They meet up with the rest of the gang a little later. Stiles' fingers have turned white and are cramping from carrying all the shopping bags and Scott assumes his friends have finally found their outfits. His best friend, on the other hand, doesn't seem to be too happy about it. He's slumping behind them, groaning occasionally. Liam is occupied with dealing with Mason's anxiety over his date, so Scott finally decides to help Stiles out by taking some of the bags from him. Stiles throws him a thankful look.
When they say their goodbyes outside of the mall at the end of the afternoon – Mason and Liam still decided to go by bus, even though Lydia offered to take them home – they all hug each other. It's odd, a little different, and slightly new, but knowing his friends, Scott figures they just wanted to give him and Liam an excuse to touch. Mason is the only one who seems startled by the gesture, but Liam just mumbles something along the lines of 'that's what they always do'. Scott snickers at the white lie before he wraps his arms around the boy, suddenly noticing how perfectly well Liam's chin actually fits in the crook of his neck and how his gentle breathing tickles his ear.
The two of them don't talk to each other until Sunday evening. Scott's about to get ready for bed. Usually he would've spent his Sunday evenings with his mom on the couch, watching stupid shows, since it's her only day off. But tonight his dad's there and Scott has decided that dinner had been enough torture for one night. It was awkward. His mom and dad kept exchanging looks that clearly indicated something was going on – or was about to go on – but nothing had really happened. Scott didn't like it. It had made him unable to focus, which is why the notepad in front of him contained only scribbles instead of formulas, and probably also the reason why he hadn't eaten much that night.
He exhales a deep breath, wrapping his hands behind his head. The phone next to the pad winks at him invitingly and Scott realizes there's a sudden urge inside of him to text Liam. He decides to ignore it, for he doesn't really have anything to talk about. Besides, they'll probably run into each other at school tomorrow anyway. There's lacrosse practice anyhow.
Yet it makes Scott feel strange. He has never had that urge with Stiles before. Only when he has been worrying about him.
But maybe he is worrying – the quiver in his stomach confirms that.
Scott thumbs his earlobe. Their conversation at the mall had been nice, and even now Scott feels like he has given Liam some handles to hold onto, yet, their talk last Tuesday had been nice as well and still Liam had harmed himself. It confronted Scott with the hard fact that, even if he and Liam were having good times, it didn't mean Liam would change. At least, not easily. From what Scott had gathered on the internet the other day it had come across as more like a process, instead of a switch he could just flip – however much he wanted to. Which proves Stiles had been right weeks ago.
His train of thought is interrupted when his phone suddenly buzzes on the table. For a moment, Scott ponders if he's just imagining it, but when he sees the screen light up, he's sure. He also isn't one for believing in coincidence, so curiously he picks it up.
It's a text. Scott unlocks his phone and opens it, hoping it will-yup, it's Liam. He squints, eyes rolling along the lines. They narrow as he reads, chest tightening around his ribcage.
'Scott? I'm trying to distract myself, but it really isn't working.'
The guy swallows, his hands gripping his phone a little tighter, tension building sharply in his knuckles.
'What's wrong?' he asks.
Scott moves his phone to his other hand. The palm of the first feels damp, so he wipes it off on his jeans. After that he notices the fine creases in the fabric and he tries to smoothen them.
His phone buzzes again.
'I feel so guilty.'
'Why? Liam, you have nothing to feel guilty for,' Scott types back. The sigh that follows speaks volumes of his concern.
'Because of you,' Liam replies.
'What? What did I do?'
Liam's short replies almost have Scott hesitating if he actually wants to talk about it, but then he remembers Liam was the first one to text him and Scott realizes Liam's probably just scared.
'You looked stuff up for me. You spend so much time helping me. I just feel like this huge bother.'
Scott puts down his phone. His fingers move to his temples and he rubs them in an attempt to soothe himself. He needs to think clearly. He needs to help Liam. How can he convince him he doesn't have to feel guilty?
He picks his phone back up and starts working on a reply that only gets longer and longer in his head as he writes it. The typing screen reaches its maximum length and Scott sighs when he acknowledges the fact that this isn't going to work.
"Screw it," he mutters under his breath.
He deletes the message.
Instead, he looks for Liam's number in his contact information. With a pounding head, he hits the call button.
It takes a couple of seconds before Liam picks up, a clear indicator that he had been hesitant about if he should.
"Scott?" he sniffs.
"Liam. Liam, it's okay," Scott blurts out the moment he hears Liam's voice. His mouth feels dry. "You don't have to feel guilty. I don't mind helping out, remember?" It's true, he would basically do anything to make Liam feel better.
"No, I know, but I-" Scott can tell Liam's breath is trembling. "But it's never gonna get any better. I can't keep doing this to you."
Scott swallows. "That's not true. It is going to get better."
"You don't know that."
Scott scratches his burning cheeks before trailing his arm upwards and curling it around his head. After taking a deep breath, he continues, "I do. I do, okay? I promise. Just…just please don't cut yourself, okay?"
