Welcome To The Media (Dylmas AU)

35. Run, Run, As Fast As You Can

Dylan's pov

When I awoke the next morning, Thomas was gone.

Sitting up slowly, I glanced around my vacant room. I was cold--probably from my lack of clothing--but maybe from a chill that seemed seeded in my bones from the moment I opened my eyes. My room appeared darker, like shadows had their own shadows and light was being dragged from the room by the talons of darkness. Fingers scratching over cold fabric, searching for warmth they couldn't find. I wiped at my eyes, unable to conceal my frown.

I stood. Bathroom, I decided, Thomas was probably in the bathroom. I didn't want to be clingy, so I didn't go to check. Instead, I grabbed a pair of my old pajama bottoms, slipping them on slowly.

I turned again, this time back towards my bed. In the small movement, however, my eyes caught something new--something empty, rather. The blood drained from my face as I stared at the spot where Thomas's suitcase used to lay. The shadows of my room seemed to all pile up in that one corner, pulling at the edges of everything good to collapse in a heap of all that could possibly be wrong.

Everything Thomas owned was gone.

I blinked. Once. Twice.

I don't know why my footsteps carried me forward towards that spot, but before I knew what was happening, I was collapsing on my knees right there on the carpeted floor. Slightly hysterically, mostly desperately, my fingers now pushed through the piles of darkness for something firm to grasp--but of course, they came up empty. My heart began to beat erratically, my thoughts moving a hundred miles per hour, too unfocused to grip at any one thought, too terrified to succumb to any one doubt. I fell backwards onto my ass, collapsed in the silence of only my own breathing, stared blindly around for anything to help me make sense of the sudden absence that felt more tangible than negligible.

I managed to crawl towards the lights, flicking the switch. Though the darkness should have been realistically chased from the room, I instead felt as if the light only enforced the black hole beginning to swirl in my head. In the light, I couldn't deny that my room really was empty. In the light, Thomas was still gone.

I swallowed. I was scared. Perhaps waking up alone hurt just a bit too. More than anything though, I was confused. Managing a deep, shaky breath, I began to search for my phone. Maybe that would offer me an explanation--maybe I was just overreacting.

Instead of finding my phone however, my eyes landed on a paper note on my bedside table. It sat right next to the tube of lube and the condom wrapper, but my sight zoned in on only Thomas long, slender handwriting. Heart skipping a beat, I quickly grabbed at the piece of paper, eyes thirstily following each line--

Dylan--

I'm sorry Dyl. God, I'm so fucking sorry, and not just for leaving you this morning, as you've most likely already seen. I'm sorry for so much more.

I had to get away. I don't know how to explain it to you--rather, I don't think I can. Just know that this, us, we can't go any further. Please don't think you've done something wrong. Actually, you've done everything right, and maybe that's the problem. I know I'm not making any sense, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm just running away too, but I'm more sorry I didn't run away sooner.

Please don't come searching for me. It's better for you if you don't come. Please. I know I don't deserve your trust, but I need you to trust me on this. You can't be with me. Not now. Maybe not ever.

I'm so fucking sorry, Dylan. I love you too, and I'm sorry.

Best,
Thomas.