Parallels | Dylan O'Brien

35 - The Way Out

New York
-Lydia Moon-

I wake up the next morning with an empty feeling. The same empty feeling I've been feeling all week long. I wish I wasn't here. I wish I was back in Dylan's arms. My Dylan. When I've fully woken up and my brain has started to work as well, I scan my bedroom. The boy I've been dreaming about is sitting in the chair in the corner, fast asleep and mouth even a little agape. I smile a little, but then I remember. This isn't him. It's a completely different version of my sweet Dylan. The one that's been stalking me ever since I've gotten back. I take a deep breath. Seeing him makes me want to walk over to him and kiss him, touch him, feel him. But then the memories sink in and I just want to hit him. Hit him until my fists feel numb. Until my fists feel the way my whole body feels. He makes me ache all over my body and rip my heart out. He makes me miss my baby.
"Dylan," I say, but no reaction. I sigh again, "DYLAN!" I practically scream, making him jump and nearly fall out of the chair. In that aspect he resembles my Dylan perfectly; equally as clumsy, yet adorable. "What are you doing here?" I ask him, raising my eyebrows. He rubs his eyes and for a second, he looks like a toddler, ready for his nap.
"Err-..." he stutters over his words for a while until the sentence finally comes out, "I was making sure you were okay," I roll my eyes and get out of bed.
"I'm fine," I mumble and walk into my closet.
"You weren't fine last night, Lydia," he sounds a lot closer than he should be. And when I turn around, I can see why; he's followed me and stands in the doorway of my walk-in closet. The blurry memories of last start to seep in. The alcohol, the music, me standing on the wall surrounding the rooftop. Anxiety fills up my entire system, my breathing quickly getting uneven and my hands getting sweaty. Now I remember. "Lydia?" Dylan whispers and I didn't notice he had walked in until I felt one hand on my shoulder and the other taking my hand. "Let's lay down," he tells me sweetly and leads me back into the bedroom. I sit down on the edge of the bed, trying to slow my breathing.
"I-I can't," I whisper, not even able to finish the sentence. My eyes meet his, but even that doesn't calm me down, "I think I'm having a panic attack," I then manage to bring out.
"Okay, Lydia, breathe with me, okay?" he commands and starts breathing in slowly and deeply. But I can't manage to do that. My breathing gets faster and more uneven with the second. "Breathe with me, Lydia. You have to try and breathe with me," he sounds worried, it only increases the panic building up within me. My sight gets blurry, and I can only just make out his face. "Lydia, breathe, please," he whispers in a panicked state, but then he suddenly stops telling me to breathe. It's almost as if he's gotten an idea, "or don't," he then whispers and before I know it, he presses his lips to mine. It's almost as if his lips take away all the anxiety and panic and give me a way of breathing again. I can finally breathe again.

Dylan had stayed with me in my room until he was certain I would be okay. He then left me to get dressed and explicitly told me to yell if I needed anything. I had chuckled and rolled my eyes, but I'm actually glad he's here. When I'm dressed, I make my way downstairs and into the kitchen for some breakfast. That's where I find Dylan, Holland and Julia all staring at me. They look worried, but still give me sympathetic smiles. I just smile back and grab the cereal.
"Do you want me to make you some breakfast?" Holland asks me caringly, but I shake my head.
"It's fine," I tell her and give her a smile. The room falls silent as I pour the cereal into a bowl and add the milk to it. I feel watched, with six eyes on me, and I know what they're all thinking. That I might be suicidal and that they need to keep an eye on me twenty-four-seven.
"We might have a way to get you back," Dylan then blurts out, capturing my attention.
"Might," Julia clarifies, giving me a warning glare. It might not work at all, I get that. But if there's a way I could go back to the other universe, to my Dylan, I'm willing to try everything.
"It might not even work at all, we don't know it for sure," Holland informs me and I just nod, agreeing on the conditions of complete heartbreak.
"I've been up reading every single website on universes, but they didn't really have a way of getting someone back into the universe they just traveled back from. Not so quick anyways," Dylan goes on, then looks at Julia who continues.
"I read somewhere there is this one undo-spell that might work," I nod again, urging them to continue as I leave my cereal to get soggy.
"But? I feel like there's a 'but'," I say, wanting them to give me every piece of information I need to get back. The three look at each other, as if trying to figure out whether they should tell me or not.
"But we'd have to wait until there's a thunderstorm or until the next full moon," Holland continues. The weight falls back onto my heart, the darkness washes over me again. It's practically one in a thousand chances that I'll ever make it back. Thunderstorms in New York aren't that common, and the next full moon isn't for another month.
"I'm sorry, Lydia," Dylan whispers, sending me right over my breaking point.
"It's fine," I whisper and start making my way out of the kitchen and into the hallway. The next best thing to give me support is the wall right next to the kitchen door. I rest my back against it and slide down whilst trying to keep my sobs at a minimum. I'm never getting back to Dylan.