Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Travis Hackett went into work today, he wasn’t expecting to work a homicide.

The damp asphalt caught the light of the street lamps on Nightingale Avenue, the golden light meeting the red and blue of his flashing lights. The North Kill Deputy reached for the gear stick to put the car into park, unprepared for what he was about to walk into. An icy breeze greeted the cop as he stepped out of his car. There was a certain evil in the air as he approached the house, and for a split moment he considered calling for back-up. It was quite a small house, but it looked threatening under the full, yellow moon. Shadows on the lawn dragged toward the cop’s feet, as if it was reaching out to him. Beckoning him to come closer. 

Nothing like that ever happened in the small town of North Kill, New York. It was a mostly peaceful town that occasionally got a few stragglers that strayed from the main highway. Everyone knew everyone in their town. And no one expected the other to be capable of murder. The Hackett’s always kept the town quiet, whether it was the local monopoly they had over the North Kill businesses or protecting the town, they kept a tight grip to keep their home’s excellent reputation. A reputation they held for generations, but it was destroyed in just a single, insignificant night. Just one night was all it took to make North Kill live up to its name.

The call he had received this late in the night, when he was the only one on duty, made Travis think it was a prank. And when he heard the soft-spoken voice on the other line, it made him think that maybe that thought wasn’t unreasonable. Kids liked to play pranks, right?

“North Kill Police Department, how may I help-”

“Deputy Hackett?” A tiny, little voice had squeaked out. 

That edge in the kid’s voice sent shivers crawling down his spine. If this was a prank, this kid was an amazing actor. But it didn’t take long for Travis to realize that this wasn’t the case.

“Yes, it’s me. Who’s callin?”

“Um… I-It’s uh.. Dylan?”

“...Dylan Lenivy?” Travis suddenly recognized the scared, hushed voice. The child’s voice carried a rattle that the Deputy could only assume was fear.

“Yes sir’,” The kid sputtered out. Travis’ lips thinned, the grip on the phone tightening.

Travis knew the Lenivy Family, not well, besides the occasional run-into downtown or poker nights. His younger brother knew them far better than he had, considering Dylan was a camper at the Hackett's Quarry Summer Camp. The kid wasn’t exactly shy, but he also wasn’t out there. In fact, he usually stayed by himself during activities, besides when his little friend Kaitlyn dragged him to socialize with others. Dylan was a bright, polite child who rarely ever found himself in any kind of trouble, that was something Travis was sure of. 

The Deputy's voice came out calmly, but the dread that filled the air made worry blossom in his chest, “What can I do you for, son?”

“Well… I uh… um…”

“Son, I need to know if everything is okay? I can’t help you if you don't tell me anything, okay?”

Dylan was 8-years old. The boy wasn’t exactly the bravest, but he was the smartest kid Travis had ever met. He would’ve never called the police for a non legitimate reason.

“Okay,” The kid had mumbled, breathing out a shaky breath. “It’s my dad…”

“What’s wrong with your dad Dylan,”

“I think he’s dead.”

Travis’ heart dropped into his stomach. 

What did he mean he was dead? The way he said it made it even more bone-chilling. Dylan’s voice was still and cautious. He was obviously afraid but his voice carried a calmness to it. 

It had to be shock, that was the only thing that could explain it.

“What do ya mean-?” Travis managed to finally force out. 

It was hard to not let his emotions get the better of him, considering nothing like this ever happens. Not in his town. Travis couldn’t stop thinking about how he had talked to Brian Lenivy just yesterday morning when he had gotten his morning coffee, before they both headed to work. They laughed together over a dark, hot brew trying to stay warm in the crisp air of this small mountain town. 

“He’s lying on the ground, he’s not breathing… I think he’s bleeding–Yeah, he’s bleeding a lot…”

Fuck. The closer he got to the house, the more his stomach twisted in knots.

Travis’ knuckles went white holding the police station phone, the quietness of the station finally hitting him. At this moment, he had really wished someone was here with him. Hank would've known what to do...

“Alright son, can you tell me anything else? Like what happened?”

“Y-yes sir’…” Dylan wavered, white noise crackling low through the line. “I was asleep… but then I heard some loud bangs from the- from the-”

Dylan was fading off, his voice getting more and more afraid. More unsure. “D-deputy?” He choked out, and Travis could just imagine his poor face contorted in terror. “T-there’s another body… in the kitchen.”

“Another body?”

“I don’t know who that is…”

“What does he look like son?”

“I don’t… I don’t want to get close to it s-sir’,”

Travis didn’t blame him. He was a kid after all, and it’s obvious he’s seen enough tonight. “Yeah. Yeah okay, I’m on my way Dylan. You need to go to a bathroom, or your room and lock yourself in there, alright?”

His left hand reached for the round, gold door knob as his right reached for the gun in his holster. 

“O-okay… I just have to find Newton…”

Travis shook his head, “W-what?”

“My cat… He’s probably so scared, he hates loud noises.”

“No, no. Dylan you need to hide, okay? Once I get there, I’ll find… Newton.”

“But–”

“Dylan, I’m sorry. This is non-negotiable. Get somewhere safe, now.” Travis regretted the stern approach he had taken with the boy, but he needed to get the kid somewhere safe. Just until he could get there.

When Travis opened the door, the scent of iron along with a hint of wet dog hit him like a truck. He bit his tongue to stop himself from gagging. He stepped further into the pitch dark house, but the minute his foot made contact with the wooden floorboard, he heard a sickening crunch under his boot followed by the nastiest, gushiest squish. His eyes closed shut tightly, the grip on his gun stiffening. 

