A/N

THE PICTURE ATTACHED HAS LITERALLY NOTHING TO DO WITH THE CHAPTER BUT CAN WE JUST APPRECIATE HIS LITTLE FACE FOR A MOMENT THANKS

Thomas's pov

37 days remaining

Fear.

When I was younger I used to venture out in the rain, my hands outstretched towards the cloudy sky. I would stand there as it drizzled, watching as each raindrop fell from above in a slow, dizzying pattern. Then, as the rain began to pick up, as it almost inevitably did, I'd drop my hands and allow the rain to pelt my skin, to soak me, to wash me clean. It was a strange, calming sense of peace.

And then, with my head bowed towards the ground and my hands limp at my sides, I'd see a flash of light and a crash of thunder. I would jump, staring around blindly for the sound that made my eardrums ring, feeling as my tranquil moment was abruptly snatched away. Another flash, brighter and more distinct, would dazzle my eyes, and with a fleeting feeling of panic, I'd race back towards the comfort of my home. My heart pounded as the lightning storm continued to rage around me, and this, I would mistakenly call fear.

But looking back, I know it wasn't fear. I was afraid, I was scared, but I wasn't fearful. Fear wasn't standing outside while it stormed around you; fear was the numbing sensation of being struck by lightning.

As I stared at my caller I.D., my mouth dry and my hands trembling, I felt for the first time real, genuine fear.

It dripped into my system slowly, like the drizzle I used to stand in. I felt the shock perforate my system, cold and bitter, but not numbing enough to prevent me from muttering an excuse to my friends and to escape from the room on shaky legs.

Once I stood outside, the party and my friends already drifting far from my mind, I felt the second wave of shock, like the drizzle had morphed into a downpour. My stomach churned angrily, and my fingers rose to hover over the 'answer call' button again. Hovering, but not answering.

I turned a corner and slid through an open doorway into a room that was deathly quiet. Taking a deep breath, I perched myself near an open window, glancing around almost subconsciously to assure myself that I was alone. My phone still buzzed in my hand, so while licking my dry lips, I answered the call.

And when I heard Reggie's voice reverberate through the phone line, that's when I finally felt that blinding, excruciating lightning bolt of fear.

"Hello, Thomas," he echoed through the line. I knew it had been him calling, but hearing his voice only seemed to heighten my terror. My hand shot out to clench on the white windowsill in front of me.

I couldn't speak. I tried, but the only sound that came out was a weak sort of whimper. I don't know why I felt so afraid, but my entire body buzzed with an apprehensive, tense feeling.

He continued without my response. "I was wondering if you were available for an interview right now?"

I wet my lips again, rolling my bottom lip between my teeth. I wiped a hand across my forehead, almost tiredly, and said in a forced calm tone, "Uh--I...I don't know if now is a good time."

"You agree with me? Perfect, let's get started," Reggie growled, as if I hadn't spoken at all. This time I restrained the urge to whimper; the less weakness he saw in me, the better.

"So," he said conversationally, "What's your progress with O'Brien so far?"

Grimacing, I pressed the phone tighter to my ear. "We're fine."

"Just fine? Sangster, if you don't give me more than two word answers than neither of us are going to end up happy, ya hear?" I closed my eyes when I heard how aggravated he sounded. If anything, it only made me feel worse.

"I..." I hesitated, then took another shaky breath, "I mean, yeah. Yeah, okay."

A beat of silence. For a moment I wondered if he could hear my racing heart through the phone, pounding with more intensity than if I ran a marathon. Blood rushed through my ears, making it difficult to hear his static voice that spoke to me.

"So are you that dense that I need to repeat the question or are you just going to answer me?"

I swallowed. I looked through the window, though I was too blind right now to really see. Then I replied, "He doesn't hate me anymore."

Reggie snorted. "Are you using the journal? Have you gone on a date yet?"

"We--" I froze. I turned towards the door, sure that I heard footsteps. The room remained empty though, nothing moving except for the white curtains stirring in the breeze. Reggie made me way too paranoid. I turned back to the window at which I stood.

