Parallels | Dylan O'Brien

21 - Porcelain Doll

New York-Dylan O'brien-

I wake up with her still asleep next to me. Her breathing is slow, her body completely relaxed. I let my eyes scan her whole body, or what's visible of it, at least. Her head rests upon my shoulder, her left arm on my chest, the right arm stuck between her chest and my shoulder. I smile a little. She looks beautiful. Especially with the sunlight coming from the open curtains and hitting her face. My eyes scan her arm on my chest. A couple of spots on her arm look blue and even a little yellow; bruises. And not one big one from hitting the doorframe, multiple ones. Her whole arm is filled with small and bigger bruises. Would it... No... She would've told me, right? I let my fingers glide across her bruised skin, wondering if it still hurts. Wondering how long they've been there for. They are fading, but still so visible and still so painful-looking. She shifts a little, her smooth legs brushing against mine and her body turning slightly away from me. I look at her face again, her eyelids fluttering open like a butterfly. A smile creeps up on my face. She's so beautiful.
"Morning, beautiful," I mumble, my voice still filled with sleep. She smiles now too.
"Morning, handsome." I prop myself up on my elbow and look at her as she takes her time to wake up. How is someone this gorgeous when they just wake up? And what is she doing next to me? How did that even happen? I seriously don't understand. I don't understand how I deserve anything or anyone like her. "What?" she then asks when I've been staring for too long.
"Nothing," I lie, a smirk playing at my lips.
"What, Dyl?" she asks again. She sounds stern, but the smile on her lips is sweet.
"This," I then dip down to meet her lips in a sweet morning kiss.
"I haven't even brushed my teeth yet," she tells me, giggling a little as if trying to hide her self-consciousness. I shrug and kiss her again, a little rougher than before.
"Dylan, darling, we're off to-..." someone comes barging into my room and both of us pull away immediately and look into the direction of the door. "Oh, my God," says my mother, shutting her eyes immediately. I roll my eyes at her. This isn't the first time she's come into my room when I lie in bed, naked, with a girl.
"What is it, mom?" I ask her casually, hoping my nerves don't seep through. This is low-key awkward, but also not really. It's a bit weird, but it's nothing I haven't seen before. Or that she hasn't seen before.
"We're off to your auntie. I was going to ask if you wanted to come with, but I guess you're busy," I glance over to Lydia, she's trying to hold her laughter. I'm not sure if it's nervous laughter, or if she actually finds it hilarious.
"Err- yeah, not today, mom. Sorry. But say hi to aunt Kate for me," I tell her with a smile. My mother nods, her eyes still closed, and backs away until she bumps into the wall. That's when she turns around and leaves the room. Lydia's eyes meet mine and we both burst out laughing.
"This is the most awkward thing ever," she laughs, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Meh, she's seen me like this with a girl a few times already," I say, making her stop laughing.
"I thought you've only had two girlfriends before me?" she asks, suddenly turning really serious.
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I haven't had sex with them, multiple times," I can feel a smug smile forming on my face, and it makes her laugh. Which makes me laugh too. Hearing and seeing her laugh, makes me laugh. "Anyway, let's get dressed before my dad and my sister barge in on us too," Lydia nods her head at my suggestion and moves to get out of bed. "I didn't say now," I grab her by the arm and pull her towards me to kiss her again. I can feel her smile against my lips before she kisses back. My hand roams her body whilst the other plays with her hair and her hands are in my hair. I love it when she does that; reaching for my locks. It makes me feel weak yet gives me all the power in the world. 
"We might want to get dressed now," she then tells me when she pulls away, "I actually want to properly meet your parents," I look into her eyes for a moment, wanting to see whether she was serious or not. She raises her eyebrows, giving me the answer.
"Right, yeah, okay," I brabble and get up so she can get up as well. The both of us put our clothes on again, yesterday's clothes. It's silent, but I don't actually mind it. It's rather peaceful.
"Do I look presentable enough to meet your parents?" she asks me. Her change of demeanor makes me wonder what's going on inside her head. She's a lot more self-conscious than before, a lot less confident. A lot less Lydia. I walk up to her and wipe underneath her eyes where her mascara has smudged. Then, I smile.
"Babe, my mother just practically saw you naked. I don't think she cares what you look like. But if you really want to know..." I trail off at the end, wanting some suspension to humor her, "you look beautiful," I whisper that last part. The most gorgeous and genuine smile appears on her face. It makes every limb of mine tingle. "You always look beautiful, baby," I whisper again before dipping down and kissing her. It's the most love-filled kiss we have ever shared.
"I love you," she whispers when we pull back, our noses still touching.
"And I love you," I whisper back before pecking her lips once more and taking her downstairs. My parents and Julia are getting ready to leave for my aunt's when we reach the bottom of the stairs. Lydia stays behind me, and for some reason, I feel like protecting her from my parents for a moment.
"Mom, dad," I start and they both look up, "I want you to meet someone," Lydia comes to stand next to me, and I can't help but notice the surprise on my parents' faces.
"Is that..." Mom starts but doesn't finish her sentence.
"Lydia Moon," dad finishes it for her.
"Hi, mister and misses O'Brien," she says politely, a shy smile dancing on her features. Mom and dad both stay quiet for a moment and look at Lydia who becomes shyer and more self-conscious with the second.
"You've changed, Lydia," my mom says and then I remember. This isn't the Lydia she's used to. She's used to bitch Lydia who doesn't care about anyone, not even her best friend. Being with her makes me forget everything had happened. "But in a good way." Mom goes and touches her arm softly to ease the tension a bit. Lydia smiles, but I can tell she's withholding a wince as her breath hitches in her throat. Mom walks over to the front door, her handbag dangling on her shoulder.
"And please," dad then starts, "call us Lisa and Patrick." The smile on Lydia's face widens.
"Alright, have fun at auntie's!" I tell them, kind of rushing them out of the house. Julia quickly hugs Lydia before following mom and dad out of the house.
"That wasn't too bad," Lydia says with a smile on her face, but I can't seem to smile nor be happy about this at the moment. My mind is too preoccupied with wondering about the bruises on her arms. Now that she sees my serious face, her smile vanishes too. "What's wrong?" she grabs the hem of my flannel, pulling me closer.
"Please, stop lying to me, Lydia," I tell her, my voice is soft, and I'm honestly scared it might break. She lets go of me, but I quickly grab her by the shoulders. "I've seen the bruises this morning, baby. Please, don't tell me they're from your stepfather," her eyes scan my face as I await her response.
"Okay, then I won't tell you." She's witty, that one.
"But they are, aren't they?" she opens her mouth, as if she's going to say something back, but then her eyes divert from mine and her mouth closes again. A sigh leaves my body. I can't believe this. I mean, I can believe he's done this. I just can't believe she wouldn't tell me. "Baby," I then start, my hands moving from her shoulders to her cheeks to make her look at me. "Why didn't you tell me?" her eyes glaze over with tears and my heart sinks.
"Because I couldn't," she whispers so softly I can barely even hear her, "you looked so sad and worried the day you told me I had to tell you, I didn't want to see that face again. Besides, it's not that bad. I can handle a couple of bruises for a month." The tears have suddenly vanished from her eyes. This isn't a side of her I've seen before. Not in this Lydia, that is.
"Whether it's for a month or a year... It's not okay, Lydia. You should talk to someone. Talk to me. I-... I hate seeing you hurt like this," I tell her in a rush, but my voice doesn't raise. Not one bit. It stays calm and soft. The last thing I want to do is scare her. She stares into my eyes, and for a second, I think she's not going to react. But then she nods her head, telling me she understands what I'm on about. I wish I could protect her from everything and everyone, but I guess I can't. She's a grown woman, she's able to protect herself, but still. "Come here," I then tell her and take her into my arms, carefully not to hurt her. She feels like a fragile doll in my arms, like she'd break if I would squeeze too hard. Like a porcelain doll.

