‹ Prequel: Winter Wakes

Summer Shadows

Nineteen.

"You've slept through it the last three mornings, you realize."

"I also felt nothing short of like ass the last three days, and spent most of them dead to the world," my reply came in a huff as I stretched from my seated spot on the bed, trying to take the bag Simon held just out of my reach. An amused smirk pulled at the corner of his lips; and the more I stretched, the further he pulled the bag back.

"And who's fault was that, hm?" His curls were out of his face for a change, hair secured back in a small bun. The front of his grey shirt had a V of sweat on it.

I'd awoken in the early morning hours to find he wasn't there. The clock read half past eight; I hadn't been up before noon nearly since Katie had hauled me out of bed for the volleyball game. I'd been almost sent into a state of alarm though, at the realization Simon wasn't there. It had prompted me to use my phone for the first time in days. One text was sent in response and he'd returned half an hour later, only to find me sitting wide-eyed on my bed waiting for him.

"I'd like to blame a third party who shall remain nameless for the time but, I get that was a dig at me. Stop being an ass and give me the bag." I finished my statement with a solid cough, wrinkling my nose.

Simon had been on his morning run, it had turned out, just as he'd done the last few days he'd stayed with me. He made a point to do it early enough in the day where I'd more than likely still be asleep—there was always a chance to nap considering I spent a fair amount of time out at the hands of my meds. This had been an odd morning, though, and I'd woken up far earlier than he'd anticipated. Partially out of hunger. My appetite during my cold had bottomed out, and while I had eaten some, it had been purely at his pushing and just enough to satisfy him. But, my stomach had awoken me with a vengeance this morning, and Simon had returned with food.

"Wow, that's not a very nice way to talk to someone who's been taking care of you in your sickly state. Maybe you really are a brat after all." He feigned a pout, moving the bag further out of my reach. I couldn't help but whine a bit, finally standing up on the mattress itself in an attempt to grab the food. He had about a foot on me on solid ground, I had to make use of the advantage the bed gave me in that situation. That got a laugh out of him, moving it behind his back as he used his other arm to try to fend me off. One of my hands found his shoulder, putting a fair bit of my weight on it as I tried to reach down and take what was mine. At least, he said he'd brought it back for me.

"I'm hungry, and you said that was a chicken biscuit and hash browns; Simon--" The whine in my voice was clear; and I had to admit, I was acting like a brat, at least slightly. But I was still somewhat sick, I had that right. I made one more good grab at the bag before Simon moved it again, tossing it lightly on the bedside table. My first instinct was to go for it; but he had other plans. I didn't have a chance to move before he did, sweeping me off of my feet with one fluid motion. A startled "Oh--" left me as I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging as though my life depended on it. In response, he laughed.

I blinked a few times, feeling a heat color my cheeks as I glanced up at him. He had a nice laugh; as rare as it was, it certainly was pleasing to hear. The circles under his eyes didn't seem quite as bad then, either. Perhaps it was the fact neither of us had precisely been shorted on rest the last few nights, I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but his presence made resting so much easier. Our eyes met as he looked down at me with a soft and genuine smile. I couldn't recall when I had received something so earnest from him when I believed he was Oliver. This felt so natural, so warm.

"Could you do me a favor?" He spoke in that soft, low voice then. The one that made me want to agree with whatever he may have wanted. I, of course, nodded. "Say my name again, please."

That request hadn't quite been what I had anticipated, and my initial response was to stare at him, somewhat blankly. He didn't quirk an eyebrow at that, or smirk even. Instead, I watched his face take on a bit of a flush, and the blonde boy quickly turned his gaze to the side.

"I mean—Its just—I like... hearing you say it. It's... its nice. You saying my name, and not his. It's been so long since someone called me by my name and knew it was me."

Of course, Simon had never refuted or corrected anyone's use of Oliver's name. How could he? It had been months he'd spent, going along with the guise of his twin, answering to being addressed as the brother who had lived—the brother he blamed himself for being comatose to begin with. How much had that hurt him every time?

Carefully, I loosened my hold on his neck with one hand, using it instead to turn his gaze back to meet mine. He seemed almost reluctant to look back at me, certainly different from what I was used to. "...I'd have used your name far sooner if you would have just told me, you know, Simon."

