Beautiful insanity (Dylan O'Brien) | ✓

22 | Flame of burning rage

Dylan and I stood next to each other, we didn't hold hands. He had rung the bell seconds ago and we were now waiting for someone to open the door to the big old mansion. I was nervous, my hands were sweating. Dylan was just staring at the wooden door, his expression blank. He was neatly dressed in a dark grey suit, his hair styled perfectly. You could see he had really put an effort in looking presentable for his parents. When the door opened I could see how his body stiffened. I tried to grab his hand but he pulled it away from my grip. In the frame of the door stood a younger woman, brown hair and a face similar to Dylan's, only kinder. She smiled when she saw him and immediately jumped into his arms. 

"Dylan." She breathed out. I saw how Dylan's muscles tensed when the girl touched him, how he balled his hands into a fist. I realised he hadn't felt this kind of affection in a while. 

"Hey sis." He said, his voice low and husky. The girl let go off him and her eyes flickered to me. "Julia this is Jess." He said, introducing me to his sister. Julia opened her arms, hugging me as well. She then allowed the two of us in, guiding us through the hallway and into the living room. The house was gorgeous. Vintage with a modern touch. In the living room were two elder people; a woman standing up straight with a big smile on her face and a man sitting in an armchair, his eyes on his lap. "Mom." Dylan breathed out. I remembered Tyler saying the woman's name was Lisa. She was pretty with big brown eyes and a friendly smile. Lisa kissed her son on the cheek. It was nice to see Dylan like this. He had changed from scary and possessive to loving and caring within seconds and that all because of the two woman standing here. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if it was all an act. I noticed how nor Dylan nor his father took the time to greet each other. Dylan placed a hand on the small of my back and the sudden touch made my heart skip a beat. "Mom, I'd like you to meet Jessica Whitmore." I smiled at the woman and stuck out my hand. 

"It's really nice to meet you Mrs. O'Brien." 

"Oh please call me Lisa!" She exclaimed. She pulled me into her arms, giving me a warm motherly hug. Once she had released me she turned to her husband. 

"Patrick." She said, her loving voice sounded a bit more stern now. "Your son is here." The man looked up at her but avoided every eye contact with Dylan or I. He then got up from his chair and turned around, heading for a closed door whilst saying:

"He is not my son." He slammed the door shut behind him. Lisa turned to Dylan, ready to apologise but Dylan stopped her. 

"Leave it mom..." He said with a sigh. "He'll never forget. He'll never forgive." 

Dylan, Julia and I sat in the living room around a table filled with snacks and champagne glasses. Dylan had one with sparkling water. He had told me that controlling his temper around his father would be worse enough sober and that he didn't want to find out what would happen when he was drunk. His parents were in the kitchen preparing the food and Dylan and Julia were talking. Dylan seemed surprisingly normal. He wasn't particularly happy but he also didn't seem pissed off like he usually was. But even in his nice suit I could still see the Dylan I knew under it. I could see it in the dark circles underneath his eyes, in the way he balled his hands into fists now and then or how his jaw would clench. He was trying, he really was, and I hoped with all my heart he would succeed. 

"Dylan.." I whispered, tugging on his sleeve. Dylan looked at me, stopping the conversation with his sister. "I need to use the restroom." I said. 

"Through the hall, second door to your left." He explained. I nodded my head, got up from the couch and headed for the hallway. As I passed the doors I couldn't help but overhear the conversation Mr. and Mrs. O'Brien were having in the kitchen. 

"He couldn't even bother to put on a tie." I heard Mr. O'Brien say. I pressed my back against the wall, focussing on their words. I was aware that it was not nice to be eavesdropping but I couldn't help myself. 

"Will you at least try Patrick! He is!" 

"Why would I? He doesn't mean anything to me." 

"He's your son." Lisa pleaded. 

"He's a monster." I felt Dylan's pain when his father said those words like it was my own. I knew it wasn't the first time Mr. O'Brien had called his son something like that and I could only imagine what Dylan must have felt. No wonder he had turned so dark, his own father rather saw him death. "They should've locked him up a long time ago Lisa." He continued his rant. "He is a danger to society, a danger to us, to that girl he brought." I pushed myself off the wall. I had heard enough. I think that if I would be standing there any longer I might start crying. I headed for the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I wanted to splash some water in my face but I was not in the mood to ruin my makeup. So instead I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. I tried to catch my breath, to stop my hands from trembling. The amount of time I had been nervous or in panic since I met Dylan had been unreal. I washed my sweaty hands with cold water and dried them on the creme towel next to the sink. I took a deep breath. Tonight would be one hell of a job. I opened the door and headed back to the living room but once I walked in there it was like all hell had broken loose. The image flashed in front of my eyes like a flame of burning rage. I saw how Dylan grabbed his father by the collar of his shirt and smashed his body against the concrete wall. Blood dripped from Dylan's nose as he held his right arm pressed against his father's throat. His mother and sister cried out in fear and I stood in the door frame with my heart in my mouth. I needed to act quickly. 

"Dylan!" I screamed. I headed for the brown haired boy and grabbed his arm, plucking him off of his father. "Let's go Dylan!" I pulled him with me through the hallway and the front door. We ran onto the streets and I kept dragging him with me until we reached the car. He stumbled behind me, holding onto my hand. I then slammed him against the side of my car. My hands moved to his face, cupping it. Blood dripped down his nose and stained the white of his shirt. "What happened?" I breathed out. "Your nose--"

"He hit me." I gasped. "Don't worry, nothing he hasn't done before." He wiped away the blood from his face with his sleeve. "He can hit me all he wants but I won't let him call you a whore. That's why I lashed out." He was panting. I looked at him, my eyes piercing in his. 

"He said that?" Dylan nodded his head. 

"He thinks I'm some drugged up junkie that payed a hooker to be my date." I pressed my forehead against his. I didn't know what to say and for a second we didn't need to say anything. I just needed him to know that I was there for him and that I loved him, even though I didn't say those words out loud. I felt how he placed a hand underneath my chin and he lifted my head. I looked at him; at his beat up face, the anger that was slowly vanishing from his eyes, his jaw that unclenched. He then pressed his lips against mine. This kiss was passionate but not rough. It didn't scream love but it did show that he cared, that he tried to be gentle. When he pulled away he smiled at me and it was something that I didn't expect. Certainly not after the things that had happened. "So," he asked. "What do you wanna do for dinner?" 

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