Dylmas/Newtmas One-Shots

Dylmas - If I Could Fly

Carry on from 'Dylmas - Mercy'

Based on: If I Could Fly by One Direction (totally not my favourite song).

Dylan's POV

Thomas had been away for almost a week now.

After that day when we first ever met, we had been on a few dates, hung around each other and talked almost every night, before eventually, he asked me to be his boyfriend. Obviously, I said yes.

Now, almost a month since then, Thomas had gone on holiday with his family, leaving me alone. I mean, it's not like I wasn't used to it.

The only thing about being without Thomas, is that I feel so empty inside. I'm missing half of me when we're apart.

School's been a bitch too. People keep staring weirdly at me, laughing and shoving me around. Occasionally I'll get a beating up, forming barely visible bruises on my body, in all different shades of purple. Hopefully, Thomas hasn't noticed them.

The day was nearly over, meaning I'd have to go home to a lonely, dark house. I really wasn't looking forward to it . . .

Ever since me and Thomas started dating, I would spend the evening at his, since I hated staying at mine. But now that he's gone, I have no other choice than to go straight home.

The bell rang, signalling the end of the day. Students jumped out of their seats, cramming through the corridors, trying to get out of school as quick as possible. I stayed back a little, dawdling as best I could. I didn't want to go home.

* * *

That night, I sat against my bedroom wall, lights dimmed and a half empty bottle if whisky resting besides me. Slightly tipsy, I grabbed ahold of a marker pen and brought it to my skin.

The could feeling of the ink seeking through my pale skin made me shiver, either in delight or disgust, I couldn't tell. No longer in a stable state of mind, I started writing, black ink covering my body.

Fat

Ugly

Worthless

Unloved

Loser

Useless

Unwanted

Stupid

Waste of space

Idiot

Regrets

Moody

Addiction

Misunderstood

The words all blended into each other as the tears unconsciously began falling down my cheeks. Closing my eyes, letting the pen drop to the floor, I leant my head against the wall. Slowly, I fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.

* * *

In the morning, when I woke up, I could hear the birds singing outside. My curtains wafted slightly as the cold air crafted in through the gap in my window. My room looked a mess, empty glasses and plates littered the floor, accompanied by a pile of unwashed clothes. Ignored homework left untouched scattered my desktop, hiding my dusty old laptop.