Dylan O'Brien Short Stories

Dylan || • cute/angst

"What the fuck do you mean, you're leaving?" I shout through my mask, watching him pack a bag from the other side of the apartment. "For how long?" I cough.

"I don't know," He's not close enough for me to visually confirm, but I swear to God, I can hear his eyes roll. "Why is that important?"

"Hello?" I gesture wildly. "Because you can't just tell your girlfriend you're leaving for an unknown period of time, have you ever met a human being in your entire life?" I'm floored at the concept of that happening to someone in a movie but in real life? To me? Right now? Someone has my fucking voodoo doll and is using it as a pin-cushion, there is no other explanation for the shit going on in my life right now.

"My mom needs me there."

"I need you here." I scoff. "I can't do anything right now."

"Babe, I'm really sorry, but my family is more important than you." My head jerks back like I just took a right-hook to the nose. There's no way he's saying this shit. There's no way! I have to be dreaming. I seriously consider pinching myself. I don't know what's happening, but I'm sure Freud really wishes he could see it.

I'm genuinely speechless, watching him pack up his bag. Then he has the nerve to stop on his way out the door to pet the cat. Did he say goodbye to me? No, but the cat? He pets the fucking cat!

And then he left, and I don't know what the fuck to do. I don't know if he's going to be gone for a couple days, a couple months, a couple hours? I have no fucking clue. I don't make enough money to support myself and our animals for any extended period of time. If I don't go to work, I don't get paid, and I can't exactly go to work until I get over the multi-year global-pandemic inducing virus that's raging its way through my respiratory tract.

We've been thick as thieves for as long as I can remember. When there's nobody else left in the dark pit that life can become, he's always there with one of those heavy industrial strength flashlights that every white uncle seems to have in their garage. I'm not surprised when I find myself instinctively dialing his number. It starts to ring, and I start to worry.

Ring. What time is it in LA right now, anyway?

Ring. I don't want to emotion-bomb him right now.

Ring. He's going to want to come here, I know it. I don't want him to come here.

Ring. Maybe he won't answer.

Ring. He's never not answered. Is he okay?

"Hi." I can imagine his face like it's right in front of me, goofy smile and all. "What's up?" I can hear a cluster of voices slowly fade away. He's excusing himself from something to talk to me right now. I feel like a complete asshole.

"You're busy." I spit out quickly. "Nevermind." I quickly hang up the phone, guilt rushing over me.

Ring. Fuck. He's calling me back.

Ring. Maybe if I just don't answer it.

Ring. No. Then he's going to worry.

Ring. He's going to worry either way.

"Did you just hang up on me?" He questions before I can even get out a greeting.

"You're busy," I mumble. "I heard people talking."

"Y/n." He sighs. "There's a shortlist of people who I am never too busy for. You are at the top of that list. Now, why'd you call? Y'okay?"

I know what's going to happen when I tell him. He's going to lose his shit, he always does when I talk about my boyfriend. He's never liked him.