Secrets Behind The REPUTATION

CHAPTER SIX

'Is someone calling you?' The young boy asked, his two strands of brunette hair slumping against his forehead as his head up to look at his friend, Dylan. He stopped tapping his right foot on the drum pedal - like the white sneaker remained flat on it now - and both drumsticks on his hands hesitated to hit on the snare drum and the hit-hat while he gave an unsure question to Dylan, who is standing in front of him with an electric guitar hanging down on his frame.

'Are you sure? I didn't hear anything.' Dylan shrugged, then took his guitar off from his body, clinging around the guitar neck with his left hand, and gawking at the locked white door for taking heed.

'I suppose.' The guy nodded, running his finger across the round neckline of the black T-shirt he had put on.

'Look...' Dylan ran his other fingers sensuously through his blond hair and stared at his buddy with his brooding eyes. 'Keep your eyes on the prize, remember Mr Benedict finally agrees to have a meeting next Monday. We gotta beat his ego superior talk down ass, and trust me, it will be a tough row to hoe.'

'I thought someone was calling you, seriously.' He spread both hands and looked at Dylan, trying to pick a convincing face at this moment.

'Seems no one is calling me. Can we start all over again?' Dylan asked at some point, standing at the edge of an annoyance. Because his mind kept reminding him about his dad and pressuring him to wind up everything before he showed up home.

'I am with you.' He raised the drumstick in his right hand as he added that.

'Dylan!!!'

The shout swarmed up from downstairs like a thunderbolt, causing both of their head to swing rapidly towards the door. Dylan let out a thin cry, and his friend stared at him with a funny face, showing "I told you so, you dickhead". Dylan's head to toe got slumped. His inquisitiveness energy and enthusiastic face were replaced by sadness and horror.

'Dad?' Dylan dropped his words to a bare murmur.

'What?' The boy asked in confusion, still on the drum stool.

Dylan did not utter a word, but within a few seconds, he was completely gone. A bolt of red sirens lit up in his heart, he threw the guitar he had in his hand on the bed and swiftly began to rush towards the open window situated on the right side to sneak out.

Dylan put his left foot out and bend down to slide through the window, but before he could go on further, the young guy jumped out of the stool and sprinted towards him, wrapping his arms firmly around Dylan's stomach to drag him back to the room. Dylan struggled a lot to get out of his grip. But when he realized that he could not escape from his buddy's strong muscular hands, he let out a sharp heavy sigh and gazed at him over his shoulder.

'Okay, I will see you in hell.' Dylan said and tried again to get out of his tight grip around his stomach.

'No! No! No!!! Just face it, it will be okay.' The young guy yelled at Dylan's ears and snaked his hands tightly around his body, not allowing him to chicken out from this situation. 'You can't lead a double life, D. He has to find out who you are and who you wanna be.'

'Easy for you to say, I don't see anyone shouting your name!!'

'No! Dylan. I will not let you go.'

The boy tightened his arms again, as if the serpent had coiled its muscular body around his torso. Seems like Dylan is putting on a straitjacket and powerless to move a bit. But when Dylan tried to shrug off, the boy pulls his body backwards firmly, which caused two of them to lean back, and their backs are slammed against the wooden floor. Both of them stare at the ceiling, panting heavily.