erm okay this is crummy, sorry, but idk I just kind of did it so yeah. it switches tenses a lot but its supposed to cause its kind of storytelling you know? so um yeah haha

Dedicated to: Claraaaa :) [ailes du neige]

prompts: doorways, the lying game, "a person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended." (atonement, ian mcewan), and daisy chains.

preferred pairing: layne/harris; dylan/chris (anything is fine, though)

If you're the kind of person that likes happy endings, you should probably read some other story.

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I remember back when she listened to music in her bulky head phones; the blue ones that remind me of a summer afternoon sky. Vaguely, I would hear the rhythm of the latest song by an alternative band she was obsessed with. Nonchalant taps of her converse on the sidewalk are the tell-tale sign of her undying passion for the words. Just from the slightest twitch of her lips; you could tell the ache she had to just sing from the top of her lungs like no one's watching.

I miss those days when she was the innocent Dylan; the Dylan who had no insecurities and no reason to feel like she was anything but perfect.

Those days were years ago but it seems like just simple minutes have passed since the moment I first saw her dancing with those blue headphones and I figured out that I was in love with Dylan Marvil.

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My head hung low on the first day of high school as I wove through the crowded hallways and empty doorways trying to reach my class. Clumsily tripping over my feet, I stumble forwards and smack dab into Dylan. Her red locks were curlier than usual with a lingering scent of flowers and fall leaves-an intoxicating reminder of all the great times we had as best friends. "Hi," I mumbled shyly, rubbing the back of my neck. "Uh, sorry." She rolled her eyes playfully and offered a small smile before continuing to her own class. She bounced a little when she walked, happy for no good reason but yet the best reason of all; because there was no excuse to be sad.

.

I curse the day she met Massie Block.

Everyone knew who Massie was. She was the it-girl of Westchester, the perfect girl who had everything going for her. When Massie met Dylan, she saw potential in the feisty red-head. She had personality, humor, looks, talents, dreams, and Massie didn't want to risk Dylan taking her down. At least, that's what Massie says now. But that's besides the point. Dylan was fragile and Massie knew it.

"a person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended." (atonement, ian mcewan)

That's what it said on the board in English class that day when they first conversed. Funny, given the circumstances, but yet not so funny at all because of how it played into the moment.

I could see them in the corner of the room, how Dylan's eyes lit up at the fact that Massie Block wanted to talk to her. I could see her face fall when she noticed how plain she thought she looked compared to the extravagant Massie Block. I didn't take my eyes off of her, worried about my Dylan and how I could already feel her slipping away from me forever.

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She steps into the classroom warily, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. Massie and her friends whispered to each other in the corner of the room while Dylan blinked away tears. "Dyl," I said, standing up. Her cheeks were pale and she had on a baggy sweatpants. "What's wrong?"

Simply shaking her head and crawling into her seat, Dylan ignored me and proceeded to do so for the rest of the day. Even at lunch when we sat at the same table and all she had to eat was a small nutrition bar. I began to wonder what had gotten into her but I knew exactly what it was. The most unfortunate thing was that I couldn't do anything, or Dylan would have hated me forever. But I have come to realize over the years that I would prefer her hating me than letting her suffer.

If only we could go back to the days when we were so foolish and fix our mistakes. Maybe we wouldn't be staining our sheets with tears in our unfaithful slumbers and wearing daisy chains, skipping around merrily instead.

But what kind of world would this be if people were happy for a change?

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It was the third week of school when I figured out that evil was in the works at this school and it reaped vengeance on the last thing-or person [but I don't even know anymore] that could ever make me whole again. Suddenly life is The Lying Game and you don't know who to trust. She was skinnier than what was healthy for a 15 year old girl and she didn't smile anymore. My heart heaved a little when I saw her at the school football game and she didn't spare me a single glance, let alone a simple "hello," to an old friend.

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Now, two years later on the first day of Junior year, she listens to bubblegum pop with white ear-buds and I can't help but wonder what happened to the girl I used to know.