Chapter 12 (Revised April 2024)

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Breathing without your breath will make me lose my mind
Your light is all I see in my dark times
'Cause when the stars collide
We connect the dots in each other's eyes
Shining so bright 'til we find the light
Shine so bright 'til we glow, afterglow
- Juliander, 'Afterglow'

     "I told you to brush your teeth!...Because I said so...Because that's what healthy boys do in the morning!"
    Jennifer's shouts carried through her open front door onto her porch, where Stiles sat curled up on her porch swing, hands wrapped around a freshly cooked McDonald's breakfast sandwich. It wasn't the breakfast of champions, but it would do. Especially at seven in the morning when he could hardly be bothered to open his eyes, let alone cook an entire meal.
    Thank God for processed fast food, Stiles thought.
     Stiles smiled to himself as Jennifer bickered with her six-year-old son, Miles. He had her sarcasm, stubbornness, and quick wit and it made things quite amusing—well, for the witnesses, anyway. For Jennifer, it was probably akin to insanity.
     Jennifer burst out onto the porch in a bustle of blue bathrobe and the skid of pajama slippers on wood. Her dark hair, not yet brushed or hung up, ballooned around her pale face in frizzy curls. She threw herself back down onto the swing beside Stiles, nearly flinging them right into the wall of the house, and snatched up her half-eaten McGriddle. In the space of fifteen minutes, she'd been roused from their breakfast date five times by Miles.
    "So," Jennifer sighed, picking up the conversation right where it had left off. "the date — sorry, the hangout — went well, it sounds like. And it kind of sounds like you know what you want. What's the problem?" She chomped down on her sandwich.
     Stiles flailed his hands in disbelief, nearly losing his breakfast in the process. "What part of anything I just said gives you the impression that I know what I want?"
    "Well," Jennifer swallowed. "You know how you feel. You know he basically feels the same way. Even his best friend swooped in and called it a date."
    "It—"
     "—wasn't a date," Jennifer finished. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Jesus, you're like a broken record."
     Stiles leaned back in the swing and fought the urge to throw his egg sandwich at her. "Use the proper terminology and maybe I wouldn't have to repeat myself."
     "Oh. My. God. Do you hear yourself? Like, when you say things that are stupid?"
     "Oh, come on!" Stiles groaned. He picked off a piece of his English muffin bun and threw it at her. It soared right past her face and disappeared into her curls instead. Ah, well—he'd still take it as a win.  "You're being entirely unhelpful, you know."
     Jennifer wolfed down another bite of her food. "I'm sorry, okay? But it's seven in the morning and you're over-complicating this and it's making my brain hurt."
     "I'm not over-complicating it, it's just complicated."
    A loud thud sounded from the entryway. A small brown-haired boy hopped into the doorway and peered out at them. His chest-length hair was wavy and tangled, but easily manageable, unlike his mother's intense curls.
     "Mom! I can't find the toothpaste."
     Jennifer locked eyes with Stiles as she finished chewing. She didn't, but he could tell that she wanted to roll her eyes into the back of her head. She swallowed and responded without turning around.
    "Miles, you know where the toothpaste is. It's in the same exact spot that it's in every single morning when we have this exact conversation."
     "No, it's not!" Miles snapped. How dare she imply he was lying? Or worse, a fool!
    Jennifer jumped to her feet and shoved the last bite of her McGriddle into her mouth.
     Miles looked at Stiles and grinned, all sass gone. "Hi, Stiles!"
    "Hey, buddy." Stiles gave him a little wave. "How are you doing this morning?"
    "Trying to brush my teeth. It's not going well."
    "I heard."
    Jennifer turned her son around by the shoulders and propelled him back inside, disappearing down the hallway. Stiles took the opportunity to finish his sandwich and go to work on his hashbrown patties. Two minutes later, Jennifer re-emerged. This time, she didn't bother sitting down and picked up her second food item—a sausage burrito.