Another sniff. It stays quiet at the other end of the line and never has Scott ever wished to be a mind reader so badly. "Promise me you won't do it."
The silence holds on for a little while longer, but then Scott finally hears Liam's voice again. And with that, also the lifeless tone in it. Liam sounds beaten. "I can't promise you that. Don't you get it?"
Scott's mouth falls shut, not knowing what to say to that. Right now he doesn't even recognize the boy who has become such a good friend over the past couple of weeks. Of course he doesn't get it. Of course, Scott doesn't fully understand what Liam's going through, but on the other hand, he does empathize. All of his research and talking to Liam had helped him do so. The tension in his jaw is unyielding, making Scott feel like his mouth is like one of a puppet; only able to move up and down.
"You're only making it worse, Scott. If I do it now, I'll feel even more miserable, because I will have broken my promise. A promise I didn't even make!" Liam explains, but to Scott it sounds more like an accusation.
"Then don't do it!" he sneers through gritted teeth, jumping up from his chair. His free arm flings outwards to his side. The phone feels hot against his ear as he paces up and down his room. "Just…try to distract yourself okay? I don't know; read a book, play a videogame, anything. Just press the button on the traffic light."
Liam scoffs, but Scott can tell he's crying. Another silence falls and Scott wouldn't mind repeating his sentence over and over again, but suddenly his throat feels like sandpaper. It's almost as if he's trying to keep himself from feeing embarrassed, and he doesn't know where that impulse comes from. He twists his wrist, feeling his muscles rub against his bones. Maybe he's cautious about making a fool out of himself, like when they had their first ever real conversation outside the school. As if everything Scott says now sounds like a joke, like something that Liam will make fun of later. And, sure, Scott wants Liam to have fun and laugh, because, God, he can still recall the sound of Liam's bursting laughter, but not about Scott. He wants… He needs… He just…
He wants Liam to take him seriously.
He wants Liam to like him.
"Okay, I'm gonna try to play a game again," Liam suddenly breaks the silence, pulling Scott back down to Earth.
Scott flops back into his chair. His muscles relax, knees feeling weak. "Okay. Okay, good," he replies. "And if it doesn't work, you can text me, okay? Or call me. I don't mind either, remember that."
"I will," Liam says, "Bye."
Scott breathes. "Bye." But the word leaves a foul taste in his mouth. He puts down the phone and pulls his knees up against his chest. His arms fold around his shins and he rests his forehead on top of his legs. Tears are welling up behind his eyelids, but instead he focuses on the lightness in his head.
Maybe all of this is too much for him.
That thought stays with him throughout the rest of the night, keeping him awake.
Scott wakes up early the following morning and the first thing he does is check his phone, only to find he doesn't have any missed calls or text messages. He sighs, flailing back onto his bed, rubbing his forehead. Maybe everything had worked out and Liam had actually managed to distract himself.
But the knot in his stomach tells him differently, because if Liam had triumphed over his depression, he would've told Scott. He's sure of that. It would have been a victory.
After shooting a look at his clock, Scott decides he doesn't have to bother getting ready for school yet. He puts on some clothes and moves downstairs, where the lights have already been flicked on. It tells him his parents are also already up.
Melissa McCall only needs to looks up once to know something's going on with her son. She gets up from the kitchen table when Scott enters, moving over to the fridge to pour him a glass of milk. She puts it down in front of Scott, who has just sat down, and folds her hands around her own mug of coffee when she has taken her place next to him.
"You can have some cookies with it if you tell me what's wrong," she offers, the tone in her voice one only mothers can grant.
Scott can't help but smile, shaking his head as he takes the glass into his hands. He stares at it for a moment, absentmindedly retrieving childhood memories of when his mother wanted to know who pushed him in the courtyard. "It's Liam," he sighs.
Melissa nods, her curls bouncing up and down slowly as she does. She hums softly.
"He, err…" Scott breathes. "He's…"
"He's depressed," she finishes his sentence.
Scott looks up at her, surprise clear on his facial features. "Yeah… How did you-?"
"You think we don't get suicides in the hospital?" she shoots back matter-of-factly. The volume of her voice has tuned down.
Scott's mouth forms an 'oh' and he nods. "Did you know all along?"
She looks up from her steaming cup, blowing across its surface as she does. "I suspected it," she answers, "but I knew you were going to be okay if it were true."
Scott scoffs sarcastically at that, shrugging a little. "I'm not sure I am, though. Not anymore."
Melissa takes a small sip from her drink. "It's hard, isn't it?"
Scott nods.
"I just don't know what to do," he admits, after a second of silence. "It's like… I'm trying to help, but sometimes it just seems like he refuses it…while…at other times…" He sighs. "He's so...normal. Like, the day before yesterday, we went to this doughnut store and he was laughing because I had custard on my chin." He smiles at the recollection. "And everything was fine…but then, last night, it wasn't anymore. I guess I just don't understand."
