A/N

The photo attached has literally nothing to do with the chapter but I really felt we needed some puppers to lighten the mood. enjoy <3

Dylan's pov

It's fine. Everything's fine.

The sun was dancing across my skin, the wind fresh as it wove through my hair. For a moment, I just sat there, staring at the glass-like lake stretched out in front of me. Enjoyed the wildflower smells, the grass still damp from the early morning rain. A deep breath filled my lungs, a flutter of my eyelashes against my cheek as I blinked. Still and as steady as a statue, allowing the calm of dawn to embrace me in its warmth.

I sighed. It was probably time to go home.

Reluctantly I stirred from my spot on the ground, climbing slowly to my feet. With a last look over my shoulder, I began the trek home. Something about the sound of twigs crunching beneath my feet and the twist of rocks tumbling behind me was oddly soothing, like it made the silence inside of me just a little less loud.

No. Everything's fine. I'm fine.

By the time I made it home the sun had fully risen. I was tired, and my eyes were beginning to droop, and my legs were sluggish and slow. I knew I wouldn't sleep though. I barely had for four days. But it was okay. It was okay.

The kitchen door was unlocked still. I stepped inside quietly and shut the door just as softly.

When I turned, my mom was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at me. Her arms were crossed and she didn't even have her coffee. I felt a small pang of guilt at the sight and found myself glued to my spot beside the door.

She wasn't a morning riser. She never waited to have her coffee. She didn't just sit at the kitchen table.

She was waiting for me. Just as she had every morning for the past few days.

"Go to bed," she said, softly yet commanding. It was the same command every time. Her eyes were unwaveringly on mine, reading me, calculating me, feeling me.

I opened my mouth to reply but found that I couldn't. Instead I simply shook my head, eyes falling to the ground. She knew what I meant though.

I didn't hear her stand up but I saw her feet as she approached. Her arms wrapped around me slowly, comfortingly, and she pulled my head down so that I was smaller in her hold. Her hands graced my back in slow circles and my eyes fluttered shut.

"At least lay down," she pushed, still soft, still careful. Her voice was a breath in my ear.

My throat felt tight suddenly, so instead of arguing I just nodded into her shoulder. Her fingers ruffled my hair as she pulled away, but she stayed in our embrace for another few moments, just staring at me. I weakly smiled at her in reassurance.

Then I moved away, out of the kitchen and onto our living room couch. I couldn't bring myself to sleep on my bed yet. I sank onto the couch slowly, my breath escaping me as my exhaustion seemed to exponentially increase. My shoulders sagged, my back arched, my head fell into my hands.

My mom sat down beside me after a few moments. She had a book in her hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Her shoulder nudging mine, I obliged to her silent urges and sprawled myself on the hard cushions. My head fell into her lap and I curled into a ball as her hand, now empty of coffee, began running through my hair in a soothing pattern.

We didn't say anything. I let my eyes fall shut, she opened her book. It was just us, quiet in the very early hours of morning, listening to the other's breathing. It was the type of comfort I hadn't realized I needed--the presence of someone who still cared.

Tears rose up in my eyes out of nowhere, but I blinked them back just as fast. I wasn't going to cry over him. I was fine. I was okay.

With my mom's hand brushing through my hair, I drifted off into my first peaceful sleep in days.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

The monday after...the accident, I decided that I was done being sad. It didn't matter. That stupid article--stupid fucking Thomas--meant nothing to me. I was moving forward. My life went on.

I started by ripping the bed sheets from my bed. Somehow I ended up rearranging the rest of my room in the same breath. Bed here--no, there. Cabinet against the wall. Dressers side by side. No more futon. By the time I had finished, I had remade my room entirely. It was a fresh start.

Maybe I got carried away though. Because the next day I found myself doing the same thing to the furniture on our patio. I swept away leaves, weeded the garden, turned tables and chairs.

