TW: is fighting a trigger warning?

*3 day timeskip*

Dylan's pov

"DYLAN O'BRIEN!"

I jumped back from my laptop screen at the abrupt voice, a wide grin spreading quickly across my face. Immediately my exhaustion from the past few days faded, replaced by a familiar warmth as I met the eyes of my best friend.

"Tyler," I breathed, genuine happiness overtaking my persona. We had finally arranged to video chat, barely working in any time to talk at all with my busy schedule and his long work hours back home. After only communicating with short texts over the past three days, we finally both decided to get up early so that we could talk online. It was six in the morning, five for Tyler, I was cranky, and Tyler looked ready to fall back to sleep. Despite all of this, just seeing Tyler again for the first time in what felt like ages was enough to liven up my smile, removing a weight from my chest that I hadn't realized had existed in the first place.

"How the heck are ya?" he greeted in a goofy accent. I laughed for no real reason, feeling a million times better with each second that passed. He looked tired too, his hair disheveled and parted in the wrong direction, his usually tanned skin looking paler in the early hours of the morning.

"Good. Tired, but good," I said, sending him a lopsided grin. The happy crinkles around his eyes faded slightly, but returned so quickly I may have inagined it. "It hasn't even been a full week and I already feel like falling over in exhaustion."

"Yeah, I wasn't gonna say anything, but you look like shit," Tyler laughed, obviously pointing out the dark bags under my eyes and my sagging shoulders.

My eyes narrowed in offence. "Hey! You don't look so hot either!" I defended. He held a hand over his chest in mock hurt, opening his mouth to retort a comeback. I cut him off before he could say anything, eager to continue to an actual conversation within our little time frame. Not that I wasn't thankful for our comfortable banter, but my time was ticking away quickly, and I wanted to speak about everything I had missed in the past few days. "How's everyone doing at home?"

Tyler's hand fell back into his lap as he shifted slightly in his bed, saying, "Your mom's a mess, your sister is completely fine, and your dad is watching a lot of football."

I smiled. "So...same as usual?"

"Yup," he laughed. "Oh, and your mom told me today that your neighbor stopped by your house. Mr....Gill? I'm not sure, but apparently he gave her a cake and congratulated her for finally shipping you out."

I almost rolled my eyes, huffing out, "Typical." Mr. Gill was my cranky old neighbor, whom had taken a special dislike--no, hatred-- towards me after I accidentally broke his window with a baseball when I was nine. Ever since he was a royal dick to me, though he wasn't really nice to anyone in particular, and inevitably tried to make my childhood as much of a living hell as possible. It was no wonder he was happy I had finally moved out. To be quite honest, I was surprised (and slightly offended) that he had settled on only a cake to celebrate my moving away. Knowing him, I would have expected he would have at least thrown a party.

From there Tyler and I launched into a spiraling conversation, speaking so fast and rushed it was like we hadn't spoken in years. We filled in each other about our daily lives as though we had both been living on different planets, chattering non-stop for half an hour. I told him all about the script readings, the meetings, the inside jokes, and how much I adored my cast. In return, he chattered about his job, his family, and his college classes, somehow managing to make his ordinary life come across much more exciting than my own.

At 20 minutes before I had to hang up and go to work, I sighed. "I'm gonna have to get back to the hotel for some meetings soon."

Tyler looked up from his phone, where he had been determinedly googling something we had disagreed about. Glancing over my shoulder, he muttered, "Wait, where are you?" I instinctively glanced around the empty room, realizing I seemed to have forgotten to explain my trailer situation in the heat of my excitement.

"My trailer," I answered with a shrug, looking back to the camera. Tyler's jaw unhinged, and my eyebrow tilted up at his shocked expression. "What?"

"You have your own trailer?" he asked in awe. I nodded slowly, confused for a moment. At this point, it seemed blatantly obvious I would have a trailer to me, but I guess I managed to forget my original shock at the prospect too. Tyler was reacting similar to how I had gotten the news, I realized.

I rushed to explain. "Well, it's not entirely my own..." I trailed, fading out grumpily. Tyler, sensing my change in mood, muttered a slight "uh-oh."

