Lars was transformed into light and separated from his physical form while they teleported, and it still didn't get rid of the feeling that his stomach was full of rocks. Standing on the warp pad at Steven's place, being back at Beach City-it was at once familiar and totally alien after spending over a week amongst the constant sounds of insects and birds and the humidity of the island. Steven hopped from the pad, but Lars stayed where he was, absorbing the change. Even the time of day was different, evident from the darkness seeping through the windows, but the sound of rain hitting the roof at least suggested similar weather.
"Steven's home!" the boy sang loudly, running across the floor of the room with the bubbled gem held proudly aloft. "Look what we got!"
Lars glanced at Sadie beside him. She hadn't moved either. She was still turned away from him, hunched over, leaning her weight against the spear she clutched in both hands. Her blonde hair was tangled and streaked with mud. Her only motion was the rise and fall of her shoulders as she tried to catch her breath.
"Pearl? Amethyst? Garnet?" Steven knelt on the floor to peer under a couch. A loud peal of thunder rattled the windowpanes.
Slowly, Sadie stepped off the warp pad. She moved gradually towards the couch, the end of the spear tapping against the floorboards once every few seconds. Lars knew he should help her. He knew he should have her hold on to him for support. But at the same time he knew even more strongly that he shouldn't touch or even speak to her. Lars felt sure she was going to look over her shoulder at him with disgust. But a moment later he was suddenly afraid that she wasn't going to look back at him at all.
"Amethyst! Amethyyyyst! Wake up!" Steven was yelling at a purple shape on top of a fridge. He stood on tiptoe to open the freezer door and slam it shut, startling the pile of hair and limbs into bolting upright.
"Huh? Steven?" The gem's voice was rough with sleep. She squinted down at him. "Where'd you come from?"
"I'm the warp master, remember? Look what I got!"
"Whaaaaat! Steven! You got a gem?!"
Lars looked back and forth between the two gems and Sadie, who by now was sitting on the floor and resting her head against the cushions of the couch with her eyes closed. He tried to think of what he should do. He tried to think of what he /could/ do. Sadie didn't want to be around him. Steven was happy and safe at home with a gem around to look after him. Lars looked down at his bare feet. He had dripped muddy water all over the crystal surface he was standing on. He could leave and only be making a mess at his own home.
He didn't want Sadie to know he was there at all anymore but he also didn't want her to know he was going. He stepped gingerly down from the pad and made his way towards the front door. It wasn't difficult to move quietly, since Steven and Amethyst were still excitedly shouting back and forth. The door was pushed against his hands as he opened it by a breeze from the storm, and he made sure it latched shut behind him as he slipped outside.
The summer night air was warm but the raindrops were heavy and cool against his skin. He was glad that he'd always found both thunderstorms and late night walks to be comforting, since he knew it would be at least a half-hour till he reached his house. He'd made it down the steps and was heading down the sandy ramp when he heard an all-too-familiar "LAAAAARRRS" erupt from behind him.
He groaned and turned around to see Steven waving from the porch.
"Steven," he called above the sound of the rain. "I'm trying to go home." But Steven was already racing down the stairs towards him.
"Lars! You can't leave yet! Sadie said she might stay over! It's like a party!" he said with a grin.
"That's awesome. But I just wanna go home."
"Oh...okay." Steven's whole body slumped in disappointment. Lars sighed heavily.
"Look. Thanks for the vacation," he said. "I, uh, it was...great."
Steven laughed in response, bouncing back to his usual state of happiness. "Noooo problem!" he declared with a thumbs up.
"Yeah. Okay. See ya later, Steven." Lars turned away again.
"Okay! Bye, Lars!"
Steven ran back into the house and Lars cringed as he heard the kid loudly announce his departure. He knew Sadie would be mad at him. And he knew that she'd be mad at him if he stayed. He hated that it was impossible to be doing anything right and he squeezed his hands into fists and marched his way down the hill before anyone could call after him again.
