A/N

Hello friends. Attached is Troye Sivan's "The Good Side" and fuck that song gets me going. I thought it was fitting for this story so I figured I'd share

enjoy!!

Thomas's pov

Tyler's fist came seemingly out of nowhere. I had just enough time to register his rage filled eyes, to brace myself just slightly before he connected with a hard punch to my jaw, and I fell backwards. My foot caught on the very edge of the stairs and I teetered precariously on the corner of the steps for a breathtaking second, before I found myself sprawling out onto the grass beneath. I landed with a broken cry, all air vanishing from my lungs. Face pulsing angrily, vision blurred, I blinked dumbly up at him in shock.

Tyler followed me down the steps, his face still contorted in an angry sneer. It wasn't malicious but protective, caring so much for his hurting best friend that he had lost all rational thought. His footsteps fell heavily on the wooden stairs, and his fingers clenched at his sides again. I watched as he approached me, raising a fist again.

"How fucking dare you come here?" he spat, voice full and strong and angry. His hands moved in a blur and he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, hoisting me into a sitting position. Grabbing at his wrists, I looked up in remorse.

His fist rose again and although my hands were completely free and my mind was racing, all I could do was watch as he punched me again, and again, and again--and my lip was bleeding and my face was numb, but still I didn't fight back. I knew, deep down, that I deserved this. I knew, deep down, that this hurt far less than everything else I had done.

Suddenly Tyler was pulled away from me, and when I managed to open my already swelling eyes--there he was.

"Dylan," I choked, and it was almost a sob, barely even a whisper. He ignored me, or perhaps didn't even hear me; he was distractedly pushing Tyler away, his hands grasping at his shoulders, his arms, his torso. He was pleading and it broke my heart--the soft, "Ty, Ty, Ty!" as he fought against Tyler's rage, acting as my protector even when I had given him every reason to throw me to the wolves.

I pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the slight dizziness that came with the sudden motion, as Dylan pushed Tyler back into his house. Tyler's arms rose and he was hugging Dylan protectively, and I was aching at the glare aimed deliberately at me.

"Don't give that asshole a single second of your time," Tyler started, eyes unwaveringly drilling into me though speaking directly to Dylan.

Dylan shook his head, already disentangling himself from Tyler's hold. "Ty--"

"Dylan! Let me fucking kill him, I swear to god--how can you even--"

"Go--" Dylan said, already grasping at the door handle. "Go inside. Please. I'll only be a minute--"

His pleading struck even me, and Tyler allowed himself to pause for just long enough to be pushed back out of the doorway without fight. His eyes flickered from mine to Dylan's and his face was flushed red. Eyes wild, fists still bared to fight. A bear protecting his cub.

At the last second before Dylan closed the door, Tyler stepped forward again. Ignoring Dylan as he reached to push him away again, Tyler looked me straight in the eye and said, "You fucking touch him, and I'll fucking kill you."

Voice low and promising. He continued to glare at me for another long second before he stepped back again and Dylan closed the door.

Dylan had his back to me, but I still saw the exact moment his heart gave out. A few deep breaths, an uncanny silence. A thousand unanswered questions, a million unspoken words.

He turned and when he did I immediately sucked in a breath. He was disheveled. Hair sticking up at odd angles, eyes red as if he had previously been crying. Clothes folded and wrinkled. Lips red. Heartbroken.

I knew I wasn't any better. After I had drunkenly decided to come here, I had tried to buy a ticket at the airport, but they wouldn't let me on the flight drunk. Dejected, I headed home. In the morning I showered, packed a bag, and again tried to book a flight. Unfortunately, the press had found me in the airport and had found it to be a fitting time to ridicule me with questions. By the time I made it on the plane, I couldn't choke back my tears any longer.

Dylan's head was angled down to the side. When he looked up the entire world closed down; stars collided; the universe collapsed. It was a pair of sad brown eyes, glistening softly in the dying sun, that brought truth to the situation in frightening clarity. My heart fell and broke and exploded all in the same beat--but judging by the look on his face, what he was experiencing was a million times worse. Our eyes met, and when they did I thought for a second--what am I doing? He doesn't deserve this, me. He deserves to have the seasons engraved into his heart and the wind blow for only him, and the sun shine for the sole purpose of keeping him warm. All I had given him was dirt.

My fingers tightened in the grass and I sank back, sagged into myself. Regret pooled in my stomach as we stared at each other in silence. I wondered if I would ever find the voice to speak.

Dylan sucked in a painful breath then released it slowly, shakily.

"Why are you here?" he asked. Those were the first words he said to me for a week but it didn't feel like an attempt to breach the distance between us. His voice was hollow and I winced. I had done this--done that to him.

I floundered for words for a moment, but suddenly I found that there was nothing I could really say, nothing I could really do to fix this. The words died on my lips just as desperately as I needed them to form. My chest rose and my mouth was open, but no sound came out. What could I say? What could I possibly ever say?

