Summer's Darling

• Chapter Seven •

And he does just as he's told. He stays, but he keeps to himself for the  rest of the summer.

He buys used books from old shops downtown and reads two or three of them at a time, crouching in front of the AC unit from the minute he wakes up until it's time to sleep. He sits on the beach, alone at night, listening to the waves ridicule him and scold him for hurting the oceans prized jewel. And he cries sometimes. Because he's young and stupid and completely fucked up his opportunity to have a little bit of summer with him forever. To be with its darling girl forever. Scott and Isaac learn to just leave him be. At some point they realized it was useless to try and get him to go out. "But Lydia might be there," he'd mumble and return to crouching in front of the AC unit, shoving his nose in another novel. They take turns making trips to Lolly's and sneak chocolate turtles into his bag while he's asleep. He wonders how many he actually purchased at the beginning. It feels like his supply is never ending and every time he takes a bite, he remembers the first summer ever, how its darling had taken him to Lolly's and introduced him to the best kept secret on the coast, how she had won him over with a little candy and a smile and a freckles across noses. He missed those days. And he hated himself.

Day after day after day pass, until finally, it is the end of July and school beckons him though he doesn't want it to. They repack their bags, load up the car, and Stiles thinks of going to the Martin's home just once, just once to tell Lydia he's leaving and to apologize again. But he knows better. She said stay away, so he'll do just that. She'll reach out if she wants to and if she doesn't. . . Well. . .

And she doesn't.

And it's a hard pill to swallow.

But he does.

A year passes and summer begins again but this time, he's dreading it. High school is over, he made it miraculously, mostly due to the fact that he was so depressed the only thing he could really do was focus on school. He didn't talk to anyone except for Scott and occasionally Isaac but even then it was for help on assignments. Scott would come over and they'd play video games and he would force himself to be pleasant but his brain was like a light switch.

Click: you're enjoying this, you love hanging out with Scott. You're so grateful to have a true friend. You feel better, you feel nice, this feels normal.

Click: this feeling is fake, you're horrible, how can you live with yourself. You don't deserve this happiness.

And he grows quiet, clicking the buttons on his controller aimlessly.

And it's school work and applying to college and mindlessly playing games with Scott all year. Eventually he stops talking to Isaac completely. Stiles doesn't like the way he behaves or says things or how he is all together honestly. So careless and harsh. He doesn't seem to think about how what he says or does effects people. And Stiles doesn't like that. He really really doesn't.

Somehow, the world forgives him just the tiniest bit. His grades improved so much that one, out of the nineteen colleges he applied to, has actually accepted him. He's elated, his father is proud, and for a tiny sliver of a moment he forgets how much of a fuck up he feels he is, until he realizes the world has a cruel sense of humor. The college is on the coast. Beacon University.

The coast.

The summer.

Its darling girl.

He nearly hyperventilates but he's in front of his father when the doom slaps him across the face. And he can't explain the situation because his dad is already talking about selling the house and moving into the summer home permanently that way Stiles doesn't have to pay for an apartment or a dorm and he's so damn proud of his boy. So when his father says pack, he doesn't argue. He'll be okay, he decides. And truthfully, he's a little proud of himself too.

This is the point of healing.

Stiles begins to pack his belongings over the course of the next month and a half. They will move in late June, Mr. Stilinski decides. And as Stiles packs he begins to forgive himself just the tiniest bit, just as the world had. He fucked up, he knows, but the mistake has already happened and there's nothing he can do to change it now. People make mistakes and though this one may be unforgivable, the moment has passed. As they say, what's done is done. He still regrets it, of course, but he respects Lydia's decision. He supports it actually.

~~~

She hears the commotion, one Thursday afternoon, curled up in her favorite chair in the living room with some fairly light reading in hand. The loud beeping as a moving truck backs down the driveway of the house next door, the house that once belonged to a boy. Just a boy. Nothing special. She fights the urge to leap from her chair and peak through the curtains to see who will be next door. She doesn't want to be the creepy neighbor though and she actually is enjoying her novel. So she ignores the distant sound of men picking up heavy things and light things and weird shaped things and walking them from the vehicle to what was the home of a boy she once knew. It wasn't until she heard that laugh. Her head shoots up from her book and she steals a glance at the window, her vision blocked by the shear white fabric her mother had insisted was "boho chic" and "essential for a beautiful beach front home".

That laugh again. That boy. It couldn't be. She falls to the floor gracefully and crawls over to the front window. Carefully, she draws back the curtain just slightly, just enough to peek without being noticed. And there he is. Tall, skinnier than usual, a bit pale, and chasing Scott around the front yard like a child. That laugh sounds from his chest and is honestly a bit weaker than it once was. He collapses to the ground, chest heaving, eyes directly on the sky above and she can't help but wonder what goes through his mind. His eyes close, he takes a deep breath to stabilize himself before getting back to his feet, ruffling Scott's hair as he passes him, ensuing another chase but this time into the house. She closes the curtain.

She prays her parents won't invite them over for dinner.

But the world has a cruel sense of humor.