What I'm Trying To Say -- OC S/S one shot.
What I’m Trying To Say
Rating: PG
Summary: Summer doesn’t want to think right now. She wants to do. S/S.
Disclaimer: I don’t own The OC etc.
A/N: I’m tired. Here is season one hiatus fic.
“I know a place where it’s warm and it’s dry, dear
Let me take you there”
-Stars
--------
Sometimes she misses him. Just a part of him. A longing to touch a wisp of curly hair, a grin to make her match it. But then she takes whatever they give her to make her forget, and she does. She forgets a little. Moonlight makes the water look shiny, but it’s not. It’s cold and black and endless and he’s there. After they all leave, broken bottles and foil wrappers discarded in the sand, she just lays in the grainy stretch of beach, the same white light bouncing off her toes and onto her legs. The crashing waves are too loud to fade out. But she is not Marissa. She doesn’t drunk until she passes out because someone will notice and save her. She drinks until she passes out because she needs to have fun and it’s the only way she can that she remembers.
---------
She searches for split ends as her therapist talks about the loss of a boy she trusted. The words pass by her but the second session is significantly better than the first, which she spent staring at the blank floor bitterly. She interrupts.
“Cohen didn’t die.”
Her doctor swallows, “Oh, I’m sorry. The way you talked about him -- it’s how most people describe a lost loved one.”
“Well, he’s kind of dead to me. Did you mean that, though? That I loved him?” Summer asks.
“I don’t know. Do you think you did?”
Summer doesn’t want to think right now. She wants to do.
---------
Her dad suggests a cruise with Marissa before school starts. Cruises don’t answer anything, and Marissa’s busy getting high and making out with girls. Summer would probably topple over at picking up a life jacket, anyway. She hasn’t been hungry these days.
He shows up at her door the day before her birthday. She slaps him to make sure he’s not a ghost, then kisses him.
He calls her fifty times on her birthday, but she goes to Holly’s and gets wasted instead.
---------
“Happy birthday,” he says, holding out a notebook and a tiny velvet box. The kind that’s soft and that people give when they want to fix things.
Her head hurts and she has remains of smudged mascara and dark liner around her eyes. She plays with the silver chain of the necklace in between her fingers before she puts it on her dresser. She opens the book.
“What’s this?”
“What I did this summer.”
“Stalking?”
“I missed you.”
A little smile begins to play onto her lips, but it hides itself.
“I didn’t miss you.”
Her lips smile now. Lies are better.
And they kiss more, touch faster. She skips therapy, dodges Zach’s calls. This can fill her cracks, he can save her even if he doesn’t know how to save himself.
------
End.
Rating: PG
Summary: Summer doesn’t want to think right now. She wants to do. S/S.
Disclaimer: I don’t own The OC etc.
A/N: I’m tired. Here is season one hiatus fic.
“I know a place where it’s warm and it’s dry, dear
Let me take you there”
-Stars
--------
Sometimes she misses him. Just a part of him. A longing to touch a wisp of curly hair, a grin to make her match it. But then she takes whatever they give her to make her forget, and she does. She forgets a little. Moonlight makes the water look shiny, but it’s not. It’s cold and black and endless and he’s there. After they all leave, broken bottles and foil wrappers discarded in the sand, she just lays in the grainy stretch of beach, the same white light bouncing off her toes and onto her legs. The crashing waves are too loud to fade out. But she is not Marissa. She doesn’t drunk until she passes out because someone will notice and save her. She drinks until she passes out because she needs to have fun and it’s the only way she can that she remembers.
---------
She searches for split ends as her therapist talks about the loss of a boy she trusted. The words pass by her but the second session is significantly better than the first, which she spent staring at the blank floor bitterly. She interrupts.
“Cohen didn’t die.”
Her doctor swallows, “Oh, I’m sorry. The way you talked about him -- it’s how most people describe a lost loved one.”
“Well, he’s kind of dead to me. Did you mean that, though? That I loved him?” Summer asks.
“I don’t know. Do you think you did?”
Summer doesn’t want to think right now. She wants to do.
---------
Her dad suggests a cruise with Marissa before school starts. Cruises don’t answer anything, and Marissa’s busy getting high and making out with girls. Summer would probably topple over at picking up a life jacket, anyway. She hasn’t been hungry these days.
He shows up at her door the day before her birthday. She slaps him to make sure he’s not a ghost, then kisses him.
He calls her fifty times on her birthday, but she goes to Holly’s and gets wasted instead.
---------
“Happy birthday,” he says, holding out a notebook and a tiny velvet box. The kind that’s soft and that people give when they want to fix things.
Her head hurts and she has remains of smudged mascara and dark liner around her eyes. She plays with the silver chain of the necklace in between her fingers before she puts it on her dresser. She opens the book.
“What’s this?”
“What I did this summer.”
“Stalking?”
“I missed you.”
A little smile begins to play onto her lips, but it hides itself.
“I didn’t miss you.”
Her lips smile now. Lies are better.
And they kiss more, touch faster. She skips therapy, dodges Zach’s calls. This can fill her cracks, he can save her even if he doesn’t know how to save himself.
------
End.