The rain had solidified the sand along the shore, but even so he walked a bit unsteadily across it. Barring the occasional far-off lightning strike, Lars could barely see anything, so he guided himself by keeping the sound of the crashing surf on his left. Eventually he rounded the cliff and the streetlights of Beach City appeared on the horizon. He was suddenly very aware of the distance between him and his house. There was still some adrenaline left over in him from the last few minutes on the island, but it was wearing off, and so was its numbing effect. When he stepped from the sand to the sidewalk, the shock of the cement reverberated from the heel of his foot, up his leg, and through his spine, and his body remembered that it was hurting from a twenty-foot fall.
The pain worsened every minute he plodded through the empty streets, but his emotions were beginning to sting at him again as well. He bit his lip, crossed his arms, and focused on the physical ache to drown out the rest.
When he could finally see his house, each step he took barely seemed to move him forward. He almost didn't have the energy to stand anymore and when he reached his front steps he let himself collapse onto them, swearing under his breath at the intense relief it gave his legs and feet. He let himself rest there until the pouring rain made him shiver, and then he reluctantly crawled up the steps to lay flat on his back on the porch, sheltered from the downpour by its overhang. He closed his eyes and listened to the thunder rolling across the night sky in low growls and sudden crashes.
After a while the sharp pain in his limbs had dulled to a general soreness, and he eventually rolled onto his side and pushed himself upright. He dug into the pocket of his jeans for the key he kept with him and opened the front door.
The house was totally dark and silent. He wasn't sure if either of his parents were home or if they were out working, but he wanted to keep quiet just in case. He didn't feel like talking to anyone right now. He really didn't feel like having to explain where he'd been for over a week. Lars walked carefully through the dark and slid his hand over a wall until he found a switch, and a single bulb overhead illuminated the kitchen in soft, warm light. He'd missed having electricity.
The clock on the wall told him it was just before one in the morning. He didn't feel like going to bed. Technically, he'd just woken up from a full night's sleep a couple of hours ago. He sighed to himself and picked up a dishcloth and ran it down his arms and over his face, wiping away the worst of the rain. He wanted to put on some dry clothes but, before that, he wanted to eat. He'd also missed having a variety of food that they didn't have to catch.
Lars cracked open the fridge and looked inside for something that he could make without using a lot of energy and concentration that he didn't have at the moment. He decided on an omelet, knowing he'd made enough of them in his life to do it with his eyes closed and one hand tied. He heard the rain grow louder as he took some eggs out of the fridge. He'd put them on the dishcloth and found a mixing bowl before realizing the mistake he'd made. He'd gotten six eggs. He'd been thinking of cooking for Sadie and Steven, too.
"Shit."
Lars stepped away from the counter, bringing his hands to his face. He'd almost managed to push all of it out of mind and now it was coming back at him all at once. He was thinking about Sadie hating him, he was thinking about how he felt on the island, he was thinking about how he felt now. He was missing Steven and Sadie after being with them for nine days straight and he didn't want to think about them and he wanted to be left alone but he felt so isolated that it hurt. He was so upset and he was so angry.
"Shit..." He twisted his fingers through his hair and tugged at it. He shoved the door of the fridge shut with his foot, rattling the jars on the shelves inside. He began pacing across the room. He was feeling so many things and feeling them so intensely that it was a physical ache inside him. His hip bumped against a chair as he paced past it, scraping it across the tiled floor. He drew his hands away from his face down the sides of his head to his shoulders and the motion snapped the dry, fraying vine around his neck. Five heavy crystals fell to the floor, loud enough that it seemed to echo through the house. Lars froze in place and stared down at them.
"Fuck." His vision blurred with tears.
"Lars?"
Lars jumped in surprise and swung around to see his father standing in the doorway, shielding his tired eyes from the light. His dad's expression went from confusion to delight in a second.
"Lars! Hi! Welcome back!" he laughed, opening his arms wide to embrace his son.
"Hey, Dad," Lars said into the man's shoulder, weakly returning the hug.
"We missed you-oh, your mom's at work, by the way-but we heard Sadie was gone too, and we figured you kids had eloped or were off with that magic boy, uh..."
"Steven," Lars finished for him. "Yeah. We went to an island with him and we...got lost."
