Temporary Insanity
Chapter Eight: Self-pity Party, Population You and Me
Silver Silverberg stands on the front porch of the old lighthouse she, as a young girl, once believed to be haunted. It was a popular spot for mischievous children, New London not being a very lively or eventful town. She had her first kiss in that lighthouse and now she's just had her heart broken for the first time in the very same spot.
The redness has faded from her skin, leaving no bruise or sign of struggle. She simply folds her arms over her chest as she watches her boyfriend zoom down the hill in his Jeep, the loud roar of the engine reflecting both his and her mood. Once he's completely gone, Silver ventures back into the lighthouse, into the waiting arms of Dylan North.
Silver remembers the first time she met Dylan North and his family the summer after seventh grade when his rather numerous and diverse siblings moved into old lady Brown's house and gave it a bubblegum pink makeover. He moved in right next door to Brooke Ferris, Silver's once best friend and William's once girlfriend.
She's always found his house comforting despite all the chaos and mayhem, it was always a lot more fun and warm than the mansion she shares with her mother that's twice the size and usually completely empty besides the butler and maid who offer her kind words, clean clothes and gourmet food, but have their own families to go home to. The North family welcomed her with open arms. It's really something she's been missing.
Silver pulls back from the hug with Dylan and she doesn't cry, her mystical eyes refusing to show even one sign of tears. Instead, her cerulean orbs shift to Hunter Montgomery who's standing by the window with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed, staring out the window at the spot where his brother once parked.
"Are you okay?" Hunter asks a moment later. Silver manages a small nod and looks at the mess on the ground. Broken glass is everywhere from the framed photograph that fell when Rodge shoved Silver against the wall. A lamp is on the ground (but thankfully not broken) from where Hunter forcefully pushed Rodge away, acting as a shield for Silver.
Angry words were exchanged, blood was not shed and Rodge left.
"Damn it, Dylan," Silver mumbles apologetically. "I− I'm−"
"Don't worry about it. It's not your fault Rodge is an idiot," the lead singer says quickly, knowing how she hates apologies. Still, Silver goes to the back closet and finds a broom and dustpan, wordlessly cleaning up the mess.
"It's sad that I don't even know if that was a breakup or just another fight," Silver says miserably, sweeping up every last shard of glass. "God, guys, I can't believe I let things get so out of control."
"Welcome to my self-pity party, population you and me," Dylan mumbles sullenly. "Why didn't you just tell him that you trust him?"
"Because I don't," Silver replies, the honesty evident in her fragile voice.
And you have good reason not to, Dylan thinks, but never says. That's the one issue that always seems to rear its ugly head when it comes to his two good friends becoming a couple. Dylan doesn't like when they fight (which they do several times a day) because it puts him in an awkward position and he hates being torn between two people he cares about.
"Ever since I ditched New London and started at St. Joseph, Rodge has been so…distant. He doesn't seem to get that my life doesn't revolve around him. Get this, I tell him I got into Yale and he has a fit like a frickin' little girl," Silver explains with a pensive facial expression.
Dylan's ready to comment in the defense of his bassist, but then he freezes, needing a moment to rethink what he's just heard. Hunter seems to go through the same process with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips a moment later.
"That's fucking amazing," Dylan praises her. "You so need to buy me a sweater."
"Getting in doesn't mean that's where I'm going," Silver reminds the two boys, her voice echoing through the halls as she goes to dispose of the broken glass and return the broom and dustpan. "So what's this about you and Cecilia getting back together?"
"Um, we just…had a good talk yesterday," Dylan says vaguely, thinking of the Where's Fluffy? pin on his desk upstairs. "Ha, for a while there I missed the old me, the old us."
"Dead and gone, Dylan," Silver tells him, shaking her head. "Hanging out with Devin, the parties, stumbling drunk, graffiti runs at two in the morning and moshing at concerts, they were all fun as hell, sure, but we were wasting our lives wasted. Seriously, we're lucky we opted out when we did. Life may not necessarily be better, but it's right."
"She's right, man," Hunter agrees. "I'm going to college…somewhere. Silver got into Yale. Rodge is sober…most of the time. Cecelia, I love the girl, but she's stuck in that lifestyle and even worse, she's fine with it."
"Sometimes though," Dylan muses aloud, "doesn't it feel like we've settled for, well, boring?"
