In his bedroom, Pacey sprawled on his front, chewing aimlessly at a broken pencil as he poured over several crumpled letters in his hand. All addressed to him and all from the one friend. Phone calls were apparently too much of a nuisance for either of their father's to accept, and so, letters their only real opportunity to follow each other's lives.
Night had long since arrived, and the strained lamp above caused him to squint at the scrawled print before him. He pulled at his coffee, took a generous swig, wiped at his mouth with a sleeve and drew on an exaggerated yawn.
Dear Cruddy,
Today was hell. Y'know, to say the least. I mean, it's bad enough I can't go loiter innocently on the docks with you anymore, but Dawson's the only real friend left and let's face it - he's a dumbass. Well, he's a million times smarter than me, but he's profoundly clueless when it comes to all things un-him. If his name isn't central to the plot, it can't be all that important, or I'm exaggerating things. But I'm sure, deep down, he means well. It isn't his fault he's so annoyingly optimistic, it isn't his fault his family mirror some perfect little thing from a Disney film. It isn't his fault mines don't.
I'm not really angry at D, I know who I'm angry at, but it's easier to be angry at a friend than him. It's just that, Dawson's supposed to understand. You know? He bangs on about this connection between himself and Joey and how much he values his friendships, but you're the only one that really gets it.
In your last letter you talked about this look your dad gets when he's going to start in on your mom. The... the point-of-no-return look and you can automatically predict how the argument's going to pan out from there on in; well I caught that same look in my own pop's eye after he found out I posted two C's at school. I don't need to go into the graphics of it all, but you can probably guess the rest.
What's more, Heaven forbid, I stood poor Dawson and Joey up. Remember I told you about that little horror flick Dawson dreamt up last fall? He finally finished his script and volunteered my summer to helping him shoot it. "Sea Creature from the Deep," if the title makes you laugh, you should read the script. No, sorry. That's an insult. Can't go insulting King Leery.
Hey, don't judge me Will because I can just picture you smirking and shaking your head once you scan a critical eye over this. Next to you, he's my best friend. I'd just like him to appreciate that once in a while. He treats Joey with so much reverence, but finds the audacity to try to "pull me into line" after I've just gone up against the Great Sheriff Witter for a solid hour. They're both real asses sometimes.
And Dawson wonders why I'm not talking to him.
Pacey dropped his pencil with another tired yawn. He flexed the fingers of his left hand as it cramped up on him. Such a short letter, but such a strained two hours of heart and contemplation.
He usually surprised himself at how easy it felt opening up to Will through their writing; especially seeing as the boys were never particularly close when in the same living quarters, but as Will had expressed once "there's no going back once we've bonded over dysfunctional dad issues" and he was right. They've continued to console each other ever since.
"Pacey!"
Pacey hauled himself to his feet, folded his letter up and slipped it desperately into the back pocket of his jeans. He crossed his arms and feigned innocence as his eldest sister bounded in, clutching the hand of her wailing young.
"Dinner, runt. You're not going to be called again." Pacey nodded with a forced smile. She paused in the doorway. "What are you up to in here anyway?" She glared about his domain curiously, "If you're taking something, smoking, Dad will find out, you know."
"Oh, I know, Carrie. He has his spies, right?" Pacey squinted, with a mock paranoia. His nephew giggled and snapped away from his mother instantly. Pacey bent his knees, and with outstretched arms swept the boy into a tight embrace. "What's say we go force your granny's inedible charcoal down our throats and then I'll see if there's some icecream left at the back of the freezer, huh Paul?"
"I wouldn't get too attached to Uncle Pacey, sweetheart. You won't be seeing much of him soon."
"Are you leaving?" Pacey asked, failing to disguise his enthusiasm.
"No, but you hid your report card well. It could fall into the wrong hands stuffed at the back of the sofa like that. Luckily for you, Jeremy found it and gave it up to me."
Pacey expelled a relieved sigh and dropped his forehead against Paul's as the child cuddled against him.
"And then of course I felt obliged to give it up to Dad," She chuckled and ruffled a hand through his hair before he could shrug her away. "Dinner's going to be so interesting this evening. Just as well though, there's flip all on the TV."