A/N
The beginning of this chapter is so so so bad I'm sorry but hopefully you'll like the ending okay Im sorry again cool nice thanks

also this is dedicated to LavenderSangster because it was her bday yesterday!!

Thomas's pov

35 days remaining

The heat of the lights illuminating our faces made me squirm uncomfortably, though that was nothing compared to the intensity of the gazes looking up at us. Dozens of people stretched out in front of me, all with eager faces and excited smiles stretching across their lips. I sat with my legs crossed behind a large white table, a microphone in front of me, trying my best not to zone out as the interviewer asked us the same repetitive questions we had been hearing all day.

I never particularly enjoyed interviews, which meant Comic-Con was nothing short of a nightmare for me. Stretching out on both sides of me sat Kaya, Will, Dylan, Wes, and Wyck Marty, each plastering on their fake smiles that didn't quite reach their eyes. It was all for show; just for the cameras. These events only seemed to remind me of the fact that I was a goldfish for the public to gape at, their noses pressed up to the tank to watch my every move. With all the lights shining down on us right now, it was hard to miss any of my movements anyway.

Even Dylan seemed to be tiring out; at first, he had been the driving force behind every interview, the guy you could depend on to crack a joke at the most inopportune moments. But that was yesterday; after we landed in California, we had been swept immediately to Comic-Con. Yesterday we all had more pep--today? not so much. This was our sixth interview of the day, and it wasn't even two p.m. yet.

The interviewer asked another question, his voice slightly distorted in the sound system. My eyes only flicked up to watch as Dylan leaned forward to speak. I wasn't really listening, but that didn't matter much. A small grin played coyly on my lips as he said something that made the crowd laugh--it was remarkable how far he had come since his last interview. He quite resembled a distorted bud of a flower; at first, it seems like the bud might not make it in the environment, but once it blooms, it flourishes into the most rich, radiant flower in the garden. I looked down to hide my smile in my lap.

Forty-five minutes later and we were finally finished--which thankfully meant we had nearly an hour and a half break until our next promotion.

"I'm starving," groaned Dylan as we made our way off stage.

"Hi starving, I'm Will," Will perked up behind us. I laughed when Dylan hissed in dismay.

"Now is not the time for dad jokes," Dyl said, "I'm too hungry for that shit."

I couldn't help but agree. We made our way to one of the four back rooms designated for meals, situated in the far corner of the building where we couldn't be disturbed. I knew the cast was making conversation, but the only thought running around my head was, "FOOD FOOD FOOD."

I'm not even sorry.

Entering the room felt like walking into heaven. The smells of burgers and pizza and salad wafted through my nose, temptation at its finest. I pushed through a crowd of people standing by the doorway, my mouth already beginning to water with the delectable smells that made me want to just pass out in joy. Would fainting for food be sad? I think it would be even more depressing to pass out before I even got to try any of it.

(A/N if you can't tell, I'm hungry lmao)

Dylan and Kaya followed me immediately to the line cultivating be the food tables. When I glanced at them, they too seemed lost in a food trance, dazed by the overwhelming sensations lighting fires under our noses.

So here's the thing about being super hungry; 'your eyes are bigger than your stomach' usually tends to stand true. I piled mountains of food onto my plate, feeling like I could eat a horse; and the horse's mother; and the owner of the horse's mother and horse--and promptly found a table for all of us to sit at. I dug in without waiting to see if anyone followed me, and when Kaya and Dylan too settled into their chairs, I didn't even acknowledge them.

And here's the second part about being so hungry; you become a ravenous pig. And it's only then, after you've eaten more food than you should have eaten in your entire life, that you realize it was simply too much. After just minutes of shoveling food down my throat, I felt like a balloon fit to pop.

The final part?--you eat too fast.

So exactly six minutes and thirty-two seconds after we had turned into famished vultures, Dylan, Kaya and I leaned back in our chairs, too full for it to be healthy, half of our meals still on our plate, and with the realization that now we would have to sit in this room for the next hour and twenty-four minutes with absolutely nothing to do.

I moaned, clutching my stomach. Kaya slumped forward in her chair and Dylan leaned back, looking defeated by his half-empty plate.

"I'm never eating again," I muttered. I felt so full I could hardly breathe.