A small sigh left him then, closing his eyes as he leaned into my touch. "I know you would have, Maggie. I know. I can't apologize enough. Just... say it again."

I smiled a little. "It's going to lose its charm if I keep it up, Simon."

"It won't, I promise. You don't know how much it means to have someone address me as me. Especially you." He opened his eyes again, bright blue irises settled intently on me. I didn't recoil; I didn't look away. Above all else, I wanted his attention. I just wanted him, actually. I did something then, something I'd wanted to do for a while, an urge that was horribly amplified now that I knew who I was truly dealing with—and my cold was finally easing up. I leaned in, and tugged Simon carefully towards me.

"I guess you're feeling better then, huh?"

The sound of Katie's voice from the doorway caused me to pull back immediately, peering over Simon's shoulder in a bewildered state. I'd barely seen her since our encounter on the night I'd sent her off with Cal; I faintly remember catching glimpses of her as I dozed on Simon during the last two or so days, but I hadn't managed a word before I had fallen back asleep in his comforting embrace.

"Y'know, why the hell did I even bother coming down here to make sure y'all were okay in the first place." With a scoff and a scowl, Katie pushed off of the doorframe, leaving us in a stunned silence.

I knew without a doubt I couldn’t fault her for being upset with me—or us. Our closeness as of late certainly amplified the distance she felt hovered between us. She didn't know everything, how could she? It was bound to cause problems—to hurt her. I had never wanted that for Katie.

I blinked once, and twice, only vaguely aware of Simon's focus on me. Slowly, I looked back at him, only to find a frown tugging at his lips. "I know you need to talk to her. But we need to discuss it a little, I think. And I want you to eat. Okay?"

Managing a small nod, Simon carefully set me down before handing me the bag of food he'd tossed on the bedside table. The gnawing hunger I felt wasn't deterred by my concern over the situation with Katie, and I dug in without a word. Simon paced a little as I did, before making his way over to the closet. It was about fifty-fifty between the guy's clothes that had been here when my stay had started, and those that belonged to me. He took that opportunity to change into a clean shirt from the part that had belonged to him or his brother, making his way back to the bed to sit down beside me thereafter.

"...I have to tell her something." My hash browns were gone, and I fidgeted with the wrapper on the chicken biscuit. He reached over and took it from me long enough to unwrap it before giving it back.

"Agreed. This... isn't exactly an easy situation for any of us. I'm sure you get why I've been avoiding her, though."

"Of course, you're not who she thinks you are." I shrugged, taking a bite of the biscuit. Food still didn't taste quite right, since the cold was still lingering a bit. But all things considered, it hit the spot. "And I don't know how to talk to her about our closeness, or hardly any of the weird stuff that's been going on."

"You mean the seeing dead people thing, and Darren, of course."
I frowned a little, nodding as I chewed my food. It was all complex, and frankly unbelievable. How would one discuss any of that?

"Speaking of the latter," his tone was suddenly serious, and a bit hard. I slowly looked over at him, his eyes had taken on a steely quality, expression surprisingly severe. "Don't think you and I aren't due for a conversation about Darren, Magnolia. We very much are."

I watched him with mild fascination for a moment, shades of the Simon I remembered from that winter flaring up bright and vivid before me in those moments. That was the Simon I had come to know. The urge to kiss him was back then, and for a second I all but forgot the biscuit in my hand. Leaning in seemed like nothing short of pure instinct once again, so I did. The light touch of Simon's fingertip against my lips pulled me to a halt, though. I blinked once, and twice, glancing down for a moment before back up to meet his gaze.

"If," his voice was low again, almost scratchy, his eyes focused on mine with an intensity that I couldn't get enough of. "If you kiss me right now, Magnolia Walton, I can promise you with absolute certainty this will be another day neither one of us leaves this bed, but for far different reasons."

To say his words sparked a flame of want within me then was an understatement; Simon Dreyton had more accurately ignited a forest fire. Whether he had intended it as a warning or reason for me to mull my next set of actions over, I certainly hadn't taken it as such.

