Cold Hearts and Stubborn Minds

3

Friday Night

Dinner was great, Dylan made some sort of soup with bread. We ate in silence, which was fine. Awkward, but fine. It was the sort of silence you expected at the dinner table. Afterwards, he said he was going to bed, so I decided to as well. I didn't actually go to sleep, however, just stayed up and read some of a book I brought along.

It was around midnight when I heard a thud in the hallway outside my room, and a slight bump sound and then someone muttering a soft oof.

I sat up, then crawled out of bed quietly. Thankfully, the floor didn't creak at all. I made my way over to the door and peek out into the hallway, looking both ways.

Standing against left the wall is Dylan. I can barely see him in the darkness, as he is wearing all black, of course. He looks more like a silhouette of himself than a solid form. I can just make out his face. He looks half asleep.

"Dylan?" I say and take a step towards him. "What are you doing up?" For that matter, what am I doing up? I tap his shoulder and he looks towards me. He smiles sleepily and butterflies fill my stomach. He looks so adorable and handsome all at once. I never thought I'd describe him as adorable.

"Ryan," he murmurs and my stomach does a flip. He stands up straight and comes towards me. Something moves behind him. My mind panics for a second but I quickly get control over it again.

"D-Dylan... are you alright?" I stutter. He stops, lifts his head a bit, leans against the wall, and then yawns. 

"Sorry," he mutters. "I sleepwalk sometimes."

"Oh, okay," I say and let out a sigh of relief. "You should go back to bed."

"Right," he murmurs and blinks a few times. "'Night."

"Goodnight," I mutter, watching him go. Well then. That's something I never knew about him, obviously. Who-

My thoughts are interrupted by a loud crash that came from Dylan's room. I sprint to it and look inside, but it's too dark. I reach for the light switch but a hand covers my own, causing my heart to skip a beat. "No. Don't turn the light on," Dylan tells me. "I just tripped over a book."

"Then what made the loud crash?" I question. His hand is warm and slightly calloused.

"The desk. I hit my arm off of it, knocked a few things off. Go to bed," he commands, removing his hand. He no longer sounds tired, but as alert as he usually does.

"Alright... Just be a little more careful. You keep startling me," I chuckle and leave the room. I enter mine and sigh again. I wonder how often this happens? I lay down on the bed. He was so cute looking and sounding... His hair was sticking up everywhere, messier than usual.

I must've imagined something moving behind him. He said he lived alone, and what could it be anyways? It's obviously not a murderer else we'd be, well, murdered by now.

I roll over onto my stomach and yawned, pulling the blankets up, wrapping them tight around me. Well, either way, I don't want to ask. I mean, I want to ask but I feel like it'd be rude, that Dylan would think that I thought he was lying. I don't want that.

Now, how do I get to know him? Maybe start with the normal questions? I'll figure something out, eventually. Soon, my mind drifts off into a mess of unformed thoughts, and I drift off to sleep. There were no other disturbances that night.