summer

six- memory

      "Start from the beginning, then. List every single reason I wouldn't want to be your friend." Sawyers expression was tired, which just upset Dylan more.

"Sawyer, listen to yourself. Look at your face! You're already exhausted by me, and I don't fucking blame you. I really don't. Sawyer, I am fucked up," Dylan snapped, tapping his temple. "And you can't fucking change that. Listing the reasons I hate myself isn't going to make them go away."

"I'm not trying to change you, Dylan," he gently mumbled. "I'm really not. I just want to understand you."

       "You want to understand me? Really?" Dylan sarcastically spat. "And this'll help?" Sawyer nodded, meeting his eyes. "Fine. Fine Sawyer," he hissed, anger seeping through him. "First, I'm an absolute fucking mess. I don't mean that in an 'oh I'm such a loser' way, I mean that I am genuinely fucked up. My brain is a cesspool of hatred, towards absolutely everything. There's a reason I don't have any friends, and it's my fault. Which brings me to point two- I'm mean. I'm really mean, Sawyer. I'll snap or yell at people just because I'm angry at myself. I push people away for some reason and I don't even know why I do what I do. I'm unattractive. I'm sick. I look sick. Just look at me!" He cried, tears pushing at the corners of his eyes.

      "You're not unattractive," Sawyer whispered. Dylan looked up to meet his eyes and was shocked by the pain he saw there. "And Dylan, you're not mean either. You're hurt, not mean. I know you," he spoke. "You're not mean."

"How the fuck do you know me? You met me three days ago!" Sawyer's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

"What?" Dylan repeated, now lost.

"Do you- do you not remember when we were little? I used to live here, remember? Like, for 11 years. We were good friends then," he asked, clearly as puzzled as Dylan.

"What are you talking about?" Dylan asked, fear pooling in his gut.

"Do you not remember?"

"Sawyer, you're fucking with me, right?" Dylan asked, his heart racing.

"Dylan..." Sawyer started, now also looking nervous. "We were, like, really close. I came over to your old house all the time. Do you not remember? How- what?"

"Old house? What?" Dylan's breathing began to quicken. "Sawyer, I can't-"

"Dylan, you're scaring me. Your- our moms were friends, your mom and mine worked together, we both had Ms. Appleton in first grade, we-"

"Shut up!" Dylan cried, pressing his hands over his ears. "I don't- I can't- shut up!" He yelled, burying his face in his knees.

"Hey! Dylan," Sawyer said, panic clear in his voice. "Dylan, it's okay!"

"No, it's not fucking okay! I can't- I can't fucking remember any of it! Sawyer- fuck-" he started, thinking hard. "Oh my god, Sawyer, I can't even remember my old house. I can't remember elementary school. Oh god, what's going on? Sawyer- why-" he said, then was interrupted by a sob. "Sawyer- what happened to me?"

"Dylan! Dylan, hey, it's okay," Sawyer started, moving in front of him. "You're okay. It's okay. Just breathe with me, okay?" Dylan met his eyes, calming sea blue, a harsh contrast to his icy brown ones.

"Sawyer-"

"Shh. It's okay. Just breathe. Don't think about it. We'll figure this out, okay? We'll talk to your mom, we'll figure it out. It's okay," he said, putting a hand on Dylan's knee. "It's okay."

"Okay," Dylan said, still panicking. "Okay, but- but why can't I-" he looked up at him, fearful now. "Sawyer, did something happen to me? Be honest, do you know of me being- I don't know- something happening?"

"No, Dy, I don't," he slowly said, his eyes round. "I don't think that's what this is, I'm sure-"

"This is just another thing to add to the fucking list," Dylan interrupted, pulling away. "My brain is so fucking messy that it erased a whole chunk of my life. I can't remember- it's just spots, Sawyer!" He looked up to the boy across from him, self-loathing rolling through his chest. "You really still wonder why you don't wanna be my friend?"

"Dylan, this isn't your fault," he softly said, eyes wide.

"Of course it's my fucking fault! It's my fucking brain, my stupid body, my dumb-" he was cut off by Sawyer grabbing his face, forcing him to look up at him.

"Dylan, it's okay," he whispered, eyes filled with anxiety. "We're going to figure this out. I promise." Dylan tried to pull out of his grasp and look away, but Sawyer held on. "I promise, Dylan. I swear. We'll figure this out." Then, after a second, he added: "You're not alone anymore, okay?" Dylan scoffed, rolling his eyes and pulling away.

"Just leave me alone," he hissed, pulling his knees to his chest. "It's whatever. I don't care." Trying to ignore the horrified expression on Sawyer's face, he looked in the opposite direction towards the forest.

"Okay," Sawyer mumbled, fiddling with his hands. Dylan could feel the discomfort radiating off of him, but he didn't care. It wasn't his problem.

"Let's just go. We've been here long enough." Dylan would've liked to drive just himself home to minimize time spent with Sawyer, but he wasn't that cruel.

"Okay," Sawyer said, standing up dazedly. He was quite clearly distressed, but Dylan didn't know why. As he started to walk towards the car, Sawyer stopped him. "Dylan, wait,
I-" he stared up towards him, confused anxiety passing across his face. "I-"

"Forget about it. That's what I do," Dylan said with a wry laugh. Sawyer rolled his eyes, smiling tightly.

"Okay, but- I just-" he inhaled softly, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry I hurt you earlier. I really do want to be your friend. I swear."

"Whatever," Dylan mumbled, turning away.

He had more important things to worry about.