The Kids Aren't Alright

Chapter 63: Ronan

I wake up tired the next morning.

My eyelids are crusted shut with sleep and my whole face is hot and swollen, and when I stretch my arms above my head to get the blood pumping, all my joints snap, crackle, pop like Rice Krispies Treats. It feels like I haven't left this cot in a decade. Usually, I wake up tired for one reason or another, but this is a different level of exhaustion. It's a suffocating ache that weighs down heavy on my bones; an ominous threat that I'll never feel fully awake again.

"Ronan, are you up?"

Groaning, I push my stiff body into an upright position. "Barely. Are you?"

Finn scowls at me like I'm being purposefully difficult, which is irritating because I'm not trying to be difficult, but now I'm tempted. "Yeah, of course. Don't you remember our plans for this morning?"

"Ugh, please don't try to get me to go running with you. I'd rather die."

"What— that's not what I was going to say!" He directs an impatient puff of air at one of his fly-away ginger curls, then shoves his hands down on his hip. I notice that his freckled forehead is already slick with sweat. "I just got back from a run with Becca. We're supposed to meet Wolseley by the lake soon."

"The lake... oh, shit, the lake!"

"Yes, the lake. There's only one. Do I need to remind you that this was your idea?"

"No, no, I'm just—" My tongue trips over its next words, and I find myself stammering, "Tired. I'm just tired."

"Tired," he repeats. "For Christ's sake, Ronan, you're always tired. That's what happens when you have insomnia. Why is today any different?"

"It's not. I'm just... tired. Of everything."

He responds to this in a cartoonishly chipper voice: "Hi, 'Just tired of everything', I'm Finn!" When he sees I'm not amused, he adds in a more normal tone, "Look, I know you've been going through some shit lately, but you got me into this mess and I'm not talking to Wolseley without you. So, put on some regular clothes, plaster a smile on your face, and let's fucking do this thing."

I throw my head back and release a string of expletives so outrageous the tips of Finn's ears turn bright red.

"Feeling better?" he demands.

"Much."

"Do you think you're ready to interrogate a counselor?"

"Only one way to find out."

***

Our walk to the lake brings back a surge of unbearable memories from last night. No matter how hard I try, I can't get James out of my mind— and the more I obsess over him, the more I'm really thinking about Jesse. It's the worst kind of déjà vu. Every step I take reminds me of things I'd prefer to forget— like the anger on James' face as he flung the army jacket into my arms, or the way Jesse called my eyes blue moments before he kissed me. Seeing Finn and Becca thread their fingers together like high-school sweethearts brings back the touch of James' mouth on my neck, or Jesse throwing his arms across my shoulder; of a thousand tiny touches that have become inextricably linked, a spider's web of memories I'll never be free from.

I used to think I was the only person on Earth who never dreamed, but now I know better. The only reason I can't find dreams in my sleep is because I'm living them out during the day. Nothing ever changes— I'll always be the same Ronan Lockwood, the one that steals cars and tells lies and acts like Sabrina's perfect clone, because I'm stuck in this dream and I don't know how to wake up. I'll always be tired, and I'll always be angry, and I'll always be afraid of myself because this is a nightmare that never ends.