Room For Rent [Dylmas]

Chapter 4

"Thomas?" I whipped my head and turned towards the voice, finally seeing him made me breathe.

"Mate, what the hell?" I asked, dumbfounded. He shrugged at me and I crossed my arms.

"What? I was bored!" he pouted.

I rolled my eyes at him. "When I'm bored, I don't bloody clean the entire house."

"It's not really "entire"," he answered. I gave him a questioning look. "Dude, I wouldn't go inside your room without permission."

"Still!" I was exasperated.

"Chill out," he held his hands up a bit. "What's wrong with cleaning the house?" he asked me.

"Everything. It's not your job. You should've not bothered yourself."

"Dude, it's cool. It's okay."

"It's not!" I frowned at him. "You shouldn't tire yourself out for something like this," I muttered stubbornly.

"Thomas, it's alright. I had nothing to do anyway."

I kept my frown on. It's a small buggin' thing, really. It's just that I didn't want to tire him for bothering. It's sort of my job to keep the house clean, anyway, wasn't it?

"Alright, look," he started. "Next time, you clean. Some other day, I clean."

"What about," I paused. "You don't clean at all," he was going to protest, but I held up a finger to shush him. "Mate, let it be. It's my job. Mind your bloody business and just relax for once. You could've just-I don't know, used the telly or something. Used your phone or something like a normal teenager."

"Well, about that..."

"What?"

"I kind of forgot to ask you the Wi-Fi password," he shrugged and I facepalmed myself so hard.

"You bloody forgot to ask me the Wi-Fi password," I laughed. "You're driving me crazy."

"No, I'm not. You're already crazy," he stuck his tongue out at me and I gave him a blank look.

"Whatever," I eyed him. "What were you doing before I got home?"

"I'm cooking dinner," he answered simply.

I was about to protest again, but kept it in. I think Dylan's going to be Dylan. Bloody makin' himself useful all the time.

We headed to kitchen and I sat on the chair whilst he finish preparing the pasta that he's cooking. I rested my chin on my palm and watched him.

Kid's got it rough. I'm not sure, but I feel it. Somehow I feel it. I wish he would just relax for once. He's a student still. Works part-time. Going to pay rent soon. On top of that, he's alone.

No one should ever be alone.

"Here."

A plate full of pasta was set in front of me, snapping me out of my thoughts. We ate and ate, and ate... Until we were too bloated to move.

"You made a lot," I groaned.

He groaned as well, muttering something like how we still ate it all.

I just stared off into nothing, slowly patting my stomach. I was thankful for the sudden silence. I think I'm going to throw up everything for any sudden movements or sounds.

After resting, Dylan stood up and started to put our dishes on the washer. I helped him out and told him to let me wash it. He agreed and said he was going to the living room.

As I was done, I went to my room and changed into more comfortable sleeping clothes. Remembering that tomorrow's Monday, I went downstairs to talk to Dylan.