With his free hand Travis grabs the flashlight on his belt, clicking it on. He didn’t want to look at what he had just stepped on. He knew in his heart whatever it was, wasn't good. It scared him to death, but slowly he lowered the light down to whatever was underneath him. 

As he lifted his foot up, whatever it was crackled from the release of the pressure. He saw a gooey, red like slime string up from the floor to the bottom of his boot.

It took a second to even realize what he was even looking at. It was a pile of red, seeping mush. Peaking out of the disgusting pile was fragments of white fur and bits and pieces of what looked like animal bone. Then it hit him.

He had kept his promise… 

He found Newton.

Newton was completely ripped into pieces, torn apart. Bite marks made the edges of what remained of Newton ragged. Travis’ mouth curved downward.

"What in Sam Hill…." He groaned, staring at the pile with a new sense of urgency. He had to find that Lenivy kid. 

“Dylan? It’s Deputy Hackett!” He called out to the kid, his heart beating against his ribcage harshly. 

He had no clue what was happening, and he hated not knowing. It didn’t help that the kid wasn’t answering him. He prayed to god, who he didn’t even believe in, that he was safe. 

Travis cautiously continued to travel deeper into the deathly quiet home. The light from his torch tore through the darkness, brightening every piece of furniture it hit. Every shadow that conjured up behind said furniture made Deputy Hackett just a little more nervous. 

Through the heavy air, he could hear his heartbeat bash heavier against his chest. It was like every bone in his body was telling him to run away. But he couldn't. He'd be damned if he didn't find Dylan safe and sound. That was his number one priority. With that in mind, he forced himself past the living room, toward the kitchen. The dire need to run out of this terrible place clawing at his stomach turning more and more crucial. 

His body turned to the side, avoiding the dining room table as he made his way toward the archway of the kitchen. The rotting smell of old eggs haunted the air. And that other smell too… wet dog. God. If Travis wasn't so fixated on the mission at hand, he probably would've thrown up. 

Travis' anxiety had risen tenfold the closer he got to the kitchen. He could hear in the back of his mind a voice… one that had started off as a voice he was familiar with. One that he could safely say was his own. 

Leave.

It said...

Leave.

The voice had grown colder.

More wicked.

Then it laughed.

Fear struck Travis' heart. He looked around the dining room hastily with his light. 

His dismay was causing an illusion, he finally decided. But that conclusion hadn't sat right with him. But for his sake, he had forced himself to believe so. 

Quickly, he inhaled the putrid aroma of the home as a wake up call. He couldn't be distracted. Not right now.

But the stench had not been what brought him back from being distracted by the cackle in the night. 

The circular glow that radiated from the flashlight in his hand had hit something. Something that looked like the outline of rugged, old penny loafers. They were offset brown with worn out soles… shoes that anyone in North Kill would associate with none other than Mr.Lenivy…

He always wore those dirty old things… He loved them for some god-known reason. No one knew why but he would've rather died than throw them out and replace them. 

Slowly, the ring of light made its way up the body, revealing more and more blood. Bile climbed up, burning the insides of his throat. A bitter taste spread over his taste buds as saliva began to build in his mouth. 

His head….

Mr.Lenivy's head was split into bits. As if someone shoved a shotgun into his mouth and pulled the trigger. Pieces of blood and brain were splattered against the tan carpet. If it weren't for his torn up loafers or the typical, basic collared shirt he wore, there was no way he could've recognized this to be Mr.Lenivy.

The curses on Travis' gall covered tongue refused to slip through his lips. His eyes were wide as he stood there in horror. 

Shakily, his hand raised the light toward the archway of the kitchen. And there it was.

The other body… it was sprawled out on the checkered kitchen floor, looking quite similar to Dylan's dad. His head was blown into a sloppy mess but the difference was that he had no distinguishable features that would separate him from the ordinary man. He wore a dark hoodie with dark blue jeans. In his hands he held a large shotgun that was faced toward his own head. The only thing Travis could tell from the distance he kept was his skin.

Travis Hackett knew that was a weird thing to notice but it was the only thing that stood out. His skin was almost… white in color. And he didn't think caucasian but literal white. Like a sheet of printer paper. Unmarked. Unflawed. Pure white. 

Mentally he noted that as he breathed in slowly, trying to stay as calm as possible.

"Dylan?!" He called out again. The name ripped through his dry, scratchy throat. 

Once again, nothing was heard in reply. Until a moment of stillness had passed, a moment that felt like hours, Travis could make out what sounded like small whispers. Discreetly, he followed them.

" What if it's Deputy Hackett though???" 

"I promise you that he's here to help… he's always been nice to me."

The hushed whispers got louder as he went through the carpeted corridor. It was easy to tell that they were coming from behind the last door in the hallway. The door had a sign that said 'Dylan' in bright big letters. It had been decorated with cartoony planets and stars. Travis crept closer to the door as he heard a stern whisper say: " Mr.Hackett is one of the good guys, Silas. He's gonna help." 

"Dylan Lenivy?" The deputy said as softly as he could manage. "It's Deputy Hackett, you… you can come out, okay?"

" SEE! I TOLD YOU IT WAS HIM!" 

Loud but small footsteps approached the closed door. With a click, the door swung open and there he was.

Dylan Lenivy stared up at Travis with dark, sparkling eyes. They held a certain exhaustion but he could tell that Dylan was ready to be, in a word, "saved." 

