Fell on my face and I woke with a scar
Another mistake living deep in my heart
Wear it on top of my sleeve in a flick
I can admit that it did look like yours
Why you resent every making of this
Tell me your purpose is petty again
Even a small lighter can b u r n a bridge
"I didnāt mean for this to get so long ā who knew I had so many words inside of me? The only reason theyāre coming out in the first place is because Sloane swore getting your thoughts out on paper was therapeutic. Sheās right, but Iām sure as hell not gonna be the one to tell her that. Can you imagine? Iād never hear the end of it.ā
ā³ &&. Unsent Letters. ā³ Ft. Tuck.
This is going to sound so fucking dramatic, and corny as hell, but last night was the first night I felt completely alone.Ā
Saying ālast nightā makes it sound so far away, which is a fucking joke, because one night isnāt a huge span of time by any means. Still, though, It makes it sound like I actually slept through the night and am now peacefully recounting all that went through my mind, when in reality itās 4 AM and Iāve been tossing and turning and havenāt slept more than thirty minutes at a time and Iām furiously writing this all down in the hopes that my brain will shut up and I wonāt feel so fucking alone. Because I do feel alone. Horribly alone, desperately alone. Not only because youāre in fucking Boston, of all places ā come on man, you couldnāt be cliche and go to New York City or some shit to make all your dreams come true? Youāre more realistic than that, you always have been. Youāve traveled without me before, but this feels different. See, if youād said you were going to New York, I couldāve made fun of you for chasing after a cliche. I couldāve brushed this off with the knowledge that the city would chew you up and spit you out the way it does to 99% of people with big dreams. But you picked Boston ā you had to go and pick something sensible, for fuckās sake. Thatās why Iām feeling so alone, Tuck, Iām lying here on my bed in Amber Springs and Iām realizing that youāre shaping a real future for yourself. One thatās not here ā one thatās far away from me.
Iām lying here, and Iāve done a whole lot of thinking on this bed before. Some life altering decisions have been made here, but whatās going through my mind now is something completely new; something I have yet to share even with you. Iām here alone, and Iām wondering how to find myself a home.
Donāt laugh at me, Iām serious.
Home has always felt like wherever you were, for the longest time. Even when my parents were alive, even when Emily and Bodhi actually felt like family and not just random people I share blood with ā nothing ever gave me that safe, wrapped in a blanket feeling like being with you did. Itās nerve wracking as fuck, man, feeling like you have no one anymore. I have half a mind to pack up and move to Boston with you ā which is pathetic and embarrassing, that I canāt even make it through one night without wanting to run as fast as I can to wherever you are. I know youāre too big for Amber Springs, Tuck, Iāve always known that. No one in this town is destined for half the shit you are, but even though I know all that ā itās different from you knowing it. Iām scared, man, Iām scared youāll start to realize other things ā like that youāre too big for me.
Fuck thatās a scary thought.
Asking you to promise that youāll never get too big for me is such a fucking selfish thing to do, but itās all I can think of right now. I need that promise, because right now, it seems like youāre going to outgrow me fast. Youāre going to come back, and realize how small everything is ā how small I am.
Thereās no way youāre ever going to fucking read this. Youāll sense that I had to pause every other sentence to keep from breaking down with that freaky sixth sense of yours you have where you can tell how Iām feeling before even I know how Iām feeling, and I canāt have that. So this letter is being burned.Ā I didnāt mean for this to get so long ā who knew I had so many words inside of me? The only reason theyāre coming out in the first place isĀ becauseĀ Sloane swore getting your thoughts out on paper was therapeutic. Sheās right, but Iām sure as hell not gonna tell her that. Can you imagine? Iād never hear the end of it. Anyway, these words belong to the flames, so Iām never going to get that promise, and Iām never going to get reassurance that my soul doesnāt need to find a new home, but as selfish as this entire letter is, I really am hoping youāll get everything out of this extended vacation that youāre looking for. Iāve never felt more alone in my life, but itāll pass. You know I always get weirdly emotional after midnight anyway. Iāll remember this in the morning and be incredibly grateful to myself that none of these words ever saw the light of day.
