FOTD, Rainbow Sherbet 11, Peppermint 24: Splint
Title: Splint
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: FOTD (imbroglio: a confused or complicated disagreement or misunderstanding. ), rainbow sherbet 11 (pink), peppermint 24 (window), My Treat (Look them in the eyes and say that.), malt (PFAH: Lars: sometimes goodbye is a second chance), cookie crumbs (of the last pocky in this), cherry (at least 50% pure introspection/description), .
Word Count: 1387
Rating: PG.
Summary: Summer forgives Lars.
Notes: Sequel to Fracture. There will be one more of these, I think.
The sky was pink, a faint blushing color just brushed across the horizon. Summer folded her arms on her windowsill and propped her chin on them, pressing her forehead forward against the glass. It felt chilly and slightly slick against her skin; condensation, she thought, from the heat of her skin and the room colliding with the bitter cold of outside.
It felt good. She'd been overheated all day, the consequence of crying herself to sleep the previous night. Again. She'd managed to keep it from Mama and Papa this time, although Mama had given her a very sharp look when she'd come out for breakfast. Fortunately she hadn't said anything, not even when Summer complained of a headache; she'd just given her Tylenol and some tea and told her to go lie down.
So she had, although she hadn't slept, just stared at the ceiling, the same thoughts running around and around in her head.
What had she done wrong? What hadn't she done right? She'd done something, or hadn't done something, that she shouldn't or should have done. She knew she had, because Lars said so, and Lars had never lied to her. Even if Mama and Papa and Ivy and Aaron had all said that he had lied and that it wasn't her fault, she still couldn't quite believe it, because Lars didn't lie, not even little white lies when he wanted her to feel better like the rest of her family did. He didn't lie. And that meant that it had to be the truth.
Of course, what that truth was, Summer still wasn't sure.
She straightened a bit, tilting her head downwards and pressing her forehead against the window even harder. New York was covered in snow and treacherous ice that glinted sharply in the pools of lamplight down on the street. The last traces of sunset colored the buildings and the drifts on the balconies a faint pink to match the sky. It looked beautiful. It felt much less pretty.
She hated snow. She hated winter. She hated feeling so isolated, the way the snow muffled the sounds that let her know she wasn't alone. It was worse now that she was alone, completely alone in the apartment.
Ivy had slipped, yesterday, and wrenched her ankle badly. According to Gina, who had come by to say hi, she was lying on the couch with her foot propped up, complaining loudly. Aaron should have been home, but he had been snowed in for a couple days, at the ski camp upstate where he'd been working. He was on his way home now, he'd said, but wouldn't get back for a few days. Mama and Papa had gone out shopping. So that left her, and the cold.
He'd said it was her fault that Madison had decided to go away. Because she didn't want to be around Summer.
Summer had thought a lot about that in the last few days, and still couldn't understand why. She didn't know anybody who didn't like being around her. Well, she did-- the kids at school who stayed away from her, the people who thought her unbearably strange-- but they were all people who didn't know her, and most of them were her physical peers. Her intellectual peers, her brother and sister and their friends, they all liked her.
Lars liked her, he'd said so. And it wasn't even like this was the first time he'd been mad at her. When she was little and she'd done stupid things because she didn't understand how they were stupid, he'd been mad at her then and he'd still liked her afterwards. But he'd always come to see her the next day, as soon as he could, to tell her that it was okay and he wasn't mad anymore and that he still liked her.
It had been a week, now. She hadn't gone so long without seeing him in a long, long time.
She sniffed, and rubbed at her face, and found that she was crying again. Oh. She'd better stop that before Mama and Papa got home, or they'd fuss and worry again.
Then there was a loud hard rap on the door and she jumped, then scrubbed hastily at her cheeks before she realized how stupid that was. Mama and Papa wouldn't knock, they'd just come in. It was probably someone for one of them, or maybe Gina come to check on her. Someone for Mama or Papa would call or come back later, so she wouldn't need to answer the door, and if Gina saw that she had been crying, she would only come in and hug her, and wouldn't say all the things that Ivy said that Summer hated, all those things like "that bastard" and "he doesn't deserve you."
Summer hated it when Ivy talked like that, because that sounded to her like she was never going to see Lars again. She didn't want that, she didn't, because he was like a big brother to her, and even if he'd gotten mad at her, he'd forgive her eventually, wouldn't he?