"Of course. That's my Lars." His dad smiled proudly at him. "Surviving on an island on your own-you and Sadie could always take care of yourselves. You're tough." He stepped back to look Lars up and down, taking in his condition. "Did you have to walk home in this weather?" he asked. Lars nodded. "Yeah, you're soaked, kid. You wanna go put on some clothes that are dry and uh, still in one piece?" He glanced down at Lars's bare left leg.
Lars shrugged and looked at the wall.
"Aw, go on, I know you're cold. I can make you something to eat while you change. You seem hungry," he laughed, gesturing to the pile of eggs.
"I didn't mean to get so many," Lars mumbled.
"Sure. Get going, kid. What do you want, fried? Scrambled? I don't know how to make eggs Benedict."
"I was gonna do an omelet, but whatever," Lars said over his shoulder as he walked towards his room. "Anything's good."
He could hear his dad taking dishes out as he opened his door and switched on his light. Everything in his room was just as he left it, even the work shirt lying on the pillow of his bed.
"Dad?" Lars called as he opened drawers, looking for something to wear. "Were we covered okay at work?"
"Oh, yeah, the usual substitutes stepped in," his dad shouted back. "Dana and...the other one. They say they're fine keeping the place up for you until you're ready to go back."
Lars stripped off the clothes he'd only gotten to remove when they would take turns bathing under the island's waterfall. He raised his hands above his head and closed his eyes and stretched as far as he could, working out the dull pain in his muscles. He arched his spine, let his head fall back, and focused on breathing deeply in and out. Eventually he was feeling slightly more relaxed, and he dragged a bathrobe across his skin until he was as dry as he could get. He pulled on an old sweater and pajama pants and went back into the kitchen.
"Here, sit." His dad pulled out a chair at the table for him and put a plate of eggs in front of him. "You thirsty? We've got orange juice-"
"That's good. I've only had water since I left."
His dad poured his drink and handed it to him with a pat on the shoulder. Lars ate silently, savoring the taste of something that wasn't fish. His dad bent down and picked the crystals up off the floor, then sat down across from Lars and put them on the table.
"These yours?" he asked.
Lars shrugged. "I guess," he said. "Steven made a necklace and gave it to me. I broke it."
"Nice one," his dad teased. "Well, they're very beautiful."
Lars didn't answer. He didn't want to keep talking about it. He didn't want to say he'd been hoping to keep the necklace, or explain how he got it in the first place. It was just something else that would get him upset again, and the only thing he wanted to do was keep himself from feeling that way anymore. He glanced up and saw his dad looking at him with an expression of quiet amusement.
"What?" Lars said, with an edge to his voice he was unable to hold back. He chided himself internally and glared at his omelet. He knew it would've been better if he'd kept to himself for the rest of the night. "Sorry," he muttered.
"Lars, it's okay," his dad said. "I know you like to be alone sometimes. It's just nice to have you back. If we lived anywhere else in the world we would've been so worried about you kids disappearing like that, but here...well, in a single week I saw an explosion in the sky on my way to work, and a few days later you were on fire, and it was barely anything out of the ordinary. But we did miss you, Lars."
Lars kept his eyes on the table. He slowly ate the last of the omelet and then picked up the plate and carried it over to the sink.
"I might have to go to work later," he said with his back to his dad, turning on the faucet to rinse the plate in the water. "I gotta go if Sadie is."
His dad laughed quietly. "If she's in the same state you are, I really doubt she's going back to work first thing in the morning."
Lars sighed. "She might." He turned around and leaned against the counter, arms folded. "And I don't want her having a grudge cuz she went back to work and I wasn't there too."
His dad lifted a hand in a shrug. "Well, if you really think it's important-"
"It's not that it's important, it's that it's gonna suck if she goes and I don't, okay?"
"Okay, okay, I guess it wouldn't hurt to text her or something."
Lars's stomach dropped. "Oh, god..."
"What is it?"
Lars lowered himself to the floor and put a hand over his eyes.
"Lars? ...Lars, what's wrong?" His dad pushed his chair back. Lars drew his limbs closer to himself. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing! Christ! My phone's in the ocean, okay?" He glared up at his dad.
"Oh." A pause. "Well, I'm sure we can get another one, you know."
