Disappeared [ Dylan Sprayberry Fanfic ]

Chapter 19

Dylan's POV
It's been a week since I've returned home. An extremely tiresome one--full of hugs, tears, temporary tattoos, food, and kisses.  Christmas was well--Christmas, there was really no other way to describe it. We spent it at the Holt's, exchanging gifts, and more eating, as if I haven't had enough of that. I was waiting on the Holt's porch, freezing in my leather jacket and scarf--my toes and fingers had gone numb. Bridget threw the door open, bringing a blast of heat along with her.
"Sorry!" Bridget cried, fumbling for her gloves,
"You could've came inside or waited in the car, stupid." I squinted at her through the thick snow.
"I-It's f-fine." I chattered, frowning at her.
"What's wrong?" Bridget asked, running her fingers through her damp hair. I lifted my scarf from around my neck and tied it around hers, and pulled my skull cap over her head. "You're not impervious to the cold," I lectured, grabbing one of her gloved hands and leading her down the snowy walkway.
"Stupid."
I opened the passenger door to my mom's car, and she got in, flumping down on the leather seat. I closed the door as Bridget squealed, I'd left the heat running. I shook my head and smiled, then jogged around the front of the car, and slid into the driver's side.
I rolled the window down as Olivia appeared in the doorway. She waved enthusiastically and I waved back as I pulled out of the driveway.

Bridget sighed as she tugged off the scarf and hat.
"Um, you know you're putting that back on, right?" I told her, as I grabbed her hand.
"I'll be fine," Bridget complained, "You're the one who was standing out in the cold for 15 minutes."
"I'm officially ignoring you now." I said, turning on the radio, some song by Justin Bieber blasting through the speakers. Soon Bridget was singing along--more like squawking, but I'd tell her she sounded like Beyoncé anyway. I was humming along now too, tapping my fingers on the wheel; not because of Bieber's "to die for" voice as Olivia would say, but because of how much fun Bridget seemed to be having. Crystal's truck intercepted us as we passed Starbucks, she rolled down the window, despite the cold. She flipped me off and stuck out her tongue as she cut me off, nearly running a red light. I saw a flash of black as she zoomed off, Daniel probably waving at Bridget. We eventually got to school, though 15 minutes late because Bridget insisted on Starbucks. I made her put all the extra gear on in the parking lot, which took longer than it would have, if she hadn't been so stubborn.

I followed her down the hall towards her locker, and leaned against the wall next to her.
"You nervous?" Bridget asked, glancing over at me as she tucked several textbooks under her arm.
"Yeah." I finally said, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. When I opened my eyes I was looking at my busted knuckles, thoughts of the penitentiary flooded my head. I wonder how Molly is doing...
Bridget's warm hands fit over mine, causing me to look up. I stared into her brown eyes, close enough to her that our noses touched.
I smiled,
"I can deal, though." Leaning in, I pulled her towards me. Her lips collided with mine for a sweet second, I could taste the coffee on her lips. Bridget pulled away, her cheeks pink.
"Come on," I pulled her in the direction of her class,
"I'll walk you."
"You can't stall forever, Dylan." Bridget said lightly, in that knowing little voice that drove me crazy--in the good way. I let out an exaggerated breath, like I was hurt she'd accuse me of stalling,
"That's not what i'm doing at all."
"That's not what i'm doing at all." Bridget mocked, kissing the side of my face and bouncing off towards her class.
"See you." She turned and waved at me.
"Love you." I said automatically, waving back and spinning on my heels towards my own class.

I ran my hand through my hair, and contemplated sitting out 1st period. I looked at my phone, 2o minutes left.
"I want you to understand that the past ain't something to run from nor something you should return too. You learn from it. You build from it. You keep it in your heart as a reminder. And this is the moment you can decide whether or not you want to change your future."
I opened the door to 1st period, everyone's eyes turned to me: my basketball team, the kid I beat up in 7th grade, Mr. Thomson.
"Mr. Sprayberry," Mr. Thomson raised his eyebrows, and gestured to my empty seat in front of the class, "Welcome back."

Daniel's POV
I turned around in my seat when Mr. Finch turned to face the board.
"Good morning, Sunshine." I smiled at Bridget, and for the first time in 6 months she smiled back.
"Good morning, Danny." She said properly, grinning. I narrowed my eyes, and she did too. Around her wrist was the yellow wrist band I gave her, seeming ages ago now. How was I supposed to tell her I was leaving?
Bridget began digging through her backpack, eyebrows creased in concentration, when she found what she was looking for she smirked.
"Here," She held out her hand,
"Give me your wrist."
"What?" The scars on my wrists hadn't faded, and frankly, I didn't think they ever would.
"Wrist." Bridget demanded, pursing her lips angrily, as if she intimidated me. I gave in with a sigh, and put my arm on the desk, wrist up. She took as second to examine the vertical cuts, her expression staying gentle. Her brown eyelashes flashed over her brown eyes as she uncapped the pen with her teeth.
"What are you--" I muttered as she began writing where the scars ended. In careful script she wrote,
Bridget Was Here
Followed by a little sun, with a smiley face. It was true though, for a year in a half, Bridget was here, brown hair and all she was engraved in my scars, my skin, my head...but now, it was time to let my Sunshine go.

Crystal was the only one who knew about my leaving and she'd promised that she'd keep it from Bridget until I could tell her myself. I was leaving to go live with my uncle, try out a new life, try to forget the pain I left here, the doctor said it'd be good for me. It wasn't entirely about Bridget, but it'd be a lie if I told you 75% of my thoughts didn't revolve around her. It was my decision to let Bridget go, of course--I wondered if I'd gotten the chance to tell her how I felt--still feel, that night, it'd be different.
Maybe.
Though, I guess I'll never know.