summer

five- picnic

       "Seriously." Dylan rolled his eyes at Sawyer's expression. "You're not going to eat anything?"

      "Not hungry," said Dylan, but that was a lie. One, he was anxious about being outside and around strangers, plus was insecure about eating in front of other people.

He'd been dragged into this miserable picnic trip without choice, once his mother demanded something, it was set in stone. Nevertheless, that didn't mean he had to enjoy it, and he was not. Dylan was completely and wholly miserable.

      "Eat," demanded Sawyer, shoving a sandwich at him. Dylan shook his head gloomily and pushed it back in his direction. "I think I've got you figured out," Sawyer passively mumbled after a few seconds, lying on his back and staring up at the sky. His sentence definitely earned a snort from Dylan, he's never heard anything more ridiculous.

      "Oh, yeah? Really? You've known me, like, a day. I am willing to bet any amount of money on that being wrong."

      "You just don't like the sun," Sawyer sighed, staring pitifully up at Dylan. He couldn't help but laugh at his unlikely explanation.

      "Yeah, that's it. For sure. Actually, I'm a vampire and the sun burns me. That's what's going on here. Just don't tell anyone," Dylan said, wagging his fingers spookily as Sawyer's eyebrows furrowed.

      "Seriously? I'm just trying to understand you," Dylan rolled his eyes at him, pulling his knees into his chest.

      "Yeah, well, quit while you're ahead. I'm not going to open up or even spend time with you unless I'm forced to. Just drop it." Sawyer sighed loudly, pouting.

      "Not gonna happen, Dylan," he said with a frown, perseverance flickering in his incredibly blue eyes. "I'm going to figure you out. I will." Dylan felt himself redden at Sawyer's determined look and dramatic eye contact.

       "You're hopeless. Completely and wholeheartedly hopeless." Dylan muttered, looking away from the strange boy next to him. Sawyer leaned a bit closer to him, resulting in Dylan pushing himself away in discomfort.

      "Sweetie, you're red." Dylan gasped, disgusted.

"What the fuck? Do not call me that," he snapped, furious.

He resisted the urge to hide his face in his knees. It wasn't like he had much social experience other than his family and the friends he'd had in elementary. Therefore, he wasn't quite sure what was right or wrong or socially acceptable in conversations, and he had a really hard time reading people. However, he was pretty sure it was not customary to call someone you'd only known for two days 'sweetie'.

        "What? It's what everyone calls everyone in California," joked Sawyer, taking a bite of his sandwich.

       "No, it's not. I'm not an idiot. Stop fucking with me. I don't like it when people play with me, like I'm some dumb toy." He didn't like Sawyer's incessant determination to befriend Dylan. More, he didn't really understand it. He'd met kids like him before, and consequently knew well enough that Dylan was just some sort of cruel challenge to him. Despite that, just because it had happened before didn't mean it wouldn't still hurt him.

        "Hey, I'm not playing you. Just joking around," he said, making Dylan whip his head around to glare at him.

      "Is that what I am to you, just someone to fuck with? I'm not a fucking idiot, Sawyer. I'm not falling for this again. Could this possibly be why I didn't want to be your friend?" Dylan felt himself getting heated but didn't want to appear weak. He was actually quite afraid. Instead, he pushed himself up and walked away, not to any real destination, just away.

      "Dylan, wait, I'm sorry," called Sawyer, chasing after him. "I don't-"

      "Just leave me alone!" Snapped Dylan, whirling around to face Sawyer. A few people glanced over at them but he didn't care.

The two were uncomfortably close, he noticed, but Dylan was too angry to back away. Why was he so upset? After all, Sawyer was just some Californian fuckboy he was going to have to put up with until the end of the summer, all he had to do was ignore him. But he couldn't, not when he was in his face all the time.

"People like you don't talk to people like me, you don't waste your time on what you all consider scum. That's just how it works, Sawyer. Now please, leave me alone." He felt his fists ball together as he spun around and walked away.

This time, Sawyer didn't follow.

>><<

It was peaceful where he sat. The treetops swayed in the breeze, cooling down the area considerably. Even though it was summer, New Hampshire never really warmed up to a ridiculous heat. It was warm, sometimes hot, but never sweltering. As of right now, it was cool. Sunny, but cool. Dylan leaned against a tall tree near the end of the park. He was more on the border of the forest than in the field, but he liked that more. Not as many people surrounded him, and that was nice. He wasn't a big fan of social interaction, nor always being alone, but he'd definitely pick the latter if given the choice.

"Hey." The voice cut through Dylan's thoughts, his peace. He set his jaw and looked away, ignoring Sawyer with all he could. "It's- it's quiet here," he mumbled. "I mean, not just right here, but like, the whole state. In the part of California I'm from, it's like there's people everywhere you go. So many of them. And they're all, like, the same. People think it's a really nice state- and it is pretty, don't get me wrong- but it's just so populated. Also, New Hampshire is pretty in a different way. It's much more quiet, like I said. And it's really peaceful. And it smells different," Sawyer said, speaking very quickly. He cut himself off, glancing over at Dylan's lost expression. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I tend to ramble when I'm nervous," he softly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Please, just leave me alone," Dylan said, devoid of energy. He was exhausted, so exhausted, drained from interaction.

All he really wanted was to be able to move out of his mom's home and own a place for himself, a place by the sea. Somewhere no one would bother him, make fun of him, or fuck with him to the point of serious damage.

"I'm really sorry. Honestly. I didn't realize that I was hurting you and I don't want to be rude. I'm not trying to play you or fuck with you, really," said Sawyer, moving to sit across from Dylan. "Hey. Listen to me," he pushed, frowning. Dylan loudly sighed and turned to make eye contact. "Dylan. I don't know why you're so certain I'm messing with you, or that I don't actually want to be your friend, but it's not true. Really. I just want to get along with you, I swear. I- I don't know what happened to you, what someone did to you to make you feel like that, but I swear Dylan, I'm not like that. I promise," he rambled, again. Dylan held his gaze for a second, more overwhelmed than he was before.

"Whatever," he mumbled, looking away. Sawyer sighed and moved around again to lean against the same tree as Dylan, close but not touching.

Shit, Dylan thought. He's right. I'm being so mean. I don't know that he's trying to hurt me, I really don't. It's not fair of me to blame him for what other people did. I'm being so mean. Fuck. He bit his lip in contemplation, his chest feeling tight. No. I'm being smart. I have to live with this kid all summer, it's only right to be nervous. I'm like this for a reason. This is the right thing to do. So what if it hurts his feelings? He's probably got billions of cookie cutter friends back home to make him feel better. His new array of thoughts comforted him somewhat- the idea that he wasn't in the wrong. But still- why did he still feel guilty. I can't blame him for other people's actions. He hasn't done anything wrong yet, and I can't stereotype him like I'm doing. I'm being mean, he decided, and yet it still didn't feel right. No. I'm done arguing with myself. I'm done.

"Why the hell would you want to hang out with me? I'm sorry, but I find that hard to believe," he asked, his words coming out sharper than intended. Sawyer glanced up at him in surprise, clearly not expecting him to speak.

"Why do you find it so hard to believe that someone may actually want to talk to you?" He gently asked, eyes filled with pity. Dylan hated when people pitied him.

"Where do I fucking start?"