Lars felt like he was falling apart and he was furious that this was happening in the middle of his kitchen and he couldn't at least be alone with all of it.
"Lars?"
"What?!" he snapped, unable to restrain his anger anymore.
"Lars," his dad said quietly.
Lars felt like a child as tears began sliding down his cheeks. His dad walked over and knelt down to sit beside him.
"I don't want to talk about anything," Lars hissed through his teeth. "I don't want to talk."
"Lars. Please tell me what's wrong."
He couldn't see clearly through his tears. He really didn't want to cry in front of someone all over again. He was angry at his dad for refusing to leave him alone when he was like this, he was angry at himself for being like this in the first place, he was so angry at Sadie that it was making his knees shake.
"Me and Sadie-we just-we had a fight." He turned his face away and struggled to steady his breathing. "I don't want to talk about it."
He saw a bright flash of lightning in his peripheral vision and the thunder was immediate and startlingly loud. Lars shoved himself up off the floor.
"I don't want to do this," he stated. "Dad, come on, get up. We're not doing this. I don't want to do this."
"Slow down, kid," his dad said, gripping the countertop to pull himself up as well. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure? Are all-are all those cuts you got from the island?"
"Yes!" Lars snapped. "Yes, I'm sure! I'm fine! I don't want to have a fucking discussion about this and I don't want anybody watching me cry in front of them again and me and Sadie had a fight and it wasn't my fuckin' fault, and she's mad at me cuz I'm mad at her, and I'm mad at her for that too, and so she doesn't wanna be around me, and that's all it is, okay?!" He'd raised his voice in an effort to keep it from shaking.
"Lars, it's okay." His dad spoke with a gentleness that made Lars even angrier. "It's okay. I'm sure you two will be fine. It's not like you never argued before-"
"This one was different."
"How come?"
"Dad! It was different! I don't want to talk about it and I wish you could just fucking believe me about it cuz-"
"I do. I'm sorry, I believe you, I just...I want to understand as best I can. So I can help."
Lars bit his lip in frustration and stared down at the table. He nudged one of the crystals with a fingertip and then picked it up before turning around to face his dad.
"I'm trying to tell you: I don't want to talk about it."
"It isn't...I'm not trying to make you tell me anything you don't want to. I just want to know how I can help you."
"I don't need helping! I just want to be alone!"
"Lars-"
"Stop!" he sobbed. A fresh wave of tears spilled down his face as if he hadn't tried to hold them back at all. He squeezed the rock tight in his hand so it dug into his palm. His head dropped and he pressed his fists against his forehead, shoulders shaking as he fought to silence his crying. He just wanted to be alone for a few minutes, to cry while no one could watch him. He didn't want to have to explain to anyone why he was upset. He didn't want to talk about how whenever he closed his eyes he remembered what it felt like when he kissed Sadie, and what it felt like when she kissed him back, and what it felt like when she put her hands on his body. And how that made it hurt even more that he was in a worse place with Sadie now than maybe he'd ever been. And how the next thing he'd remember is exactly how fucking awful it had been the instant he'd realized Sadie had been lying to him. Because even the memory of that cold shock of emotion was enough to make him cry harder, and he sure as hell didn't want to talk about it too.
Eventually, he couldn't help it; he sucked in a breath and at the height of it a piercing sob broke out. He squeezed his eyes shut, grit his teeth, and rubbed the back of his wrist across his face to wipe away the streams of tears and snot.
"Dad," he whimpered.
In a heartbeat, his father's arm was across his back, gently pulling him to the side till he was leaning against his dad's shoulder. Lars really didn't want to but he cried freely anyways, too broken up and raw to fight off any offering of comfort anymore. His dad squeezed his arm and held him closer.