The knock came again, and she got up from her seat, went to the front door, and rose on her tiptoes to see who it was. If it was Gina... but it wasn't Gina, and she gasped, fell back on her heels and unlocked the door as fast as she could, pulled it open.
It was Lars, and he looked terrible. Worse when he saw her; he flinched back a little and Summer's heart crashed.
"I'm sorry," she said, as fast as she could, before he could say something that would break her again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do anything bad. I know you really liked Madison and I would never have done anything to make her break up with you, I promise..."
Lars stared at her, open-mouthed, looking more and more appalled as she went on. Summer scrambled for more words, words that would make him forgive her, and couldn't think of any, so she trailed off eventually and just looked at him, miserably. "I'm sorry," she said, and had a horrible feeling that it wasn't enough.
"Oh, God," Lars said, finally, and then to her total surprise went down on his knees right there in the hallway. "Oh my sweet Jesus, she was right. Don't you ever say that to me about this again, Summer."
She stepped back, feeling like she'd been punched in the stomach. "I didn't mean--"
"No," he said, and she stepped back again, seeing him looming over her, seeing him so full of rage. "No, God, Summer, no, no, not like that. Fuck. This is my fault. This is all my fault and don't you ever be sorry for it. God."
She stared at him, at a total loss, then finally ventured, "But you said...?"
"God," Lars said again, and... crumbled, was the only word she could think. He folded in on himself, sat back down on his heels and curled downwards. "I know. I know what I said. I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong there aren't enough letters in the word wrong to say how wrong I was."
But Lars didn't lie. Summer tried to wrap her brain around that. "You lied to me?"
He looked up at her, then. "I... no, not exactly. But I didn't tell you the truth. I want you to know that. I didn't tell you the truth."
She stepped back a third time, clasped her hands together and pressed them against her chest at the base of her sternum. There was an ache there that she couldn't quite make go away. "I don't understand," she said, finally.
Lars looked down again, at his hands lying loose in his lap. "You don't have to," he said. "I just... need you to know that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Christ, I'm so sorry."
Something opened up in her then. He'd yelled at her, he'd lied to her, but she could think about that later. She could figure that out later. Right now, he was sorry, and he still liked her.
She stepped forward, and put a hand on his shoulder. He flinched when she touched him, but looked up, and there was hope on his face.
"It's okay," she said. "I... it's okay."
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: FOTD (imbroglio: a confused or complicated disagreement or misunderstanding. ), rainbow sherbet 11 (pink), peppermint 24 (window), My Treat (Look them in the eyes and say that.), malt (PFAH: Lars: sometimes goodbye is a second chance), cookie crumbs (of the last pocky in this), cherry (at least 50% pure introspection/description), .
Word Count: 1387
Rating: PG.
Summary: Summer forgives Lars.
Notes: Sequel to Fracture. There will be one more of these, I think.
The sky was pink, a faint blushing color just brushed across the horizon. Summer folded her arms on her windowsill and propped her chin on them, pressing her forehead forward against the glass. It felt chilly and slightly slick against her skin; condensation, she thought, from the heat of her skin and the room colliding with the bitter cold of outside.
It felt good. She'd been overheated all day, the consequence of crying herself to sleep the previous night. Again. She'd managed to keep it from Mama and Papa this time, although Mama had given her a very sharp look when she'd come out for breakfast. Fortunately she hadn't said anything, not even when Summer complained of a headache; she'd just given her Tylenol and some tea and told her to go lie down.
So she had, although she hadn't slept, just stared at the ceiling, the same thoughts running around and around in her head.
What had she done wrong? What hadn't she done right? She'd done something, or hadn't done something, that she shouldn't or should have done. She knew she had, because Lars said so, and Lars had never lied to her. Even if Mama and Papa and Ivy and Aaron had all said that he had lied and that it wasn't her fault, she still couldn't quite believe it, because Lars didn't lie, not even little white lies when he wanted her to feel better like the rest of her family did. He didn't lie. And that meant that it had to be the truth.
Of course, what that truth was, Summer still wasn't sure.
She straightened a bit, tilting her head downwards and pressing her forehead against the window even harder. New York was covered in snow and treacherous ice that glinted sharply in the pools of lamplight down on the street. The last traces of sunset colored the buildings and the drifts on the balconies a faint pink to match the sky. It looked beautiful. It felt much less pretty.
She hated snow. She hated winter. She hated feeling so isolated, the way the snow muffled the sounds that let her know she wasn't alone. It was worse now that she was alone, completely alone in the apartment.