"I've written in the journal a few times and Dylan and I went on one date. Look, my friends are going to be--"

"Have you kissed yet?"

I flinched. I hated this. I hated every moment of this. I hated how he asked each question, almost angrily, I hated how he wouldn't say Dylan's first name, and quite honestly, I hated him. My fear had yet to dissipate, but it wasn't my main focus anymore--kinda like how someone with a phobia of heights would be more focused on getting down to safe ground once they were up high, instead of focusing on their crippling terror. Instead, as my hands balled into fists, all I could see was my clear agitation with Reginald Mills.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," I replied with clenched teeth. It was my only defense.

"Don't fucking play with me, Sangster."

Dread coursed through me, like a surge of electric through a metal conductor. My agitation faded just as abruptly as it came, and I answered his question with a quiet, "No."

There was pause, one that I could only assume he was using to write down what I was saying. Finally he asked, "And what are your thoughts about our little game right now?"

I looked down at my hands, wincing as if I was in pain. "Um..." I started, but I couldn't continue. It seemed as though my jaw had locked shut, like a chain preventing me from speaking any further. I closed my eyes, pressing my lips into a thin line. Then I shook my head, feeling worthless.

"Honestly Reggie, I don't know about this bet anymore..." I confessed quietly, like I was talking to myself.

I could imagine him freezing while he's writing, staring at his phone in utter disbelief. When he spoke, his words shook in barely controlled anger. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know. I just..." I really didn't know what I meant. All I knew was that the idea of shattering Dylan's heart made an overwhelming sensation of guilt rise in my stomach.

"You're not fucking quitting on me now, Sangster," Reggie threatened, low and demanding. "You're in this until the end."

I took a deep breath to suppress rising tears. "Please, Reggie. I can't--I don't want to hurt Dylan. I can't make him fall in love for the sake of this stupid bet!"

For a brief second, I thought he would give in. I hoped that maybe he would show just an ounce of human compassion, that he would maybe, possibly agree with me. But, as it turns out, Reggie is a monster without a drop of empathy in his cold heart, so he said, "You really don't have a choice anymore, Thomas."

I fell silent. For a moment I remembered the words he said to me in the bathroom: You have a choice, of course. I'm not threatening you, and I'm certainly no criminal. They felt so fake now, so horribly etched into a false reality. I had been tricked into a false sense of comfort back then, but now I knew better. This man was horrible, my worst fear come to life.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I whispered.

Reggie barked out a harsh laugh, nothing short of the devil welcoming death. "You're just as guilty as I am. Thanks for the interview."

I lowered my phone from my ear when I heard the immediate buzzing on the other side, indicating that he had hung up. For a moment, all I could do was let my fear wash over me, a tsunami of ice cold regret. It wasn't drizzling, it wasn't pouring; I was standing in the middle of a hurricane, being repeatedly paralyzed by the fear that sparked down my body.

I shoved my phone into my pocket, but I couldn't bring myself to move away from the window. I raised a hand to my eyes,wiping at them with my fingers in a way that could easily pass as exhaustion. However, behind the hand that covered my expression, my face was contorted into an image of pain. I stopped the tears from falling with my hand, but I was sure my eyes would still be red. Maybe I shouldn't go back to the--

"Who was that?" a tentative voice shook through the silence, making my heart drop for the hundredth time in the past twenty minutes. I spun in shock, and when I saw what awaited behind me, I felt like I might pass out.

Kaya was standing in the room, her face masked in horror.

"W-what?" I stuttered, trying to remain calm. My heart picked up pace immediately, my fight-or-flight instinct making my hands twitch by my sides.

"Who's Reggie?" she pushed.

I could feel myself pale even more than I already had. "Were you eavesdropping on me?"

She ignored me. "Thomas Sangster, who is Reggie?"

Her voice was shrill and panicked, like she had just witnessed a crime scene. Her eyes were wide and her face was petrified, and my heart dropped even further.