Lars felt the stinging guilt he always did when he ended up taking his anger out on his dad. He knew it was the dead of night, and that his dad would be tired all day at work because of this. He knew his dad had probably been working extra hours already, because Lars had been gone for a whole week and that was a decent amount of money they had to make up for. But he knew his dad would never complain about any of it to him. He knew that even if he quit his job, his dad probably wouldn't give him a hard time for it. He knew that he wasn't easy to be around, especially in a bad mood, which he was in a lot, and his dad still always made efforts to spend time with him, even if Lars rejected them on days he wanted to be by himself. He knew that his dad always had unconditional support for him, even when everyone thought Lars was a waste of time, including Lars himself. In the week just before going to the island, he had been in school when suddenly he was overcome with such a powerful sense of emptiness and despair that he went home sick, called in sick to work, went straight to his bed, and was still there seven hours later when his parents got home. He'd felt pangs of shame when he woke up to them finding him curled in the dark of his room instead of closing at the Big Donut. But his mom had simply asked him if he wanted her to heat some soup for him, and his dad had brought him another blanket and asked if he needed anything. Lars had shook his head no and stared off at the wall, and his dad had left and was back in his room an hour and a half later, having driven all the way to a bakery in Charm City to bring Lars a bag of the lemon cookies he especially loved.
Lars turned towards his dad and pushed his face into his dad's sleeve, holding on to it with one hand.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm not mad at you-I'm just-"
"Shh, it's okay, I know." His dad rubbed the center of his back in circles. "I know. You're hurt. It's alright."
Lars sniffed. "I'm sorry, though, you're-you're never mad at me even when I-and I keep-I'm sorry I'm like this, Dad, I wish I-"
"Lars, it's okay. You're my kid, and I'm your dad. It's my job to take care of you. Even when you're mad at me. I know you, and I know what it's like when you're upset, and I love you, whatever mood you're in. I know you're doing your best-"
Lars let out a hoarse sob and clutched at his dad's shirt.
"Lars?"
"I am doing my best," he said between sobs. "That's the-the problem."
"...What do you mean?"
Lars turned the crystal over in his hand and listened to the rain.
"This is my best," he sniffed. "I'm doing my best, and look at me."
He heard his dad make a quiet sound in his throat.
"I keep doing my best and my best is shit and I'm-bad at everything," Lars said. "And I'm not doing anything, except getting mad all the time, and I wish I wasn't so-I wish I wasn't-"
He choked on his words and wiped his eyes on his own shoulder. His dad didn't speak, so Lars tried to.
"I just wish..." He blinked out tears. "I wish I wasn't so fucking bad with, just, people. Like, I can't even-I'm even messing up with Sadie. I c-I can never meet new people anyway cuz I'm so-I wish-even when I can act normal it doesn't do anything, they end up hating me, cuz I'm-I'm so-" Lars trembled and cried. "Why is it so hard? Why's it so hard for me?"
In the next moment, his dad got both arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug, a hand holding the back of his head. Lars felt like a total wreck, still covered in dried mud, snot and tears all over his face, shivering and gasping in wet sobs and whines, feeling so many things and feeling them so intensely that he had no chance of sorting any of them out.
"I hate this!" he sobbed. "How come everybody else-how come I'm so bad at shit that everybody else just does? I hate this, I hate having to feel like this all the time just because I'm so-" He hid his face against his dad's shoulder. "It's not worth it. I hate this."
Lars cried hard and bitterly. His dad held him steady, softly stroked his tangled hair, and the thunderstorm periodically reminded them of its presence with waves of rain and distant growls. Lars wanted to calm down, but it was no use. He was in a horribly familiar place, where he felt so unbearably low and hopeless that all he could think of was each time he'd felt like this before. It made him carry not only what had happened on the island, but the added weight of every horrible day he could remember having. And as usual, its effect was brutal. He felt like he couldn't even make it to the end of the day this way. He /knew/ things would seem better soon, even within the hour, he knew they did every time, but he couldn't make himself feel it. There was a wall closing in on his mind that said his whole past, present, and future was the pain he was experiencing now, and it was suffocating him, and he couldn't force himself to stop crying.
After a while he'd cried long enough that he'd managed to vent off some of the pure stress, and he could hear his dad quietly telling him every few seconds that it was okay. Lars pulled away gently and covered his face with his hands for a minute, till his breathing hitched only occasionally and his tears had slowed, and then he wiped his eyes and looked at his dad, blinking hard.