     "I know you're scared," she said. Chomp. Chew. Swallow. "And I understand why—"
    "I'm not scared. I'm terrified."
    "Stiles, seven in the morning is not the time for semantics. I swear to God." Chomp. Chew. Swallow. "Let me simplify this for you. You like him. He likes you. Equates to sex and dates and probably a relationship."
     "Okay, so now you are over-simplifying."
    A high-pitched muffled shout drifted down from upstairs. Jennifer ignored it this time.
     "I'm terrified," Stiles continued, "because I'm feeling things that I've never felt before. And it's too soon. It's too much. I shouldn't be feeling this way."
    "Why shouldn't you? Time has nothing to do with this, Stiles. There really isn't ever a 'too soon' or a 'too late.' You're scared, and rightfully so, but you're stalling. You're denying."
     "I'm not denying. I'm very clearly not denying. Didn't I just finish telling you how I'm feeling?"
     "Yes, you did. But you're denying what those feelings mean. Why don't you think that you should feel this way? If it's because you think you don't deserve to, you're wrong. You deserve to feel this way, and have someone else feel that way about you, and you deserve to be happy. And it's too soon for what?"
     "It's too soon because Chris and I just broke up."
     "First off, fuck Chris. Fuck him. He has absolutely nothing to do with this. Fuck him. Second, you didn't just break up. You know that. You've been broken up for years, dude. In all the ways that matter. Third, there's no time limit. There's only what feels right and what feels wrong."
    "I don't mean that it's too soon because of how Chris would feel about it. I mean that it's too soon because I don't know how to do this. And I don't think that I'm ready. I mean, aren't you supposed to take time after a relationship ends before finding another?"
    "That's how it works. No one knows how to do any of this. We're all fucking lost, figuring it out as we go. Like I said, you and Chris were over long ago. You've taken plenty of time. All of those nights that you spent crying. All the nights you spent wiping blood off your face, and all the nights you dreamed of getting away from him, and finding someone who would love you
the right way. All of the nights you spent lying in bed next to someone that hurt you, someone that you hated, wondering what you did to deserve it. All of that time? It added up, okay? You took the time. And now, it's time for you to take what the fuck you want, and what you deserve. Because it's right in front of you, and you've lost too much time already."
    Miles exploded back into the doorway. "Mom, I finished my teeth."
     Jennifer turned and stared down at her son's bare feet. "Why aren't you wearing your shoes? It's almost time to go!"
    "You never said anything about shoes!"
     "Miles! You know the routine! Breakfast, teeth, clothes and shoes."
    Miles huffed and stalked away. Jennifer cursed under her breath and darted after him. Their bickering quickly faded once more. Moments later, Jennifer flew back out onto the porch and sat down on the swing with a sigh.
     "I haven't seen him in two days," Stiles said, as if she hadn't left. "When I fell asleep in his arms there, by the lake...I've never felt peace like that."
     Jennifer mimed violent vomiting. "Jesus. That's disgustingly cute. Look, Stiles, there's no rule book here, okay? There's no cheat codes or shortcuts. You're ready when you're ready. And when you're ready, you'll know. Is Isaac pressuring you? Is that what this is about?"
     "No. No, no, no. We seem to be on the same page. We're just...existing together. But it's confusing because we're feeling and doing all of the same things that you do in a relationship, but we're not in one."
    "Yes, but that's what you're both choosing to do, right? Isn't that kind of the whole point? Labels can make the difference. They're pressure and expectations. Being casual like you are gives you more room and time to make mistakes and figure out who you are and who you are together and how and if you fit. If things are going well now, then why mess with it or force anything or run away from anything? Just go with the flow. Unless you want more, and you know you want more."
