take the chain from off the door--

[Lyle Malarkey]

"Why?" He asked quietly, because that was all he could think to ask in this situation. It seemed to be the only question on his mind the past few weeks. Why was this happening? Why was it him? Why did everything have to go so terribly wrong? Why did it have to happen to Stefan? Why couldn't they win? Those were easy questions, because he wasn't supposed to have the answers. No one probably had the answers; Lyle was discovering that there were a lot of things about life that couldn't be explained with a light-hearted story or a quick little fact. Sometimes, things were confusing and dark and wrong, but that was life, too, it was just a life he had never seen before.

He swallowed thickly when Imogen went on to explain what she thought. His head was a mess of what Gabby thought and what Imogen thought and what Imogen had said that Stefan thought and none of it, none of it, really, was what Lyle thought. Imogen was saying that that was what was important; what did Lyle think was going to make him happy? He wanted to laugh. Happy? Lyle would settle for safe. Lyle would settle for comfortable. Fuck, Lyle would settle for being able to walk down a crowded hallway without feeling like he was going to get jumped. He would settle for being able to sit through an entire dinner without the feeling that everyone was watching him. Lyle would settle for being able to sleep through the whole night without a nightmare. Lyle would settle for anything that was even remotely better than this. Happy just seemed... so out of reach. The top of the mountain when he was still at the bottom.

"I don't know," he said quietly, responding to the only question that he remembered hearing, and he frowned at himself upon that realization. He had requested that Imogen speak to him because he hadn't wanted to listen to Stefan read him her notes, but he wasn't even being considerate enough to actually listen. He was such a terrible friend, really, and this was just the thick of it. "I don't know what's the right thing or the wrong thing or the best thing or the worst thing. I don't know any of it, and I can't -- ask him. Or -- I can't... talk to him, because he doesn't want to talk. He never wants to talk. He just -- he -- he seems to want comfort, and I can do that. Of course I can do that. As best as I can, I can do that, because he did that for me, and I -- Gabby did that for me, and I know what comfort is, you know? I can do that. Except that Stefan wants comfort like -- he wants... distraction. And I can't -- I can't do that. I can't. And everytime I try to tell him that I can't he gets this -- this look," he made a face, his heartbeat racing the more he thought about it, the more it broke his fucking heart, "on his face. And I know. I know what he's thinking because Stefan isn't subtle. He thinks it's him, but it isn't. It isn't, but I can't -- I tell him. I tell him each and every time that it isn't him and he doesn't believe me and I don't know how to make him believe me without telling him how absolutely -- how --"

He broke off, shaking his head. He brought a hand up and pressed it to his forehead, breathing in and out sharply as he attempts to calm himself down. "I -- Stefan doesn't --" he broke off again, bit his lip, shifted where he was sitting. He took his hand away from his face and pressed it to his leg, staring down at it instead of looking at her. "Stefan was destroyed by his parents' death," he admitted quietly, shaking his head. "I have never -- never been so scared for someone in my entire life. It was -- it was so consuming, my fear. For him. For his future. For what I maybe thought he might do to himself because --" because maybe that had crossed my mind too, and I still had my mother and my friends and him and he just seemed to have no one at all anymore because I'm not there, really, not the way he wants or needs or -- "-- because it had seemed that... bad. And I --"

He made a noise and shifted again, pulling his hand away before pressing it back down to his thigh. "And I just -- can't. I can't do what he needs me to do, and I can't tell him no, and I can't -- I can't be anything. Anything good. I can't -- I can't be the person he deserves, and I -- I need to work on that. On me. But -- not for him. That's the problem, and I -- I haven't -- really... thought about myself. In a while. And I need to do that, and I -- I'm not leaving him. I'm not -- not abandoning him. I just -- I need space. I want to still be with him, but I need some space to figure out how to by myself before I can think about how to be myself with him. And I just -- I don't. I can't --"

He made a frustrated noise and stood up from his seat, moving away from the desk. He glanced around before finding a book on the desk a few spaces away. He walked over to it, picked it up, and threw it, as hard as he could, to the other side of the classroom, letting out a breath when it hit the ground with a harsh, satisfying thud. He took another deep breath.

"I can't be the one to destroy him. And I feel like staying with him, now, while I'm -- like this. Would do that. He needs something better than me. He needs something whole, and I'm not. He needs -- he wants -- there's other people. Who are -- interested. In him," Lyle remembered the dance, remembered the boy, remembered everything, "And maybe - maybe they'd be better suited. Maybe they can -- help him better. Because he wants a boyfriend and I just want to be able to look in the mirror and not hate myself and -- and I can't."

[Imogen Sauveterre]

It was a lot to take in, and at first Imogen didn't know what to do with it. But she had to say something, because Lyle had basically just poured his heart out to her and she couldn't just stand there stupidly and make him feel like an idiot. "Okay... look," she started, trying to sound gentle and understanding instead of scolding and dry, "what you want... what you want for yourself... that's what you need, you know? And you need to tell Stefan what you told me: that you want to still be with him, but you need your space right now so you can get yourself straightened out. And the space'll be good for him too, so he can focus on..." On what? What did kids who just lost their parents have to focus on? She struggled for an ending to the sentence, but couldn't find one and shrugged it off. "The point is, you both have things to work out on your own. And Lyle... it's okay to say no. I know it's hard to say no to someone you care about, but you have to think about you. This is what's best for you.

I'm not trying to tell you what to do. But you can't keep feeling like this, Lyle. It's not good for you. It'll fester and just hurt you more and more. So... you know what's best for you, Lyle. You just told me. So now... you just need to do it. And it'll hurt, but when you and Stefan have everything sorted out... I mean, if you want to start up again, won't it be a lot better?"