Chapter Text

Dylan was never really into classical music.

Maybe in another lifetime but in this one he just couldn’t stand the eerie feeling he got when listening to the dramatics of a symphony. Drumming up scenarios in his head was easier when he heard this music. And they were never pretty scenarios. Even if it started out well, it would always end in a bloody, tragic finale. 

His dark eyes drifted to the vinyl player in the corner of the room, watching the black circle spin round and round. Dylan has heard Tchaikovsky’s work in every session since he was 9-years old, and honestly he was so exhausted from hearing it. When he was younger, he found the music interesting.

It was pretty at first. 

Now he wanted to run over to that gray box that sat upon that dumb oak table and throw it against the wall in a pit of rage. He would’ve thought he would be able to block it out by now. 

“Dylan?” 

His line of vision broke when a hand waved in front of him, forcing Dylan to look at the old woman sitting across from him. In her hand she held a notebook as she leaned forward, as if in waiting. 

“Uh… sorry… I don’t um…” Dylan’s eyes kept drifting over to the music. But quickly he forced himself to look back at the lady. “Sorry Ms.Von… can you repeat that question?”

It was weird, but he never realized until this moment that Ms.Von aged. Maybe he noticed because today was their last session together. After tomorrow, he swore they would never see each other again. He still imagined her when she was younger, like the day he met her. Her smooth brown skin now had small wrinkles, and her light brown eyes were darker than they were the first time they met. Ms.Von sucked in a breath of air through her teeth, adjusting herself to where she’s leaning against the gray armchair behind her. Her eyes narrowed, the lines underneath being revealed. The young boy was now looking at her nervously. Dylan shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, avoiding eye contact at all cost.

“I asked if you’re sure you’re ready for tomorrow? It’s going to be a big change, moving to a big city.” Ms.Von asked cautiously. 

‘Trust me, I’m ready to leave this hellhole forever’

That’s what he wanted to say. He was tired of people asking him if he was ready to move away from this shit town. Of course he was ready. He was ready to leave the small-minded people behind. To finally have people not stare at him when he walked down the school hallway with sympathy, conspiracy theories, pity being exchanged between each other, yet never to him. The only person who never once treated him differently was his best friend, Kaitlyn. That's exactly why Kaitlyn was the only person he would drop everything for to move away with. 

They always talked about moving and never looking back, especially on the nights that Dylan needed her the most. Night filled with nightmares and panic attacks, but those episodes would cease once Kaitlyn showed up with a thermos of hot chocolate in hand. They would sneak off to trespass on the Hackett’s property and watch the lake’s tranquil surface be corrupted by the cool wind, creating ripples. Then Kaitlyn would crack a stupid joke and they would talk until the sun rose about nothing but their future. A future away from North Kill.

Dylan’s right hand runs over the cold metal of his prosthetic hand apprehensively. He stared at it for a moment, then looked up at his therapist. “Yeah,” He mumbled. “I think I’m ready.”

The music seemed to get louder in the silence, bringing a bitter taste to his mouth. Dylan looked up at Ms.Von and the look on her face was the same look his mother got when he mentioned anything about his new home. Her eyes were judging him, as if this idea of moving was the worst thing to ever happen in the town of North Kill. 

Dylan knew from experience that this was not the worst thing to ever happen in the town of North Kill. 

In fact, he was pretty sure the town wouldn’t miss him.

“I see,” Ms.Von begins to write something down in her notebook. “And you’re moving in with Ms.Ka, is that right?”

“That’s what the lease says,” Dylan grumbled sarcastically, earning an unamused look from the woman. He exhaled with a small nod. “Kaitlyn and I are moving in together, yeah.”

“Remind me what your relationship is again,”

Dylan blinked at the lady. Unsure, if she was being serious or not. The thinning of her lips made him realize that she definitely was.

“Oh, we eloped, she’s pregnant with my baby. We knew we wouldn’t be accepted in this town, so we had to get out of dodge before the mob killed us for having a kid out of wedlock,”

“Dylan.” The stern voice made him cringe with anger. He told her everything freshman year. Why the hell was she still questioning his sexuality even though he never tried to hide it?

“She’s just my friend, Ms.Von. She isn’t exactly my type,”

“Aw yes… That’s right.”

“Why am I here again?” Dylan groaned impatiently, glaring at her.

“Your mother is worried you aren’t making the right decision, Dylan.”

“It’s not exactly her choice. Besides, even if it isn’t the right decision, I’m the only one who has to deal with the consequences. Why should it even matter to her?”

“She’s worried about you,”

“Fuck that,” Dylan snapped, his eyes flicking over to finally look at his therapist in the eye. “She just wants me to stay here because she’s too fucking afraid to stay alone.”

Silence again… He groaned and ran his right hand down his face as if to squeeze the stress out. 

“Look, I have to do this for me,” He finally said, breaking the silence. “I just have to get out of here." 

That was all that needed to be said. The rest of the session was pretty much just a bunch of bullshit filler questions like ‘have you had any nightmares lately’ or ‘are the panic attacks worse.’ Dylan’s answers were always the same automated “yes, there just more of the same ones” and “They’re the same as ever.” 

After some time of just more of the same shit, Ms.Von shook her head, gently throwing her notebook on the coffee table that separated her and her client. “Alright, I believe we’re done here then?” She said, the ghost of a smile on her face that Dylan could see was almost… sad? “This move is going to be hard, Dylan. All of your problems aren’t going to go away because you changed your scenery,”

“Way to be optimistic…” Dylan mumbled quietly to himself but she cleared her throat getting his attention.