"He's a..." journalist, I finished in my mind, though I knew I couldn't tell her that. "He's a friend of mine." Yeah, a lying, cheating, manipulative friend who likes to inflict pain.

"How much...how much of that did you hear?" I couldn't help but ask. I tried to appear calm, but my acting skills were clearly put under too much pressure in such a tense situation.

"Enough to know that you have some type of bet with this Reggie guy," she uttered, her volume quieting. "And that it involves dating Dylan."

"No, you must've--maybe heard wrong," I lied, hiding my alarm and panic as well as I could. I felt like a convict being interrogated by police.

Kaya walked closer, distrust clearly written on her face. "Don't lie to me Thomas Brodie-Sangster," she said harshly, "You made a bet with someone that you could make Dylan love you, didn't you?"

I shook my head furiously as Kaya shrunk away from me. She turned to me with the eyes of a stranger, like she had never seen me before. I didn't want to lie to her, but if I had to, I would.

"No, that's not--"

"You're lying!" she interrupted immediately, like the beginning of my lie was as clear to her as cloudless day, "Don't lie to me! I heard you say it!"

My silence seemed to speak for me.

"I...I don't even know what to say..." Kaya whispered as I unwillingly confirmed her suspicions. She clutched her fingers to her hair, holding on tight as if that would help her think. Still not quite letting the situation completely sink in, only one thought seemed present in my mind.

"Kaya," I started forward, "You cannot tell Dylan. If he finds out..."

"It'll destroy him," her lips didn't move as she spoke. She looked like she had been shocked by a thousand bolts of electricity, and her brain had ceased to function.

When she glanced at me my heart clenched while seeing the tears in her eyes. "You can't lead him on like this, Thomas. You...you just can't..."

"I'm--I'm not. I--" I broke off, watching as she began to silently cry, "Kaya, I just--I need to do this okay?"

She shook her head laughing, though her laughter was anything but happy: it was dry and horrified. "Why?" she said, wiping away her tears, bitterly smiling. "Why the hell would you make a bet like this?"

"I can't tell you," I choked, after a brief lapse of hesitation.

Her bitter smile twisted, and she looked she was holding back sobs. Then, as sudden as a snake striking its' prey, Kaya's heartbreak for Dylan morphed into red-hot fury. She came bounding forward, her eyes wild, looking astoundingly livid. I cowered away as she approached.

"I respected you!" she said, jamming her finger into my chest. "I defended you! I thought the media was wrong, that you were a good person with a bad image--but I was the one that was wrong!"

I swallowed, reaching to grab her wrist and calm her down. As my fingers wrapped around her frail skin, she ripped away from me, holding her wrist as if I had burned her.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed. Her tears kept falling. "How can you live with yourself?"

"Do you think I want to be doing this?" I protested, suddenly feeling like I had to defend myself. "I don't want to hurt him, Kaya!"

"Oh, bullshit, Thomas!" she cried. "If you actually cared about him you wouldn't have said yes in the first place."

"I didn't have a choice!"

"You always have a choice, even if it's a hard one to make." Her tone was so cold it was as if she had frozen over completely. I hated the way she looked at me, like a particularly gruesome piece of scum.

I shook my head. She didn't understand. No one would understand.

"I have to tell him," she stated blandly. She began to move towards the door.

"No!" I exclaimed, and this time I grabbed her arm so tightly she couldn't get away. "Kaya, please, please don't!"

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't, Tom," she demanded. A single tear fell down her cheek, her passion and sadness making marks as it fell past her lips.

My mouth fell open, searching for an answer. Desperately, I begged, "Let me. Let me tell him."

"Why would I let you do that?" she objected. The hesitancy was clear in her face.

"Because it's my problem, and you can't keep getting involved in other people's lives!"

I seemed to have struck a chord in her. She appeared to deflate into herself, looking disheartened. I could practically hear the gears turning in her head, and that's when I realized: she had just made up with Dylan after she got involved in his love life. Which posed the question, would she meddle again?