I licked my lips, ruffling my hair. "I share it," I explained sourly. Tyler's eyes begged me to continue, so I added, "and I bet you can guess who I managed to get paired up with."

Tyler stared at me blankly, until a flicker of recognition sparked in his eye, and the corner of his mouth twitched. He studied my face quickly, until it finally clicked into place in his head, understanding the disgruntled look on my face.

And then Tyer burst out into laughter, so loud he bent over on his bed, clutching his stomach. "Thomas Brodie-Sangster?" He guessed between bouts of cackles. I nodded solemnly, only spurring his laughter on further. "I-I'm sorry man, but you have the worst luck ever."

I groaned, placing my head in my hands. "I know! And believe it or not, he's worse than I imagined, too."

Tyler composed himself slightly, sensing that I was in need of a good vent. "How so?" He asked.

I grunted again. "He-he's just so-ugh!" I exclaimed. "I hate him! Everything he does is so cynical and accusatory. I can't get anything out without him being pessimistic or grumpy."

Tyler looked thoughtful, beginning, "Well, have you tried--"

"I swear it's like he always has some ulterior motive. He'll be so fricking terrible one moment, and then he's a total gentlemen the next!" I cut him off. I was on a role now, not allowing Tyler to say anything."He's so confusing. The other day he paid for my new clothes--"

"Aw, that's sweet of him--" Tyler spoke over me.

I kept going, ignoring his comment. "And he keeps cleaning up my mess for me in the trailer--"

Again, Tyler commented, "And...that's a bad thing...how?"

"--And he keeps going out of his way to annoy me at meetings--"

"So he's making you more comfortable?"

And still I ranted on, listing all of the things Thomas had done in the past week that pissed me off. I listed about ten things, arms waving around frantically and my voice trembling angrily.

I suddenly stopped speaking, noticing that Tyler had gone silent long ago. He was watching me with a knowing look, like he had realized something I hadn't. "What?" I demanded.

He studied me, his eyes gleaming. He bit his lip then quickly released it to mutter, "Yeah, Thomas sure seems awful." His tone wasn't honest though; he was obviously hiding his sarcasm behind a veil of comfort.

"You don't believe me!" I accused.

Tyler sighed. "Well, for a guy you seem to hate so much, you sure did have a lot of good things to say about him."

I froze with my hands in the air, eyes narrowing at the screen. Pursing my lips, I questioned in a monotonous voice, "What are you suggesting, Tyler?"

"You'll figure it out eventually," Tyler rolled his eyes. My mouth tightened, frustration building inside me. Why was it that I kept hearing something like that whenever Thomas came up in conversation?

I huffed in frustration, quickly deciding I didn't feel like pushing him for an answer--or maybe I didn't actually want the answer, and that's why I stayed silent. I watched Tyler yawn, eyes slightly drooping from drowsiness. I cocked my head to the side, suddenly remembering that this kind of tiredness was uncharacteristic for him, a complete contrast to his usually energetic self.

"You know, you kinda look like you haven't slept in days," I realized aloud. Worry started to build inside of me, like water in a plugged-up sink.
Tyler grimaced at the change of conversation. "Yeah," he muttered looking away. I tilted my head, asking him a silent question. He sighed, threading his fingers through his hair. "I haven't been able to sleep lately, to be honest."

I frowned. "Is everything okay?"

Immediately, I sensed Tyler's mood take a dark turn. He nawed at his lip again, suddenly taking on a rare fragility that I was completely unused to seeing. His eyes flickered everywhere but the camera lense as he muttered sheepishly, "It's just weird having you halfway across the country, that's all."

My heart panged with a deep longing for my best friend. I shot him a sad smile, nodding in agreement. Though I liked most of the friends I had made here, I had yet to connect with anyone like I had with Tyler. Most of my relationships were average, neither filled with overwhelming passion or overbearing hate (besides Thomas, who was obviously a rare exception), and I missed having a right hand man I could rely on. It may have been less than a week, but losing a best friend felt like you were losing your sibling, your parent, and your significant other all at once.