Ms.Von took a quick breath inward before continuing, “But I truly think this will be good for you, and I really hope everything works out. You’ve always been just a great kid. You deserve nothing but the best Dylan and I hope you can find that in Albany.”

Oh. He was not expecting that, but there it was. Sincerity gleamed in her light eyes. And in that moment, she was just as he remembered when she had first become his therapist when he was 9 years old. Once those words had settled in he gave her a small, sad smile.  “Thank you,” 

This session ended in record time, and once Dylan gave a quick side hug to Ms.Von and small thanks for everything she’s done for him, he bolted out of the office. Not even once glancing back. He would miss his therapist, in an odd way. He knew she was paid to listen to him, but she really did listen. She comforted him better than his own mother ever would. Though… that bar was incredibly low. Even a loaf of bread could comfort him better than his own mother. But still, Ms.Von did care about him. In her own way.

The rest of Dylan’s last night in North Kill went by so slowly after his appointment. It mostly consisted of packing. He only had one small carry-on bag that he could fill, but somehow he liked the fact that he had to limit what belongings came with him. The less things meant less memories of this town. But luckily, he didn’t have to deal with his mother’s not-so-subtle begging for him to stay since she was working the night shift at the hospital. For that, he was thankful.

Dylan groaned, throwing himself onto his bed once he finally zipped up his now full suitcase. He stared out the window on the other side of the room. His eyes caught a glance of the moon that peered inside… Dylan’s dark eyes narrowed at it, and he propped himself up with his elbows to get a better view. He didn’t know if it was just him but the moon in this mountain town always seemed too big. Way bigger than it should be. He didn’t know if the moon wasn’t always that size but something about it here felt unnatural. Along with its abnormal size, it always had a weird vibe to it. As if it was watching. Dylan hated the feeling of being watched and he knew it was weird to claim that the round disc in the dark sky was the one doing said watching. Sometimes, he could almost make out a face... Really taking the man in the moon to a whole new level. He quickly got on his feet, strutting over to the window. 

Dylan gripped the curtain tightly. He closed the curtains as quickly as possible, making sure no moonlight found its way in. A small smirk came across his lips in victory. Haha, moon, try to get through the blackout curtains, his smug look said.

A loud buzz snaps him out of the little victory celebration in his mind. His head turns to his bed where his phone laid downward. A light outlines the phone, telling him to come look. 

When he picked it up, a grin grew large on his face.

Kaitlyn 10:45

Hey nerd. You finished packing?

Dylan 10:45

Uh, yeah. You?

Kaitlyn 10:46

LMAO. Yeah..

Kaitlyn 10:46

…okay, not at all. 

Dylan 10:46

jesus christ Kaitlyn. 

Kaitlyn 10:47

I know. I know. I’m gonna finish, promise. I just gotta like force myself to stop watching the tube’.

Dylan 10:47

The tube? -_-

Kaitlyn 10:47

(: The (: tube’ (:

Dylan rolls his eyes with a tiny chuckle. He hated Kaitlyn in a way that can only be described as love.

Dylan 10:49

Well… You better be well rested tomorrow. Cuz there is no way I’m driving.

Kaitlyn 10:50

Uh, yeah. No one wants that.

Dylan 10:50

I’m not that bad.

Kaitlyn 10:50

Yes. You are. But it’s okay. I still love you, I guess.

Dylan 10:51

I still love you too, I guess. Now go pack.

Kaitlyn 10:51

Who made you boss?

Dylan 10:51

Ur mom.

Kaitlyn 10:52

Clever…

Dylan 10:52

Seriously Kaitlyn, if you aren’t done packing by tonight, imma be so pissed.

Kaitlyn 10:53

Yeah, I know <3 I promise, I’ll be ready. I won’t make you wait.

Kaitlyn 10:53

….. Ur mom still on ur ass???

A breath sizzles through Dylan. Annoyance flooded his body making his typing a little more harshly than he had meant it to be. 

Dylan 10:54

She made me see Ms.Von one last time. I think Mom thought she would convince me to stay. Didn’t go the way she planned.

Kaitlyn 10:54

…Ur mom sucks. 

Dylan 10:55

Yep. I’d rather be out of town before she gets home from work. If I have to hear how much of a “bad idea” this move is one more time, I’m gonna jump outta window. 

Kaitlyn 10:56

I’m sorry bae ): I promise we’ll be out of here before 8:00. Fuck ur mom and fuck this town.

Relief spreads through him, bringing back a smile to his lips. He loved Kaitlyn so much. She was the bestest friend in the world. Like seriously, no one could beat her. And just as she would do anything in the world for him, he would do anything in the world for her. 

Kaitlyn 10:57

Okay, okay. I’m going to go pack. See you in 9 hours, stinky <3 

Dylan 10:57

See ya, buttface <3

Chapter Text

In the eye of a normal man, Dylan would probably be classified as insane. Sure, his behavior could all be justified by the bizarre trauma he experienced as a kid, but even when people knew that context, they still saw him as insane. Sometimes, he thought his own mother thought that way too. He didn’t really blame her. Dylan would spend a lot of his days after his father’s death being super paranoid and talking to someone who was not there.

Claire Lenivy hated when he talked to the air as if it was a friend he’s known his whole life. Ms.Von had assured her it was just his PTSD that made him conjure up an imaginary friend. Someone he could talk to and play with.

