Adopted By 4 Idiots // 5sos

Chapter 43: One-Eight-Hundred

god bless michael for giving us good pictures of calum i love him

i gave up all social media so i'm disconnected- ;) - with the boys, update me here what's happening so I don't go insane thx :)

okay on with the chapter !

"You were not getting ice cream."

I flinch at Dylan's voice, almost dropping his ice cream in my hand when I do.

"What do you mean?" I ask somewhat nervously, avoiding eye contact as I place the ice cream on the coffee table.

"That took way too long, where were you?" He asks, eyeing me accusingly as he grabs his ice cream.

"I got my ice cream and then I walked around while eating it, chill dude." I roll my eyes, hoping I'm convincing.

"Uh huh, likely story."

"Yeah, probably because it's true."

Dylan shrugs before opening the ice cream right in the living room.

"Can you get me a spoon?" He asks, seeing no problem with eating on the couch.

"Bitch no, eat in the kitchen." I scoff, pulling my jacket off and hanging it up out of habit.

Dylan pouts at me but stands to his feet and walks to the kitchen like I told him to.

I sigh as I collapse backwards onto the couch, pulling my phone out of my pocket and turning it on.

Noticing Jonah's text, I try to keep my smile down as I begin to reply.

"What you smiling at?" Dylan asks as he walks from the kitchen, eating his ice cream as he does so.

"I thought I told you to eat in the kitchen." I say instead, ignoring his question and dropping my phone from my face.

"I wanna watch TV." He pouts, sitting down next to me on the couch instead of going back to the kitchen.

I roll my eyes before finishing my text and turning my phone off.

Standing to my feet, Dylan glances at me when I do before moving his eyes back to his ice cream.

"Where you going?"

"Getting my notebook, I'll be back." I reply to him before walking away and over to the stairs, climbing them two at a time.

The silence of the house freaks me out, making me want to get back to Dylan faster.

I quickly grab my notebook and my pencil, getting more paranoid the more I'm up here alone.

I'm practically running down the stairs when I go back to the living room, relaxing once I saw Dylan sitting on the couch, his ice cream half-empty.

Sitting criss-cross next to him, my hands open the notebook and find the right page, where the lyrics are written messily along the perfect straight lines.

"When do the boys get here?" Dylan asks me with his mouth full, causing my hand to stop writing more lyrics.

"About one-am I think, don't quote me on that though." I reply, not remembering exactly what time they said.

"Whatcha writing?"

"What's with all the questions?" I finally crack, dropping my hand down in my lap and looking over at him, annoyed.

"Because you never tell me things on your own anymore, I'm supposed to be one of your best friends and you never tell me anything." He nearly screams at me, resting his ice cream on the coffee table and moving his graze to me like I did him.