a smirk crept over her features at his silence.Ā ā so what is that? like theĀ hundredthĀ time iāve been right? or is that being too nice? ā she smiled over at him, their drive closing in on the last 5 minutes of their drive to his death bed, drama queen bed really.Ā ā heās just having a guys night. we arenāt together all the time you know? i mean a lot of it. but not all of it. we need me time too you know? how else do you think eight years works? ā her lies, little or big, in regards to their relationship were so good they even scared her every now and then. being that comfortable lying is never a good thing, but when its for a good reason then its fine, or at least thats what josie told herself.
āFor the sake of our relationship, Iām not going to answer that.ā He answered as he flipped through different radio stations. āBodhi has guys nights? I didnāt even know he had guy friends -- are you sure they arenāt imaginary? Have you seen these allegedĀ āfriendsā?ā Ernest asked bluntly. Ā Sometimes -- well, often times -- he found it weird that Josie knew so much more about his own brother than he felt like he ever would, but at this point, Ernest had pretty much made his peace with it. Strange or not, most of what he knew about Bodhi was because of what heād learned through Josie, and she was probably aware of it by now too.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā her breath hitched sharply as she registered the sudden accident she made in a split second; and in that moment she couldnāt help herself from cursing.Ā āshit,ā was all that left her lips as she tilted the glass back up and placed it far from the edge of the bar; her careless act leaving her unnoticed on how she had uttered a foreign word.Ā āiām sorry,ā she apologized, over again and again; quickly reaching for napkins to aid ernest, and the mess she had made ā as if they could help or fix anything.Ā āi reallyā i really didnāt mean toā it justā it slipped.ā her words were chopped as she tried to explain; not long after she was back to apologizing. her heart was still racing; and she wasnāt sure if it was because of how silly or clumsy she was for being so careless, or if her lips were just inches away from ernestās a few minutes, seconds ago.Ā āmaybe sharing milkshakes wasnāt a good idea,ā she muttered, chewing her bottom lip.
Ernestās head snapped up as soon as āthe s-wordā, as Sophia always called it, left her mouth.Ā āAre you kidding? Now? I wasnāt even recording, come on.ā He complained, his frustration doubled at the fact that heād missed the rare event of Sophia cursing. The two had been at this for years -- Sophia openly refrained from swearing, and Ernest made it his life mission to catch her doing it on tape. Heād gotten it once, but in a careless moment, sheād ended up with his phone and the recording ended up being erased.Ā āDonāt worry about it.ā He muttered, peeling his strawberry milkshake covered shirt off and draping it over the seat next to him as he grabbed napkins right along with Sophia, the two of them trying in vain to at least put a dent in half the mess.Ā āYou know, I think the people here have this covered.ā He said finally after what seemed like an endless amount of silence, but was probably only a few short minutes.Ā āLet me just drive you home, you can have the rest of my milkshake since yours is kind of -- on the ground.ā
āhe didĀ ? oh, alright ! thatās okay, donāt worry. um, change the subject ? yeah, sure ! how do you feel about ā um, what is it calledā¦ right. ā how do you feel about apples ? iāve heard people like androids ā thatās what it is, right ? ā too, but i havenāt really made up my mind. mostly because i have no clue what they are. and hey, iāll remember that ! thank you.Ā ā
āApples? You mean like the fruit? Theyāre alright, I guess. I like the red ones -- oh, androids? Youāre talking about the phone then. Are you telling me you donāt have a phone? We need to get you a phone.ā