Claire didn’t care. She still hated it. 

She hated having a son that everyone saw as insane. She hated having a son that had conspiracy theories shackled onto his foot like a chain and ball. People would say the 9-year-old had helped Mr. Lenivy’s killer murder him, that he was possessed by some evil. Which was a distasteful rumor. But lie or not, it still made her family look bad. Claire didn’t want her late husband’s name tarnished because their child refused to act like the other kids in town. 

At times, she thought she wanted Dylan gone. Away from this place so she could finally live a normal life without worrying about her son’s next episode. But when he told her he was moving to Albany with that bad influence of a friend, Kaitlyn, she wanted to scream. Frustration took over her body when he would barely mention the apartment complex they had chosen to live in or when he had come home from the 4 hour drive after a campus tour. The war in her body was constantly fighting over whether she wanted her son to stay or to leave. In that war, Dylan was just caught in the crossfire. 

The night before the morning he was supposed to leave, she was working a night shift at the North Kill Medical Center. Claire was a little anxious the entirety of her shift. It was almost as if finding little things about her son that she hated was a drug. She would always find a fix when she got home, ready to yell at the young man, who unfortunately shared more similarities with her than his father. At least physically.

Dylan often wondered if he had looked more like his father, if his mother would treat him more kind. Unfortunately, that was something he would never find out.

Claire also, admittedly, did not want to live alone in the house where her husband had died, but Dylan knew that wasn’t his problem. 

His logic was that Claire wasn’t there for him, so why the hell should he stay for her.

So now here Dylan was, in the kitchen where the man who killed his father shot himself, writing the shortest goodbye letter known to man on a small pink post-it. He had considered adding an ‘I love you’ after the goodbye scribbled in black marker, but his heart told him that would be a lie. Claire and Dylan did not love each other. He wanted her to love him but that was a pointless venture that he knew he couldn’t win. 

Dylan didn’t need her, anyway. 

The boy nearly jumped out of his skin when a small hand snaked around his upper arm gently. He spun around to see a short girl staring at him with big, dark eyes full of equal shock. The girl stepped backwards, throwing her hands up as if in surrender. Her pouty lips curve upward mischievously, staring up at a tall Dylan. A thankful sigh escapes his lips, “Kaitlyn. You scared the shit outta me.”

Kaitlyn threw her head back with a laugh. “No shit,”

“You could’ve killed me,”

“Stop being dramatic, Dylsbury Doughboy.”

“Stop walking into houses without knocking, Katertot.” 

Kaitlyn clicked her tongue, “Touche,”

The two fell into a short comfortable silence, looking around this dim lit house. It was hauntingly quiet, but that was something Dylan had always been used to. With his mother always working he had grown accustomed to the silence. But if the silence really got to him, he would find himself sneaking out to hang at Kaitlyn’s. Her moms were always welcoming of him, even letting him stay the night often. Now he didn’t have to sneak to Kaitlyn’s. After, today she would always be in arm’s reach and that, in itself, made all his worries wash away.

Once again, Kaitlyn’s soft touch on his forearm brought him out of his trance. He looked down at her.

“You ready, Dyl?” 

Dylan’s chest expanded with a deep sigh. He quickly nods, slapping the goodbye post-it on the dirty granite countertop. He grabs his suitcase in his hand, shoving his prosthetic into his jean pocket. “I am so ready,” A nervous chuckle bounced out of his throat.

Packing cars was so easy compared to unpacking. Unpacking was going to be such a chore after this 4-hour trip. Kaitlyn opens the trunk of her old ass honda civic, and Dylan’s eyes widened. The left side of the trunk was filled to the brim with trash bags of clothes and silly cute stuffed animals. His lips gaped open, glancing over at his best friend. 

“Dude.”

With her badass exterior, no one would think that Kaitlyn was the person to hold on to sentimental stuffed animals, but if she was being honest, she couldn't leave one of them behind. She would feel bad.

“Don’t look at me like that. I couldn’t leave them alone! Mom would’ve gotten rid of them if I didn’t take em’.”

He shook his head, smiling. She suddenly gasped, jumping up and down in her place in excitement. Kaitlyn threw half of herself into the trunk. She dug through the black, plastic bags, clearly looking for something. Dylan couldn’t help but stare at her like she was deranged. With an ‘aha!’ she drags out a banged up stuffed wolf. Its eyes were a matte yellow, and its fur was dry, no longer holding the fluff it once did. Dylan beamed at the animal in her hand, slowly grabbing it. 

“You remember him?! I found him under my bed!”

“Y-yeah! Barely… haha. That’s insane.” 

Dylan looks at the old stuffed wolf. Examining every imperfection it now had.  Kaitlyn looked pleased with his content expression. “It is insane. You always played with that thing, especially with Silas,”

Abruptly, Dylan had froze in his position. His heart felt heavy all of a sudden, thumping wildly. He looked up at Kaitlyn with almost frightened eyes, “Silas?” That name brought a shiver down his spine, even in this summer weather.

“Yeah! Yeah! That imaginary friend you would take with you eevvverryywhere” 

The girl glanced at his face, seeing the random terror-filled frown. He didn’t know why he reacted like that to a name he hadn’t heard in years, but here he was. Breathing deeply, anxiety rising and falling in his chest. When his eyes dart to his metal hand then back to the wolf, Kaitlyn suddenly regrets mentioning his “old pal.”

“Hey, Dylan… you alright?”