Melissa exhales, taking Scott's hand in hers like she always does. "It's a silly thing; depression," she says. "Peoples' moods can just shift in a heartbeat, it's almost like-"
"The weather."
Her head falls forward a little as she smiles at her son's intuition. "You understand a lot more than you give yourself credit for, you know? Lots of people would have already given up on Liam. You didn't, because it's just not in your nature." She looks deeper into his eyes, and if it wasn't his mother doing it, Scott would've felt violated by someone looking so deeply into his universe. "It's how I knew you were going to be okay the first time you were suspicious of him."
"Is that why you didn't say anything?" Scott wonders.
She shakes her head. "If I'd have told you, you would've gone crazy," she answers truthfully. "You care so much."
Scott blinks at her. He hadn't expected this at all, but somehow it makes sense. He does care about Liam, maybe at times even a little too much, so it was probably a good thing that they had been figuring all of this out together.
It's a process, and apparently not just for Liam.
Melissa suddenly looks up at something behind Scott, so naturally the boy follows her gaze. When he turns around, he sees his dad leaning against the doorframe. There's a certain look in his eyes Scott can't quite place, so he frowns a little.
"Can we talk?" the Agent asks.
Scott's frown deepens and he looks back at his mother for confirmation.
She nods silently. "It's time, Scott," she encourages him. "And I think you might get more answers than you bargained for."
Scott licks his lips, taking a sip from the milk. He builds his courage, brick by brick, before standing up from the safe base that is his and his mother's relationship to face his father, and with that, steps over his previous heartache. The pain that was once caused by the man who had left them, leaving Scott to feel unimportant and worthless, didn't matter any more.
His father nudges him towards the hallway and Scott thinks he wants them to sit down in the living room, but instead his dad stops midway there. Scott almost bumps into him, quickly pulling himself together and straightening out his clothes. He looks up at his father with an odd combination of slight discomfort and curiosity, but refuses to start the conversation himself.
"Come here," his dad says, motioning for him to come closer. Scott obliges and his father points. "You see this?"
Scott follows his dad's index finger, which is pointing towards the ground. Obliviously, he looks back up, shrugging lightly. The hallway is only slightly illuminated by the lights from the kitchen and the living room.
"The dent on the floor?" His dad crouches down to look at it more closely.
Now, Scott sees it.
"That was from your head," his father continues, "the night before I moved out…" He swallows and Scott's frown deepens. "…Your mother and I were fighting."
Scott finally mimics his motion, bending his knees as well.
"You came out of your room, I grabbed you by the wrist, but you pulled back…" he explains softly, his stare fixated on the staircase in front of them. "We watched you tumble down those stairs. You were out for probably twenty seconds." He scrubs a hand over his face, a heavy sigh leaving his throat. "When you woke back up you didn't remember a thing. Your mom told me to be out by the morning. That's the last time I ever had a drink." His gaze falls back onto Scott, who's blinking rapidly at him. "That's why I left."
Scott rubs the middle of his forehead, eyes screwed shut for a moment. He looks back up at the stairs before turning back to his father again. His mouth opens a couple of times to say something, but he can't find the right words. What does he have to say anyway? Does he need to thank his dad for giving him this useless explanation? Does he need to feel sorry for him? Does this even qualify as an apology?
And what if he does forgive his father now? Would it even matter? Would it make up for all those years without him?
"Okay, Dad, let me show you something," he suddenly blurts out, getting up in the meantime. "You see the edge of this window sill?" he indicates at it. "When I got my first skateboard I slipped right into it and broke my collar bone," Scott divulges, before swiftly turning towards the coffee table. "This used to be glass until I fell on top of it trying to catch a lacrosse ball from Stiles! I got three stitches in my cheek."
"Scott, I-"
"No! No, you don't get to talk right now, dad," Scott rages on. His stance is wide; legs spread in an offensive matter like he's about to throw a punch. "This house is full of accidents. So the stairs…" He takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring from it. "Maybe it was an accident, maybe it was worse, but I healed." He can feel his pulse rising in his wrist. An actual drop of sweat trickles down the back of his neck. It causes Scott to shiver and the coldness makes him feel vulnerable. It only pisses him off even more. "So I don't need your apology," he spits, giving his dad a judgmental look from head to toe. "I don't need your explanations or your excuses, because, in the end, you left us. And you can't even begin to imagine how miserable I was or how much you've hurt me." He inhales a sharp breath, trying to calm himself down a little. "So, I'll see you at graduation…or whenever you decide to show up again."
He moves past his dad with a fierce pace, and in the process, he slams his hip on the corner of the dresser in the hallway. The pain shoots up Scott's body, but he quickly grinds his teeth together.
His mother is standing in the kitchen doorway, looking at her son with a pained expression. She presses the cup tighter against her chest as he turns and walks up to his room.
"I need to get ready for school," Scott mutters as he stomps up the stairs.