And Wednesday somehow ended up the same. Except this time it was our living room. And once I had finished, I returned to the patio and changed all the work I had done previously. Night fell. I kept working. My mom raised an eyebrow at me when I re-entered the house after nine, lightly commenting on my sudden need to clean. I missed the concern on her brow as I hurried up the stairs to shower. That night, I slept on the couch again.

On Thursday, I planned on doing the kitchen. Instead, Tyler showed up.

"We're going out," he announced, not even bothering to knock. I looked up from my breakfast and arched an eyebrow.

"We are?"

"Yes," he smiled. "To the mall."

I rolled my eyes, dropped my spoon into my empty bowl. "Have fun," I said, placing my bowl in the sink.

Tyler frowned. "Did you miss the multiple "we"'s in our previous conversation? Or do you need me to repeat?"

I sighed. Ran a hand through my hair. Straightened my pajama shirt. "I'm not really up to it today, Ty," I admitted after a moment. I just wanted to clean.

"Do I look like I give a fuck what you want?" Tyler asked with a raised brow. "Go get dressed. I'll even buy you lunch."

My eyes fell to the side, and suddenly I felt like I was going to panic. I didn't have time for the mall; I needed to clean. The kitchen had to change. I needed to redo my room. I forced myself to take a deep breath as my hands reached back for the countertop, my eyes glued to the ground.

Tyler was suddenly in front of me. I saw it now--the concern in his eyes. The carefully reserved pity. The anger. He had been the first person I had called from the airport--

"Ty?" my voice was shaky and weak.

"Dylan?" his voice was slurred with sleep--it was probably past one in the morning on the east coast. "Are you okay?"

I paused for a second. A second too long. "I'm--I'm fine. I didn't mean to wake you."

Tyler hesitated now too. "What happened?" he asked, and now he was much more alert.

"I don't know," I said, and it was the truth. I wasn't crying. I wasn't going to cry. But speaking to him made my heart feel heavy, made the situation more real.

"Don't you dare pretend in front of me, Dylan--" a rustle, a static crinkle, "Are you hurt?"

"Yes," I answered. "I'm taking the next flight home."

There was a stunned sort of silence over the line. Tyler knew me though, perhaps better than anyone else in the world. I knew he was analyzing the very tone of my voice, the shakiness, the barely taped together composure.

"Okay," he said slowly. "I'll be here for you."

"I know," I breathed, almost to myself. "You always are."

"Hey," Tyler said, snapping me out of my thoughts. He smiled at me, soft and comforting. "Go get dressed," he repeated, albeit softer this time. More gentle. Always, always exactly what I needed.

I nodded now, shook my head to dust off the clouds on my shoulders, and smiled to tell him I was okay. He didn't look convinced as he watched me leave the room.

A few deep breaths, a few shakes of my head, and suddenly I was dressed and sitting in the passenger seat of Tyler's car. He glanced over at me as he put the keys in the ignition, then leaned over and unknotted my hands. Squeezing my arm as he pulled his hand away, his brown eyes looked deeply into mine--a thousand words between us without saying a single word.

"Thanks," I choked after a moment. He nodded, then pulled out of the driveway.

I thought he wasn't going to reply, but just as always, he managed to say exactly what I needed to hear: "Shut the fuck up, dimwit, and turn on the radio."

___________________________________________________________________________________________

For a few hours, we went on as if everything was normal in the world. Surprisingly--or maybe unsurprisingly, no one bothered us as we flitted from store to store, no real destination in mind. If it weren't for Tyler's uneasy glances in my direction every so often, I might have said that I was able to completely forget the rest of the world. He laughed and joked and treated me just as he always had--but he was also careful, treading around me just as lightly as my family had the past few days.

At 2:30 the fun ended. I was standing in line behind Tyler when suddenly he tensed, glancing at me almost inconspicuously. My eyes followed to where he had been looking, and I blinked at the familiar cover, familiar title, familiar article proudly on display in front of me.