"Kaya, this is my problem, and I need to be the one to fix it, okay?" I said softly. I released her wrist, stepping away.

Kaya continued to stare at me. Her tears had stopped, but her cheeks were flushed red, stained by her compassion for her close friend. I knew she was stuck at a fork in the road; should she selfishly choose to step out of the precarious situation, safe from getting yelled at for meddling again? Or should she sacrifice herself and potentially her friends by telling Dylan everything I was doing?

"Kaya, I'll put an end to this eventually, okay? I just need time," I begged.

And when she reluctantly nodded, tears still falling down her cheeks, I knew she had chosen to act selfishly.

__________________________________________________________________________________

"I can't believe filming is over already," Dylan stated as he settled into his seat next to me. I hummed at him in acknowledgment, though my mind was already drifting off.

We currently sat on a plane, preparing ourselves for take off. In a few days time we'd be taking part in Comic-Con, where we would be forced to endure countless interviews to promote our new movie. Dylan and I luckily managed to get seats next to each other; unluckily, Kaya was seated just across the aisle. I had successfully managed to avoid eye contact with her thus far, but Dylan, oblivious to everything, had greeted her with a wide smile. She mirrored him, but as soon as he turned away, her eyes became sad. It made me think of a doctor watching a terminally ill child, willing to put on a brave face for comfort, but feeling nothing but pity behind closed doors.

"Oh shit," Dylan cursed, like he just remembered something. "I'm going to have to face Tyler and his never-ending interrogations soon."

Boldly, I reached across the armrest separating us and slid my hand into Dylan's. Ignoring his small smile at the motion, I replied, "If you think Tyler is bad, just imagine facing your mum after all this."

Dylan groaned. "She'll probably cry when I come home.I don't know what's worse--Tyler's incessant jabs, or my mom's weepy sentiment."

I grinned. Though Dylan was complaining about his family, I could tell he really cared about them. There was an unspoken tone of love beneath his whines, like an infant crying for his mother.

An announcement over the speakers warned us that our flight would be taking off, and Dylan's hand tightened in mine. He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the backrest.

"Not a big fan of take-off," he muttered, like he knew I was giving him a questioning gaze. I squeezed his hand tighter, reassuring him that I was there for him.

But when I met Kaya's gaze looking over, my hand loosened, almost in guilt. I turned away quickly, like an adolescent caught doing something they weren't supposed to.

The plane began to move, and I watched out the window as the world zoomed past. This is how my last two months had felt; the bet, meeting Dylan, hating Dylan, dating Dylan, filming, making friends--it all happened so quickly, disappearing before I could even make out what was happening. Sometimes I just wanted to stop moving so fast, to just freeze in place and finally fathom the world around me.

And then we were up in the air, floating carefully through the sky. Dylan perked up when take-off was completed, turning to me in excitement. Maybe take-off wasn't his forte, but soaring through the uninterrupted sky seemed to be.

"Look at all those clouds," Dylan murmured in awe. He pointed out the window by my head, and I cast half a glance out at the endless puffy expanse of sky before he continued, "It looks like heaven."

"Maybe it is heaven--I mean, I'm already sitting next to an angel," I said, smiling slightly at him as I said it.

Dylan scoffed and rolled his eyes, but his cheeks dusted a light pink. "You make me gag."

I smirked. "I was under the impression that you liked being gagged."

Across the aisle, I saw Kaya's eyes widen with my innuendo. Look who's eavesdropping again, huh? Dylan however, looking unaffected, replied instead, "Maybe this plane will take us to Canada so that Yukon go fuck yourself."

"I'll ask the pilot to take us to the Czech Republic instead," I replied, "then maybe you'll let me Czech you out?"

Dylan smirked. "Hm, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

I winked, "Who wouldn't babe?"

Dylan shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. He looked down at our hands resting in his lap, playing with my fingers absentmindedly. I watched as he began to roll his bottom lip between his teeth, lost in thought. What would happen to us once press was over? How was I supposed to make him fall in love if we didn't even see each other? Panic seized my body immediately, but it seemed Dylan was on the same trail of thought as myself, so I swept my feelings under a rug for now. I'd clean that mess up later.