Dylan snorted. "That notion will last less than an hour."

I nodded my agreement, then pulled out my phone to entertain myself. Dylan did the same as Kaya pulled out a book from her shoulder bag, immediately burying her nose inside. We slipped into a comfortable silence, occasionally breaking it to show each other something funny.

Scrolling through twitter only managed to amuse me for about twenty minutes though. Sighing, I slipped my phone back into my pocket. I rested my head back with the intent to take a nap in the time we had left for ourselves.

However, I was broken from my doze just minutes later by movement from Dylan. I opened one eye to watch him as he placed his phone on the table, an indifferent and monotonous expression decorating his features. I shut my eyes again and relaxed back into my chair.

Another few minutes passed in quiet silence. I couldn't fall asleep but I also couldn't find anything worth thinking about, so I just sat there quietly, boredom beginning to settle in. Dylan sighed, but this time I ignored him.

Dylan began tapping his fingers on the table, a sure sign that he was beginning to hate the dullness of our situation too. He sighed again, this time louder and more exaggerated. Though my eyes were closed, I imagined him crossing his arms over his chest in a pout.

"What's wrong with you?" I heard Kaya ask him, the patience in her voice worn thin. I opened my eyes and sat back up, noting how Kaya still had her head angled down and was looking at Dylan over the top of her book.

"I'm bored," Dylan moaned, throwing his head back dramatically. He sighed again, this time so loud that people from the surrounding tables looked over.

"I'd rather watch paint dry," I muttered in agreement. I rested my head on my hands, with my elbows stretched unattractively on top of the table. Kaya rolled her eyes at the both of us, then returned her gaze back to her book.

Dylan groaned in frustration again. He glanced around the room, looking for a source of entertainment. Letting my head fall from my hands, I reached for a napkin, beginning to rip it to pieces. For another few minutes, we sat in a depressingly boring silence, all lost in our own thoughts.

"I have an idea," Dylan broke the quiet. I looked up, noting with suspicion the playful smirk he wore. "Go get that girl's number."

He nodded his head towards the opposite side of the room. I turned in my chair, scanning the area quickly before my eyes landed on a brunette girl sitting alone at one of the tables. I had no idea who she was, nor why Dylan picked her of all people. She was attractive, even I could tell that; her brown hair fell down pin-straight along her back, her matching brown eyes trained on her phone. She wore a pair of jean shorts and a lavender crop top to match.

I turned back to the table, not even bothering to try and hide my confusion. Dylan was smirking.

"Dyl, honey," I scrunched my eyebrow in fake sympathy, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm gay."

"Oh, trust me, I've noticed," he replied, with a wave of his hand. He pushed back his hair--it was finally beginning to grow back--and winked.

"Then why...?" I trailed off. I tilted my head, not even bothering to finish the question.

Dylan seemed to understand what I was trying to ask. "C'mon, I'm bored and it would be funny."

"That's so mean," Kaya chimed in, looking up from her book again. She let the novel fall disregarded and forgotten into her lap. "He'd be leading the poor girl on."

Kaya glanced at me as the second part of her words registered in both of our minds. She glared at me as if to say wouldn't be the first person you lead on either. I shrunk under her gaze, hating the irony of the situation.

Dylan, oblivious to the silent exchange, continued, "Nah, everyone knows Thomas is gay. She'll probably just be confused."

"Or she would think that I'm confused. Like, sexually," I retorted. Dylan rolled his eyes.

"Oh, just do it. I dare you!" he said, grinning slyly. He leaned forward in his chair, sticking out his bottom lip to beg.

"Don't do it," Kaya ordered. "You'll hurt the poor girl's feelings."

I glared at her. She crossed her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrows as if waiting for me to disobey her. She looked expectant, almost as if she knew I was going to fall down onto my knees at her feet. Well, sorry mum but I'm my own man, and this man makes his own decisions.

"I never say no to a dare," I said, feeling smug when Kaya's eyebrows fell back down in disappointment. She rolled her eyes, puffing out her cheeks as she sighed.

"Obviously," she muttered angrily. She picked up her book, more aggressively than necessary, and went back to reading. Her eyes didn't move along the page though, so I knew she was waiting to see if I lived up to my words.

