our last summer

in which we have a preview into elliots mind

He's at Brandon's again. He's laying on the couch staring at the ceiling, horribly, horribly, awake. He knew he shouldn't have taken the Adderall again this morning, but he could barely get out of bed without feeling like he was going to keel over, so he reached over, struggling to feel for the little orange pills on his bedside table. When he finally grabbed one, he dry swallowed it, something he quickly learned how to do when he realized water wasn't always going to be available to him.

His heart is beating fast fast fast, but this isn't a happy high. He feels pissed off, irritated.

Brandon is in his room on his video game, shouting obscenities at his screen. As Elliot's best friend, he learned early on to recognize when Elliot was in a bad mood and therefore, when to not bother him. When Elliot arrived this morning at eleven am, a scowl permanently etched on his face, Brandon nodded at him, stepped aside to allow him into the house, and then went back to his room and put on his headphones.

Elliot likes Brandon's house because his mother is never there except somewhat in spirit, if that is the right way to say it. It's in the little candles in the bathroom, the always washed bedsheets. She's in the throw pillows and the pictures of Brandon in the hallways, her room, the office. Brandon's house screams, I am loved, I am adored. I have a mother, and she loves me more than anyone or anything else in the world.

Elliot likes Brandon's house because it radiates this energy that his house doesn't. He doesn't know if it's love, or just the sense of family. Brandon doesn't have a father- at least, not one who gives a shit about him- but he still manages to keep everything together.

"I'm going to kill myself." Brandon is standing over him, face flushed, hair sticking up in multiple places. One headphone is off of his ear, making him look lopsided.

"What." Elliot doesn't ask, he just says it.

"I'm going to kill myself."

"How." He closes his eyes and breathes out deeply, yawning in the process.

"With a shard of glass."

"Details, please."

"If I lose this game one more time, I'm going to smash the screen in and slit my throat with the broken pieces."

"That's quite graphic, Brandon."

"That was the fucking point, Elliot."

Elliot feels him move away and sit on the couch beside him. His mind returns to Alina. He kissed her on that couch when Brandon wasn't looking. Put his hand around her neck and pushed up against her. Heard her little moans when he grabbed her hair and pulled it. Teased her until she was begging him, and it was only the first night of them meeting.

He laughs to himself, holding back a little smirk, eyes still closed. He doesn't know if she's easy or if he's the one who's easy. He can't really tell, but all he knows is he wanted to kiss her first, fuck her first. He hasn't texted her since then, but neither has she. He doesn't know if she's afraid or if he's the one who's afraid. Is he just projecting his own feelings onto her? He's not sure.

All he knows right now is that a shit eating grin is taking over his face as he thinks about ways to break her heart. He feels a connection with her, but it's only when he's high.  He wants her to feel the way he feels when he's high- angry, upset, wanting to inflict pain, pain, and more pain. He doesn't know why these thoughts are taking over his brain right now, intruding on his private place. Are these subconscious thoughts that he's already had about her? Or are they just about everyone?

He tries to see if he'd like to see Elise suffer. Pretty Elise with her gray eyes and her little curls and her sharp edges. She's sharp all over but still manages to look graceful. Does he want to hurt her?

He tries to imagine it, but he can't. If anything, he can see her hurting him.

His thoughts keep cutting out. Going in, out, in, out. Elise, Alina. Alina, Elise. Elise, Alina. It blurs into one name at some point- Alice, Elina. Elina, Alice.

Elise.

He wants to see Elise. Now, right now. Because what if he dies tomorrow, or in an hour, or in ten minutes? He wants her to be the last person he sees.

He checks the time on his phone. Five PM. If he walks fast enough, he might be able to make it there by six PM. But if he takes his car, like an intelligent person, he can be there in fifteen minutes. He sits up, starts shaking his leg as he begins thinking. Will Brandon look at him funny if he says he's gonna see Elise? Or will he be weirded out by Alina? Does his opinion even benefit him in any way, though?

He gets up from the couch and grabs his keys. Brandon is back in his room, cursing at the screen. He decides he's not going to tell him anything because by the time he's back Brandon won't have noticed a thing anyways. When he gets in the car, he sits there for a good four seconds, contemplating if he should hide the fact that he's high when he gets to her house. The thing is, he's not excited. He's extremely calm and confident right now, certain of everything he's going to do in the next hour.

He starts the car. Thinks of her. Smiles.

Again.

And again.