- the quarry oneshots -

dylan l. - dork

- word count: 1,824 || warnings: swearing, mentions of gore (slightly) || 2nd person -

Path chosen if:
- Rotor arm was stolen by Jacob -
- Abi and Emma broke open the cabin door -
- Dylan's hand was cut off -

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He was oh so hopelessly in love. It was just too bad that they were in the middle of a life-or-death situation for him to actually say anything to them.

But where's the harm in trying?

"Hey, Y/N?" Dylan's voice broke into the silence as they all headed towards the scrapyard in search of a substitute for the lost rotor arm.

"Yeah?" You glanced back at the boy, noticing his worried expression.

He paused for a second before actually speaking, "what's your... favorite thing to do? Like— like when we get out of this place.. and you're at home.. what'd'ya like to do?"

Kaitlyn stopped in her tracks and looked back at the both of you, "we are literally in the middle of trying to get the hell out of this camp while running from monsters and that's what you ask?"

Dylan merely gave her a look, "what? I'm just trying to— y'know— lighten the mood?"

You gave a small chuckle to his response before Kaitlyn responded with, "why don't you save that conversation for later then?" She pulled the gun from her side and carried on.

You and Dylan continued to follow her before you leaned next to Dylan, "I like to (your favorite hobby). There's my answer."

He pulled back, confused, "huh?"

"Your question earlier— what I like to do?" You cocked your head, "I answered it."

His eyes widened, "oh," and he nodded along before a smile came onto his face, "that's pretty cool." An exhale came from his lips as he patted his right hand on his thigh.

"How about you?" Your eyes exchanged between the floor and Dylan, "what do you like to do for fun? I mean— I know you do DJing and that's pretty cool, but maybe there was something else?"

"Oh! Yeah-" he shrugged his shoulders, "I— uh— huh."

"'Huh?'" you repeated, confused. Kaitlyn sighed.

"I dunno," his right hand reached for the back of his neck, "it— uh, really depends."

"Right," you nodded along. This wasn't going very well.

Before Dylan could respond, you were met with large chain fences, signaling the start of the scrapyard.

"Alright, we're here," Kaitlyn looked around before pushing through, "let's get in and then get the hell out of here."

"You got it," Dylan exhaled before letting you go in first.

Scouring every beat-up automobile was not fun at all. There was risks of making too much noise or even tetanus.

"Hey," Dylan met up behind me, "this is kinda crazy, isn't it?"

You looked at him, confused, "yeah. I guess?"