I cast one more glance at Dylan before rising slowly from my chair. Hesitating by the table, I stared at the brunette girl for a moment, who sat innocently unaware. I rubbed my hand together, then reluctantly began the stride towards the girl.

"Hi," I greeted when I was near enough for her to hear me. I smiled--the smile I had been told could melt the arctic because it was so warm and swoon worthy--and gave a small wave.

The girl glanced up, raising an eyebrow at me. "Hello?" she asked in confusion.

"I'm Thomas," I said holding out a hand. "I just wanted to let you know that there's something wrong with your phone."

"What?" she said, raising her phone up to examine it.

"Yeah, it doesn't have my number in it."

The girl's eyes widened in alarm, and I smirked. I was always proud of that pick-up line.

"Um..." the girl trailed, biting her lip.

The poor thing looked terrified. I began reaching out a hand so that she could hand over her cellphone, but to my utter surprise she instead clutched the device closer to her chest.

"I--I uh," the girl stuttered, then continued, "I'm sorry Thomas, but you're not really my type."

"What?" I asked, taken aback. "Then what is your type?"

"Girls," she replied easily. "And I don't think my girlfriend would appreciate me giving out my number to random boys either."

The brunette smiled sympathetically, then stood from the table, leaving me standing there alone, dumbstruck. After a few minutes of being frozen there with my mouth hanging to the floor, I numbly walked back to the table I had been sat at with Dylan and Kaya. I was still slightly dazed when I plopped back down into my seat.

"Well, that backfired," Kaya noted airily, her voice smug. There was a beat of silence.

And then Dylan broke into peals of laughter. I glared at him as he leaned back and laughed, drawing curious eyes from those around us. He threw his head back, eyes shut tightly; and then Kaya joined in, seemingly disregarding her 'I told you so' persona to laugh at my expense too.

When their laughter finally began to fade into small chuckles, I muttered, "Laugh all you want, but I just won the dare."

"Are you really sure you won that?" Dylan laughed. "'Cause I feel like the real winner here."

I raised an eyebrow. "You would have never had the guts to do what I just did," I replied lightly. Dylan finally stopped laughing at me, as if sensing the unspoken challenge in my words.

"Oh yeah? Give me a dare," he said. He jutted out his chin challengingly.

Sneering, I quickly spun around in my chair. Scanning the room for the second time, I zoned in on the drink section. Or, more specifically, on the ice-pot currently being refilled by a young worker.

"I dare you," I said, turning back to Dylan, "To put a handful of ice down your underwear and then go have a conversation with Wes."

Dylan's smile faltered for a brief second, like a lightbulb flickering, before he hid his uncertainty with a lofty, "That's the best you've got? Easy."

He stood, walking confidently towards the table across the room. I spared half a glance at Kaya, snorting when I saw her biting her lip nervously.

Dylan reached the ice just as the worker walked away. With his back to us, he glanced around, and when he was sure no one was watching, his arm moved from his side to reach for the ice. I couldn't help but already start to laugh when I saw him immediately shudder, signaling that he dropped the ice.

He turned back to us, grimacing in what was clearly pain. Then he trotted--or limped, really--towards where Wes sat with a bunch of executives.

Kaya squeaked next to me, saying, "He looks like he got kicked in the nuts again."

I silently laughed, fighting back a smirk as I watched Dylan stutter a greeting to Wes. I couldn't hear what they were saying but if I had to guess, I'd say it involved Wes asking Dylan why he looked constipated. Dylan was squirming, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he had to seriously piss. Wes looked more than concerned, but also slightly confused.

About a minute later Dylan relaxed. Wes glanced down, but I'm pretty sure Dylan missed the way his eyes widened, and then quickly looked away. Dylan waved goodbye and came back towards us, a victorious smile on his face. The chairs and tables were high enough that I couldn't see from his waist down, but with each step Dylan came closer and closer until the entirety of his body was revealed to Kaya and I.

And when he did, it took everything within me not to die of laughter.

Instead, I stayed reserved and calm on the outside, shrugging as if admitting that Dylan had just done a great dare. Dylan's grin widened when he saw me. "So that makes the score, Thomas: 1, Me: 1, right?"

The proud look on his face finally made me crack. Like the snap of a rubber-band, I burst into laughter, and Kaya, who had been turning away to hide her silent tears of laughter, did the same.

