Ṡṁëḷḷṡ Ḷïḳë Ṫëëṅ Äṅġṡẗ (M. Wheeler)

Ch. 1 | MADMAX

Hey peoples. Started up a new story that I've been writing over the break! I know I have other stories to write, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head—and once I realized that I now have three weeks free of the duress of school to write it, I started up immediately. I've been writing about one episode per day and now I'm done!

I'm kinda excited to finally publish it because it was pretty fun to write—this piece is significant because it evokes emotions in me that usually stay repressed during my writing process. Dylan was incredibly great to write, and he might be my favourite OC ever—he's one that has a unique persona that I was very content writing.

But I'll shut up now. I hope y'all enjoy this, and happy reading!

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"I hate this place."

Max rolled her eyes. "We've been here for like, what? Four days? Chill," she said as Dylan helped her unless the rest of her boxes, since she had significantly more stuff than him—but it wasn't like she had too much stuff; Dylan just had barely anything at all other than the standard shit. He had no trophies, no posters, no weird odd trinkets—his room was quite plain Jane if you asked Max, but that was fitting for Dylan's character—he was a very non-demanding guy.

Her step-brother rolled his eyes. "Three days too many—don't you miss Cali?" He asked her, taking the random stuff out of the box and gently tossing it onto Max's bed. He didn't know where the girl wanted it yet.

Max gave him a look. "You already know the answer to that," she said dryly, and Dylan nodded in understanding. Even if it wasn't so blatantly obvious of an answer (because really, they all missed Cali), Dylan would've been able to sense it—just like he could sense Neil and Billy arguing from the kitchen, loud and clear, or Susan quietly humming the tune of a song as she unpacked.

Neither were loud—well, he knew that Billy and Neil were about to get loud on a few moments—Dylan could hear them because he had the Sense.

A title of his own creation, which he used to dub the heightened senses that he and his brother had.

Yep—Billy Hargrove, the suave, womanizing, pain in the ass brother of his had it too; although to somewhat of a lesser extent than Dylan himself. Dylan's sense were a bit more interpretative and causal; he could sense the procession of things and events a few seconds before they happen—meanwhile, Billy could only sense things that were in the now; also, his brother didn't know how interpret his enhanced taste and touch senses, and therefore never used them—but Dylan had an inherent ability understand and use them completely.

The two had been born with the Sense, due to their mother having an ability of Empathy. The knowledge of this was strictly family only, which was why Susan and Max knew (even if Billy didn't approve of that notion). Max found it wicked awesome, claiming that he had some kind of 'super powers' ; Dylan had just calmly told her to try hearing their former horny neighbours down the road from their old place have sex numerous times during the day in HD audio and see if she'd still consider it cool.

(Update: she did).

"I'm worried about Billy," Dylan said, cringing when he heard something break in the kitchen. That was probably Neil's doing—Billy didn't like Susan (Max's mom) that much, but he still respected her; enough not to break her fine china. "Did you see how moody he was the trip down here?"

Max made a face. "He's always moody," she stated, starting to pick and place the junk Dylan unpacked.

Dylan opened another box, rolling his eyes playfully. "Moodier than usual," he denoted, frowning when he unpacked a picture of her and her father when she was little—he hurriedly put it back and moved on to another box. This one was swirling with reminiscence and melancholy feelings that he didn't exactly what to experience.