"I'll be home in less than 3 months," I tried reasoning, though my voice came out hollow and sad.

A strained smile lit Tyler's face as he quietly said, "Good."

And then both of us dropped the conversation, neither being the sentimental type. We continued to talk for a few minutes, before a text from Kaya alerted me that I had ten minutes to get back to the hotel.

"I have to go now, I'll text you later," I muttered reluctantly.

Tyler nodded, giving me a peace sign. Just as I thought he was going to hang up, he spoke up again, his tone sly and knowing.

"Oh, and Dylan, one more thing. Don't forget that there's a fine line between love and hate."

I gaped at him, confused as to what he was hinting at. He winked at me, and when the words he had muttered processed in my brain, I felt the crushing clarity of his statement slap me like a cold breeze.

"Don't you dare try and tell me Thomas and I are going to fall in love--" but Tyler had already hung up, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

My screen turned black, my angry expression being reflected back at me. I shook my head, breathing heavily through my nose, the familiar frustration blooming in my chest. I kept repeating his last statement in my head, wallowing in my thoughts, when a voice suddenly broke the quiet of the room.

"Who was that?"

I jumped, spinning in my chair. Upon seeing it was only Thomas, my hand clutched at my racing heart. He stood in the doorway of the trailer, most likely sneaking in when I wasn't paying attention. His hair was ruffled and damp, likely from the rain, but his eyes were lit with interest.

I rolled my eyes. "That's none of your business."

I turned back around in my seat, ignoring Thomas's returning silence. I shut my laptop, getting to my feet quietly. As I turned again, Thomas had still not moved, though he spoke up again.

"Was he your boyfriend?"

The question startled me, but what surprised me even more was the way Thomas said it. His forced nonchalance was evident in his slight wavering tone, and he kept fidgeting back and forth on his feet, clearly trying to be normal. My eyebrows flew up in confusion, and Thomas looked even more curious with each passing second that I didn't reply.

"Again, that's none of your business." Thomas swallowed, not removing his eyes from my face.

An awkward tension began to rise, so I made my way to the door, pushing past the other man's small form. Just as I stepped into the doorway, I felt a soft but firm grip on my elbow, not hurting me but keeping me rooted in place. I glanced over my shoulder at Thomas, who now looked slightly concerned.

"I think it is my business, actually, considering we're technically a form of roommates," Thomas pushed.

I scoffed. "And I think you're a dick, so you're the last person I would share that kind of information with."

Thomas's eyes flared, but still there was that lingering hesitancy in the way he stood. I ripped my elbow from his grip, gritting my teeth as I thought about the day to come.

***********************

I managed to avoid Thomas and his questions for most of the day, surprisingly. Maybe I was being irrational for not simply telling him that Tyler and I were just friends, nothing more, but in my defense, who was he to stick his nose in my business?

Anyways, we were separated for most work hours today, so I had no problem dodging any questioning looks/glares he threw in my direction. In fact, it was quite fun ignoring his dirty looks, to be quite honest.

Thomas, however, did not see my avoidance as quite as fun of a game.

I learned this the hard way, when the entire cast had gathered for the first day of fitness and fighting training.

I was fine for the first twenty minutes, joking with my friends, while still making sure to listen closely to the instructor. I sensed that Thomas was staring at the back of my head, but I determinedly looked at everyone but him, focused solely on winning this silent war between us. I'd say I had the upper hand too, until the instructor told us to break into pairs to practice some basic fighting techniques.

I turned to Ki Hong, but instead found myself face to face with, you guessed it, Thomas. Goddamn, this kid manages to be everywhere I look.

"We need to talk," Thomas mumbled gruffly, inches away from my face.

I stumbled backwards, but he grabbed my arm to stabilize me. Even as I regained my balance, he didn't let go, keeping a tight grip on my bicep. To anyone else, it may have looked like a comforting touch, but from the fire in his eyes, I judged it was more of a silent warning: do not run away again.

I tried to pull my arm away, but his grip did not slacken. He set off towards the corner of the room, pulling me along behind him, while I sent pleading looks for help back at a curious Ki Hong. Kaya came up behind him, smirked at Thomas and I, then dragged Ki away by the ear,presumably to be partners.

