"Tell me another one Lola," Dylan asked happily, turning to face me.
I was currently sat at the bottom of his bed trying to find some pictures of his family, he'd asked me about them many times, if I knew them and if I could find some pictures of them.
Of course I did and I told him so, just not how well because that wasn't my place and he already knew I was some what connected to his life.
It was just a life he simply couldn't remember.
"Okay, let me think of a good one," I smiled fondly, while searching the depths of mind for a more entertaining story from our childhood years.
•
"Why do you eat them like that?" The annoyingly talkative brown haired lad asked.
Scratch that, gorgeous brown haired lad asked. Yeah that's better.
"Like what?" I frowned, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.
"Bears first, then eggs, cola bottles, rings and hearts last?" He replied coolly.
"It's the order in which I dislike them. Least favourite first,"
"So you pretty much hate the Haribo gummy bears and love the hearts?" He summarised quickly as he eyed the ring between his fingers. Turning it repeatedly between his thumb and his index finger.
"I wouldn't say hate, it's a strong word, I would call it a strong dislike,"
"Hmm whatever floats your boat," he laughed throwing a bear at my bowler hat.
"Say my boat has a hole in it?" I smugly replied.
"Then I'm afraid your gonna drown sorry Lo," he chuckled dodging the ring I threw at him skilfully.
"Oh charming," I scoffed, "You show so much heartbreak for me drowning a painful death," I pouted, feigning offence.
"I know how sad for poor Lola, she's obviously going to drown a imaginary death, in her imaginary boat with its imaginary hole," he laughed loudly, a sound so beautiful and melodic it melted her heart, "Unless I decide to save you of course,"
"You're hilarious you know that Dyl?" I giggled sarcastically, toying with the heart in my hand.
"Of course I know, dis be my pickup humour for all dem ladies out there," he jiggled around doing a dumb shimmy to show me his tactics in pulling. I could only laugh for he looked like an idiot.
•
"They're almost like a couple, not best friends," he frowned as I finished my story, clearly having made the quickest observation.
"What makes you say that?" I cocked my head to the side, waiting to hear his reasoning.
"I don't know but they just sound so... in love the way you say it," he watched me carefully, scrutinising my reaction, "Are they?"
"I hope so," I whispered.
YOU ARE READING
Seventy nine - Dylan O'Brien (completed)
FanfictionI had seventy nine hours to remind him. Seventy nine hours to tell him, not only who he was but who I was. Seventy nine hours to tell him how we met. I had just seventy nine hours to tell him just how we fell in love. After that he'd be gone forever.