āyouāre such an ass,āĀ sadie retorted, the sarcasm that leaked from ernestās voice was similar to her own, āi couldāve made you just sit here and make you watch me eat. but i decided to be nice and share, and this is what i get? you suck, honestly.ā there was a time where there wouldāve been real heat behind her words, but now sadie imagined ernest is what a brother would be like: extremely annoying and has you question why you would ever want to spend time with him, but you love him anyways.Ā āokay, meredith grey,ā sadie quipped,Ā āyou barely even have a temperature. it just seems like youāve been under a blanket a minute too long.ā sadie would be concerned, well, slightly concerned, if it were anyone else complaining this much about their health. but it was ernest, he swore he had a new deathly disease each week and had always been fine two days later.Ā āthis may come as a shock,ā sadie started off, putting her most grave face,Ā ābut you arenāt some genius when it comes to kitchen organization, youāre just like any other kitchen in the country.ā sadie started digging through the containers to pile food onto her plate.Ā āand you can stop being a spy for tuck,ā sadie began with a pointed glare,Ā āyou were never that good at it anyways.ā
Ernest stuck his tongue out at her.Ā āThanks for not making me watch you eat.ā He answered sarcastically, though his smile was genuine as he joined her at the table, grabbing the sat across from her. Ever since Tuck had come back to town, the two spent significantly less time together -- not that theyād made it a habit to purposely seek each other out while he was gone, but an unlikely friendship had formed. It was nice that they could pick up right where theyād left off -- banter that had once been hateful but turned friendly.Ā āWhat do you mean I barely have a temperature? Iām burning up.ā He complained, dumping the contents of the nearest container onto his plate.Ā āAnd not in the way the Jonas Brothers were talking about.ā As Sadie glared at him, Ernest couldnāt even be bothered to hide the smirk on his face.Ā āNever that good at it? Harsh, Brooks. Anyway, Iām not spying for him. I was just asking for my own curiosity. Why would I be spying for someone I promised to trash talk with you?ā
He didnāt have to wait long for Ernest to join him, though from the look on his face, his best friend was anything but pleased about the hour. A smug smile found itself on Tuckās lips.Ā āTheyāre not fucking poison, Ernest.. Mine are made from the same batter,ā he said, noting the suspicion from across the table. He made an example by taking a large bite and moving his eyebrows as if to sayĀ āsee?ā. They sat silently for a moment before Ernest spoke up.Ā āIt was pretty nice,ā Tuck responded, taking another bite and revelling in the awkward tension.Ā āIād been wanting to go again for a while, so I enjoyed it. Get up to anything fun this weekend?ā
Despite witnessing Tuck eating his own pancakes without going through the side effect of sudden death, Ernest was still skeptical about his own. He couldāve split the batter and only poisoned his half. He briefly considered casually testing the pancake on Burrito first, but the moral conflict going on in the back of his mind that told him his life was no more precious than their dogās forced him to suck it up and brace himself as he dug into the plate in front of him.Ā āFun? I -- no. I was waiting for you to get back, I didnāt do much of anything.ā Ernest shrugged, wondering if the small talk was Tuckās way of stalling before he dropped dead. Heād been expecting to get reamed out the second Tuck walked through the door. Awaiting death was stressful enough, he couldnāt wait for that and a fight. Tuck seemed to know that though -- keeping him anxious and waiting for any sign of the conversation they should be having was synonymous to torture.Ā āHow do you feel? I mean -- uh, did you get a chance to clear your head?ā He stuttered in an attempt to subtly allude to the elephant in the room without being the one to bring it up directly.Ā
Tuck had been gracious all evening with Ernest. Heād come home and not said a word about the matter, praying that the peace of mind he found in New Hampshire stuck around. But now? Now it was 6am and Ernest hadnāt made an effort to fix what was broken, and Tuck Herrington ā who had slept for a record 45 minutes and already consumed two cups of coffee ā would stand for it no longer. He hesitated only for a second before pulling the boyās door open, instantly yanking the comforter off of the bed.Ā āGet up. We have to talk this shit out.ā Simple, yet effective. Tuck knew that Ernest would follow, and so he left the room to make his way to the breakfast table. There was coffee and pancakes in front of each seat ā Tuck annoyed himself with this fact, cursing his inability to sleep and his need to do something ā and he picked at his food as he waited for Ernest to join.
