Book 2 of Dylan O' Brien Imagines

I missed you to Mitch Rapp

Third Person POV.

It was a hard week for the both of you.

You finally had an opportunity to relax yourself after this stressing day, taking a comfortable position on one of the black couches with the glass of wine in your hand.

Tiredness in your feet and back, more palpable with every second.

Everything would be as perfect, if he only was here with you.

Although he texted you like an hour ago, updating you on his whereabouts, but...it was still pretty upsetting that you are forced to spend very another evening without his presence.

It feels empty, in every sense of meaning.

You sighed below your nose, sipping lazily the red wine from the glass which you were holding in your right hand, as red nail of yours brushed slowly against the cold pane.

It was around 9 p.m., and the warmness beating from the fireside was nicely warming you up.

Slightly burning feeling of the liquor in your throat wasn't as bad.

Your thoughts recalling every single day of this week, how difficult it was to deal with your everyday's problems without him by your side.

Mitch always was able to calm you down, no matter how much he could put himself on your nerves, he was still the very only person, able to stop the existing nerve inside of you.

Kind of a messy combination, considering that he is the one who has his nerves on the edge.

He's like the ticking bomb which can't be stopped.

For some people it could be terrifying, but not for you.

For you, it's one of the things which keeps you going.

For you, it's the excitement, and the source of...many pleasures and experiences.

His temper isn't as bad at all.

You might say that, it even attracts you more towards him.

A sudden door knock has kicked you out from your own thoughts.

You blinked twice, gazing over your left arm at the door's side.

Who can it be? Mitch said that he should be back within two or three days, so there is not an option that he was the one standing outside.

You were also not expecting any type of guests, just a chill, alone evening, only for yourself. It made you swallow difficulty, listening to the sounds of rain drops, pounding on the windowsills.

You leaned further, leaving the empty glass of wine on the glass table, as you pulled yourself unsure from your sitting position.

One more swallow.

One more unsure gaze.

Battle of thoughts in your mind, one of them alarming to text your man, yet...you cannot let yourself to be this anxious. It's just a door knock. Isn't? Nothing special.

Yeah, and one door knock leads to dead bodies on the very next day, just- Stop it.

Another knock. This time more impatient, stronger one.