His head shook back and forth, trying to get rid of the bad vibes. “Sorry… I just haven’t thought about Silas in a minute, haha.” The laugh was meant to lighten the sour mood, but it only really made Kaitlyn worry more. She knew about Silas, just as much as everyone else did. It wasn’t a secret, especially not to her. Kaitlyn remembered having to compete with that imaginary piece of crap just for Dylan’s attention. It was funny beef that she had with just an empty space that he once called his second best friend.  

But she was pretty sure she won that fight. Considering she was the one Dylan was moving in with. After Dylan’s little accident with a bear trap when he was 11, she never had to worry about Silas anymore. The accident had made him shut up about his imaginary friend. This was the first time it was ever brought up since then.

“Ahem,” Kaitlyn coughed, making him raise his brow at her. “We should… probably get on the road. We got quite the trip ahead of us.”

“...You uh-  did remember the snacks, right?”

“...I thought you were gonna get those.”

Chapter Text

 Dylan rarely slept. The less he slept, the fewer nightmares that haunted him. But if he was being honest, it wasn’t really an issue for him. Any sleep longer than 4 hours left him feeling groggy and grumpy, so he had no issue with getting at least 4 a night. It was often that Kaitlyn found herself refusing to go to sleep just so she could make sure her best friend would get those hours in. This night was one of those nights. 

 The tall boy sat on the gigantic cardboard box that held their new couch in it. Something they moved in exactly two days ago, but didn’t put together because they would “get it done once they actually moved in.” With Dylan’s cramped up legs and back from sitting in Kaitlyn’s small ass car, he really wished they would have sucked it up and put it together. Kaitlyn strutted over to him in tired, graceful steps and plopped down next to him with a wide grin on her face.

 Dylan couldn’t help but side eye her, smirking a bit. She looked so happy and proud. Kaitlyn -unlike himself- was more of a day person, so it was a little surprising to see her in such a chipper mood at midnight. He could probably guess why but still felt compelled to ask. 

“What’re you smiling at?”

Kaitlyn audibly breathed in the new apartment smell, which comprised lemon cleaner mixed with a hint of bleach. She took a quick glance around the apartment, that proud grin becoming a smile. It wasn’t small, by any means. It was a good size for a big city apartment that was close to campus. One would describe it as ‘rustic’ with its one exposed brick wall in the living room with the modern tan walls to accompany it. They were lucky they got this place. It was nice and cheap enough to live in with just their financial aid, which was all they could really ask for. But even more important to them was that this place was theirs. Apartment 7-D was their place!

“We did it!” Kaitlyn squealed happily, shaking Dylan’s arm. “This is our home!”

Dylan let out a small bark of laughter that wasn’t as sincere as he had wanted it to be. She was obviously feeling things settle before he was, that this place was a “home” now. This place, for now, was still just a small apartment where he was going to sleep… and eat in… which would technically be a “home” but he was still waiting for it to be a home.

Something he never really had, besides in a few select people.

Never really a place.

To him, a place never had that “homely” feeling. The feeling he got when Kaitlyn coached him through his panic attacks or when her moms would let him spend Christmas at their place. He was waiting for that feeling, but it hadn’t really hit him yet. Maybe when they put all the furniture together? Fully moved in?

“I know!” He said, a mock happiness in his voice. Something he had mastered when he was 10. “We actually did it.”

“Bye North Kill,” Kaitlyn sang. Her elbow gently nudged her friend’s ribs making him genuinely grin. 

Dylan breathed in and it wasn’t the scent of pine needles and damp dirt. That filled him with indescribable joy, “Bye North Kill.”

 The two best friends, who have been waiting for this to happen for years, finally sat in a soft silence in the place they now lived.

 “OH!” Kaitlyn suddenly exclaimed, frightening Dylan who now had his full attention on her. “Jacob said he wanted to grab lunch tomorrow. You should come!”

 Dylan sometimes forgot that people from his old town got out of there too- now living here in Albany. Jacob Custos being one of them. They all three had grown up together, Jacob being only one year older than them.

 Kaitlyn and Jacob were closer than Jacob and him but he didn’t mind. The athlete seemed so intimidating to him, even if Kaitlyn swore on her life that he was nothing but a big teddy bear. He was a big guy and a jock… there was no way he wasn’t a bully, at least in Dylan’s mind. 

 It wasn’t right to judge a book by its cover; he knew. But he wasn’t wrong to be cautious about people. 

 “Technically, he wants to grab lunch today.” Dylan corrected. The playful glare that Kaitlyn gave him made him smirk. 

 “Shut up, it isn’t tomorrow until after you fall asleep,”

 “Ummmmm,” Dylan hummed in a high-pitched manner. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

 “Yes it is, now stop changing the subject.”

 Dylan frowned and looked down at the hardwood floor, not knowing what to say. He didn’t want to go, but he knew he should. New friends would probably be beneficial to him. Though, he would prefer that his new friends knew absolutely nothing about him. Unfortunately, Jacob knew his past. “Well…?” Kaitlyn chuckled, poking him in the arm. She pouts slightly after seeing the deep-in-thought expression on his face. “You don’t want to go, huh?”

 Dylan quickly shook his head in protest, raising his hands in surrender, “No, no. I want to go.” He lied. “It’s just actually forcing myself to, that’s the hard part… Ya know?”