Well, there goes my only form of help in getting out of this situation.

Finally Thomas stopped walking when we reached a good distance away from everyone else. He turned to me, arms crossed over his chest, a ridiculing look on his face.

"What?" I spat.

Thomas's jaw clenched. Already I could tell I wouldn't like where this is going.

"Why have you been avoiding me all day?" he questioned in his deep, British voice. Ah, so he thinks we're getting right into the conversation, okay.

I scoffed. "You're not going to ask me how my day was? Or if I'd like to chat over some tea and croissants?" I sneered at him, hoping to draw a reaction.

Thomas refused to take my bait. "Stop dodging all of my damn questions and give me an answer for once."

"What, are we friends now or something?" I said, dropping my act.

Thomas's eyes narrowed. "Of course not," he said without thinking.

I scoffed again, crossing my arms as well. "We should be starting the exercises. I'm not losing my job because of you."

I squared my shoulders the way the instructor told us to, raising my arms. However, when Thomas refused to move, my arms fell back to my sides and I let out a heavy sigh.

Thomas continued like I hadn't said anything. "I just think it's important that I know if you have a boyfriend."

"Why?" I said, my voice beginning to raise. "It's not like we're ever going to date, so what's it to you?"

Far off on the other side of the room, the instructor said something about him being called to another room. I heard him shout that he'd be back in twenty minutes, and then the door slammed behind him, leaving the cast to practice on their own.

"--for future reference," Thomas said, and I realized I missed the beginning of his statement.

I turned back to face him. "What?" I asked.

For some reason, a flash of guilt appeared on Thomas's face as he repeated what he said. "You never know what could happen. I might need to know for future reference."

A single trace of anger ran through me, like a minuscule spark of fire. I let out a breath, forcing myself to calm down. "I can't think of a single circumstance where that kind of information would be relevant."

"Well, for one thing I wouldn't have to--" Thomas stopped himself, his eyes widening.

"Have to what?" I pushed, curiosity curling in my brain.

He gulped. "N-nothing."

The spark of fire in me sparked again, but this time with traces of smoke curling up too.

"You're a jackass," I stated matter-of-factly. "How dare you come here, asking--no, demanding--that I tell you every detail about my life--"

"I'm not asking for every detail, just this one answer!" Thomas's voice was raising too, not quite at a shout, but loud enough to draw a few eyes.

I scoffed. "Why do you care?"

Thomas threw his arms in the air, snarling, "I don't even know why I keep trying to talk to someone like you!"

The smoke in me was becoming thicker, heavier, darker with each word he spoke. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Wow, you're more dense than I thought."

Any lingering thoughts of practicing what we were supposed to vanished from my head, replaced by a slowly building anger. The sparks had finally caught, igniting a small fire. I took a few breaths to tame it, keeping it within the limits of the situation.

"Well, for your information, he's not my boyfriend," I said through gritted teeth.

Thomas's shoulders untensed slightly. "I figured you wouldn't have one," he sniffed, his voice light and airy like I just solved all of his problems. The fire in me blazed brighter with the answering smirk that etched into the corners of his cheeks.

"What the hell is your problem?" I asked suddenly, voice almost at a shout. Thomas, suddenly looking confused, tilted his head to the side.

"I don't have a problem. You're the one with some type of issue!" Thomas retorted back, his frown digging hard lines into his smooth face.

I restrained myself from scoffing yet again, replying instead, "I have done nothing! You're just being the obsessive control freak that has to know everything at every moment!"

Thomas flared his nostrils. His fists clenched at his sides tightly, and he stepped even closer to me, heightening the tension between us tenfold. "Don't act so innocent, Dylan," he said lowly. "You've had something against me the moment you stepped into the hotel conference room."

"I have every right to hate you," I snarled back, voice spitting with venom. Thomas shook his head amd leaned back, almost like he couldn't believe me.

"Give me one good reason, just one, and maybe I'll stop myself from doing something stupid."

I thought for only a split second, and then the words were falling out of my mouth like angry bees flying out of a nest, stinging Thomas's skin with no thoughts to the consequences. This was my first mistake.

