Metal Chains {Dylan O'Brien}

Chapter 18

"Katy? Can you hear me?"

    Everything felt slow and hazy, like how I imagine a hangover would feel. A hand moved up and down my arm steadily. It was soothing, comforting in a way, and I wanted to reach up to grab the hand, to let them know that I could feel them and hear them, but my arms felt as if someone had sat huge bags of sand on top of them and expected them to be able move. I noticed the hand again, perfectly mobile, squeezing and moving in steady motions up and down my arm. Then I realized how my throat felt dry and gravelly, as if someone scraped it with sandpaper.

    A nightmare. This whole thing has been a nightmare. Dylan is here, worried about the tears streaming down my face in my sleep and he's trying to wake me. I smile a little. "Dylan?" I whisper his name, reaching up to touch the hand and opening my eyes. But it isn't him. In that second, I know that it wasn't a nightmare, and Dylan had broken up with me last night. A terrible pain shot through my heart. Tristan was standing over me. His hand squeezed my arm. "You were having a nightmare." he says, a worried expression contorting his features. I don't say anything as I sit up.

"How are you feeling?" is what he asks to break the long silence.

    I could have hit him for asking me that. I could have hit him for having that girl in his room when I needed him. I couldn't even look him in the eye so I just got up and went to the bathroom, making sure to slam the door on the way in. Inhale, exhale. Breathe, Katy, breathe. As I slide my back down the inside of the bathroom door, the dull ache in my chest turns my stomach into knots. I want to sob, but nothing comes out, and I feel nothing but a sickening turning in my stomach.

    I began to think of when I was little and ate a handful of those pebbles on the playground at school because I liked the taste. The weight in my stomach right now feels the same as I remember. I want to throw up, but if I did I would have to rid myself of the little bit of Dylan still left in me. The thought makes me want to throw up more. Why did he do this? What happened? What is wrong with me? It had to be me. It had to be. Dylan is too perfect... too happy and caring. How could I lose his care so fast? Before I know it, tears are streaming down my cheeks, quiet sobs ripping from inside my chest. I grip the side of the sink above me for support.

"Katy..." a soft knock comes from outside the bathroom. "Please come out of there, I can't comfort you through a door." Matt's soothing voice says to me.

    I pull myself up and wipe the cold tears from my cheeks, but they're replaced immediately with warm ones. The door opens with a quiet creak. For a moment, Matt just looks at me. I look back, of course, but the tears in my eyes blur his face so I can't focus on his eyes. He moves forward and embraces me in the tightest, most comforting hug that he can muster up. It works for only a moment before I think of the way Dylan's hugs felt, his arms strong and secure around me. I can almost feel his face in the crook of my neck, warm breath sending chills up and down my spine.

    Has it already been a night since I last saw him? I can still picture the way his smile started with that sparkle in his eyes and then spread over his face like the ocean. I can still hear his wonderful laugh, like bells ringing in my ears. The way he kissed my forehead to show his affection in public places, or brushed his lips over my ear and whispered sweet nothings into them. All of these things that I never appreciated enough, and now that they're gone, I want them back. I want him back. That's when I knew that I had to go to him.

    So now I'm at his front door, with a writhing ache in my heart. My fist has been hovering near the door for almost three minutes. I just need to feel his arms around me again, or feel his lips on mine. So I knock. Right after I do, though, I want to run because I am not sure I can see his face again and not burst into tears and throw myself at him. The door is pulled open and then he is standing in front of me. Just like that. "What are you doing here, Katy?" His voice is soft, but cold and uninviting. He doesn't look at my eyes. What do I say? How can I say everything at once?

"Talk to me, please. Whatever is happening right now, Dylan, we can work through it."

"There is nothing to work through!"

    Startled by his yelling, I take a small step back. He noticed this and the coldness in his voice dropped away. Tears start streaming again, against my will. I was just about to turn away when he reached out and grabbed my forearm, making me stumble into his arms. "Kates... please, don't make this harder for me." he whispers. I feel his warmth on my skin and melt into a puddle on the floor. "Fuck, Dylan, what is going on?" I rest my forehead on his chest. "Talk to me baby, please." I rub my hand up his chest and rest it on the back of his neck, lifting my head to look up at him.

"Come inside."

    His voice breaks on the second word and I know that he's crying. He led me inside, but instead of going to his room upstairs, we sat down on the living room couch, turned toward each other. Dylan took my hands in his, squeezing them just like he used to, and he looked into my eyes for the first time. "Katy," he started, "I never wanted to hurt you, I swear." A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Did you just think I was going to be okay after last night?" I looked down, avoiding his eyes until his hands released mine. And then he exhaled and said,

"I am moving to Atlanta."