Dylan's mouth tightened. So many times I had watched his facial expressions, had fallen in love with the way his every emotion was displayed along the curves of his face, had noticed every slight shift in feeling just by the way his smile tightened or changed. Now, I struggled to read a single thought coursing through his thoughts beyond the evident pain.

He shook his head, in almost a panicked and jerky movement. "Thomas?" he asked, perhaps pushed. My name sounded so natural on his lips and a spark went down my spine.

I stood now. My legs shook and my shoulders were hunched and I was looking up at Dylan from what felt like a billion miles away. I took a step forward but stopped when I saw the way he noticeably tensed.

"Are you going to fucking say something?" Dylan broke the silence again, but this time he only sounded slightly hysterical. "Or are you just here to pour more salt in open wounds?"

"No," I finally croaked. "No, I--I wanted to--" To what? "I have to apologi--"

"Don't you fucking dare say sorry," Dylan cut me off. His face was twisted in pain and misery. He stepped back, hand resting on the doorknob and back pressed firmly against the wooden door.

"Dylan, please--"

"No! I don't want to hear it!" he said. He pushed off the door, abruptly taking a few confident steps forward as if forgetting his previous ailments. "Do you realize what you've done to me, Thomas? There is nothing, fucking nothing, you can say to fix this. Nothing you can say to fix me."

A shaky breath left my lips. He wasn't done. He took another step forward, finally scaling the steps.

"You've fucking toyed with me and played with me and stomped my heart beneath your stupid combat boots--" Dylan's eyes were lit, "--and now I'm just left here, staring at an empty spot where you should be. Left to feel the empty place in my heart that I created for you. I'm--"

His voice broke. Collecting himself, he continued, "I'm trying to be okay, Thomas. But all I can do now is exist. Every night I fall asleep reliving every echo of your voice, every breath of your skin on mine. If I could, I would erase you from my mind. I'd erase your presence from my heart too, because honestly, you never deserved a spot there to begin with."

His chest heaved. I doubted he had meant to say any of that, and maybe that was worse. I had never heard such an unforgiving voice, felt so much sickness in his tone. He was crumbling apart right front of me, and yet, he wasn't--because he was taped together and struggling to stand tall, despite my presence forcing him to collapse.

A deep breath. Forcing unwanted tears I didn't deserve back. On the plane here, I had thought of a thousand things I wanted to tell him. I had planned exactly what I was going to say, had practiced in the mirror of the bathroom. Now everything I had thought I'd say didn't feel like enough.

Without a plan, I started in a weaker voice than I intended, "I don't deserve your forgiveness, Dylan, but you deserve to hear an apology."

That finally made him pause. Swallowing, I decided in the flash of a second that all I could do was speak from my heart.

"I love you," I started, and almost found that I couldn't continue as I watched him shake his head in disbelief. "I know you don't believe it, and I don't expect you to. This was all supposed to just be a bet for me--because I'm a dick, an ass, a conceited fucking douche. But it--it wasn't. Not anymore.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Dylan. I don't--there's no excuse. I made a mistake. A lot of them, actually. And I don't regret it only because I fell in love with you and because this has been destroying me for weeks now--I regret it because there is absolutely nothing worse than seeing you in pain. This is killing me, but I will take all of the misery in the world for the rest of my bloody life if it means you don't have to suffer."

The truth tasted no better than any of the lies I had been spilling for months. I was almost surprised by how easily the truth came out after so long of hiding it.

"I'm sorry," I finished. "I'm sorry I used you. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm not sorry I fell in love with you, but I am sorry for making all of this so real."

Dylan gasped for a breath of air, and it was clear to me he was choking back a sob. He looked away from me then. Vulnerability laced its way through my heart and across my spine and I stood there, waiting, shaking.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Dylan asked finally. His eyes settled on me again, obviously scanning my pathetic appearance as I deflated. Hope was chased out the door, light was extinguished with a single rush of air.

"How am I supposed to know this isn't all another game, huh? Act two?" he looked angry now, taking the final steps down his porch to be level with me on the grass. This wasn't how I envisioned the conversation to go. This wasn't how we were supposed to heal.

"I'm not acting," I replied. Desperately. Begging. "Falling in love with you--that wasn't an act."

"How am I supposed to know that Thomas? How am I--" Dylan looked furious-- "supposed to trust a single thing you say?!"

Tears welled up in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than before. I deserved this.

"I trusted you, god damnit!" Dylan burst. "Do you realize how hard that was for me? Every person I've trusted in the past broke my trust in some way or another, and for some godforsaken reason, I still put my faith in you!"

"I--"

"And you were just--" he stepped forward and shoved me, his face contorting in fury, "like--" he pushed me again-- "them!"

He turned, and I knew it was to wipe away the angry tears falling down his cheeks. I wanted to reach out, wipe away his tears, offer him support and wipe away his hurt--but that wasn't my place anymore. Perhaps it was never my place to begin with. My own tears started to fall, though I had started to believe that I had already cried myself out.