"You have the biggest goddamn ego I've ever met in my entire life," I said, my voice threatening and low.

Thomas's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. I took advantage of his silence to list another reason, another of my mistakes.

"You think everyone is in love with you, like your some type of God. It's so frustrating to talk to someone who instantly looks at you like your scum beneath their feet."

Thomas stepped forward again, now within arms reached. I was angry, and not thinking clearly at this point, and his close proximity was only adding to my irrational temper. So I made my third mistake, my final strike, and I did the worst thing I could possibly do in this situation.

Planting both of my hands on his chest, I shoved him as hard as I could.

At first, Thomas looked more shocked than anything. But then his surprise twisted around, curling into a look that could surely kill me.

"You are the stupidest fucking human being on the face of this earth," Thomas growled. His chest was rising quickly, obviously restraining himself with every ounce of self power he had left.

But if you can believe it, I didn't stop at just shoving him. In fact, I intentionally kept angering him.

"I know why you hate me, Thomas. It's not because I hate you. It's because I am the only one who has never bowed down at your feet!"

Thomas was as tight as a spring at this point, his fists clenched so hard they turned white. His face became red with anger, and yet, I wasn't finished. I kept shouting at him, spilling what had been lurking in the back of my mind all week. The fire in me was no longer a spark, a smoke, a whisp. No, the fire in me had ignited into a wildfire, and I had no control over myself or my emotions anymore.

So I said my last, worst comment.

"News flash, Thomas! You're not as great as you think! Not everyone likes you!"

And Thomas snapped.

He came rushing at me, and I barely had time to duck before his fist came swinging at my face. I shoved his smaller body away, and he stumbled, but was able to quickly regain his balance. He came at me again, and this time his body collided with mine, knocking the wind from my lungs as we both fell to the ground in a tangled mass of limbs.

The cast had noticed us by now, but no one interfered, though everyone was yelling at us. We ignored them, throwing punches, kicking, scratching, doing anything we could to get the other to back down first. We were both blinded by our anger, yet somehow, neither of us were able to actually land any blows worthy of damage. We just kept rolling around on the floor, trying to convey our anger with fists and yells and violence.

We rolled and Thomas was on top of me. I hooked my leg over his and flipped us again, so that I now sat on top of him. He attempted the same maneuver, but he didn't have the advantage of weight like I did. I straddled his hips and wrestled his arms to his sides. Then I used my legs to restrain him, made difficult by his incessant squirming, and managed to completely pin him. My wildfire was slowly sapping my energy, so I decided it was time to end this, time for me to win.

I raised my fist, fingers clenched so tight they faded of color. Thomas finally lay still, too resigned to even attempt to squirm away as he looked up from his space beneath me, breathing heavily with his jaw set and eyes squinting. I had the upper hand, both in the literal and metaphoric sense, and Thomas seemed to understand that, waiting impatiently in a cold silence.

Everything fell away. The open room felt thick with the uneasy quiet, scared and restless. I paid no heed to my nervously fidgeting castmates, nor the buzzing of the flies, nor the low hum of the fans cooling down my sweaty back. My attention stayed glued solely to the face of the man pinned beneath my weight. Adrenaline pumping through my veins, my fist trembled in the air, ready to fall and connect with my victim. My castmates froze in horror, waiting, just waiting for my next move.

I gulped. Flexing my fingers, remaking my fist. Why was I hesitating? I shouldn't be waiting. Thomas gulped. Hesitancy lurked in his big brown eyes too. I knew that if my castmates were to interfere, now would be the time. But no one moved. Everyone was waiting.

In that moment I swore time stopped, though reality kept ticking away, and I swore I ceased breathing, though my pants came out uneven and harsh. Like a rush of cold water, I suddenly felt like I was watching the scene unfold like everyone else, and my stomach clenched in excitement--or was it disgust? Disgust seemed more fitting, actually. But with whom? Thomas?

With myself.