"I like to think we've settled for stable," Silver contradicts and Dylan readily nods, wishing he's as strong as she is. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss it because I do, but honestly, we're too good to turn into townie pimps and whores."
Hunter huskily whispering, "Say it again."
Silver grins audaciously. "Townie pimps and whores."
Dylan smiles despite the insult, glancing from Silver who's picking up the fallen picture and Hunter who's moved from watching the window like a guard god to lounging around with that guitar Dylan's yet to be introduced to. Dylan's surprised at how content he is. There's something about Hunter and Silver that's so easy to be around. It's also reassuring how loyal they are to him, choosing Dylan over Devin.
"Hunt, I didn't know you own a guitar…"
"Now you do," Hunter replies, running his fingers down the neck of the rather old Epiphone.
"Play something, Jock Strap," Silver commands while leaning towards Dylan with a permanent marker. Hunter smiles and presses his fingers firmly over the strings, against the mahogany fret board. He strums a few times and Dylan and Silver share a laugh, easily identifying the addictive music that accompanies a game of Tetris. Hunter then changes the tempo, quietly singing:
Now I'm speechless over the edge, I'm just breathless
I never thought that I'd catch this love bug again
Hopeless, head over heels in the moment
I never thought that I'd get hit by this love bug again
"Oh God," Silver groans, feigning irritation despite how entertained she is deep down. "Hunter Montgomery, did you seriously look up tabs to a Jonas Brother's song?"
"No," he replies defensively though Dylan and Silver refuse to buy it. "The walls at my apartment building are crazy thin and this creepy thirty-year-old chick next door plays it on repeat. The song's so fucking catchy and the chords are so easy. Damn, I want to shoot myself."
"On a lighter note, your pipes aren't bad," Dylan compliments him.
"Great, now I'm the only one in the old gang that can't sing for shit," Silver grumbles, picking at the chipping black paint of her fingernails. Hunter opens his mouth to remind her that his twin can't sing to save his life, but decides against it, not wanting to damper the lighthearted mood in the room.
Dylan laughs, "What else yah got, Hunt?"
"Ha, here's one for you and Cecelia," Hunter dedicates before strumming harshly.
When you see my face
Hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell
When you walk my way
Hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell
Dylan's eyes narrow into angry slits. "Don't you two have somewhere to be?"
"Not till five," Hunter grins his charming, Greek god grin that can make anyone − men and woman alike − simply melt. He jumps out of his seat and squishes in between Dylan and Silver, easily taking the marker from Silver and attacking the plaster on Dylan's arm.
"What about you?" Dylan asks, eyeing Silver. "Still the same, huh?"
"No. Well, sorta, but I quit the whole ditching class thing. You see, one really cool thing about this whole Catholic school gig is that we get out at twelve on Tuesdays, but we have mass every Friday morning so we stay till three," Silver explains casually. "I realized I haven't seen my boyfriend for a week now and we decided to have lunch and that blew up in our faces."
"Forget Rodge," Dylan advises, rolling his eyes. "How've you been?"
"I've got a new project actually," Silver mentions and pulls out a sleek, black camcorder from her purse. She flips the screen open and points the little device at Dylan. "It's for my sister and her counseling center, a sort of short documentary on different people's definitions of love." she's sure to throw air quotes around the word.
"Hmm," Dylan hums with interest, "not your usual stuff. I'm so used to your music or gossip."
"Yeah, actually putting this together is all really barf-inducing but I owed Jen a favor," Silver rolls her eyes and then hits the record button on her camera. "So Mr. North, New London High's resident Heartthrob, what's love?"
Dylan laughs and stares down at his hands. "I−I don't know."
Silver's posh lips twist into a frown. "Damn it, Dylan. I'm gonna need more than that."
"You know, I've never really thought it through," Dylan goes on, coyly crossing his arms. "I've always looked at my parents and thought to myself, wow, they're so in love. That's what I want."
Dylan's expression darkens and Silver throws Hunter a look and the star athlete mimics her worry. "Then he, um, passed away and she fell in love with a new guy. Don't get me wrong. Frank's a good guy and he makes her happy, but it's so damn confusing. Like, how can you be so in love with one person and then do it all over again with a different person? If love's this amazing, special thing then how can it happen multiple times with multiple people?"
They hear the clunking of a car and the three teenagers shoot up in their seats. Dylan isn't exactly supposed to have company, being suspended and all. Quickly, Hunter and Silver gather their things, heading down to the basement and out the backdoor.