"And as much as I want you to, it undoubtedly means you won't be discussing anything with Katie for another good while." He didn't move as he drove home that truth, refusing to so much as break our eye contact.

Simon, it seemed, while most capable at derailing and distracting me from matters at hand with just a few words or a look, also knew very well how to refocus me. I stayed silent as I processed his words, images of Katie flitting across my mind. I had to fix this, I had to do something about how things were between us. With a slow sigh, my gaze fell, and I moved myself back just a fraction from the blonde.

"I don't want to be a dividing factor between the two of you. She's been there when I haven't."

He was also right on that front: despite being kept in the dark Katie had been by my side through it all since January. She hadn't pried, she hadn't pushed for answers I hadn't wanted to give. Katie was a blessing; and I couldn't risk losing her.

"I'm going to go shower; It's not my place to tell you what should be said to her. I trust you'll do what's best for your friendship, and her wellbeing. It'll be okay." With that, Simon leaned over and placed a soft kiss on my temple before he stood and left the room. For the faith he had in me, I wasn't sure I had any in myself in this situation. I stared at the chicken biscuit in my hand for a minute or two before i finished it, balling the wrapper up and putting it in the otherwise empty paper bag. With that, I stood and made my way downstairs.
Katie was in the kitchen, coffee cup in one hand and a hard look on her face as she stared at her phone. She spared a glance up at me as I entered, eyes narrowing slightly before she looked back down.

"Don't worry, I'll be out of yall's hair in a little bit. Cal had an errand to run." Her tone was clipped, bitterness more than apparent.

"You don't have to go anywhere, Katie. Actually, I'd prefer if you didn't." I paused. "I want to talk to you about... everything."

"Oh, 'everything?' You say? You're feeling generous enough to grant little old me the privilege of hearing what's been going on? How kind of you, Maggie."

As right as she was to be so bitterly sarcastic, I genuinely couldn’t help but feel a sting at her words. But I deserved it; looking to the side I quieted for a moment. Katie waited.

“It all goes back to January. And I should have told you all about it then, as unbelievable and insane as it’s going to sound. If you don’t believe me, I wouldn’t blame you. But. You need to know. It all started with a funeral; Simon’s funeral.”

I couldn’t sit, then, pacing uneasily around the kitchen as I poured out everything I’d been keeping from her. It was weird, vocalizing the tale of the last six months aloud to someone like that, and I knew if it sounded farfetched to my ears, it must sound absolutely bogus to her. But despite all of that, Katie didn’t interrupt. And she didn’t leave, either. It felt like it took forever, while simultaneously taking no time at all. I hadn’t spoken that much in such a long time; my throat felt dry and sore as I wound things down, only at that point faintly realizing I’d picked my nails to bits. I omitted one small thing; the details surrounding Simon’s confession of his identity. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what I’d tried to do on that awful evening; I didn’t even want to think about it.

Silence finally settled in as I finished, and for the first time since I’d begun to speak, I spared a look up at Katie. I couldn’t say I was too surprised to find she’d settled me with an incredulous stare; I’d have done the same thing in her position, undoubtedly. I waited for her to process it all without a word.

“You, are you serious?”

“Yeah—I mean. I’m trying to be honest with you. As ridiculous as it all sounds, Katie.”

“Y’really expect me to believe all of… that? Even if it does fill in some holes I never bothered to nitpick before—“

“You mean like why I’d asked you to find me George’s classroom and the results thereafter? Or Daniel’s genuine lapse of memory on what had happened at the party?”

Katie squeezed her eyes shut, sucking her lips in as she gave a few firm shakes of her head. “Maggie, I don’t know if I can believe this—y’want me to believe this, as the truth, but it’s so…”

“Unbelievable. I know. And I can’t blame you.”

“I don’t think anyone could. I sure as hell know if I were in your position I’d be asking what the hell she was smoking. But I can assure you, she’s not lying.” Simon’s voice caught me by surprise, and with a slight jump, I turned to look at him. He was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and hair still slightly damp as he peered over the tops of his glasses at us. His eyes met mine. “Held nothing back, did you?”

My cheeks took an immediate flush at his blunt accusation, sputtering out a few incoherent syllables. Something akin to a slow grin pulled at one corner of his mouth. “I, for one, am just glad you’re talking. Especially considering I couldn’t get much out of you the last month.”

