Dylan O'Brien Imagines.

His Dream | Dylan O'Brien

I walked out of our building's elevator, groceries in hand as I went on the weekly shopping since Dylan eats a lot of food throughout the week. You'd think he'd be fat by now, but nope. Still skinny and I couldn't be anymore jealous.

I attempted to unlock the door without putting the bags down. I hate having to make more work for myself as I groan, dropping the keys to the floor. As I was about to bend down and attempt to pick them up, the door opened, Dylan standing on the other side of it.

"Having trouble?" He asked, chuckling a bit as he grabbed a few of the bags from my hand, bringing them inside, placing them on the table. I grabbed the key off the floor before quickly heading inside, kicking the door shut behind me.

"I was until you showed up," I laughed, putting the rest of the groceries on the table, beginning to put them away. "How was your day?" I asked him, placing the milk in the fridge, glancing over at the grinning man.

"It was great. You'll never believed what happened," Dylan smiled and I tilted my head a bit, thinking of what it could be. "I'll tell you!" He grinned with excitement.

I smiled, always loved seeing Dylan happy. Truly happy. He handed some of the groceries to me as I finished putting them away, both of us making our way to the couch with a beer in our hands.

"So, you know Taylor and I had our interview with Good Morning America today, right?" He asked and I nodded my head, taking a sip of my drink. "Well, after that, I got a tweet from the Mets asking if I wanted to pitch the first ball for their game tomorrow." Dylan grinned like a cheshire cat as I gasped, eyes widened.

"Oh my god. No fucking way!" I screeched, holding onto his arm a bit as he nodded his head, pulling his phone out of his pocket, opening the twitter app and showing me the tweet. "That's fucking amazing, Dyl. You said yes, right?" I asked and he made a "duh" face.

"Of fucking course I did. You know it's been," I hit his arm lightly, cutting him off.

"Your dream! Yes, I remember when you told me a couple years back. So, you're staying for the game too, I presume?" I questioned as he took a sip of his beer, nodding his head yes, making a small noise.

"Yeah! I was going to invite Alex from the Scorch Trials, you remember him, right? The guy that played Winston?" He asked and I nodded my head, leaning it against my palm as I faced him.

"Yeah, of course. Great guy," I smiled, wondering if he'll take his best friend of ten years.

"There's a few other guys that wanted to go, but I've only got four tickets," He muttered and I frowned, pressing my lips together. I glanced down at my lap, seeming like someone had messaged me on my phone. "Do you wanna come with me?" I heard him asked and my head perked up, lips parted in surprise.

"Y-You want me to come?" I asked, making sure and he nodded his head, grinning.

"Of course I do. You're my best friend, Y/N. I want you to be there. You gotta record it so I'll have something to look back on," He winked and I scoffed, hitting his chest playfully.

"Who am I? Your personal camera lady?" I chuckled, shaking my head. "But, of course I'll go. It's a big moment for you, Dyl. Wouldn't miss it for the world," I grinned, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"You know, I could tell you were worried that I wouldn't take you," He mentioned and my cheeks flushed, biting at my bottom lip.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I grinned innocently, glancing up at him, turning on the television. Dylan shook his head, chuckling lightly as his fingers played with my hair, something I always loved him doing. It's so soothing.