The faded image of blonde hair and bright blue eyes flapping against a corkboard haunted him for the rest of the week. Dean should’ve known better than to answer spontaneous text messages from old friends but the burden of nostalgia was heavy when it was stacked with guilt and regret. The big, empty void in life had only brought itself in focus the more doors he opened for himself college, freedom nothing more than another vacancy for remorse to make a home in.
It’d been years since Stella’s disappearance but she hadn’t felt so present until he was reminded that someone was still looking.
Dean hadn’t wanted to attend the Gravewood Halloween festival but his mothers had caught scent of him retreating and found an opportunity to thrust him back out into the world by means of Marie. He argued that she was old enough to be at the town festival by herself until he saw exactly what she'd been hiding under her baggy sweater.
“What are you even supposed to be?”
“I’m Ariana Grande. Duh,” Marie answered, popping a sucker from her mouth and gesturing at the bunny half-mask she wore over her face. She looked like a Bratz doll in lace and patented leather. He couldn’t recall how she’d grown up so quickly.
“Did Mom buy that for you? You showed her, right?”
"You are such a buzzkill. Why don’t we just meet up later and I’ll tell Mom you were with me the whole time.”
Dean made a face of disapproval and Marie rolled her eyes.
“Come on. I’m not a little kid anymore! Besides, Jake is having an afterparty and I want to go-- without a chaperone,” Marie complained. “Don’t you want to hang out with your friends?”
"My friends have midterms to worry about,” Dean rebutted, to which Marie groaned and marched away. He followed, triumphant until she stopped in the middle of the path.
“Hey. Isn’t that Charlie?”
Dean looked at what Marie was pointing at across the town square where a flock of boys had circled around a booth like vultures and started passing around an urn. Their primped hair and shiny shoes might’ve spoken of prestige and nobility, there was nothing noble about the kids who’d graduated from Alberione. Despite having long grown out of their uniforms, there was an attitude among them that couldn’t be scrubbed away in the laundry.
It was hard to make the connection between what his eyes were looking at and what he’d known as Charlie North. Charlie had always been brash and bold but the way his eyes glinted wickedly at the urn in his hands was... different. It was strange.
“I guess that’s what happens when you go to private school,” he said unconvincingly, determined to turn away. Who was he to deny Charlie the right to grow away from him after what he did. For better or for worse, he supposed.
“I dunno, he looks like he’s having a blast to me. I wonder what party he’s going to after this.”
Dean shook his head. “Whatever. It’s none of our business.”
“I’m gonna find out!”
“Wait, Marie--” But then she was gone.