“Hold the hell up, you—are you trying to tell me that you’re—you’re—no. You are dead. I mean—you’re not dead, Simon is dead, you’re Oliver—“

Simon’s gaze shifted from myself to Katie, and I slowly turned to face her once more. The look on her face was one of heart-wrenching confusion and disbelief; which was completely fair. How could she fully believe what she’d been told? How could she listened as what was supposed to be her best friend collaborated that he was, in fact, not who she thought, not who he should be?

“…The night Maggie was drugged at the party, you pissed Martin Grikes off when you somehow bounced the ball off not one, but two cups before you made it into a third one during beer pong. And then, in turn, you were absolutely fuming when Daniel—aka myself—pulled you away from the game and out of the house. On the way out we encountered Felicia. I distinctly remember her calling you a ‘country Barbie thot’ as we passed. I literally had to pick you up by the waist and carry you out to stop you from trying to claw her eyes out.”

Simon’s statement would have sent me into a fit of laughter any other day, but instead I found myself silently glancing between the two of them, the tension in the air almost palpable.

Simon spoke again. “Please, offer me another valid explanation for how I would know that.”

Another pause took hold as Katie offered no immediate reply. Her phone buzzed steadily on the kitchen counter. Even from where I stood I could see Cal’s name glaring up from the screen. Her face had become somewhat pallid, arms crossed and fingers pressed tightly into her own skin as she stared passed me at Simon.

“This can’t be real,” she muttered, finally shaking her head.

“Was the night you woke up to a stranger’s hands around your throat real, Katie?”

A steel knot took up residence in my stomach at those words, the mere thought of Darren enough to send my mind in a million awful directions at once.

“That—he was there—“ Her protest was immediate, defiant almost. Behind me I could hear Simon shuffling a few steps closer.

“I know that. Maggie knows that. But no one else does or will. I just want to know one thing, Katie. Was this him?” His voice was calm as he spoke, stepping up beside me as he held his phone across the island bar towards her. Her eyes hovered on him for a few more moments, but, almost reluctantly she glanced down at his phone. In no time her hand was over her mouth, head shaking as she took a few steps back. I didn’t hesitate to snatch the phone from Simon’s grip.

One of the Rhode Island newspapers’ websites stared up at me, a picture of Darren front and center above an article detailing his sudden disappearance, and the discovery of his car with no driver in the local river. He was presumed dead.

“That’s—Jesus Christ on a cracker that’s him—“ Katie sounded near hyperventilation, and I was around the island bar and at her side without a word. She flinched back from my touch as I reached out to her.

“He’s dead, Katie. He’s been dead since January. But he’s not gone, unfortunately. And to try to hurt Maggie, he had a go at you. He still might. I know that isn’t comforting, but it’s a fact we all have to face. It’s better if you know.” Simon kept his tone even and gentle. “She’s been trying to protect us from this, from him, but it’s kind of hard to fend off something that’s…”

His eyes shift to mine as he trailed off, all of us knowing he didn’t have to finish that sentence. It’s hard to fend off something that’s no longer in the realm of the living, beyond physical touch. He wasn’t wrong, at all.

The air of the room had taken on a heavy feel; something unpleasant. A shadow danced across the room temporarily; sun blotted out briefly by a passing cloud. The cold truth of what was happening was out in the open; no longer bottled up and eating me from the inside out. Instead, the reality was now there to plague even those I cared about. A chill enveloped the room.

“How rude, talking about someone when they aren’t here to even speak for themselves. Tsk tsk, Maggie.”

The blood in my veins suddenly felt like ice at the new voice; one that was all to unpleasantly familiar, taunting from just behind me. I didn’t even have a chance to turn as I felt a cold, steely grip on my wrist, Darren tugging me off-balance and backwards towards him. There wasn’t a chance to process much before the blackness enveloped me, except the unusual look of alarm on Simon’s face as our eyes met briefly, the knowledge and fear of what was about to happen, and Darren’s last few words.

“Now it’s time I had my fun.”
♠ ♠ ♠
At least I finally churned something out.