I swallowed, though it was suddenly much more difficult than it should have been. I had read it already, of course--had burned the words into my mind, had cut the words to pieces, even let Julia draw profanity over Thomas's picture. But seeing it here made it all the more real, brought it even closer to home.

I blinked again and turned away. Tyler didn't say anything, just paid and led us to the exit of the store.

"Where to next?" I asked, and I was actually quite pleased with how natural the question came out. Unforced, calm, happy.

Tyler leveled me with a long, long stare. Then he pursed his lips and replied, "Actually, maybe we should go home. I'm kind of tired."

My eyes fell to the floor and my smile, as genuine as I had believed it to be, quickly fell. I knew as well as he did that he wasn't actually tired.

"I'm fine, Ty," I said, softer than I had intended.

He frowned. "Okay," he said. "But--I think we should still head home."

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Tyler and I were sitting at my kitchen table, eating a late-afternoon snack when suddenly my phone began to ring. I paused as I brought my fork to my mouth, my eyes raising to meet Ty's. At first, I was intent on ignoring it--just on the off chance it was him again. But as the seconds ticked by, as Tyler's eyebrows rose, as I recognized the dial tone as the facetime ring instead, I sighed, pulling out my phone.

I frowned when I saw it was Kaya calling. My first instinct was to decline the call--I had no intention of talking about what happened with her, and I really wasn't looking for any more pity. At the very last second I accepted the call though, my finger sliding slowly across the screen.

"Hey," I greeted. My voice was warm, upbeat. I was good at doing that, I realized.

"Hey Dylan," she smiled. I noticed her voice was forced--tone upbeat exactly like mine. "What are you up to?"

"I'm at home with my family. Why?"

Kaya looked away. She had heavy bags under her eyes. "How are you doing?" she asked, ignoring my question.

Unable to stop, I rolled my eyes. "I'm fine," I said, but it came out far too maliciously. I was so sick of the fucking question. I knew exactly what came next too; that look, that poor Dylan, didn't know what was coming to him; the small smile as they accepted my words but took them only at face value. How could he be fine? They'd ask themselves. He's not fine. Poor boy. Poor, stupid boy.

To my surprise, Kaya started to cry.

"Woah--" I said, eyes widening. "Don't--what the fuck, are you okay? What happened?"

Kaya was sobbing now, and she was shaking, and her curly black hair was messy and scattered hysterically. She obviously tried to choke out something, but every time she looked at the screen she was reduced to another round of sobs. I glanced up at Tyler for help, but he looked just as clueless as I felt.

"It's my fault, Dyl! It's all my--" she gasped finally, but her voice broke before she could continue. I shook my head, conveying my lack of understanding. She took a deep breath and repeated, "It's all--all my f-fault!"

"What are you talking about?" I asked as she started to cry again. It was heartbreaking, watching someone I had always considered unbreakably strong now fall apart in front of me.

She took a deep breath. She didn't want to continue. I could see it in her eyes--her usually icy, clear eyes now clouded with confliction. The seconds ticked on in silence, but I wasn't going to be the one to breach the distance between us.

A sniff. Another three tears racing from her eyes. Then, "I knew, Dylan."

I blinked dumbly, and her words slowly wove their way into my mind, pierced right through my heart. In a matter of a second my heartbeat picked up pace and Tyler stilled across from me.

"I knew," she repeated, like the barrier had broken and her words could flood through. "I'm so sorry--I knew he was--he told me he was going to put a stop to it, and I believed him because I didn't want to get involved--but I should've--" she sobbed. "I should've--"

"You knew," I breathed. As I deflated in my seat I was suddenly back in that godforsaken room, staring straight at Thomas as if I had never seen him before. The hurt, the betrayal, the confusion, it all hit me as if I was reliving it all over again. It felt familiar though because it had never really left in the first place; and now I was looking at Kaya as if she deliberately stabbed me right through the chest, like I was right back in that room watching as everything I trusted, everything I loved, burned to ashes around me.

