"Is it the water that drives you home, or the rhythm of swaying palms?"
- Linden Ave, Souvenirs

---

It was late into dinner when you realized the worst.
Time had passed, since you'd seen your friends and even your family. You'd kept in touch with your parents through text and an occasional video call, re-assuring them over and over that no, you weren't dead. You weren't even missing.
You were right where you needed to be, and they soon left it at that. While knowing your general location, of course.
But thinking about it all now...
Honestly... you just wanted to go home.
With tears in your eyes, your heart made that realization. Beverly Hills had been nice—a dream to remember, for sure—but it was time to wake up.
You had to face your past again. You couldn't keep hiding in the shadows, willing the sun not to rise and expose all that you were.
But it could and it would and there was nothing you could do to stop that gravitational orbit.
It... needed to be done.
So with one last sip of your favorite drink, you looked to Andy, who glanced down from the restaurant's TV and looked back at you.
"What's up?"
You were glad the tears weren't noticeable. You were wearing Andy's shades, after all. Paired that with your fancy dress, and you were certainly a sight.
Or maybe "hot mess" would be more suitable.
But even still... You needed to go home.
"I..." And just with the drop of your lower lip, the way it grazed against your straw, you were rendered speechless.
"I..."
Andy briefly mouthed a reply, some part of his face showing confusion. The rest just mimicked you, echoing back.
"You..."
I can't do this.
I can't keep running away.
You realized why you had gone to Warped Tour in the first place. You needed an escape, a place to truly be yourself.
And now, here you were. Disbanding every part of what made you yourself. Taking it all and bundling those sticks up into a new form. Another creation.
You had to go back.
And so you did.

---

The car ride was silent, for the most part. Andy didn't ask questions, obeying each command as you spoke them into existence.
"Turn here."
"Get off on this exit."
"It's this house right here."
Souvenirs was playing again, a random song popping up on your playlist. And when Andy turned into your driveway, gravel crunching beneath his tires, you mouthed the song as it was sung.
"Is it the stretch of Linden Ave? That street looked so good this time of year."
A push of the car door, a handful of steps forward, and you were presented with one more fear.
You took a deep breath, held it, and unlocked the front door, Andy behind you.
You bowed your head, not meeting their eyes as you slipped off your shoes, Andy quickly following with his boots.
"Wait a minute." Your blood froze as your mom peered forward. you closed your eyes, preparing for the sheer embarrassment recollection could bring. "You're—"
You swallowed, wanting to disappear as the words came out.
That guy she always stares at on her computer.
You just dodged your first bullet. a voice in your head said. Congratulations—let's dodge a clip from a machine gun.
"So you've been—"
"With him, yes..."
"Who lives—"
"In Beverly Hills, yes—"
"Where's—"
"The friend I left with? I don't know."
Suddenly, the door behind you and Andy opened.
"Yo, bestie!" Just the voice brought a smile to your face, however unwelcomed it may have been. "Saw your location on SnapChat—where's—"
And she looked to her left, away from you and near the living room. Andy.
With her hand to her mouth, she let out a scream that mimicked every fangirl in existence.
"He's—"
"Yes."
"But you—"
"Haven't been responding, I know—"
"I thought—"
"I know."
"When you—"
"I was with him."
"So you haven't—"
Your face dropped into pure astonished shock. "Oh, God no!"
"Oh, thank GOD." She put a hand to your shoulder. After a moment of pause, she looked up.
"So what we all doing here, fam?"
With a glare settling on her face, your mother crossed her arms. "Just having a chat with our estranged child."
"I let you guys know where I was!" you cried out.
A pause, then the truth:
"... the general location, at least."
Your friend snickered a smile, prompting Andy's stare to her. And with his attention away from you, however slight, you were able to think again.
"I love him," you admitted, looking back to those that raised you. "I always have."
"Do you even know him?" Your mother asked. "Even with all those interviews, you—"
"Even with all those interviews," your dad interjected, speaking for the first time, "you're only getting the side of them they want you to see."
"So?" you cried out. "Andy has always been authentic. He's part of a new breed of consciousness that you'll see just when you talk with him—"
"Leave." A single word that took you a moment to register. And then you turned to Andy and your friend, hearing your mother repeat herself.
"Leave," she said again, arms still crossed. "This is a family matter, and both of you need not be here."
"Uh, yeah, sure." Your friend shuffled around and pushed open the door, letting in a few summer bugs. "Just lemme—" She tried swatting them off only to prompt a sigh from Andy as he followed her out.
"I'll be waiting outside when you're done." With a glance to your family, you got the second part of his message.
Text me if you need me.
And just like that, the door stopped moving, leaving a sliver of space and leaving you alone.

Notes