Tuckās presence was bittersweet. Ernest had been anticipating him coming back -- the first night he was gone, he couldnāt sleep at all going over in his mind everything he was going to tell him as soon as he got back. The more days that passed, though, and the closer they were getting to Tuckās return date, the more Ernest found himself dreading it. He didnāt enjoy confrontation, and his hatred for it outweighed his eagerness to mend their bond. So when Tuck came home, Ernest did what any best friend would do -- he stayed in his room, only going out when he knew Tuck was also in his. The tiptoeing didnāt last long -- it couldnāt last long, Ernest knew that, but the last thing he was expecting was for Tuck to drag him out of bed at an hour where not even nocturnal animals were up. Heād been thinking noon would be a good time to talk things over.Ā āYou serious?ā Ernest groaned, tempted to ignore him and roll back over. It wasnāt fair though, he knew the least he owed Tuck was a conversation. Even if it was at six in the morning. He eyed the pancakes in front of him wearily, wondering in the back of his mind how he could subtly check them for poison.Ā āSo -- uh, New Hampshire looked nice.ā He said as he picked at the breakfast with his fork.
Tuck was aware that he was jumping to conclusions and being petty, but in this situation, the way that Ernest had explained it ā It left him no choice.Ā āDistancing yourself from what, Ernest? I didnāt even know you had feelings for her, how the hell was I supposed to know?ā Tuckās frustration was through the roof. He wanted nothing more than to leave the room, and claw the guilt out of his chest that should not have been making its home there.Ā āItās pretty obvious that Sage and I have shit to talk about, but you know what? This little talk has really been enough for me today. It wasnāt supposed to happen, but it did.. So.. I just need ā I donāt know. But I think Iām going to go.ā Tuck walked to his room as he finished his sentence, grabbing up the black duffle bag in the corner and stuffing it with a few items of the laundry folded on his bed.Ā
āItās not like that.ā He protested again, following Tuck around the apartment. The phrase seemed to be his favorite in this particular conversation, and Ernest could hear how whiny he sounded. It was driving him crazy, but he couldnāt help it -- all he wanted was for Tuck to understand, and most of all, to forgive him. It was his pride that was hurt more than anything, the fact that Sage had gone for his best friend instead of him, and he was beginning to realize now how ridiculous it was that this mess began because of his ego.Ā āWhat do you mean youāre going to go? Go where?ā He demanded, trailing behind Tuck as he stormed into his room. Flashbacks of him leaving to Boston came back all over again, and Ernest couldnāt shake the desperate worry in the back of his mind that if Tuck left while he was this angry, he wouldnāt come back.Ā āCome on, Tuck, we can talk about this.ā Ernest begged, tempted to reach for the clothes inside the bag and pull them out. He started to, but stopped himself, half afraid that if he initiated something physical, Tuck would strike back with a vengeance. A black eye was the last thing he needed -- though he would've gladly accepted it, if it meant Tuck staying.Ā
Emily rolled her eyes, tempted now to kick Ernest out and deal with the child on her own.Ā āThe best part of babysitting is spending time with the kid ā or in this case, getting paid.ā She hissed, slamming the refrigerator doors shut. She could tell Ernest was about to protest, but she didnāt give him the chance, pushing him out of the kitchen and into the living room where the little boy was drawing.Ā āGuess he couldnāt find the paper.ā She groaned, taking in the newly marked up walls in despair.Ā āLook,ā Emily turned then, facing Ernest.Ā āEither help me, or get out.ā
āFine.ā Ernest grumbled, allowing himself to, literally, be pushed around by his little sister. They were met by the sight of the little boy scribbling furiously on the walls -- as if he were punishing them for being a color he didnāt like.Ā āHey, hey.ā Ernest got down to his level, taking the markers gently from his hands and setting them down on the floor.Ā āDonāt you think this would be more fun on paper? Letās go find some.ā He turned to mouth āget spongesā at Emily, hoping he could distract the boy long enough for the two of them to scrub the walls clean.
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