"So what are your plans for the next month?" he asked me, looking up.

I shrugged noncommittally. "I'm flying back to London next week to see my family, but I'm only staying a few days. I have some auditions booked, but other than that, I think I'm just staying in L.A.."

Dylan raised an eyebrow, "Alone?"

"Yeah?" I asked. Obviously, I'd be alone. I've lived in L.A. for over a year now in my apartment.

"But...isn't that lonely?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged. "Sometimes," I relented. I didn't have many friends in L.A.. I knew what type of people lived there--the Hollywood stars who would do absolutely anything to be on top (hence why I live there, I guess)--and I didn't trust anyone. "But sometimes it's okay. My manager visits a lot, but he cares more about my career than me, so he's not very good company."

Dylan gnawed on his lip as he let that sink in. He didn't look away from my face as his thoughts whirred, and I briefly worried he was going to laugh at me.

"Come home with me," Dylan blurted finally. My mouth fell open in shock; I hadn't expected that.

"What?"

"I mean, only if you want to," he reiterated shyly. "I just don't think you should be alone all summer, you know? You could come to mine and visit for a while."

I stumbled on my words, both touched and surprised. "But--wouldn't your parents care?"

"Of course not, my parents would love you. I'll check with them of course, but I doubt they'd mind too much. And my sister would probably die of excitement; she watches all of your movies."

I opened my mouth then closed it, gaping at him like a fish. This was perfect! And, better yet, it'd be wonderful to spend more time with Dylan. Meeting his family might be a little rough, but I'm sure I could manage.

Dylan seemed to take my silence for indecision. "I'll let you think about it," he said. Then he closed his eyes, resting back again. I waited a few minutes, watching as his face relaxed, not quite asleep but clearly not aware.

Then for some reason, my heart seemed to sink. He looked so innocent, so pure, and here I was, using him to my own advantage. Not only that, but I was dragging his friend's down with me as well. He was a kindhearted, honorable person, and I was like the contaminating force that stained his untainted genuinity.

I looked out the window, watching the landscape that morphed and changed as we flew. Kaya's words from yesterday burned bright in my mind's eye; every expression, every sign of hurt--it all felt just too real. I couldn't pretend that this was all just a fantasy anymore; this was my reality, not some fucked-up fairytale.

Dylan shifted next to me, and I turned to see his face. I tried to hide my troubled expression when I saw his eyes were open and watching me again, but after spending nearly every moment of everyday working alongside this brunet boy, he could read me like an open book. I thought frantically, trying to come up with some fake reason as to why I might be sad, because surely he would ask.

I was wrong though. Dylan was full of surprises, and he seemed to understand without even asking that I didn't want to talk about it.

"Hey," he said, pouting slightly, "Whatever it is that's bothering you, it will be okay."

He pulled my hand that was clasped warmly in his upwards, and he leaned down slightly to be level with it. Then, without breaking eye contact, he pressed kisses as light as a butterfly's touch down on to each of my knuckles. Looking at him, his eyes reassuring and innocently warm, I couldn't help but agree. How could anything ever go wrong when he was looking at me like that?

But once I glanced over his shoulder, noting Kaya's sad and disapproving gaze locked on our intertwined hands, the question always returned.

Would it be okay?

//

ITS BEEN TWO DAYS BOW DOWN TO ME

im trash bye

recommending "If I Die Young" by newts-limp I haven't finished it yet but the beginning is vv good and I s2g if you comment any spoilers I'll hit you

also this is the first time that I'm not updating at 2 AM I am a new woman

one more thing, people are so nice on this website?? like seriously you all deserve rainbows and puppies and happiness because you're so sweet??

um why did Adele cross the road?
to say hello from the other side

get some sleep, eat well, and spread some love. good karma never hurt anyone

update my teeth are still clean

until next time,

//sam\\