy, hopeful look, one that I was somehow praying he wouldn't be able to decipher.

"Like I said, have you never looked in the mirror before?" he stated as much as he asked, his tone seemingly, genuinely baffled, as though it had never occurred to him that I was anything but attractive. "I mean, I'm not trying to be a creepy older brother or anything, but even I can tell you're beautiful."

'Excuse me, what?!' I silently asked no-one in particular.

"Huh...?" I murmured, sending him a dazed, unsure look. "Andy, uh... can... can you run that by me again?"

"Uhhhhh... sure?" he uneasily said, suddenly looking rather alarmed, either by my tone or the look I was sending his way. "Uhh... um... even I... can tell you're-"

"Not that. Before," I cut in, giving him a pointed but confused look.

"Uhhhhh... have you... never-"

"After," I interrupted, and with this cut-in, my eyes began to slowly narrow in shocked disbelief, and his naturally-pale face began to drain of its remaining color as he tried to figure out what it was that I was referring to.

"Uff... uh... I'm... not trying to... to be a creepy older-"

Without so much as a sound, I stood from my squat and gave the bewildered man a long, deadpan look, then I shifted my gaze to the other side of the obsidian formation.

"Uh... W... Wi... Walla-"

"I need to go to the bathroom," I coolly stated, and without so much as a glance back, I slowly padded away from our campsite.

'Idiot!' I silently screamed, envisioning a punching bag with which to wail upon with impotent, exasperated irritation. 'Andrew, you absolute lout! I've had a crush on you since we were toddlers! And you think of me as your little sister?! Idiot!'

Once my business was done, and once my internal grief had been internally spent, I returned to our campsite to find a fidgeting man and his fiddlesome stick once more poking the unlit kindling.

"I'm hungry. Are you ready to light the fire?" I asked, my tone as lighthearted as could be in an attempt to assuage his alarm.

"Uhh... yeah, but... what was th-"

"Let's light it, then!" I cheerily exclaimed, doing my absolute best to ignore the still-bewildered look he was sending my form.

Over the next couple hours, we cooked our food, had some s'mores, and after what felt like eternity, I worked up the courage to tell a creepypasta concerning a mountaineer-turned-wendigo, which gradually reduced the tension I'd inadvertently, earlier created. By the time we were ready to tuck in at five-till-nine, the subject concerning body dysmorphia and my seemingly-bizarre outburst was all but a thing of the past, and with a glance up at the well-seen stars before entering our shared tent, a strange sensation overcame me, one that was both familiar and foreign.

It makes you feel insignificant...

Turning my focus back onto my sleeping bag, which was atop a thick yoga mat that had seen much use in both practice and in wild-sleeping, I sent a subtle, sharp look towards Andy, who was already settled into his own bedroll. For as long as I could recall, whenever we'd slept next to one another, no matter if in the same bed as kids or within two separate sleeping bags as adults, every morning I awoke always meant I was cuddled up next to my best friend. For as long as I could recall, this concept had left me delighted, comforted, and even relieved. But not tonight.

I'm not trying to be a creepy older brother or anything...

'I'm part of the problem. Me, my habits, my cowardice. In fact... I am the problem...'

It was a terrible realization, the same terribleness I'd felt right as my gaze had found the stars and remembered his earlier words, but it was the truth, terrible or otherwise.

'Something has to change,' I silently realized, feeling some kind of anticipatory-dread fill my veins. 'I have to change. Somehow... I have to do something or I'll lose him someday...'

"L... listen, about... about earlier..." he suddenly, nervously began, and I tilted my head towards him slightly, which caused my curls to impede any eye contact that could've been made.

"I'm sorry," I quietly replied, not at all interested in reopening the topic yet. "I was just... having a mood swing. That's all it was."