Cracks

Sticking together- Dylan's POV

Dylan's POV-

Distance. I needed some distance. However, how much distance could you possibly get from someone who is fucking staying with you?

She knew what I was doing. She was even trying to give me exactly what I wanted as much as she possibly could. Still, staying away from her was no easy feat.

I slept on the couch, I tried to only interact with her during tutoring, I started taking Scotty out just me and him, I even started talking to Lindsay again. In response, Presley started going out without me a little bit, she hung out with Scotty more than she did with me, and she hung out in the backyard, away from me, a lot of the time too.

It sucked. It sucked not hanging out with her. I found myself seriously missing her sarcastic and sassy remarks, her pretty self, her easy understanding and acceptance. Missing her made me feel even worse about the whole situation... I didn't want to be like my father. I felt just like my father.

I was obsessing over Presley but tied to Lindsay. It felt awful. I felt dirty.

And Lindsay... Oh, Lindsay, my whole relationship with her was a mess. She was holding a grudge for me not talking to her or kissing her ass in apologies. She was bringing up my 'neglectful' tendencies. She was even basically saying that Christmas was off. Still... neither one of us broke up with each other.

Why?

I didn't know either.

I didn't like the girl that much, nor did I love her. I don't think I ever had... I just tolerated her out of compliance and fear of fucking my life up like I was always expected to do on my own.

That being said, I had been with her for most of high school. She was my high school sweetheart; it was expected of us to marry in a few years. She was safe. With her, I'd have a secure future in store for me. With her, everything would be set before me and I wouldn't even have to think about anything. We'd be all set.

The way that I had been taught was still screwing with my head. The way my parents had told me to be was seriously messed up. I knew that! So, why couldn't I break out of that way then?

'You're just like me,' it repeated in my head over and over again. I was just like him, and that pissed me off! I didn't want to be like him! Yet... I was.

"Dylan..." her voice sounded soft and slow, as if she didn't want to scare me off. "Dilly..." she tried again.

"Yes?" I finally relented.

"You're a dick," she said it so simply that I had to laugh.

"Thanks..." I deadpanned with an amused smile.

"Finally, you smiled!" She giggled. "I'm sick of this," she groaned.

"Sick of what?" I asked.

"This bullshit attitude that you have going on," she answered with a shrug. "It's supposed to be me and you sticking together, remember? Us messed up people need to stick together..."

"I..." I began.

"You are not like him, Dylan," she said firmly.

"B-but I am!" I argued.

She smacked me in the back of my head and glared. "No!"

"I-"

She smacked me again before I could actually say anything. "No," she wagged her finger at me firmly.