summer

fourteen- meaning

"You don't know the first thing about me," Dylan sighed, staring emptily at Sawyer.

"I know that you're bisexual, which you said you'd never told anyone else before. You're really insecure, for some reason, and you get stressed easily. You tell people you're okay because you don't want to be annoying and make them think about you, you don't want them to care. Dylan, I know you because I know me."

"Stop.... that's not..." muttered Dylan, his head spinning as he stared down at his feet. "I don't understand....."

"Hey, it's okay," Sawyer murmured, stepping a bit closer. Dylan's world spun around him and he felt his knees get wobbly. Sawyer reached forward, but Dylan swerved to avoid it and he pulled his hand back. "It's okay," he mumbled, but seemed upset.

"I'm- I'm sorry, Sawyer, I just-"

"It's okay. It's on me," he quietly said.

"No- no, what?" Dylan asked, now confused. "What's 'on you'?"

"I shouldn't have reached out to touch you. I'm sorry," he said, eyes wide and avoiding Dylan's.

"Sawyer..." Dylan started, his chest feeling tight. "Hey. It's okay," he whispered, wanting more than anything to reach out and turn Sawyer's face to his, but he knew Sawyer wouldn't want that. "I'm sorry. You didn't do anything wrong."

"No, Dylan, it's you who didn't do anything wrong," he said, sadly smiling up at Dylan. "You never could," he added, his lips trembling as he turned and disappeared into the bathroom.

Dylan felt heavy, really heavy. His knees were still shaking, but all he could do was stare at the bathroom door as if he could summon Sawyer back and tell him everything he couldn't voice.

"I-" he tried, but his voice caught. He'd been attempting to apologize, but the words wouldn't form.

He slid down the wall and cupped his face in his hands, feeling like shit. He felt so bad for upsetting Sawyer and being completely unable to tell him how he felt, which he could hardly even admit to himself. He rubbed his eyes, trying so hard not to cry. So hard. The bathroom door swung open, and Sawyer walked out, still looking upset.

"Oh! Oh- Dylan? Hey, what's wrong?" He said, his face melting into worry.

"I'm sorry," Dylan blubbered, still trying not to cry. "I-"

"Hey, wait. C'mere. Let's sit on the couch, okay? The floor can't be comfortable, huh?" He asked, his voice babying as though he were calming him down from a panic attack, which Dylan knew he wasn't having. When he panicked, it was far worse and far more apparent- right now, he was just upset. "Sit down, okay?" Said Sawyer softly, leading Dylan gently to the living room and onto the couch. He felt weak, careless, stupid. It just didn't make any sense. Sawyer knew things about him that he didn't even know. It wasn't fair, Sawyer's care for him wasn't fair.

     "I'm okay," he muttered, Sawyer's arm still around his shoulders. It was all he could do to resist burying himself in his arms and never moving away.

      "You're not, but that's okay, Dy. You don't always have to be okay. Sit here, I'm gonna make you a tea." Dylan nodded weakly, feeling tears coming even more strongly. This time, he didn't have it in him to silently cry. The tears flowed out of his eyes and he could no longer do anything to stop them.

     "I'm sorry," he whispered to no one in particular, staring at his feet.

      "For what?" Asked Sawyer, coming back into the living room. Dylan knew he could see his tears but he didn't rub them away. He didn't think he could move at all. "Oh, jeez, Dy," he whispered, racing over to the couch and sitting next to him.

      "For making you care about me. For existing," he whimpered, crying full force now. "I'm not okay, but you shouldn't care about that. I'm sorry for manipulating you into feeling like that. Just go on with your life, ignore me, please. It's- it's for the best."

"Oh, Dylan," said Sawyer, his voice cracking. "Oh, man. Is that what you really think?" Dylan vigorously nodded, hiding his face in his hands. "Oh, man. Hey, can I- can I please hold you?" He softly asked, his voice shaking. Dylan tried not to, but he nodded anyway. He knew he was just pulling Sawyer further in, but God did he need him. "Come here, baby," Sawyer whispered, and wrapped his arms firmly around Dylan, who started to sob harder than he ever had. He sank into his chest, pulling himself onto his lap and wishing he could simply melt into him and disappear forever. "Did you seriously apologize for existing? Oh god. Dylan, no. No. Your existence makes me happy, okay? Don't apologize... oh god. I don't think I could go on and ignore you after getting to know who you are. I still can't believe you just apologized for existing!" He cried, sounding ridiculously upset. "Oh, my baby. My sweet boy," he cried as his arms tightened around Dylan. "No, love, don't ever say that again. Ever."

      "Okay," he sobbed, face buried in Sawyer's chest. "Okay, I'm sorry," Dylan blubbered, trying to imagine that none of this was real. Sawyer grabs his jaw and forced him to face him. Dylan's eyes darted to the floor, filled with tears. Sawyer pressed his hand against Dylan's cheek, trying to make their eyes meet.

      "Baby, look at me," he whispered. Dylan complied, miserably meeting his worried blue eyes. "I don't think I physically can leave you, Dylan," he murmured, bringing him into his body. "Don't say that. Please, it makes me  so sad. You mean so much to me.. I... I don't know how I can care about someone so much. I just do, and that someone is you. Don't say that stuff, please."

      "Okay," whispered Dylan, warm against Sawyer's body. "I'm sorry."

>><<

"Hey," said Sawyer, knocking twice on Dylan's door as he opened it.

"What's the point of knocking if you're just going to let yourself in anyways?"

"I brought you tea," said Sawyer, ignoring Dylan's comment and sitting beside him.

"Stop babying me," murmured Dylan, rubbing at his pale face. "Just forget it. I don't deserve special treatment, especially not from you."

"What the hell does that mean?" Asked Sawyer indignantly, stretching one arm over Dylan to put down the mug of tea on the table next to his bed. His hand lingers slightly on Dylan's chest as he pulls away. Dylan wished that he would hold him once more, but he knew it was way too much to ask.

"I don't know! Haven't we been over this already? You get nowhere when you ask me questions, I don't know anything. Not about me, about you, about my feelings, about love-" he hesitated. "I don't know." Sawyer aggressively grabbed Dylan's shoulders, lifting his body up. His head slumps down as he felt heavy once more. He heaved his head up to meet Sawyer's eyes. "Why am I like this?"

"Like what?" Asked Sawyer gently, keeping Dylan steady as he slumped his shoulders.

"Look at me. Speak to me. Listen to me. Everything about me. Why am I like that?" Sadness leaked from his body like an ill mist. He just wanted to disappear. "Sometimes I wish I was never born. I don't wanna die, I'm too fucking scared, I just wish I wasn't here. God, why am I so weak?" He whispered, hardly even audible. A pair of arms quickly pulled him to his feet, dragging him across the room to his window. It reached from the floor to the ceiling and is about 6 feet wide.

"This is why you're here," cried Sawyer, oddly upset. "This is why. Look at the sun. The clouds. The bright blue sky. That's why you're here," he cried, his voice cracking.

"What? I'm here for the sky?" He asked, momentarily distracted. "And why are you so upset?"

"You're not here for just the sky, you're here to appreciate the beauty of life. You're here because you were given a life for a reason, Dy, and you have to look around to see why. Sometimes, you have to look inside."