"What?" Dylan said. "What's so funny?"

Through my glee, I managed to raise a shaky hand and point at Dylan's crotch. He glanced down, froze, and paled.

A wet spot had somehow managed to make an appearance through Dylan's beige shorts, dark and noticeable. The ice had clearly melted, imprinting the remains of wet residue. Unfortunately, the only people who knew that was us.

Wes and everyone else surrounding us would only believe that Dylan O'Brien had peed himself.

Dylan made a noise that could only be compared to a cat choking on a hairball. His hands crossed over each other to hide his embarrassment, his cheeks flaming red. As I continued to laugh until my stomach hurt, Dylan rushed to his seat, out of view of everyone who had turned to see what the commotion was about.

My laughter finally began to subside, and Dylan glowered at me. "This is your fault," he muttered angrily.

"Hey, it's not my fault the ice melted," I said, my laughter finally dying out, "It just means that you have a hot dick."

And for the second time in two minutes, Dylan's face burned pink and I broke into hearty chuckles again.

__________________________________________________________________________________

"I dare you to wear your shirt backwards for the next interview," I whispered to Dylan in the corridor behind stage.

After we had been relieved from lunch, the Comic-Con security had immediately dragged us to our next destination. This time however, the cast was being split up. Luckily for me, Dylan and I had ended up in a group together, with Ki Hong tagging along.

"What? Why would I do that?"he hissed back. We were nearly at the curtain at this point, and eager-looking workers were waiting for us.

I grinned, stepping close enough that I was nearly breathing down his neck. "Because I dared you to."

Dylan huffed. Hesitating slightly, he moved to pull on the sleeve of his navy t-shirt, then spun it around without taking it off (to my slight disappointment). Once settled with his shirt backwards, he turned back to me and smirked.

"HA," he mocked. I rolled my eyes, following him out onto the small platform dedicated for the use of the interview.

To my disappointment, no one said a word about Dylan's new sense of style throughout the entire interview. He beamed at me when we were led out of the room twenty minutes later, smiling triumphantly.

He bumped his shoulder into mine, then said lowly, "Dylan: 2, Thomas: 1."

And then the little bastard had enough nerve to saunter away from me, swinging his cute little butt as he went.

__________________________________________________________________________________

With just four hours to go before the end of the day--and the end of our presence in Comic-Con, I walked towards our next interview with my eyes trained on my phone. I had to text my mum, making sure she knew I would be visiting her in the next week.

A tap on my shoulder made me look up, smiling when I met Dylan's eyes. Instead of greeting me, he said, "I dare you to go photobomb that couple over there."

He nodded towards a boy and a girl holding hands, already beginning to pose for a picture. Judging by how long it took the average person to take a picture, my eyes widened. Thrusting my phone into Dylan's hands, I sprinted down the hallway, knocking innocent children to the side with hurried apologies in my trail.

In my desperation to photobomb the picture, I leapt into the background--no, I mean literally I sprawled myself out in a dive just to get into the stupid picture. I waved my arms frantically, letting out a strangled shriek as the ground came racing towards me at a frightening speed.

"Umph!" I yelped as I landed spread-eagle on the floor.

Groaning, I flipped over onto my back, glad to see the couple approaching me.

"Are you okay?" the girl asked me.

"Did I photobomb you guys?" I gasped out, trying to regain my breath after having the wind knocked out of me. "Please say yes."

"Oh, er--" the girl said, glancing at her boyfriend. She turned to look at the third person who had circled around me in concern, a blonde girl with pink highlights.

"Oh!" the blonde said in confusion. She scrolled through the phone in her hand, so I could only assume she had been their photographer. Turning the phone back to me, she showed me a blurred picture of my long limbs jumbled in the background of the picture. "Yes, you did."

I threw my head back in relief. Then, at the top of my voice, I raised an arm to punch the air and yelled to Dylan, "Tied score, Dilly-Dally!"

__________________________________________________________________________________

The day was finally drawing to a close, and I was exhausted. I had met and talked to hundreds of people, most of whom had regarded me with a cautious air, almost as if they were remembering my little stunt in the coffee shop before I had begun filming. I was a changed man though; I no longer thought of my fans as annoying nuisances, and that always became clear to those conversing with me the longer we talked.