Ivy had slipped, yesterday, and wrenched her ankle badly. According to Gina, who had come by to say hi, she was lying on the couch with her foot propped up, complaining loudly. Aaron should have been home, but he had been snowed in for a couple days, at the ski camp upstate where he'd been working. He was on his way home now, he'd said, but wouldn't get back for a few days. Mama and Papa had gone out shopping. So that left her, and the cold.
He'd said it was her fault that Madison had decided to go away. Because she didn't want to be around Summer.
Summer had thought a lot about that in the last few days, and still couldn't understand why. She didn't know anybody who didn't like being around her. Well, she did-- the kids at school who stayed away from her, the people who thought her unbearably strange-- but they were all people who didn't know her, and most of them were her physical peers. Her intellectual peers, her brother and sister and their friends, they all liked her.
Lars liked her, he'd said so. And it wasn't even like this was the first time he'd been mad at her. When she was little and she'd done stupid things because she didn't understand how they were stupid, he'd been mad at her then and he'd still liked her afterwards. But he'd always come to see her the next day, as soon as he could, to tell her that it was okay and he wasn't mad anymore and that he still liked her.
It had been a week, now. She hadn't gone so long without seeing him in a long, long time.
She sniffed, and rubbed at her face, and found that she was crying again. Oh. She'd better stop that before Mama and Papa got home, or they'd fuss and worry again.
Then there was a loud hard rap on the door and she jumped, then scrubbed hastily at her cheeks before she realized how stupid that was. Mama and Papa wouldn't knock, they'd just come in. It was probably someone for one of them, or maybe Gina come to check on her. Someone for Mama or Papa would call or come back later, so she wouldn't need to answer the door, and if Gina saw that she had been crying, she would only come in and hug her, and wouldn't say all the things that Ivy said that Summer hated, all those things like "that bastard" and "he doesn't deserve you."
Summer hated it when Ivy talked like that, because that sounded to her like she was never going to see Lars again. She didn't want that, she didn't, because he was like a big brother to her, and even if he'd gotten mad at her, he'd forgive her eventually, wouldn't he?
The knock came again, and she got up from her seat, went to the front door, and rose on her tiptoes to see who it was. If it was Gina... but it wasn't Gina, and she gasped, fell back on her heels and unlocked the door as fast as she could, pulled it open.
It was Lars, and he looked terrible. Worse when he saw her; he flinched back a little and Summer's heart crashed.
"I'm sorry," she said, as fast as she could, before he could say something that would break her again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do anything bad. I know you really liked Madison and I would never have done anything to make her break up with you, I promise..."
Lars stared at her, open-mouthed, looking more and more appalled as she went on. Summer scrambled for more words, words that would make him forgive her, and couldn't think of any, so she trailed off eventually and just looked at him, miserably. "I'm sorry," she said, and had a horrible feeling that it wasn't enough.
"Oh, God," Lars said, finally, and then to her total surprise went down on his knees right there in the hallway. "Oh my sweet Jesus, she was right. Don't you ever say that to me about this again, Summer."
She stepped back, feeling like she'd been punched in the stomach. "I didn't mean--"
"No," he said, and she stepped back again, seeing him looming over her, seeing him so full of rage. "No, God, Summer, no, no, not like that. Fuck. This is my fault. This is all my fault and don't you ever be sorry for it. God."
She stared at him, at a total loss, then finally ventured, "But you said...?"
"God," Lars said again, and... crumbled, was the only word she could think. He folded in on himself, sat back down on his heels and curled downwards. "I know. I know what I said. I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong there aren't enough letters in the word wrong to say how wrong I was."
But Lars didn't lie. Summer tried to wrap her brain around that. "You lied to me?"
He looked up at her, then. "I... no, not exactly. But I didn't tell you the truth. I want you to know that. I didn't tell you the truth."
She stepped back a third time, clasped her hands together and pressed them against her chest at the base of her sternum. There was an ache there that she couldn't quite make go away. "I don't understand," she said, finally.
Lars looked down again, at his hands lying loose in his lap. "You don't have to," he said. "I just... need you to know that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Christ, I'm so sorry."
Something opened up in her then. He'd yelled at her, he'd lied to her, but she could think about that later. She could figure that out later. Right now, he was sorry, and he still liked her.
She stepped forward, and put a hand on his shoulder. He flinched when she touched him, but looked up, and there was hope on his face.
"It's okay," she said. "I... it's okay."