Dylan O'Brien (ıṃѧɢıṅєṡ & ƿяєғєяєṅċєṡ)

He Comforts You |Preference (Twelfth Imagine)

#Imagine Preference 1

The first time you had a nightmare, your mother was there to console you. Wiping the sweat off your heated forehead, and telling you everything was going to be fine. You always trusted her, and she was always right when she told you that you were going to be alright. "It's only a dream, baby. . . Go back to sleep my little girl," then she would wipe off the new sweat on your forehead and kiss it gently.

Those nightmares seemed like they would never end, like they wouldn't ever go away. For a time they did, and when you realized it those were the happiest days and nights of your life. Until they came back once your dad and mother got a divorce. Those nightmares were the worst, they either ended up in the death of your mother, or your father. After talking to your mother about them she had taken you to the doctor to see if there was a type of sleeping pill to help your nightmares. Fortunately there was, and so every night you would crunch the pill into a cup of water and drink it. That was at the age of thirteen, and being (whatever age you are or want to be in this story), you've gotten used to the routine.

Having nightmares every night you hadn't taken a pill scared you, you wondered if you would ever out-grow the nightmares somehow. It was childish and you were embarrassed of them. But you couldn't help it, could you? It wasn't your fault, it was a disorder you had, you couldn't do much about it.

Even your father didn't know, no one did except your mother. It was something you desired to keep hidden, one of your big secrets. Until one night you had slept over at your friends house and made the mistake of forgetting a pill.

_____________

"Mom, can you hurry up and take me already?" You begged, wondering if Dylan was going to wait for you before starting the movie. It was a Friday and that meant you and your friend were having a scary movie marathon. You told you mother about it, she said it wasn't a good idea. "Momm!" You called as your mother walked to you with a slight scowl on her face.

"This is the thirteenth Friday you've taken me away from finishing the Friends sixth season," she argued, crossing her arms over her chest in the most motherly way possible. You smiled and rolled your eyes, the relationship between you and your mother was more like a sisterly one and you loved it. As she opened the house door, she began to scold you on not driving yourself or getting someone to pick you up, "I swear. I've never seen a seventeen year old who hates driving as much as you. That I know for a fact you got from your father," you couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"I didn't know daddy didn't like driving?" You said. You never really paid much attention at the age of five, that your mother was always the one to drive you places.

"I don't think like would be the right word for his weird phobia of driving. It was like he thought the car would somehow kill him. Nowadays I think he has someone drive him around, who knows maybe it's my ex-best friend?" Here came the sore topic of the cliche affair that your mothers best friend, and your father had resulting in a divorce. The odd thing was, was you didn't figure out whom the other woman was until the age of twelve. You guessed your mother didn't want to tell you that your best friends mom had been sleeping around with your father. . . You were both were too young anyway to know the other man or woman who ruined your parents 'wonderful' marriage.

"Speaking about dad. . . He called me the other day." Your mother glanced over at you with interest as you buckled yourself in the passenger seat. She began to drive towards Dylan's house.

"Why? To ask how your life was going with a crazy woman like me?" The sarcasm your mother had sometimes scared you.

"No, actually." The call wasn't about you at all, it was about your mother. He wanted to know how she was doing, all in all he wanted her back. It had only been a year since he started to call you again. "He wanted to know how you were doing," your mother stopped the car and you gripped the seat. You looked outside to see you were at Dylan's house. But you knew the reason she stopped so abruptly was because of what you said.