Right There || Dylan O'Brien

chapter twenty-seven; the surprise

He was enjoying himself; seeing Clara joke and laugh around with her mom, he was the cake she made, he talked to Chris and Sandra. But to be honest, deep inside he could feel himself getting more and more upset with the thought that this were the only people she actually spend time with on days like this. On birthdays, Christmas, New Year's eve. He wasn't sure, but he figured.

But that wasn't all, she seemed genuinely happy. It was amazing how happy she could be with so little, he hadn't even gave her his gift yet. How was she going to react on that, was she going to cry? And what about what he had planned?  He was so curious, so amazed but upset.

He had to talk to her.

Noticing her phone on the table, Dylan decided it was better to text her instead of doing it in front of the others. He took his phone out of pocket, typing in his question and sent it.

After a few seconds her phone vibrated, Chris was the only one who heard and nodded to it with his head. "I think someone's wishing you a happy birthday."

As Dylan tried to act like he was doing something else on his phone, he took a glance at Clara if she had read it. And yes, she looked at him with a raise of an eyebrow and roll of her eyes. Oh my god, of course he was a coward to text her something like that, but did he have a choice?

Well, yes, he had a choice. He had a freaking choice and he decided to talk about it on her birthday. On her freaking birthday, Dylan. What the hell is wrong with you? Now you are supposed to do something about it or you're going to ruin it.

"What does it say?"

"Nothing much, actually," she told her sister the truth, standing up from the couch. "But it does remind me I have to do something before Dylan and I are going to leave. I haven't been searching for my old paintings for nothing, have I?"

Saved, he was saved. But he had no idea what she was talking about.

"No, you're kidding me, aren't you?"

She shook her head and giggled, extending her hand to him to take. When he did, she pulled him towards the stairs to walk up to her room. He was curious, looking around him while she sat down on the bed. She was holding something in her hands on her lap, something that made him sit down next to her.  "These are my paintings, I made most of them when I was in high school and I wanted to show them to you."

A wide smile appeared on his face, surprised he wasn't surprised at all. He knew he had figured her out for the most part; if you didn't pressure her, there always would be a reward. To be honest, it was scary if you realized there were going to be people who would use it for something different, they didn't care. He did, he cared a lot about her and wouldn't bother him if he had to wait another week for her to take a step. He would do anything for her to be happy.

"Are you sure?"

"They are just paintings."

"Paintings that you made."

"Depends on what you mean by that."

"That it means a lot to me you actually want to show me... a piece of you," he looked down at the paintings, slowly analyzing them as he wrapped an arm around her waist. There was one of a tree, a sky, the other two were just colors with a possible meaning behind it. He didn't dare to guess what, so he asked. "What do they mean?"

"What do you think?"

"I'm not sure. That's why I'm asking you, but I think I won't be getting to know that anytime soon because that's too personal, am I right?"

"Well, I was planning on telling you. Honestly. Now that I think about it, I just can't because it's stupid-..."

He had to stop himself from blurting out every single thing that was on his mind, gesturing his hands as he looked down at the paintings. "Clara, you're not stupid. Stop, tell me what you feel comfortable at telling me. I won't laugh, I promise."