summer

seven- discussion

     "Look what the cat dragged in," teased Dylan's mother as he and Sawyer entered her house.

       "Hi, Ms. Grace," Sawyer politely said, nodding to her with a dazzling smile.

Dylan, however, was silent, simply going up to the counter and grabbing his phone. Rage bubbled in his stomach- she must know why he can't remember his childhood. He was so angry he couldn't even bear to look at her. Then, of course, he tried to dash off to his room.

"Not even gonna say hello?" Called his mother after him. Dylan clicked his tongue in annoyance, not even looking back.

He could hear her talking to Sawyer but ignored it, going up the stairs and into his room as quickly as he could. Collapsing onto his bed in annoyance and exhaustion, he pushed off his shoes and pulled the blankets over his head. Though it was summer, it wasn't a hot day and his room was air conditioned. A knock at his door roused him from his disassociation

       "What are you doing?" Asked Sawyer, entering his room and sitting at the end of his bed.

       "Go away."

      "You know I'm not going to."

      "You better."

      "I won't."

      "Please," says Dylan, rolling onto his back and squeezing his eyes shut. "Give me space. I just want to be alone right now."

       "You always want to be alone," Sawyer gently pointed out. Dylan flopped back onto his side, trying to ignore the tears forming under his eyelids.

He was so worn out from his conversation with Sawyer and crushed by the realization of his amnesia that he simply felt like he couldn't move. It was like everything he'd known had been torn out from under him, and it hurt so bad.

      "You're upset," Sawyer stated. Dylan could feel his eyes boring into his back, and that hurt, too. "Is it because of the memory thing?"

"Of course it's because of the fucking memory thing!" Dylan cried, sitting up and glaring at Sawyer. "I can remember hardly anything from before middle school and I don't even fucking know why!" Sawyer's face fell in shock and pain. His eyes widened and he shrank back, hurt apparent in his expression.

"I'm sorry," Sawyer whispered, his voice nearly silent.

Dylan's heart sunk. He hadn't meant to snap at Sawyer, he was just so angry. I did it again. All Sawyer had been doing was checking in on him, which was so much more than others had done. His chest felt tight and his face heavy with the knowledge that he'd done what he'd just early complained about doing. I'm sorry, he wanted to cry, to apologize a million times. He wanted to be held, to be comforted, to be told that it was okay and to know it was true. He wanted to be slapped and beaten for the hurt he caused everyone and the pain he left in his trail. His eyes met Sawyer's, panic and pain and anxiety and horror.

"Hey, it's okay," Sawyer said, his expression softening. "It's okay." He'd clearly read Dylan's face, the words he couldn't bring himself to say painted onto his appearance. His lip trembled and he nodded, rolling onto his side. "Do you want me to leave?" Dylan didn't respond, unsure of what to say. Half of him desperately wanted someone to hold him, literally anyone, even Sawyer. That being said, the other half of him still despised him, and that part wanted him gone. "It's okay. I'll go," he mumbled, and he did. He got up and left, and Dylan was alone.

Very, very, alone.

>><<

      "Wake up, stupid," called Sawyer, opening Dylan's blinds and tossing a pillow at his head. Dylan threw it right back, of course.

He'd woken up about an hour prior, but still felt paralyzed. All he'd done was lay in bed, hardly even able to open his eyes.

      "What time is it?" He groaned, opening his eyes to glare at the intruder in his room. Sawyer grinned, grabbing his hands and pulling him out of bed.

"Noon!" Dylan blinked, glaring at Sawyer and still feeling like stone.

"I'm awake and it's only noon?" He complained, still feeling exhausted. Sawyer snickered and dragged him downstairs by his hand.

"You're such a dummy," he said, leading him into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sawyer. And... Dylan?" Asked his mom, clearly surprised. She glanced down at their clasped hands and only then did Dylan realize Sawyer still held his. He pulled his hand free and stepped away from Sawyer, discomfort pumping through him. Then he remembered wishing that Sawyer would hold him the night prior and felt disgusted at himself. "You're up early!"

"I know," nodded Dylan, glaring at Sawyer and still refusing to meet his mother's eyes. Sawyer softly smiled at him and laughed.

"What time does he normally wake up?" Sawyer then asked his mother.

"Like, three." Clearly surprised, Sawyer cast a look of pure shock at Dylan.

"If I sleep past ten I'm alarmed!"

"That's because you're stupid," retaliated Dylan, too tired to come up with a good insult as he collapsed at the countertop.

"You two have really warmed up to each other," said Dylan's mother, warmly looking to Dylan and then Sawyer.

"As if," scoffed Dylan, glaring at the blond boy by his side.

"Bickering like brothers," teased his mother.

"As if," added Sawyer.

>><<

        "Dylan, I want to talk to you," said his mother after Sawyer left the kitchen.

        "Make it quick," he sighed.

       "You never leave your room, Dy, I'm nervous! Sawyer actually woke you up this morning, that was a nice thing for him to do!"

      "Waking me up is never a nice thing to do," grumbled Dylan, still angry at his mother.

      "A friend will do you good during the longgg summer," says his mother, drawing out the 'long' an unnecessary amount.

       "I don't want a friend, and if I did, it definitely wouldn't be Sawyer."

       "It should be. He's a sweet boy and he's trying really hard to be your friend, meanwhile, you're so rude to him! Besides, it's not like you have any other friends, Dylan, it's one summer." Dylan's jaw drops open as he stared at his mother in shock.

      "You think I don't want friends? You think I haven't tried? No one likes me, mom! You need to accept that I won't be like Eric, perfect in every way, and that your other fucking kid is a failure of a son!" He spat, and then burst into tears. His whole body was wracked by long suppressed sobs, and he wrapped his arms around his chest.

       "Dylan, baby, that's not what I meant," cried his mother, racing around the counter to pull him into her arms. Dylan let himself sob into her shoulder, weakly wrapping his arms around her back.

"Mom," he cried, shaking like it was 10 degrees. "Mama, I think something's wrong with me."