The Abysmal Records

From the Darkest Corners

[A little bit of Love in this part]

That was a week ago. Dean woke up in his bed, his room the same way he had left it when he climbed out of the window to avoid his neighbor as he was going to a party.

Dean locked the door and hasn't left his house since. His mom was in the military off on some secret mission, and his dad died when he was seven. So as long as he called to check in with the next-door neighbor, no one was any the wiser.

Except for Richard. He has called thirty-four times in the last week. Dean was swerving his calls for obvious reasons. He keeps thinking if Richard just goes away, what happened would only be a bizarre dream, that everything he saw was just a twisted sense of imagination.

Not going to lie and say it wasn't cool, but it was a little out of his league. He hoped to party and read poetry, go out on the town, pick up cute girls or guys depending on the day. He just finished high school, going to community college in the fall. Hopefully, if he was lucky, get into one of the most prominent party schools in New York, Syracuse University. He just wants to be a writer, but before he settles down, he wants to party until he couldn't anymore.

So seeing a dragon, his best friend glowing like a green glow stick, and a talking tree could leave a dent in my plans. Dean's favorite genre is historical fiction and poetry, and he didn't think that fantasy writing is for him. Nonetheless, Richard continued to call.

Tuesday night, Dean had just taken a warm shower, walking around in a towel and having no plans of putting any clothes on because no one was home. He was running on a week of relaxation and erasing the horror of events that happened in the woods.

"I'm gonna watch some porn," Dean says in a sing-song voice as he walks into his room and throws off his towel.

But right outside the window, Richard is staring right at him. They make bizarre eye contact, and then he looks down at his bare body.

Dean feels himself grow hotter than burning embers, grabbing his towel from off the floor and wrapping himself in it again. He rushes over to the window and yanks it open.

"What were you about to do, Dean?" Richard says, one eyebrow raised questionably and a smirk playing on his lips.

"Urgh, why are you here?" Dean answers, completely ignoring his question. He looks around to see how Richard got up and sees that he is standing on a tree that wasn't in his yard this morning.

"Where did this tree come from?" Dean questions, even though he most definitely knew the answer.

"You know where the tree came from, and I am here because you won't answer any of my calls or texts. Now let me in before you get a cold," Richard replies, the branches swaying toward the edge of the window.

Dean backs up and lets Richard climb into the window. With him comes a smell of flowers and greenery, also like usual, but before, he thought it was just his cologne. He was bewildered by him, but not scared of him. He has been his best friend since he was five. He has climbed into this window countless times before, but usually, by scaling the side of the house, he thought.
"Have you used your... glowing stuff to get up here before?" Dean asks out of curiosity.

Richard lets out a light laugh and shrugs, "It's magic, and sometimes if I'm feeling lazy."

"Ah," Dean responds quietly.

Richard turns around and closes the window behind him. Then he plummets into the bed and wraps himself into the covers like he usually does.

Dean stands there with his hands on his hips, agitated until Richard pops his head out from under the covers. "Are you gonna put on clothes, or you wanna just hop your skinny ass in here with me?" he says with a wink.