The fingers of my left hand dug deep into Thomas's shoulder, most likely hurting him, and my breaths still came out painfully hard, painfully loud. I could do it, I could hurt him right now, and I would do it without any traces of guilt...right? My fist stayed poised above our heads, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Hit him, hit him, hit him, a voice chanted in my head. I could do it--I should do it. Why couldn't I force myself to hit him? I shook my head. I hate him, I reminded myself. He would hit me, so I should hit him.

And then Thomas whimpered. Quiet, faint, barely noticeable at all, had I not been sitting on top of him. Fear had replaced his hesitancy, and I had a feeling my eyes reflected just the same. I didn't fear him, however. I feared myself.

Thomas's light eyelids fluttered shut, accepting his fate. I should hit him now, to get it over with. He was bracing himself, and I braced myself, and-- goddammit just do it already!

My fist fell limp at my side.

Instantaneously I felt hands gripping my shoulders and biceps, stumbling to my feet as they pulled me backwards. Thomas's eyes were open again, confusion visible in his dark brown eyes and tilted brow as he too was pulled up away from me. My restraints held me back, like they expected me to charge the older man again; I couldn't, and I wouldn't even if I wanted to.

As soon as Thomas realized he was no longer in immediate danger, he struggled against the arms of the cast, as though he wanted to keep fighting me. His gaze never left mine as I hung limp in the arms of my friends, but he couldn't escape from the hold of so many people.

"Stop!" Kaya shrieked suddenly. "Both of you, stop!" She stepped between the two groups, arms raised like she was the barrier between us. Thomas continued to struggle.

"What's wrong with you two? Both of you need to stop right now!" Kaya's voice was shrill, commanding. She took a deep breath, then continued. "Look, you guys don't have to love each other. You don't even have to like each other. But for the sake of your friends, yourselves, and your jobs, you two can't keep fighting and bickering whenever you're in the same room!"

At her words, any traces of fire I had remaining in me was instantly doused, replaced by remorse and regret. Thomas slowly eased his struggling as well, standing still in the arms of our friends. Kaya's arms fell to her side, and she continued in a voice just above a whisper, "These people around us? They're your friends now. How do you think it makes them feel to be working around two people who can't even stand to look at each other?" I hadn't considered that. I instantly felt bad, reminded of the uncomfortable silences and awkward glances my friends had exchanged over the past week. Kaya looked between us, continuing in her softest voice yet, "You guys are bloody actors, for goodness sake. At least pretend to be able to stand each other."

My eyes fell to the ground, sudden tiredness drilling deep into my bones. Her words echoed in my head, each syllable making sense but only succeeding to make me feel worse. I heard the sound of a door opening, and I figured the instructor had finally come back.

My thoughts were proven correct when my head raised, watching the instructor assess the scene. He looked back and forth between our two groups for a minute, then finally managed to say, "What's going on here?"

No one said anything. I straightened up as the seconds ticked by, supporting myself on my own two feet. Across from me, Thomas did the same.

"Nothing," Thomas finally said sternly, as though it was final. At his strict voice, the instructor seemed surprised, but he didn't push for more answers. He told us to disperse, and the crowd around Thomas and I left hesitantly, seemingly afraid that we would start another brawl right in front of someone who could easily get us fired.

So Thomas and I met each other's eyes, my honey brown meeting his dark hazel. We didn't move, we didn't blink, we didn't breathe, but somehow, we both knew what the other was thinking.

For now, we'd have a truce.

//

I AM THE WORST AUTHOR EVER

1 month?? I waited a month to update?? honestly it probably would have been even longer without you guys telling me to update and shit (no but seriously I appreciate it so much thank you it really helps)

sooo a 5k word chapter to celebrate the fact that yes, I am still alive to update this story...I don't even put this much effort into my essays at school.

i hope you liked this chapter because it TOOK FOREVER and I tried updating it yesterday at my swim meet but it didn't post so sorrrryy

Umm I had a lot to say?? Oh, that scene at the end with kaya was like 110% FRIENDS reference and if you havent seen that show you haven't LIVED.

tbh i shoulda separated this chapter into two but OH WELL

Imma go eat a toaster strudel so I love all of you and I hope today is amazing for you bc you all deserve it :)

buh byeeee

//sam\\