Dylan O'Brien Imagines

Slow Motion

You couldn't wait to see Dylan. You were on your way to his house, giddy at the thought of seeing your man.

You laugh at the thought of picking on him. You had gotten in the habit of calling him different things. A new nickname each day. Never the same name twice.

Sometimes he hated it, telling you to stop when the name was incredibly embarrassing. His annoyance only fueled you more. You couldn't help how much you liked to tease him.

He truly didn't mind. At least most of the time. And it's not like he never teased you.

He did. A lot. More or less than you.

It was a mutual teasing between the two of you. You got to make fun of his crazy hair when he poorly styled it, when he did something stupid and you caught him in the act, the little things you love about him but he hates. In return he teases you about your quirks, when he catches you screwing something up and thinking no one saw it, when you're shoving your face with food after swearing up and down you were going to eat better.

You guys love each other. Deeply. Without question.

You were nearing his house when you were suddenly jerked around in your car. You heard the loud, terrifying sound of machine on machine colliding.You felt the impact on your left side, grinding into you.

It happened in slow motion but all at once.

You passed out from all the pain, or possibly from the injuries you had just gotten.

It was blurry, all the lights everywhere. Did you hear sirens in the distance or were you imagining it?

Someone is at your car, peering in your window to see if you were still alive.

You grunt in response, you're sure the person responds, but your brain isn't computing what is being said to you.

The passenger door is pulled open, a blurry face you feel that you recognize the shape of is beside you.

Who is it? you remember thinking.

Someone has their hands on your face. Soothing, gentle hands. They feel good and you close your eyes and lean your head into them, taking comfort.

A repugnant smell calls you awake. Now you feel the pain. It is everywhere. You can't defend yourself from it and scream out in agony.

The hands that were there before are now stroking your hair, trying to calm you down.

Your screams continue, as a new pain emerges from your arm. It lulls you to sleep again, taking the blurry, unrecognizable world away from you.

-

You feel a dull, throbbing pain from your every pore, causing you to open your eyes to try to make the aching stop.

You look down at your body and can't comprehend the clean blankets covering you. You look around the room to see if you can piece together where you are.

Luckily, you recognize the hand that's wrapped around yours.

"Dyl?" you croak.

A sad but proud smile overwhelms his face. "You're awake."

"It hurts," you cry.

"I know baby, I know, I'll get a nurse."

"Where-"

"You were in an accident outside my place, somebody flew through the stop sign and ran into you," he explains, realizing your confusion, "I heard the crash and ran outside. I don't know if you realized I was there beside you. Somehow I didn't freak out and managed to help you a little. Then the ambulance and firetruck came and pried you out. I rode to the hospital with you, which is where you are right now."

Your eyes well up, either from pain or from the realization that it was Dylan who comforted and helped you.

Probably a little both, but Dylan takes the tears as a sign of pain and rushes to get a nurse.

A lady comes in and sticks something in one of your IVs. You slide out of consciousness, feeling all warm and happy inside. Likely from whatever drug the nurse gave you, but also from the sweet knowledge of the fact that it's Dylan who has one hand stroking your hair and face and one hand holding your beat up one.

Your sweet, rescuer, there by your side.