summer stained blue

chapter one - home

The evening air smelled different on the other side of Indiana, a bit fresher but a bit thicker, crisp breaths in his nose but a familiar burden on his shoulders. Finn switched on the low-pitched turn signal in his dad's old hatchback as he turned onto Dylan's street. He had driven the same route a million and one times in high school, but Dylan had left the porch light on for him anyway.

It had been three years since he set foot in Northwest Ohio, and honestly, there were times when he thought he would never be back in Toledo again. He still talked to Dylan and Liam, his closest friends from high school, but Finn could recognize that he hadn't been the greatest friend lately.

It wasn't that he didn't want to come home. He just didn't know how to.

The phone buzzed in the center console, and Finn reached for it without looking down, pressing the green button to answer the call. He didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Hey."

"Hey," Dylan's voice came through the phone, crackling a bit with unreliable cell phone signal. "I just got home from work. I got held up trying to teach some dumbass how to pack dishes without breaking them. I swear to God, Finn -- like, seriously, why would someone apply to work at a glass distribution center if they can't fucking work with glass?"

Finn snorted out a laugh. "Maybe they thought it was a painting job, like they could decorate the dishes with little flowers and ladybugs. You know, like an amateur ceramics class."

"Dumbass," Dylan repeated, going from angry to amused in record time. "Anyway. How far are you?"

"On your street. Be there in thirty seconds."

"Great. See you in thirty seconds."

The call dropped without another word. Finn smiled. Dylan had never been one for goodbyes.

Dylan's family moved from Ireland when they were going into middle school. By seventh and eighth grade, most people had already formed their exclusive groups of friends, completely unwilling to accept any new applications. But Finn thought his accent was the coolest thing, "like, ever!" so Dylan graciously agreed to teach him Irish slang in exchange for Finn teaching him to speak like an American and showing him around town.

It was totally a fair trade. Finn learned words like "coddin'" and "flute" and "mate" and "eejit." It took a bit of persuasion, but after a few weeks, he finally convinced his best friend, Liam, that Dylan was alright. For a long time after that, the three of them were inseparable -- until Liam and Dylan fell into an inexplicable feud during their second year of college.

And until Finn left for good.

So maybe it wasn't a fair trade. Not for everyone. Sure, they exchanged slang lessons, but Finn got a best friend, too. A lifelong best friend. Dylan always had his back even when Finn was too caught up in himself to have his.

He slowed, then stopped in front of Dylan's house, parking on the street. The engine shut off, and Finn was plunged into silence. Eerie, suffocating silence taunted him. He unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the driver's seat before he could lose his nerve, running both hands down his thighs to smooth out his wrinkled pants.

The slam of the car door made him jump, and he exhaled sharply. "Jesus," he muttered to himself as he rounded the car. "Get a hold of yourself." He headed up Dylan's blacktop driveway with a furrowed brow and tense shoulders; he fell into autopilot, heading straight for the front door.

The guilt hit him all at once as he came to a stop in front of the porch, staring up at a life that he had no place in anymore.

The front door swung open, pouring yellow light onto the pitch-black porch. Dylan was different. Not taller or broader or older, even. He was just different, standing with a newfound confidence, a security in himself and his place in the world. He still had the same square figure and the same bright blue eyes, but he carried them differently. Better.