"Lars, I'm so sorry," his dad said. He picked up the dishcloth to wipe off some of the tears from Lars's face, and Lars let him. "I'm so sorry. You're tough as hell, kid."
"What." Lars coughed out a flat laugh.
"It's true, I know you don't know it, but you are," his dad said with a sad smile. "Some people...the kind of stuff you feel, kid, some people never have to feel that way even once in their entire lives. And I see you deal with it all the time. You're strong."
"Yeah, well," Lars sniffed. "It doesn't really matter if I can't even like, handle a shitty job, or a shitty English class, or anything."
"No, listen." His dad put the hand with the dishcloth under Lars's chin and tilted it up so Lars was looking him in the face. "Those things are hard for you. When it takes you so much effort just to go to work, or write your essay, or just...get up in the morning and get out of your pajamas...when those things are hard to do, it means you have to go through so much just to do things that other people don't even have to think about. I know you. I see how hard it is for you."
Lars breathed in and out, trying to sort through all his thoughts.
"I mean," he said, "Maybe it's hard for me, but all this stuff is so easy for other people like-getting changed in the morning, it's not supposed to take any effort at all, and then i take, like, ages, and so i never get anything else done anyway cuz it takes me a whole day to eat something-"
"No, Lars, you're thinking of it like-you're looking at it the wrong way. See, people who don't know what it's like, they don't even have to think about it-sure, if you tell them it's too hard for you to go to school, they'll say, 'it's hard for everyone,' and think you're just not trying, but you know that you are. I know you are. "
Lars lifted one shoulder in a shrug. He knew that he wasn't making it up. He knew how it felt on one of his bad days. But it was hard to pit what he thought against what he knew everyone else thought. He couldn't make himself feel that he really believed he was really trying.
"You're strong, and we're always proud of you," his dad continued. "Yeah, it's hard work for pretty much everybody to have to go to school. But it's hard work for you to do that, and it's hard work for you to just...be alive. You're strong. And I know maybe it doesn't feel that way, when nobody else sees it, but there are other people out there who know what it's like. And me, I don't quite know what it's like either, but I see you going through this, and I know it's real. I know how bad it is. People get it, if they really know you. People who love you, they understand."
Lars turned his head away in an attempt to hide several new falling tears, but the breath he drew shuddered, and the way his dad rubbed his back made him think that it was pretty obvious anyways.
"So...what about Sadie, then?" his dad asked.
"What about her." Lars wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, if it's upsetting you, if something bad happened, I think maybe you should talk to her about it," his dad said gently.
"I don't want to," Lars said with a huff. His dad gave a quiet laugh and Lars shot him a look.
"I only mean...it's like, you have more to talk about than saying you're mad at her. It's more than that."
Lars bristled at that, forgot any embarrassment about crying, and faced his dad with clenched fists.
"I'm not pretending to be mad, I am mad, and I have a damn good reason even if I can't tell you what it is. This...it's real, okay? How I feel about it is real. I am mad at her, it's not a cover or front or whatever. It's real."
"Yes, yes, it is," his dad said quickly. "I'm sorry. I didn't say that well. God, it's real, and please keep telling yourself that. Anything you're ever feeling, remind yourself that it's real. And your anger is definitely real, and I'm not going to pretend like it's even always a bad thing, but...what I mean, Lars, is that something made you feel angry in the first place."
"Yeah. Sadie," Lars said flatly.
"Come on, you know what I'm trying to say." His dad looked at the ceiling for inspiration. "I mean that...when you're angry, it can help if you try to remember what you felt that made you feel angry."
Lars rolled the crystal between his palms and stared at his dad for a few seconds before saying that he didn't really get it. His dad drummed the fingers of one hand against his leg as if he were working out a math problem in his head.
"Okay. So...being angry, that is real, but some other emotion came first for you to be angry about in the first place. Like sadness, or fear, or something. See, the way I always see it, anger is something defensive. You get angry because you got hurt, or because you're trying to avoid being hurt. And the anger isn't a lie, I promise I'm not trying to tell you that. It's the opposite, really. If you're mad, it's a sign that you can follow in the direction of a more complicated picture of everything you're feeling. More of the truth."
"Okay..." Lars shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair.
