𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐌𝐄

─ ❝ act xviii ❞

⎡ act xviii - dinner ⎦

┊❝ I want you by my side... always ❞┊

── THE clinking of the silverware was the only thing (Y/N) could hear as she mutely ate her dinner alongside Ian and Dylan, the former looking as expressionless as usual while the latter seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. After ordering takeout with the money her father gave her, the trio eventually deciding on pasta, she had unloaded each dish onto a plate with silverware to set along the table, the sheer familiarity of it all making coarse shivers run down her spine.

Was this what Ian and Dylan wanted?

To play house with her?

After everything they put her through, after their abuse and degrading words, what were they trying to gain by having dinner with her of all things?

Was it but a ploy?

A tactical move to intensify her paranoia?

She didn't know, and the very fact of not knowing was what set her on edge the most, something that made her fear she was giving them exactly what they wanted. But then again, from the very moment she chose to be practically subservient to them, she was giving them what they wanted. Even now, just by sitting there in that dining chair, eating with them, (Y/N) was allowing them to do as they wished without any fear of repercussions, because what could she even do to them?

Nothing.

They knew that.

And they reveled in it.

"You know what has me curious, (Y/N)..." Ian started after taking a sip of his water, his cold grey eyes biting into her form due to the fact that she kept her gaze situation on her plate in front of her instead of on him. "It's the fact that we still don't know what happened to your mother. We have our theories, yes... but I want a confirmation. How your father acted... it was abnormal. So tell us... where is your mother now?"

(Y/N)'s hand twitched.

"You want to know... what happened to my mom?" She questioned with a steely tone to her voice, something that both boys noticed, along with how her mother was addressed with a softer title. "Why? What makes you so fucking curious that you think you need to needle your way into my problems?"

"Because I want to know you," Ian continued as he leaned forward, his chin resting on the back of his hands. "Can't I? Know you?"

"No," she spat.

"I'm also curious," Dylan hummed.

(Y/N) could feel her vision start to go blurry from how hard she was glaring at the almost nauseatingly amount of pasta before her, the white sauce reflecting the grease it was used with while the noodles shone slippery and oily. Everything about the moment, from the food to the people she was sharing her meal with, made her want to stand up and run out of that damned house without looking back. Unfortunately, she couldn't, and the reason was even more humiliating than anything she could've done.

Finally, she looked up, and she met both Ian's and Dylan's probing stares.

"You want to know?" She started lowly, her hands balling into fists on her thighs since she hadn't so much as touched her food. "Fine. I'll tell you." Closing her eyes, allowing the rush of painful memories to wash over her, she began, "My mom and father married young. Perhaps too young. She never really got to do what she wanted to do, especially after she had me. One day, without any warning. She just left. She didn't leave a note. She didn't say goodbye. We knew she hadn't been taken or killed since her passport, keys, documents, clothes, accessories—everything—left with her. In the middle of the night, she left, leaving her husband and daughter to wake up in the morning wondering what they did wrong. We didn't know if she had another man. Maybe even another family. All we know is that she's just gone."

(Y/N) stopped, her nails digging so tightly into her palms that when she finally unclenched her hands and looked down, she could see blood.

All tension lifted from her face.

Like a blank canvas, she portrayed nothing.

"You've had a pretty pathetic life, haven't you, (Y/N)?" Dylan smiled as he propped his head up with his fist, her reflection presented so clearly in his eyes making it obvious that she was all that he could see. "It's to be expected, though. Not just anyone can make the face you're making now. It takes a special type of person. I think that's what I like most about you. So... I want you by my side... always. I wouldn't want anything else from you."

"That's fair," Ian agreed as he folded his arms over his chest. "Because then you'd always be at my side as well, (Y/N). It would be... disappointing, if we were to lose someone as entertaining as you."

"Is that all that I am?" (Y/N) questioned, staring up at them through her lashes. "Entertainment?"

"Maybe," Ian side-eyed her.

"Perhaps," Dylan chuckled.

Neither gave solid or tangible answers, but they didn't need to. From their reactions alone to her story, (Y/N) knew that she had only answered her own question. These two boys had completely and utterly ripped her apart bit by bit until they could see the raw, helpless, and utterly defeated person whom she was. Despite her best efforts to hide such shameful sides from the world, they had been able to break down her walls so viciously that she was left bare with nothing to cover herself with.

It left her feeling hollow.

After all, instead of giving this information freely, when she was ready, it was ripped from her at her lowest point.

A broken home.

A mother who's abandoned her.

A father who can't stand the sight of her.

And finally, the two boys who derive pleasure from seeing her so weak.

All this pain, all this emptiness, all of this hatred—so much turbulent emotion—swirled within (Y/N)'s mind until she felt as if her very body would break. Slumping in her chair, she tried to rid herself of such a disappointing mindset, but such a task seemed impossible from how crushing the weight was. Closing her eyes, allowing the darkness to overtake her, she tried not to cry.

And all because of a simple dinner.

__________________________________

To be continued...