With just one interview to go before we could leave, I tried to think of one more way to embarrass Dylan. He stood next to me, our fingers just barely brushing, though neither of us made the move to link them. I wanted him to do another dare, but that would mean I would lose the little dare competition we had going on--humiliating him would at least give me some sort of victory.

As we walked through the Comic-Con building, now empty enough that we could walk through without being mobbed, I finally saw my opportunity. I nudged Dylan in the side.

"I dare you to go steal that guy's shoe," I said.

Dylan's eyes widened. "No! Stealing is wrong."

"You're so precious," I groaned. "Don't actually steal it. Just pretend like you are."

Dylan's brown eyes flicked from my face to the guy I had gestured to. "I don't know..." he said.

"I'll win by default if you don't," I answered in a sing-song voice.

Dylan's eyes hardened. "I don't lose," he said. He shoved me lightly, then began a nervous walk towards the black-haired man. Rubbing my shoulder, I watched him happily.

"Hi," I heard him greet the man, quite shyly. "Can I have your shoe?"

I rolled my eyes at how timid he was acting, but laughed out loud when Dylan bent down and started untying the poor guy's shoe without a reply.

And then the guy's knee jerked out, and he kicked Dylan away.

"Get off me, you crazy shit!" the guy yelped, staggering away. His words slurred together slightly, and I lost it.

Dylan climbed to his feet, looking simultaneously fearful and pissed. He rubbed his knee as he limped back towards me, where I guessed the guy had just kicked him. He scowled as I continued to chuckle.

"Stop laughing!" he ordered after I didn't stop. "What if he called security? I could've gotten kicked out of here, you jerk."

"But you didn't!" I replied through my laughter. "Besides, we're almost done anyway."

Dylan sighed, his anger fading away slightly. "Thank goodness. I'm so tired. You're staying in the same hotel as us, right?"

"No, I'm actually gonna head back home," I answered, finally taking a deep breath to stave my laughter. Dylan stood back up, ignoring his injured knee.

"Um, isn't that like a two hour drive from here?" he asked.

"Yeah, but today's the last day anyway. I'd just be leaving in the morning rather than tonight," I explained. I paused for a second, then decided to ask what was playing at the edge of my mind. "Do you want to come with me?"

Dylan turned to me, surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. I'll even make you food."

Dylan's face broke into a beam. He reached down and grabbed my hand, then said "Ah, you always know exactly what to say."

"Is that a yes?" I pushed.

"Duh," Dylan said, pulling me towards our final interview again.

For the next two and a half hours, Dylan's hand never left mine: not through the interview, our goodbyes with the rest of the cast, nor the long car ride back to my apartment. I didn't really mind.

__________________________________________________________________________________

The sound of the door clicking shut behind us was like a gunshot in my quiet apartment. I flicked on the light, carelessly kicking off my shoes as I did so, the silence heavy on my ears. It was just after midnight, my apartment feeling strangely empty after being away from home for so long. A tranquil hush rested over the apartment, as if every creature, every piece of furniture, every aspect and particle of the room had frozen, relaxing into dreams of faraway places. The stillness made me hesitant to even venture into my apartment, in fear of disrupting the peaceful air.

I tentatively led the way to the kitchen, Dylan trailing dutifully behind me. "You want some pasta?" I asked, restraining the urge to whisper in the quiet that surrounded us.

"Sure," Dylan hummed. I glanced over my shoulder, watching as he settled himself on top of the island kitchen counter. I rolled my eyes, bending down to scoop up a pot from the cupboard.

"You've got a nice view here," Dylan noted as I stood back up. I scrunched my eyebrows and turned back to him in question. There were no windows in my kitchen, and Dylan's eyes were trained on something down low...

I gaped, grabbing a roll of paper towels to throw at him. "Don't stare at my butt!" I exclaimed dramatically. Dylan laughed as the roll of paper towels smacked him in the face.

"I couldn't help it," he shrugged, smirking. Rolling my eyes again, I turned back to prepare the pasta. Though I'd never admit it to him, I knew I was swaying my hips a small bit more than I normally would.