"So, tell Sadie the truth," his dad said. "Tell her what you're feeling. I get that you don't want to go up to her and remind her that you're angry with her. But it would probably help if you went and told her what's been hurting you. You said you had a fight? You said...did she make you cry?"
"Jeez, Dad," Lars said, feeling himself blush . "It's not-it's a long story, okay? We had a fight because-well, we shouldn't even have been fighting in the first place, cuz I don't see how she could blame me for being mad at her for what happened, like, I'm so sorry that I got upset and I got mad and-"
"There! See?" his dad interrupted, a bit too cheerfully. "You said you got upset first. Tell her that! Tell her what made you upset, tell her why it upsets you that she's angry too. Because, see, she might not want to hear that you're angry, but I think if you could tell her what's hurting you, she'd be interested in that. You kids are close. I think you both care when the other is hurt."
Lars bit his lip, sighed, shrugged again.
"I don't know. I mean, we're...I just kinda feel like maybe this time I should just let it go," he mumbled. "Like, if she doesn't want to be around me after this, I can just...let it happen, y'know? Like I think this is as far as it's gonna go, and she's seen what it's like, and we can just let go and it'll be fine. I don't wanna force things to be okay."
"Whoa, slow down there." His dad picked up Lars's empty glass and put it in the sink with his plate. "Things could feel different if you just give it a little bit of time. A few hours, even. You don't have to convince yourself that you and Sadie aren't going to be friends anymore, and that you don't care about it. I know you're scared of having to feel like this again, and you'd rather hurt yourself now than be hurt by someone else in the future, but you don't have to be so afraid and pessimistic about it all. You just have to give yourself a break for a bit, then try talking with Sadie, and see where to go from there."
Lars felt exhausted, physically and mentally and emotionally. He looked at his dad, and he looked at the crystal in his hand, its faces glinting with sparks of electric blue, pink, purple, and gold. It was stunningly beautiful even in the light of their old incandescent kitchen bulb. He thought of Sadie, and of what he'd felt when he realized what she'd done right after they got on the island, he thought of how he felt when he fell asleep with her body against his, of how he felt after they teleported back to Beach City. Everything was still so raw.
"I guess I could go talk to her later," he said quietly. "Maybe. I don't know."
"Look, I know all of this is easier said than done. And I know it's all easier for me to be saying it, too. I just think you could do yourself a lot of good by giving yourself some rest, and maybe along the way try to think of what you want to say to Sadie. Though, try explaining it to yourself first."
The clock on the wall chimed quietly.
"Aw, Dad," Lars said with a grimace. "It's already two. What time are you supposed to get up for work?"
"Hey, listen, don't worry about it," his dad said firmly. "You're finally back, you've had a rough time-being here is worth it."
"Dad, come on..."
"So I'll take a nap when I get home, it's fine, Lars. You really think I'd rather sleep through this? Yeah, right." His dad nudged him on the arm. "Hey, a smile! That's the good stuff."
"Oh my god, Dad, shut up..."
"Alright, I know, I know...but speaking of getting some sleep, you look tired."
"Well, I really only woke up a few hours ago, but I guess I could probably go back to sleep for a while if I tried. I really wanna lie down, anyway. But I'm gonna take like three showers in a row first."
"Hmm. Fair enough. You still hungry, by the way? Did you kids get enough to eat while you were out there?"
"Yeah, we were okay. I'm good for now. I just really want a shower now."
"Come on, try to think of something else for me to do for you first," his dad said. "I'm trying to make up for lost time."
"Here." Lars held out the crystal that was still in his hand. "Put this somewhere for me."
His dad smiled.
"That hardly counts, but fine. Give me that and go take your shower."
Lars dropped the crystal into his dad's hands and met his eyes for a moment.
"Thanks, Dad." He turned away and began to walk out of the kitchen.
"Hey, just promise me one thing, okay? I'm invoking the dad power to tell you to do just one thing tomorrow."
"What is it?" Lars looked back at him.
"Don't go to work tomorrow."
Lars stared at him for a moment, and then his dad smiled, and then Lars raised his face towards the drum of falling rain and laughed.