detachment ✔

25

I stare at the large golden sign that reads "The Silver Dime", anxiously walking towards the entrance as I think of what Scott said about me. I thought Scott was alright, that he wouldn't be a backstabbing asshole who talks shit about me like other men. But I was wrong; he is like everyone says he is. An arrogant, stupid and sexist asshole. I should have listened to Felix years ago; I shouldn't have given Scott the benefit of the doubt. Because now, I'm scared to approach him, but I know that Dylan is going to be here, so I can't leave.

The usual buzz of the bar welcomes me and I notice that a few people turn their heads around to stare at me, but I ignore them as I make my way to the stools. Scott is attending a diner table at the back, which means he hasn't seen me yet. I spot Dylan at the stools, his back to me. He's wearing a flannel shirt which isn't his usual look, but I like it.

"Hey." I say, taking a seat beside him. He turns around and meets my gaze, a smile on his face. But his eyes are dark and his eyelids are heavy. I can tell he's had a few drinks already, which makes me worry about his mental state. It's been four days since Dylan told Ashley that he wanted a divorce, and Dylan hasn't wanted to talk about it until now.

But I don't really care about how much time he took to call me, as long as he's okay.

"Hi, you look great." he says drunkenly as he fiddles with my hair. I giggle, pushing him away playfully before leaning over to kiss him. Dylan moans into the kiss, his hands gripping my hips.

"You're always so charming." I say, smirking as I break away from his sensuality. I can already feel the heat between us, which is something I've never felt for someone before. Dylan nods, his smile fading as his eyes return to his drink. "So, how did it go?"

Dylan shakes his head, turning back to look at me as he brings his glass to his lips.

"It wasn't easy." he says, which I know is true. His drunken state gives it away that he's in pain, and I don't blame him. I'm sure that he loved Ashley at a certain point, and letting someone go like that is never easy.

I rest my hand on his leg, making him meet my gaze again. His dark eyes stare back at me, nothing but sadness and suffering in them. God, I want to remove that sadness from him.

"I feel like it's my fault." I say, sighing. It is partly my fault, because if I hadn't met him he would still be with her, but at the same time I'm thankful I met him because I know Ashley was slowly killing him.

"No! It's definitely not..." Dylan slurs, wiping his eye with the back of his hand. He looks like he's about to collapse; I have to take him home.

"Dyl, do you want me to take you home?"

"No, it's okay. I don't have a home anymore." he says, his tone defeated. I gaze at him, knowing that he's really struggling. I wish I could do something to help, to make his pain go away.

"Dylan, we should go home." I say, squeezing his pale hands. Dylan shakes his head, lowering his head from the dizziness of the drink.

"Please." he says, struggling to meet my gaze. He's in serious pain; I can see it from his shaky limbs and swollen eyes. Fuck, I need to help him right now or he will collapse.

"If it isn't my favourite customers!" Scott suddenly says, making me jump. But Dylan continues to stare at the ground, sweat dripping from his forehead. I suddenly feel the urge to slap Scott in the fucking face for talking shit about me, but I don't need any more shit. Dylan's mental state is more important right now, not my pride.

"Dylan." I whisper to him, trying to lift him up. But he's too heavy, and he immediately sinks back into the stool.

"What's the matter with him?" Scott asks, staring at me. I meet Scott's gaze, anger flaring through my veins.