𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄 | Dylan O'brien

𝐗𝐕

we made it back to the cabin.  it's still the morning,  i'd say around 8am. 

and i am still gross from the slip in the mud,  yet Dylan still hugged me.  even though i gave him an entire lecture to not do that. 

i was mad at him.  i was sitting on the deck,  dangling my legs over the edge into the water.  i was in my bathers.  as soon as i got back i changed and walked towards the lake. 

out of the corner of my eye i saw Dylan walking towards me.  i looked up at him but then tore my eyes away staring back down at the water. 

"i'm sor-" i cut him off by jumping into the water.  my entire in the lake now.  i swam back up and popped my head out of the water.  Dylan sighed and began to speak again.

"look brooke i'm sorry,  okay?"  Dylan tried.  i shook my head,  and swam around to face him. 

"no,  Dylan okay, not okay." 

"just hear me out will you?"  he sighed and began talking again.  "i'm sorry i assumed those things about you,  i'm sorry for talking the way i did and i'm sorry for coming into you so soon and quick. 

it wasn't right.  and your right if i did know you i would probably have different intentions.  that's why i keep on pushing myself towards you. 

it's because i want to get to know you alright?  i want to know everything about you,  i'm not going to tell you who you are anymore,  i won't tell you how many times i've watched you have a panic attack because your right. 

it doesn't feel l nice to hear it from someone else's perspective.  and i feel stupid for saying what i did last night.  i'm so sorry."

i held myself up in the water as i watched Dylan's expression.  it was genuine.  i didn't want it to be. 

"okay."  is all i said before turning back around slowly swimming further into the lake. 

"does that mean you forgive me?"  he calls out,  i chuckle slightly.  not believing i'm actually letting him in.  i turn back around once again and stare at him. 

"just because i forgave you,  and that i don't hate you anymore,  does not give you the right to hit on me."  i say pointing my finger at him.  "got it?" 

he nods softly then smiles widely.  he jumps into the lake and i cover my face with my hands,  trying to prevent the water from slashing on my face. 

he comes back up from the water and slowly moves towards me.  he begins to speak: "if i can't hit on you,  does that mean i can't touch you?"

i squint my eyes,  gazing at him while he comes closer and closer.  smiling like an idiot. 

"that depends on what you mean by the term 'touch'."  i say and he does his stupid little sheepish smile and blinks a couple of times before speaking.

"i mean,  like this.."  his hands lightly touch my waist and i've lost all control of my body.

a lot of guys had done this before,  and i let them,  but i never felt the way Dylan is making me feel right now.  and there is only one other man who made me feel like this.

i couldn't do this to him.  not to us.

"i cant,"  i start,  clearing my throat i pull his hands off of me,  "i can't do this right now."  i finish.  moving around him,  i quickly swim to the deck and hop out.  i pick up a towel and drain my hair if the water before wrapping the towel around my body. 

i leave Dylan swimming in the lake as i walk back inside. 

｡ﾟ₊ ✩࿐｡ﾟ

i spent the next six days,  avoiding Dylan.  i didn't want to see him,  everything about Dylan reminded me of  him.  my love.

i shook off my thoughts as i sat on the couch with my laptop and a cup of coffee.  i don't think i could handle without at least one cup a day. 

i have a couple hobbies that i love to do.  i love photographing.  i have a camera that i bring everywhere with me.  anything i see that catches my eye n live to capture it.  i don't post the picture,  but i do print them. 

i hang these pictures up in my room.  i love to just stare at them,  i have a collection called my 'quiet photos'  and some as my 'loud photos'.  they are very special to me. 

but right now it's porting out with thunderstorms.  and i'm just sitting here on the couch in a weighted blanket and a cup of coffee. 

writing.

that's my other hobby.  i love to write.  i write fiction only,  anything that comes to my mind i just love to put it down into words and express how i feel into someone else,  part of the character's personality or problems. 

i don't write full blown stories,  i just write little stories that can be left on a cliff hanger or something like that.

it's just the little things that make me happy,  how the sound of the rain falling on the rooftop fills me with warmth,  or the feeling of cotton against my skin, 

or even how Dylan's not here to give me a lecture on how 'it's bad to have coffee at 6 o'clock at night,  because it can damage the brain's system to sleep.' or whatever.

i'm currently writing about this girl who is widowed,  and is scared to love again.  that was until someone came into her life and reminded her of him.

but i shut my laptop as soon as i hear someone behind me.  i don't even need to be scared because it's Dylan.  obviously. 

"what do you want Rhodes."  i ask without even looking at him and he replies with a simple question. 

"why are you avoiding me?"  he jumps over the back of the couch and sits next to me.  "what did i do wrong?" 

my eyebrows are knitted together and lips fall into a straight line while i struggle to find an answer.  if i tell him the truth he might want to run away. 

and if i don't,  i won't be able to live with myself for not telling him,  not knowing what could happen if i didn't.  i was scared.

i stared at the floor and realised that is wasn't his fault.  it's mine.  if a face was the definition of something.  mine would be the definition of realisation. 

"i'm so sorry."  i finally say.  "it's not your fault."  i turn my head around to face him.  i swallow hard. 

it's not his fault that he doesn't know me.  it's not his fault that he didn't understand how to come onto me.  it's not his fault he's just trying to get an answer as to why i'm acting this way. 

it's mines  it's my fault for not telling him,  it's my fault for not explaining he reminds to much of him and i don't want for him to do the things he used to do. 

what Myles used to do.

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