After a messy, family-dividing divorce with her now ex-husband, Lynne notices a change in her son's behavior. Outgoing and friendly as a child, Richard is now quieter, always anxious, and has buried himself deep within his books; befriending fiction...
a/n: most of the italicized words are either ricky's thoughts, or him speaking to me through thoughts. which is literally and technically me just speaking to myself since he doesn't actually exist...but what's new? idk if that makes sense...oh well. hopefully you're not confused 🤷🏻♀️
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GIVE UP THE FANTASY (a hsmtmts au) • chapter one || half smiles • word count: 2,394
"when we deny the story, it defines us. when we own the story, we can write a brave new ending."
[ brené brown ]
~⏳~
"CLOSE THE BOOK," Lynne said softly, her eyes on the road as she gave her son a half-smile, rubbing circles over his hand with her strawberry-scented thumb (Bath And Body Works - Strawberry Pound Cake Whipped Hand Cream - $7.50)—Unnecessarily expensive, I know. Inflation is real and serious!—A half-smile, that's all it was. Maybe she was half-genuine and half-bogus. Or maybe she was half-hearted and half-hesitant. Or maybe the sore above the right side of her upper lip was too painful to give Richard a full smile. He gave her a full smile in return anyway.
"Do I have to?" Richard mumbled, his finger holding his place in Looking For Alaska (Chapter 31 - "The Last Day" - Page 144), eyes focused on the cigarette-smoke cover. He wished it was a smoke machine instead, the kind used in a magic act that could make him disappear the second the crowd blinked; now you see him, now you don't. But it was two-dimensional, and he was still fiddling in the passenger's seat of his mother's Honda Civic.
The dog-eared pages and chicken-scratch annotations proved he already knew the ending; he just wasn't ready to face his new beginning.
"Yes. Come on, close the book. Talk to me."
Richard kept his head down, tracing the lightning-shape creases of the book spine as he exchanged nervous side-eyed glances with Lynne's longing ones. "I..uh..." He cleared his throat. "I don't...I don't think there's really anything to talk about."
Lynne's half-smile fell into a thin line. She faced him. "Look, Ri-"
"Eyes on the road, Mom," He grumbled.
"It's for your own good, you know."
He scoffed but didn't say anything. Lynne gulped, gripping the steering wheel like she was on a rollercoaster, and it was the only thing keeping her buckled in her seat.
Well, this is awkward. Really feeling like a third-wheel, here, guys. You don't have to be here. Uh...last time I checked, I was the author of this book, Richard. Shut up and talk to your poor mother, she's trying her best. Yeah yeah, okay.