"Hey Silver, you think you could drop me off at school?" Hunter asks, nervously wringing his fingers. "Unless, you know, you want to stay for the football game."
"Having to sit in a crowd of nameless faces as they cheer like mindless zombies? Yeah, I'd rather gorge my eyes out with a spoon," Silver replies, looking as if the very suggestion is appalling. "Plus Rodge is probably going to be there and he's the last person I want to see right now."
Hunter frowns. "What about me?"
She scowls. "What about you? You've got at least a hundred personal cheerleaders, not to mention some actual cheerleaders all there to chant your name and all that other nonsense."
"Yeah, but none of them are Silver Silverberg."
"Damn right they're not," she smiles proudly and hates the little pang of guilt she feels when she notices Hunter frowning out of the corner of her eye. Silver sighs, "I can't, Hunt, but I promise I'll go to your first college game even if it means taking a plane to Hicksville."
"And she'll wear your school colors," Dylan adds.
"I'm already giving him a ride to hell," Silver argues, shooting Dylan a look that clearly warns him to stay out of this. "Wearing another school's colors? Now that's crossing some lines."
"Sorry, Hunt, I tried," Dylan shrugs innocently and Hunter shakes it off, pushing out of the basement and to the side of the house. "Oh, and S, I'm sorry if I wasn't much help with your video thing. I was serious when I said I don't know."
"Believe me, North, trolling through the mall I've gotten worse on tape," Silver smiles, unlocking a silver Mercedes with a click. She throws her arms around his neck in a hug and whispers softly, "Say hi to Phoebe for me, okay?"
"Don't I always?" Dylan smirks after giving her waist a tight squeeze and pulling back. "Hey, lend me a copy when you're done with your documentary. I'm sure Naoko would love to see it. The girl practically idolizes you."
"No problem," Silver smiles. "I miss hanging out, D."
"Haha, same here, S."
"What the fuck is this? Last I checked we don't live in the Upper East Side," Hunter teases playfully just to get socked in the arm by an easily irritable girl with a famous last name. Hunter flaunts a lopsided grin and Silver rolls her eyes, flipping her shiny waterfall of dark tresses, approaching her car.
"I don't think it's very smart to piss off the girl driving you around especially right before a game," Dylan says, semi-joking, semi-serious. It's then that he notices the way Hunter's watching Silver, the apprehension in his eyes. "Man, she's strong."
"No kidding," Hunter agrees flatly. "Something's wrong with Rodge and he won't talk about it which is a first seeing as we can't get him to shut up majority of the time. Did you see how he grabbed her? It's like I don't even know my own brother anymore."
"We both know what game he's playing," Dylan says, watching as Silver starts the car. "Rodge wants out of the relationship, but he doesn't have the balls to tell her he just isn't that into her anymore. So he's pushing her away, trying to get her to end it so he won't feel as bad."
"Something tells me it's worse than that," Hunter says, shaking his head.
"Let's hope not," Dylan gravely replies, running his hand over his face. "You should really get going before the kids get home or worse, the Admiral."
"Yeah, with my dad and my coach, I've got enough assholes screaming at me all day," Hunter nods, but then his lips turn down in a frown. "So I guess this means you aren't coming to my game either?"
Dylan laughs bitterly and motions to the thick plaster encasing his arm. "Honestly, bro, right now the last thing on my mind is the New London verses Kennedy High final championship football game. Good luck though."
"Like I need it," Hunter beams and pats Dylan on the shoulder. "You take it easy, man."
Dylan stands and watches the car drive off, Silver sporting a pair of oversize shades and Hunter holding onto the dashboard for dear life. He then heads back into the lighthouse and halfway up the stairs is when he finally feels loneliness weighing him down. When he's with his friends, time passes by so quickly and he has a good time talking about absolutely nothing and everything at the same time.
"Thanks for having a party and not inviting me, Dylan."
Dylan sees that the couch in the living room, the one he's been planted to for majority of the day, now holds Phoebe North who's picking at one of the leftover pieces of pizza. Instantly flashing back to yesterday, Dylan suddenly feels cold and his hands go clammy. He really doesn't know how to talk to her anymore.
"No party," Dylan corrects her, walking deeper into the messy living room. "But hey, next time if we break out Mrs. Munion's special stash and streamers, I'll text you."
Phoebe doesn't seem amused by his sarcasm.
"What are you even doing here, Phoebe?"