I placed the pasta on top of the stove, retracting my hand quickly to avoid being burnt. Once the water was set and the flame burning steadily, I nodded in approval, turning away. Dylan was still silently watching me, a lazy and tired smile gracing his perfectly pink lips. The lighting was dim, but his features were lit up with careful shadows. He looked older, more mature, and somehow, more handsome.

"You're getting my counter dirty with your butt germs," I scolded, but the smile on my face defeated the purpose. I sidled across the small kitchen until I stopped between Dylan's separated legs, fitting perfectly between.

Dylan smirked in reply, wrapping his legs around my waist and somehow pulling me closer. I stumbled a bit but regained my footing as he replied, "You're just mad because I won the dare contest."

"You gave me less dares!" I defended immediately. Dylan rested his arms over my shoulders, curling around me like an oversized koala bear.

Dylan rolled his eyes, yawning like he was bored with the conversation. "You know, if you were one of Snow White's seven dwarves, you'd be Grumpy."

I softly flicked his cheek. "Thanks, Dyl. Means a lot to me," I said, resting my hand on his thigh. He grinned, and I couldn't help but mirror the image.

Dylan's eyes flickered down to my lips, and he blushed when he looked back up. We had about six inches between our faces, him a bit taller than me from his seated position on the counter top. His fingers began tracing lazy circles on my back as the silence began to wrap around us again. The only sound to break our state was the light sizzle of water heating up behind us.

"I should've won today," I muttered, shaking my head slightly, as if ashamed. Dylan bit his lip and half-smiled, his hands freezing on my shoulders.

"What can I do to get you to stop complaining?" he asked. He too spoke in a hushed voice.

I froze. My heart seemed to drop and tingle with his half-suggestive, half-resigned tone. Then, in a voice lower and more intimate than I intended, I answered faintly, "How about you give me another dare?"

Dylan paused. He stiffened slightly, and my heart immediately picked up pace when I felt his breath stutter in front of me. His eyes fluttered slightly, his eyelashes long and dark in contrast to his washed out skin. His breath mingled with my own, so close I could feel each leveled pant as he breathed deeply in.

My vision seemed to tunnel. I hadn't meant anything particularly abrasive or insinuating by my words, but suddenly it seemed like what I had said held a lot more meaning than it should have. The smile faded from my lips without my knowledge and I too froze, feeling like a movement too sudden might make this moment fall into broken pieces.

"And what if I were to dare you to kiss me?" Dylan whispered softly. The words seemed to play on his lips, so young and innocent but simultaneously feeling brave and valiant. His eyes were trained on my lips, breathing in, breathing out.

At first I was too shocked to move. My mind seemed empty of words and my body seemed to have forgotten to move, my heart beating like I had but seconds left to live.

Then I subconsciously leaned closer, stopping with our lips less than a centimeter apart.The distance between us felt like the space between two worlds. I tilted my head slightly, letting my eyes fall heavily to the point that I could just barely see, and replied just as quietly, "I never say no to a dare."

Dylan's eyes finally flicked back up to meet my own, a thousand words passing between us in the time span of a millisecond. His pupils were blown black in lust, to the point that I could just barely make out the familiar brown of his eye. One more shaky breath fell across my tingling lips. He blinked.

And then his hands moved from my shoulders to the collar of my shirt, and he was pulling my lips towards his.

Dylan O'Brien was kissing me.

I gasped quietly as our lips met for the first time. Dylan hesitated, just letting our lips brush in a chaste kiss, a whisper of what could be. I reached up, snaking my fingers through his hair, and pulled his head more firmly to mine.

His lips were soft but sweet, tasting of mint and chocolate. We moved slowly, treading new and uncharted territory. Our lips slid together perfectly, and I pressed even closer, craving more. Dylan mewled just slightly as I pushed for a faster pace, addicted to him, his taste, his sounds. I wanted more, I needed more. My fingers tightened in his hair, lost in the boy locked in my embrace.

Dylan pulled away first, panting heavily. His lips were cherry red and swollen as he opened his eyes slowly, carefully eyeing me again. My apartment was filled with only the sounds of our harsh breathing, the pasta long forgotten behind us.

"You win," he muttered. Then he pulled me in again, our lips dancing in synchrony once more.

//

FUCK YOU GUYS #dylantops2k16