"You didn't tell me," I continued softly. I was talking to her but I wasn't. "But you knew."

It didn't matter how long she knew--she was another person who willingly watched me get hurt. Another person I had placed my trust in, only to be burned in the end.

I hung up on her then, ignoring her apologies. It was a frantic motion because I wasn't even in control of myself anymore. Everything was suddenly happening all at once and there was a large weight on my chest. My phone clattered to the table and I stood abruptly, my chair making an awful grating noise across the floor. Tyler was staring at me but I ignored him as I grabbed my plate and hurried to the sink.

The water came on then and I was scrubbing at every last bit of grime on all of the dishes left in the sink. Harder, much harder than I should have been.

"Dylan--" Tyler called, standing up himself.

"I'm fine!" I said, ignoring him as he approached. I meant it. I was fine.

I grabbed another dirty plate and began to scrub as if my life depended on it. My fingers were beginning to ache but that was nothing, absolutely nothing to the ache inside of me.

"You're not," Tyler argued, now standing behind me.

Again, I ignored him. All of my focus was aimed at the plate in my hand. I couldn't get--this one spot--to--

"You can be upset, Dyl," Tyler said in a voice that was almost pleading. "You've been acting as if you're not even affected by all of this, but you are. Stop pretending you're okay!"

"I'm not pretending," I said, almost absentmindedly. Why the fuck couldn't I clean this stupid plate? I grabbed more soap, put more force into my scrubbing--

"I'm fine," I repeated, teeth clenched. Scrub, scrub, scrub--

"I'm--" but now my voice cracked and I sucked in a harsh breath. Renewing my scrubbing with even more vigor, I tried again, "I'm--"

But my voice failed to say fine as the plate shattered in my hand.

It was quiet for a second. A second that was an eternity.

And then something inside of me finally broke and I was sobbing on my kitchen floor and Tyler was pulling me into a hug while simultaneously pulling glass from my palm. My heart finally tore to pieces and I was bleeding in every crevice of my soul and I wasn't okay, I wasn't fucking okay. Thomas had played with me and tore me to pieces and I was absolutely nothing to him when he was everything to me. Kaya was just like him. Was every celebrity out to hurt me? What did I do wrong? How was I so fucked up to have caused so many people to betray me? And I cried. I cried and I cried and I cried as if all the anguish in the world was wrapped up inside of me. I cried because I was hurt, I cried because I was mourning what I had lost.

"I hate him," I choked out, and it was disgusting and snotty and thick with my tears. But Tyler understood, and his hand squeezed my shoulder to offer the reassurance only a best friend could.

"Me too," he said. "Me too."

I turned, and then I was sobbing into his shoulder, and my parents came into the room, and my dog was nuzzling my side, and Julia was sitting beside me. Before I knew it I was surrounded entirely by all the people I loved, and though I felt weak and tired and used--I was thankful I wasn't alone. I was never going to be lonely because they, at least, still loved me.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

An hour later, I was sitting on the couch with a bowl of ice-cream in my lap, a blanket draped over my shoulders, when suddenly the doorbell rang. I began to get up because it was just Tyler and I in the room now, but he stopped me with a wave of his palm. He stood, padding softly down the hall.

I couldn't see the door from where I sat, but I could definitely still hear everything going on. The door swung open, slower than I ever remembered, and then a pause--a painstaking break, a moment where time ceased to exist--

"You motherfucker," Tyler grit out, his voice deep and resonating. My heart stopped, and I jumped from my seat just in time to watch Tyler leap at Thomas, standing on my front doorstep.

//

A/N

Hello friends.

I hope y'all saw the contrast between Dylan's and Thomas's coping methods. Yeah, dylan's the one who got fucked over, but ultimately he has a support system that thomas just doesn't have

anyway, thanks for reading. i <3 u

I swear I had an ice joke but it just slipped my mind :\

xoxox hope you're safe and happy

until next time,

//sam\\