AN:  There's a little swearing in this chapter, as well as a bucketload of Nuriko angst.  Hey, it's not all smiles and sunshine in the real world, you know.  Anyway, thanks to Purple Mouse and Ryuuen for reviewing.  I'm enjoying writing this, despite it's darker passages, and I hope that shows.  If not...eh, well I know I am, so nyeh.

Summer Thunder

Chapter 2

            I hung around the kitchen for awhile, pouring myself a bowl of frosted mini-wheats and slopping milk all over the table, and then I trudged back into the living room and sank onto the couch.  It was about two o'clock by now, and the sunshine was just starting to pale into late afternoon, to take on that grainy quality that always reminded me of old photographs.  The light was starting to fade away into night, even this early in the day.  My mind made the inevitable connection with irritating speed:  Just like your life is fading into death, it hissed.  And, you're only eighteen.  You can barely get from one day to the next now.  How in the hell are you gonna get through the rest of your life, huh?

            Thanks, I answered it darkly.  Like I don't have enough to be depressed about already.

            But, brutal as it was, it was true.  My life didn't feel like much more than a formality these days, just another habit I'd fallen into and couldn't escape.  I lived because I'd always lived, and because I didn't know what else to do.  The fact that my personal life was growing more complicated by the day didn't help matters much, either. 

            With that cheery thought, I flopped sideways onto the couch cushions, closed my eyes and tried to remember those distant moments of happiness.  There'd been times, I knew, when I'd lived life with passion and love and contentment.  There'd been times when I'd gotten up at five o'clock in the morning because I was so excited to be awake and living.  There'd been times when I'd felt immense, inhibition-free emotions, love and hate and happiness and anger and joy.  And, even though it felt so unlikely and alien to me now, I knew that there had been times when I'd lived away from this dark rift of mediocrity and nothingness.  But, now?  The path I was on didn't lift towards the skies anymore, didn't twist or turn or go anywhere by forwards.  It was straight, flat, and lifeless.  I was lifeless.

            I drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly through my nostrils.

            But, last night, somehow, something had changed.

            It wasn't a violent change.  Most people, I thought, wouldn't have noticed it until much later--someone like Ken, for example, would probably be about forty-five and starting to grey before it even trickled into his head that something was different.  And, it wasn't that I was smarter, either.  I was just more observant, sometimes to a fault.

            You're a damn weirdo, Ryan, I thought a little sadly.  Normal eighteen-year-olds are thinking about girls and cars and getting into college.  But, you?  Nooooo.  You're pondering thought and consciousness and the futility of human existence.  No wonder Mom left you.  No fucking wonder.

            I groaned inwardly.  Why did it always have to be about her?  Why did every damn thing in my life have to cycle back to her and her death?  It was six years ago, damn it.  Six years.  Things had changed--I had changed.  How could I still feel responsible for that, after all this time, after all I'd come to realize and understand?
            I shook away the thoughts, tried to focus on something else.  Unfortunately, the only thing near enough to the top of my mind to think about was--I swallowed hard--last night.  The picnic.  The place where everything changed.

            I didn't want to remember.  I didn't even want to think about thinking about it, but my mind had other ideas.  Before I knew it, I was knee deep in remembering, lying sideways on the couch with my legs slung up over the top and my head bent back against the headrest.  The lawnmower still buzzed faithfully onwards outside, not fading even as the past wrapped around my throat like a hangman's noose and pulled.

*****

            It was around ten o'clock when I skidded to a stop at the top of the hill, parked my ten-speed against a thick maple and looked towards the picnic.  I wasn't sure exactly whose party it was, to tell the truth--I'd been invited by a friend who'd been invited by a friend of the party-thrower.  I hadn't even planned on going, really, until Kyle grabbed me by the shoulder and begged me (on bended knee mind you) to come.  I usually didn't bother with parties, particularly ones thrown by people I'd never met before, and even more particularly when I was pretty sure there was going to be alcohol present.  Kyle wasn't a drinker, either, but he never seemed to be able to understand just why I hated it so much.  But, then, I guess no one would know, really, unless they knew me, or knew my mom. 

            She drank because I was a disappointment.  And, she died because she drank. 

            Already, I could hear the sounds of happy drunken shouts coming from up ahead, the faint echoes of some rock song I'd never heard before bouncing off the horizon.  Frowning a little, I peered up ahead. 

            I was standing on the top of a huge grassy plateau (owned by the anonymous party-thrower, I gathered).  Where I was standing, there was a small grove of trees, along with a few gravel-strewn parking spots and what looked like an outhouse, but up ahead, I could see that a huge tent had been put up.  Granted, it wasn't exactly a tent--more like a huge canvas sheet stretched over a bunch of grounded poles--but, it was covered in flashing Christmas lights and colorful decorations that gave it a carnival feel.  It looked extravagant, whatever it was--there were lights strung up inside, and even a few spotlights bathing the grass all around the tent in a surreal white glow.  As such, I could see a handful of picnic guests, even from this distance.  Guys and girls, some in pairs and some in groups, dancing and laughing and singing and eating.  And...  My heart suddenly seemed to clench up in my chest.  And, drinking.

            A million tiny memories flickered into my mind with the sight, stung me all over again.

            Mom, sipping from the flask in her purse when she thought I wasn't looking.  Mom, lying on the couch with a glass of whiskey cradled in her fingers, staring blankly at the TV.  Mom, yelling incoherently at us over a foaming glass of beer.  Mom, kicking Dad out of their room and sending him to sleep on the couch while she crashed around and knocked things over.  Mom, cursing out my third grade teacher for daring to suggest that she might have a drinking problem. 