 “No, yeah. I totally get that. But you’d be doing me a favor, for realsies,” 

 “I would? Why? You're scared to see him?” Dylan was a little surprised. Her and Jacob were basically brother and sister, so he didn’t see a reason she would be scared to see him. Now him? Yeah, he was terrified. The last memory he had of Jacob was at Hackett’s Quarry… when Dylan was being rolled into an ambulance. All the campers watching him leave with his mangled hand held close to his chest. He remembered 12-year-old Jacob in the front, holding Kaitlyn back from hopping into the ambulance to be with Dylan. Not exactly a wonderful memory he had of him…

 Sure, he saw him around school before he graduated and left for college but that’s the only memory that really stuck out. 

 Kaitlyn raised a brow. “No,” She simply answered. “You’d be doing me a favor because then I wouldn’t have to drag your ass out that door.”

 “So… basically what you’re saying is that… I have no choice?” 

 “Basically.”

 Dylan sighed dramatically, “Fine. If you say so.” His face was playful but internally he was screaming at himself not to go. Not even Kaitlyn going comforted him. The awkward small talk before getting to know someone was a dreadful thought that made apprehension swell up in his stomach. Not only that, but what if he brings up the day he had lost his hand?

Oh god… What the fuck was he supposed to say to Jacob? ‘Oh hey, Jakey, remember me? I’m Dylan from summer camp. No, don't worry, I haven't shoved my hand into any bear traps lately.’ 

 Getting to know people was dumb. 

 After getting the answer she had wanted, Kaitlyn excused herself with a yawn, and after a stern warning to Dylan that he should go to bed as well, he begrudgingly made his way to his new room just as she did. But he did not get a wink of sleep that night. He couldn’t. Not when he was mentally preparing himself to be social for the next day. Kaitlyn was so easy to talk to. It took no effort to speak to her at all. But… strangers? Even worse, strangers who knew how ‘crazy’ he was? He couldn’t pretend with him… His anxiety was not exactly soothed while the car alarms and traffic of the city made themselves known just outside his window. 

 “Fuck,” He rolled over on the mattress that laid on the floor. No sheets or comforters. Only a tiny blanket that Kaitlyn’s Mama had given to him for Christmas. It was soft, pulled up against his cheek but no throw blanket could cover his lanky body. 

 After hours of thinking, groaning, tossing and turning, the sun was already rising. 

 Another night of no sleep. 

“Heh, Kaitlyn is gonna be pissed,” He chuckled humorlessly to himself, even though he knew for a fact she would not find out. Dylan sat himself up criss-cross on his plain mattress, staring blankly at the tan walls of his room. He turned his head ever so slightly to the left and stared out his 1st floor window at all the cars that went by, probably on their way to work. Heads of strangers would pass his window making him a little nervous each time. He knew he needed some blackout curtains. The thought of someone staring in made his heart fall. The young boy reached out for his sock that laid on the carpeted floor next to him, rolling it onto his left arm. Putting on his prosthetic became second nature, so it never really took him long anymore. After securing it, he quickly and quietly snuck out of his room that was still mostly occupied by furniture still in its cardboard box. He cursed himself for not using his time, not sleeping, at least getting his shit situated. He had wanted to get his room done, but to be honest, he wasn’t in the mood. Once Kaitlyn infected him with her contagious determination, he would get it done. But that probably wouldn’t be for a while. 

Leaning against the wall beside their not-couch, he pulled out his phone that was hiding in the pockets of his pajama pants. 

7:30… He wanted to bang his head against the wall as he stared at the time on his phone. Dylan knew Kaitlyn usually woke up in about 2 hours which was way too long to be alone with his thoughts. His eyes glanced at the front door then back to his phone. 

“I mean…” He whispered to himself. “It wouldn’t hurt to grab some coffee somewhere,” 

It almost seemed like fate when he looked up a coffee place in the search bar and the first one up was only 3 blocks from their apartment. 

The door seemed a little threatening to him. Dylan didn’t want to go without Kaitlyn into a strange new city, but he also didn’t want to wait hours until she finally woke up. Dylan took a shaky breath, exhaling slowly to ease his nerves. 

“Okay Dylan, new city. New you. You can do this,” He encouraged himself. He quickly went to change into a basic gray pull-over hoodie and blue jeans. He was just getting coffee, so he didn’t feel the need to get ready-ready.

It only took him two steps to get from his bedroom to the bathroom that was right across the hall.

Dylan stared at himself in the wide bathroom mirror. He didn’t even bother with his hair besides running his fingers through it to get it semi-neat. Something he did often. The messy look didn’t look all that bad on him, he had to admit. 

He breathed in once again, staring at himself. His metal hand clinked against the white marble of the bathroom counter as he leaned against it. Dylan didn’t understand why he was staring at himself, but he had the urge to examine his features. He hated looking at himself even though he had done it frequently. His pale skin looked sickly along with the dark circles under his eyes. The only thing about him that was even remotely kept tidy was his dark, brown hair. As he moved closer to the mirror, the sides of his hair fell over his face, blocking his vision. Dylan gently nudged the strands away, to stare at himself once more. 

His heart dropped when he met his own eyes in the mirror.

There was someone there. Just in the corner of his vision. He didn’t know how he knew but there was someone there.

 And suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. Whoever it was in his peripherals, it was a young man in the corner. His eyes gleaming crimson with dark slicked back hair and wolfish grin. But most distinctively, his skin was pale. So pale against the dark red suit he was wearing. 

Bile burned up the side of his throat, and he wanted to throw up. Dylan’s eyes shut tight, but still he could see that man behind his eyelids. 

Remembering what Ms.Von told him as a young boy, he grabbed the closest surface he could, gripping it tightly to ground him.