"For one, I live here and it's almost three, Dylan," she snaps and Dylan runs his fingers through his hair, not realizing Hunter and Silver had stayed so long. "I, um, drove your Mustang to school. I know that car's your baby or whatever, but to be honest, it sucks."
"Yeah, it does," Dylan agrees with a little laugh. He flexes his fingers, hardly being able to remember what it feels like to be behind the wheel of a car. "Don't worry about her. I'm looking forward to fixing her up this summer."
"Cool," Phoebe nods and Dylan finds himself sitting on the arm of the couch, leaving a good couple feet between Phoebe and him. She suddenly looks up at him, her eyes giving away her curiosity. "Did you really mean what you said back there?"
He squares his shoulders coyly. "What did I say?"
"About life being bored now that you and your little gang of mischievous yet damn talented friends aren't, well, friends anymore," Phoebe reiterates and Dylan remembers, nodding. "I, um, kinda overheard a bit of that."
"Why didn't you join the party?" Dylan wonders aloud. "Silver says hi by the way."
"The last conversation I had with Silver didn't exactly end on a high note," Phoebe says; her face twisting guiltily. "She told me she was dating Rodge again and I told her he's a womanizing man-slut who's just going to hurt her in the end."
Dylan chuckles with a hint of sadness in the sound. "Hey, you might be right. I know we tease him about liking Christina a lot, but something bigger is going on and he won't talk to us. Silver's confused and Hunter's worried about him. Hell, I'm worried."
There's a silence that settles in and it isn't exactly a comfortable one.
"So are you going to say it or am I?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Last night," Dylan reminds her, standing. He's lost his patience. He can't simply sit there beside her and pretend that nothing happened. That seems to be the only thing Phoebe's certain of. She has these little explosions and immediately tries to move on like she didn't just pick a fight or get upset over the smallest issue or kiss him back.
"You were vulnerable last night," Phoebe says quietly. "You just had your pride stomped on in front of the whole school and I−I just broke up with Jason for good. We're just all mixed up and confused and I didn't mean for things to turn out how they did. I didn't mean−"
"Yeah, well, it happened, Phoebe," Dylan drills into her head, unable to sit and listen to her list excuses. "Am I supposed to just sit here and act like nothing happened? Am I supposed to forget about it? I can't do that, Phoebe. I can't."
"I don't know what you want from me!" Phoebe shouts back, yet another dramatic explosion. "I don't understand what happened last night. Truthfully, it scares the hell out of me, Dylan. I'm just glad that I stopped things before anything happened that we'd be regretting right now. I hate this, Dylan. I hate being confused around you. Things were perfect before. You were my brother, my best friend. Now…now I don't know what to think…"
"That makes two of us…"
"I should go," she awkwardly suggests and he doesn't try to stop her. Phoebe gives no explanation as to where she's going. Dylan sits perfectly still until he hears the door slam. Blinking, he wonders how things got so bad so quickly without it even registering in his head.
Dylan threads his fingers through his hair, his digits coiling around the tresses until he can feel the pressure against his scalp. He knows this thing with Phoebe is completely out of control and all of it just makes him angry. He wants a time machine so he can go back and stop that first kiss, that single moment of bliss that shattered his content life. Dylan doesn't know where he can get a time machine, but he does know where Mrs. Munion keeps her booze.
He may not be able to go back and change everything, but he can try to forget everything.
He's standing in mere seconds, his bare feet thundering against the hardwood floors as he ventures deep inside, his destination being the little room behind the kitchen. Mrs. Munion, bless her soul, thinks that no one notices when she takes a quick liquor break in the evenings. Well, she's incredibly disillusioned because everyone knows. Dylan's sure she won't notice a bottle gone and if she did, she'd never question Frank or Helen on the matter.
Dylan easily steels a glass bottle of liquor and sneaks out. With his room shrouded in darkness, he undoes the cap. The smell alone brings back memories of the good days, of when he was happy and carefree and surrounded by happy and carefree people.
He takes a swig, dedicating it to Phoebe and how he complicated her life. Another swig is for his reputation that's down the drain. The third is for his friends; for Silver and Rodge and their deteriorating relationship; for Hunter and his desperate attempt to keep things from falling apart. The four is for Cecelia, for Devin and all those lost and broken.
After the fifth he loses count.
Love Bug ©Jonas Brothers
Gives You Hell © All American Rejects
