Summers night. It all came crashing down. That summers night it all came crashing down. Because without warning, there were posters being torn off the walls, books being tossed to the ground, papers being ripped apart to shreds by bare hands. The only source of light came from a simple lamp, which too fell to the ground unexpectedly, the bulb popping out which forced him into darkness.

But the moon outside gave him plenty to see, as he fell to his chair and shook. Grabbing his head and gritting his teeth and screaming in frustration.

He was thankful that his entire family went somewhere for vacation. One look, and his father would have have sent him to a mental hospital. Unfortunately, he wasn't exaggerating. His mother would try to comfort him, but it would have probably made it worse. And he would have hated if his younger siblings saw him in this predicament. If he could get over his sudden feeling of.. whatever it was he couldn't describe… at the moment, he would have probably been glad they were gone too.

His head hurt, his blood was boiling, he was shaking, he was sweating, it was hot, he couldn't breath. He went and opened the window. Grasped for a breath before falling into his desk chair and holding his hands to his face exhaustively. Two harsh sobs escaped his throat, but he tried his hardest to stop it. He leaned down in his chair with his face in his hands and peeked at the clock. It was only 4:45 in the morning. Another day without much sleep.

He tried to calm himself down. He tried to remember happy thoughts. The phone call from Maya just a day ago asking him whether he wanted to hang out at her place. The voice in the background from Zig who encouraged him to sneak booze. The two paused as they recollected different instances of a very tipsy Matlin, and mutually agreed that alcohol was forbidden, "Hey!" Maya cracked, but she couldn't argue.

Then there was a couple of days before where Frankie requested birth control pills. Of course, that was one of the last things he would have liked to hear come out of his baby sister's mouth, but it was pretty hysterical to listen in on his parent's berate the hell out of someone who wasn't him, "You're only 14!" followed by the determined echo of,

"Yes, but Miles…"

The Hollingsworth men smartly deciding to stay out of it and finish their food.

Then there was news of a potential vacation. His family decided to book a trip to Tobermory with some of their other extended family. Since he had summer school, he was unable to go, but that posed as no problem for the rest of the Hollingsworth family who quickly packed their bags and left him there. His mother left him enough money in his account for food which he undoubtedly used for fast food, video games, and more. There was still a lot left over.

He thought harder. He remembered the last day of tenth grade when the bell rang and he rushed out of there with his friend's, zooming out of the parking lot in his new Lamborghini. Zig and Maya popped out of the sun roof and yelled out of the top of the their lungs, and a loved-whip Chewy held the phone tightly in his ear while plugging the other hand with his finger, repeating an apology over and over. And then there was Miles who kept his eyes on the road and couldn't hide a smile from breaking out. Because class was finally over, and he was free to do what he wanted.

He still had summer school though, which wasn't one of his strong points. He had passed all his classes, but English. He didn't know why. He barely went as it was. And when his parent's peaked at his report card, they forced him to upgrade some of his other grades too. It was awful, but on the plus side it gave him reason to avoid a trip with his entire family. He loved his family, sometimes, but he more so enjoyed the silence and the house to himself. He rather that then eventually getting in trouble and spending the rest of his vacation indoors, which he knew would happen sooner or later. It always did.

He remembered an essay he gave in which he got back a week later. Constant red marks, but in big block letters at the top said 'HAS POTENTIAL!" But what Ms. Marelli didn't know was that he had plagiarized the essay from his friend who wrote a similar essay in his 10th grade class. But what Ms. Marelli didn't know wouldn't kill her, so he kept that portion to himself and accepted the 79 with open arms(even though his friend had received a good 86% without any grade-grubbing).

He remembered the nice weather, different from the showers of rain and thunderstorms which bestowed upon them days before. He remembered the constant dates at The Dot where he would spend a considerable amount of time with Zig and Maya and mostly his other summer buds. He remembered the park which he found on a trail behind his street - where a large pond resided - where he spent most of his days tossing rocks and watching the water ripple. Where he had thought to later bring his friend's, but never found the time to do so.

And then he remembered a month ago. Peeking at newly dyed dark hair. He would have never known it was him if it were not for the petite mug which he disconnected from his mouth to flaunt his perfectly dark pink lips. His green eyes which shun under the lamp above their table. He wrinkled his nose, and leaned back in his chair, and gave a boisterous laugh which caught the attention of others in the parlor. But he didn't care or seem to notice. And then there was that smile, that intoxicating, destructive smile which was directed not at him, but for the man sitting across who had cracked an idiotic joke and expected praise. And grinned tooth-fully when it was offered to him.

The smile which was no longer directed to him, nor his laugh nor his eyes nor his mouth. But to someone else, some douche face who thought it acceptable to place a hand on that perfect face and wipe a smear of butter off the side of his cheek from the half-bitten croissant laying on his plate.

Tristan wasn't his anymore. Tristan moved on. The thought caused his stomach to spasm, his fists clenched terribly at the memory. He tried to erase it by overriding his brain with others, but it was already too late. He looked outside and looked at the moon, then turned his back on the light. And then he slammed his head on his desk and let out a huge wail into the night and no one heard him. On that quiet summers night, it all came crashing down and no one heard him.