            Mom, telling me what a screw-up I was.  Mom, telling me what a disappointment I was.  Mom, begging me to stop being such a damn worthless human being so she could stop drinking and start living like a normal human being again.  Mom, asking me why the hell I bothered to write when there were more important things to do.   Mom.  Mom in the car.  Mom with her flask.  Mom crying because I'd just gotten my first D and why the hell couldn't I be more like Rick and pay attention in school and not be such a damn worthless piece of shit never should've had you son??  Mom, screaming while the steering wheel bucked in her hands.  Mom, bathed in darkness.  Mom, bathed in blood.

            Mom.  Dead.

            I shuddered, sank to my knees in the grass.

            "I can't do this," I whispered.

            It was too soon.

            It was six years ago!!

            It felt like yesterday.  God, it felt like today.  Two minutes ago.  Now.  And, it was pathetic and sad, but ever since her death, everything had been going just great for me in everything I'd failed at while she was alive.  I started getting straight A's in all my classes, got one of the leads in the school musical, had a piano solo in concert band, won first place in a county writing contest.  It was as if, with my mother out of my life, the things that'd been holding me back were suddenly stripped away, and everything in my life just fell into the perfect order it'd been striving for all along.  I was the perfect student, the perfect everything I tried.

            But, God, it felt so empty.  It felt so...fake. 

            "Ryan?"  A concerned voice from behind me broke through my thoughts, and I realized with a start that I was still kneeling on the grass, hands pressed over my eyes like I was trying not to cry.

            I stood up as fast as I could, turned around and managed a smile.  "Will," I greeted.  "Hi."
            Will, whom I'd spoken with a few times at school but generally didn't associate with, stepped out of the shadows--he must've just gotten here, I reasoned, since he was coming from the parking lot--and started walking towards me.  A frown was creasing at his brow, but other than that, he was as perfect as ever.  Long, silken chestnut hair that swept around him like a cape, broad shoulders, eyes of liquid amber, and a face that was as beautiful as any girl's but somehow not at all feminine. 

            I usually saw Will in the crisp white dress shirt of our school uniforms, but now he wore an elegant blue blazer over a white button-up, both so expertly tailored to his muscular figure that I wondered if the rumors of his father's wealth were true.  Whatever the case, an aura of money rippled in the air around him, glistened off his perfectly-bronzed skin like sunshine through the hazy clouds of youth.

            He stopped beside me a moment later, and he was still frowning.  His hands were tucked into the pockets of his slacks, I noticed, and his shoes were so well-polished that they gleamed mirror-like in the moonlight.  "Are you all right?" he asked.  "Did you fall?"
            I felt the blush creeping into my cheeks but fought it.  No.  No, I was not going to give this away again, I was not going to play the tortured adolescent part anymore.  Firm inner nod.  "Yes," I lied.  I laughed a little, and even though it sounded strained to my own ears, I doubted he could pick up on it.  "I must've slipped on the grass or something."  I shrugged, just like any innocent, tripping person would do.

            He was still frowning.  Change the subject, change the subject!

            "I didn't know you were coming to this," I commented cheerily. 

            The words felt fake and vile on my tongue, but, no.  Now was not the time to wallow in the past.  Now was the time to push it away and deal with it later, damn it. 

            Will relaxed a little at my words, gave a little shrug that sent his hair fluttering down over his shoulders in little silken waves.  "I wasn't planning on it," he said.  "I usually don't bother with parties much."  He smiled.  "But, my cousin insisted that I come.  He used to go to our school a few years ago, perhaps you remember him?  Stephan Manes?  He and my aunt and uncle moved out of the state when we were in...oh, I suppose it would've been second or third grade, and--"
            "It was third," I whispered.  I felt numb all over.  Stephan?  Here?  And, throwing a party I just happened to be attending?

            Will nodded, not seeming to notice the troubled expression on my face.  "You're right, it was third grade.  I remember, because we were in Mrs. Arnold's class, and she was the one who announced that he was leaving to all of us.  There was that goodbye party, and...yes."  He smiled, seemed to come back to the present.  "How on earth did you remember that?"
            I looked at him in sudden panic.  "I don't know," I managed.  "I just...just remembered."  It was difficult to swallow, but I did.  It was even more difficult to keep on breathing, but I did that, too.  "S-So, what is he doing back here?"
            Will's smile softened.  "He missed home, I suppose, like anyone who leaves this place.  He was skipped ahead a grade after he moved, and so he's already graduated.  He's going to be going to college in town.  Anyway."  He studied me for a moment, then pointed towards the tent and the far-off shouts of teenage merriment.  "He's probably wondering where I am by now.  I told him I would be here to help set things up, but I was kept late at work, and...well--"  He smiled.  "--no use boring you with that.  Are you ready to go in, or did you want to stay out here for awhile longer?"  He frowned a little.  "You were planning on going over there at some point, weren't you, Ryan?"
            "Yes," I answered a little too quickly.  "O-Of course I was.  I was just...w-well, I tripped, and then you came out here, a-and..."  I dug my spurs into my mental steed, skidded to a stop and tightened my grip on the reins.  "Let's go," I said shortly.  My cheeks were burning, I could feel them, but Will didn't seem to notice.  Just as well, I supposed, since he was Stephan's cousin.  His cousin!  How did I never know that?
            Then again, I mused as we walked towards the tents, there were probably a lot of things I didn't know about Stephan.  And, good God, vice versa.

            I wondered if he still thought I was a girl.

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