Silence. It always seemed to be silence these days. Silence between us. Silence around us. Silence inside of me, like my heart refused to beat for anything but Dylan.

"You should leave," he bit out finally, cold and harsh. He had his back to me and looked ready to run.

I reached out without thinking, grabbing hold of his arm in panic. "Dylan, look, I'm sorry--"

"Stop saying that! You're not sorry!" He ripped his arm from me, cradling it to him as if I had burned him.

"I--"

"It's true! If you were really sorry, you would have told me what was going on before any of this happened!"

"I tried," I said, quietly, sadly. "I tried, but I couldn't. I've wanted to tell you for weeks now, but I couldn't. I'm so, so sorry."

He turned and looked at me for a long, long moment. I meant every word I said with utmost conviction; it was one last, desperate attempt for him to not only listen to me but hear my apology, to see him nod his head and accept the fact that I had made a mistake.

A silence fell between us, so heavy and heartbroken, like a sad song whispered in the wind.

"Why?" Dylan whimpered after a moment, wrapping his arms around himself to hold himself together. "Why'd you do all this?"

My mouth opened, but I found myself choked. I swallowed despite my mouth being dry, dreading telling him for some reason. Finally I managed, "Reggie Mills threatened to tell everyone about Elijah. I...I thought that would end my career. That no one would want to hire the guy who let himself---get...raped. By his best friend's dad."

"First of all," Dylan said shaking his head, like I misunderstood. "you can't let yourself be raped. That doesn't make sense. You were raped."

"Secondly," he continued before I could object, "I figured all that out already. I meant why would you fall in love with me? Are you an idiot?"

"Yes," I breathed. "I'm the biggest idiot on the planet. But if someone told me all I could do was love you for the rest of my life, I'd be the happiest man on earth."

He stepped back again. Tears were running races down his cheeks and nothing made sense anymore. I could tell I was hurting him and that simply and truthfully killed me.

"And what about the article?" Dylan asked, slowly and very, very quietly.

I sniffed, wiped at my cheeks. "I didn't say any of that, Dylan, I swear. I already have a court-case drawn up against him for slander."

Dylan's eyes fell to the ground. I watched him as I always had--some habits never die. Every little part of him that I had fallen in love with terrified me now; I had given so much of my heart to him and he had given me so much of his heart--but I had destroyed us both in the end.

"Here," I suddenly said, reaching for my discarded backpack. Rummaging through quickly, I pulled out a leather-bound journal with the words Property of Reginald Mills scrawled across the front. I held the book out to him and he took it with a confused glance in my direction. "I know you don't believe me, so--that's the real story. Everything is in there."

He looked back up and I held my breath as I waited. I couldn't help but feel like this was it; like this was the moment that would make or break us.

When I was younger, my mum used to tell me that in the seconds before your life changes forever, you suddenly become aware of everything. You remember every detail of the moment, from what you were wearing to the sounds that disrupted the peace. I was seeing Dylan for the first time all over again, and I was seeing beautiful brown hair and caramel eyes and wrinkled clothing that still seemed to hug him in all the right places. I was hearing the waver in his voice, feeling my heart split apart.

"I need you to go," Dylan said.

And I would remember the way the words passed from his lips as if being pushed through by an unforgiving tongue, how his cheek flinched just slightly as his words rang between us. I would remember the exact position of the sun and how it didn't seem to be able to warm me. I would remember how my old nike sneakers sounded as they fell heavily on the ground behind me as I took a subsequent step back.

I would remember how it took me a moment to nod my head. How my tears fell so quick and hard and numbingly that I was having trouble seeing.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I love you."

I would remember the way Dylan's eyes flashed, and how I thought that I had made him angry again. He stared at me and I stared right back, but there was a challenge in his eyes that I couldn't quite match.

And then Dylan leapt forward, and I braced myself for a hit--but instead found his lips clashing on mine.

It was all familiarity and unfamiliarity and synchronization and discovery and desperation and confusion. All in one. His hands grasped firmly at my shoulders and I soared, high above, ecstasy coursing through my veins. His lips were wet with tears but so were mine, and there was a vague taste of blood lingering on my lip. And it hurt. It hurt with all the pain in the world, all the unforgiving facts of our history being pushed between us as I held him desperately, afraid to ever let go.

He pulled away, and with lips still touching lips, he whispered out, "I'm sorry, but I can't love you anymore."

And then, before I could even beg for him to stay, he was gone.

//

guys i legit wrote an entire other book specifically so i could work on my angst skills for this freaking chapter and it stiLL didn't come out as i wanted but its fine everythigngs fine

Guys spring is here and I'm so excited I wet my plants!!

stay safe, stay warm, hydrate, brush your teeth, love and let yourself be loved. xoxo

until next time,

//sam\\