We spent the whole day on the sofa, watching movies. It ended up being more like having movies on in the background whilst we make-out. Neither of us could keep our hands off each other. It's like I have to touch her if I want to breathe. Like she's my oxygen.
"Dylan, we're home!" mom shouts from the hallway. Lydia and I immediately jump away from each other, but the second we do that, I feel like I can't breathe anymore. "Ah, Lydia, are you staying over for dinner? I'm making spaghetti," mom asks her. I glance over at Lydia. It looks like she isn't sure what to answer. I hope she says yes.
"I don't want to be a burden," she then states, a nervous smile plastered on her face.
"Oh, no, not at all, dear!" mom swats her hand, dismissing Lydia's nerves and shyness.
"Lisa always makes spaghetti for a whole school!" my dad says with a grin, and it makes Lydia laugh a little too. Julia comes to sit next to Lydia and I feel like we're not going to get much privacy down here. There goes my plan of having a third round of our activities from last night.
"Want to go upstairs?" I whisper in Lydia's ear, or try to, it comes out in more of a growl.
"Can't we stay down here with your family for a moment?" she asks me, my dreams shattering right in front of me. I sit back on the sofa and take Lydia with me, so she leans into my body. Dad sits himself down on the other couch and starts a story of something a long time ago happened. All three of us listen, and Lydia even asks questions every now and then. I bet my dad didn't think that would happen, considering our Lydia always used to be rude when she came over to hang with Julia. I bet he likes this Lydia more. So do I.

During dinner, mom and dad ask Lydia some questions and she shoots them back. They're all equally as interested in one another's life. It's pretty great to see.
"So, Lydia, when did you finally start noticing my son?" my eyes dart over to Lydia in a panic when my father asks the question. We never really agreed on a story we'd stick to.
"Well..." she starts, and I can tell she's panicking too. "At my birthday party there was this one gift in particular that I liked a lot. Dylan bought me it, it was a gorgeous little Tiffany bracelet," she explains and shows off the bracelet dangling from her wrist, "and then when I saw him, I knew for sure what I was missing; a considerate, caring guy," I'm impressed with her story, and also a little touched. The heat rushes to my cheeks and I bet I look stupid, blushing like an idiot.
"I thought he'd helped you after you broke up with Justin?" Julia then ruins the plot.
"Yeah, that too," Lydia quickly rushes and focuses back on her spaghetti. My eyes dart over to Julia, who has a suspicious look on her face. This isn't good. I have to say something.
"Well, whatever it was, I'm glad I got you that bracelet and that Justin broke up with you," Julia's suspicion fades away to my luck. I would not be able to handle explaining everything that has happened to my sister. That would be crazy. It is crazy. This whole situation is crazy. But to be fair, I don't mind it that much. I have the love of my life here at the dinner table, a better version of her. Or maybe, just maybe, this was supposed to happen, and this Lydia is the love of my life. Maybe this is our fate. Maybe this is it.