    Miles clobbered out onto the porch, hopping over the doorframe with a grunt. He'd tied his hair up into a messy bun and wrapped it clumsily with a pink ribbon. His father, Jennifer's husband, Eric, appeared in the doorway now, eyes slanted and red from his wake-n-bake. Thanks to his preference for edibles, the stench of weed didn't assault everyone present. He mumbled a greeting that was quite enthusiastic for his stoned state, flicking fingers at Stiles in a wave.
    Eric pulled his son into a bear-hug from behind. Miles shrieked and giggled, tearing himself away. "Hey, man, give me a high-five."
     Miles did. Eric bent down and tweaked the pink ribbon, centering it.
    "I thought you wanted the purple ribbon today, bud," Eric said.
    "I couldn't find it."
     "Ah, that's terrible. How about this? I'll find it while you're at school, okay? You can have it when you get home."
    Miles grinned up at his father in excitement. "Yes, Daddy. I love you!"
    "I love you too!" Eric mimicked Miles's excited tone. "Now, what do you do if one of your classmates picks on you?"
     "Tell them to shut up and leave me alone," Miles said, as if reciting from memory.
     "Then?"
     "Then if they don't, tell an adult."
     "And?"
     "And if they still don't leave me alone, or the adult doesn't do anything, tell you or Mommy."
     "Finally..."
     "If they try to hurt me, hurt them back, but never hurt first."
     "Good job, buddy, that's right. Have a good day at school, okay?"
     "I will."
     Miles bounced off down the porch and ran for the car parked in the driveway.
     "Where's your backpack?" Jennifer called after him.
     "I don't know!" he shouted back.
Jennifer looked at her husband helplessly. Eric nodded and slinked back into the house in search of the missing backpack. Jennifer tightened her robe around herself and dug car keys out of the oversized pocket. Stiles popped the last bit of hashbrown into his mouth and watched her bustle down the porch steps to help Miles up into the backseat. She quickly buckled him in, shut the door, and swung back around to haul herself into the driver's seat. Rolling down the window, she stuck her head out and opened her mouth to say something to Stiles.
His phone blared with an incoming call before she could speak. Stiles fetched his cell phone, hidden beneath one of the swing's cushions. He nearly threw up his breakfast as he answered the call.
"Hey, Isaac," Stiles greeted.
Jennifer perked up at this and stuck her head further out the window so she could hear better.
"Hey!" Isaac returned.
"What's up?"
"Just, uh, just got to work, actually. But I wanted to say hi. And I had a question to ask you, actually."
"Oh, okay. What is it?" Sweat slicked Stiles's hands suddenly. He readjusted his grip on the cell phone.
"So...No pressure—n-none at all—but, um, I was wondering if you would want to come to Erica and Derek's wedding with me."
Stiles straightened. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jennifer practically hoisting herself through her car window in an attempt to eavesdrop.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Yeah. I m-mean, Lydia kind of...I just felt like it would be rude not to ask now, you know, since Lydia basically invited you already. N-not that that's the only reason I'm asking! It's not that. I kind of wanted to ask anyway but I didn't, just because—"
"Isaac, are you asking me out on a date?"
Jennifer's grip slid; she shrieked, and nearly toppled out of the window but managed to catch herself just in time. She dangled there for a moment, wiggling her legs and hips wildly in an attempt to jerk herself back into the car.
Isaac breathed. "Yes. A date," he finally admitted. "If you want it to be."
"Well, do you want it to be a date?"
"I...just want to be around you. The labels don't matter to me."
Despite the racing of his terrified heart, Stiles swallowed and accepted the invitation. Jennifer gasped out a victorious "Yes!" that Stiles only barely heard. Eric burst out onto the porch and raced to the car, backpack in hand. He handed it off to Jennifer, gave her a peck on the lips, and disappeared back inside.
"G-great," Isaac exhaled in relief, as if he'd been holding his breath. "Uh, awesome. So I'll pick you up early, if that's okay. Probably around ten a.m."
"That's fine. I'll see you then."
"Yeah. Yeah, see you then."
Stiles ended the call, unable to resist the smile that spread across his face.

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