“You're not real. Go away,” He shakily breathed out.

“Go away, go away, go away, go away”

It was a firm prayer more than a chant.

Tears spilled out his tightly secured eyes, silently running down his face.

Hesitantly, Dylan opened his eyes. He spun around at the speed of light, as if to catch the man off guard. But to his relief, no one was there. He stared in the bathroom's corner for about five minutes before finally regulating his breathing. 

Dylan backed himself up into the counter, not daring to take his sight off the corner. 

Finally, a shaky sob escapes his lips, completing what Ms.Von and him rehearsed. His voice came out quiet, small, as if he was just a scared 10-year-old boy again:

 “Y-you’re not real,”

Chapter Text

Fear–Fear was something that crawled under his skin at most times, on most days. It was something his mother planted into him and grew over the years that eventually sprouted in paranoia. He spent years looking over his shoulder, listening to the dark voice he called Silas, because even with all the flaws that came with him, Silas still helped Dylan get over the doubt that lived in his mind. He gave him the courage to push his limits, to go out there. Silas was a source of hope in his life at one point. 

But now?

That face was the last thing he ever wanted to see. Panic resided in the young man upon seeing him in that bathroom mirror. The imaginary kid that brought him nothing but torment. 

Dylan couldn’t stop thinking about that face as he stared at the ground, clumsily avoiding running into people on his way to the coffee shop. He was counting each step in between the lines of the concrete. Concentrated, he kept the steps equal... 

One, two… line.

One, two… line.

He never broke pattern. 

He had to concentrate. 

Try to get his mind off of that devilish face he had seen. That evil grin that reminded him of a time when he was at his lowest. Desperate and more scared than he was now. A familiar shiver ran up his spine, tensing his shoulders upward toward his cheeks in a tight shrug. Those dark, ruby eyes gleaming at him with that mischievous glint. He had never wanted to see those eyes again… He glanced between the ground and his prosthetic intensely, tears brimming his waterline. 

Silas. Why Silas? He had been repressing the boy since he lost his hand. Why now? Why was he getting flashes of Silas now? And were they memories or… No no, they couldn’t be memories. Silas would still be a kid, right? That’s how Dylan remembered him, so wouldn’t he still be a kid?

But he wasn’t. He was a grown man. In fact, he looked more grown than Dylan did now. Dylan probably wouldn’t have recognized his “old friend” if it wasn’t for that eerie smile… those dark, red eyes. His skin…

Silas couldn’t have grown up. Not like Dylan had… Silas wasn’t real. He was a product of Dylan’s wild imagination. He conjured him up right after his father’s death, in an attempt to comfort himself. Or at least that’s what Ms. Von had told his mom. But he always felt real to him. Solid proof of that belief took place as a metal, artificial hand that he was nervously messing with on his walk. 

Dylan glanced down at the phone he had just mindlessly pulled out from his jean pocket. The map on it guided him to turn at the nearest corner ahead. He sucked in the crisp, morning air of this city as he quickly followed the yellow line that led the way to the much needed oat-milk cold brew. 

As he turned the corner, a loud yelp suddenly snapped himself out of his thoughts. 

“Hey! Hey! Watch ou-”

A wall of pain smacked into Dylan, sending him sprawling into the hard, cold concrete. The air knocked out of the boy as his back hit the ground. “Holy fuck,” Dylan gasped out, grabbing his chest as a sharp ache spread through his body. He didn’t know what had just happened, but it wasn't hard to put together when his eyes gaze over at what the hell he had hit. There it was, a young man on the ground next to him. His arms were stretched outward to catch himself from hitting his head on the ground. The tumble obviously left the student in discomfort, his face twisted in pain. Quickly, Dylan took action, jumping up to help. “Oh my god… I’m so so sorry,” 

Gently Dylan grasped the man’s arm, getting him to his feet as fast as possible. “I’m so sorry man… I didn’t see you.”

The man begins to brush off any light brown dust that scattered over his ripped, black jeans. “It’s- It’s fine…” The guy grumbled. He glanced at his books that lay scattered on the sidewalk. 

“Oh, shoot…” Dylan cringed, rushing to it to grab all the textbooks for the man. Unluckily, the man had the same idea. Their heads collided together and they both jumped back with a hiss of pain. 

“Fuck,” The man growled, rubbing his forehead. 

Dylan wanted to die. 

He stroked his head, his lips curving downward. “I-I am so so sorry… again… I didn’t mean to… I was just-”

The man’s eyes peeked at a stuttering Dyan from under the hand that was rubbing the throb of pain from his head away. The look of panic on his face, made the man’s disgruntled expression soften. 

“Hey man… it’s okay,” The stranger reassured, removing his hand from his sore head. 

“N-no,” Dylan frowned. He avoided eye contact with the stranger as he quickly gathered the books from the floor in a neat pile. The man watched him, a bit confused on what to say or do. “I should’ve been paying attention… I just wasn’t thinking and… yeah.. That was my bad…”

He stands up straight, the textbooks in hand. His arms stretched forward for the guy to grab his books. The man blinked, cautiously reaching to take hold of the stack. 

“I- apologize…” Dylan mumbled guiltily, slightly glancing down at the guy who still stared up at him, bewildered. 

If Dylan didn’t want to die before, he for sure, one hundred percent, definitely wanted to now. The stranger was a gorgeous man, his brown skin flawless and his hair a messy, super short afro. A light stubble peppered over his lips, chin and up his jawline. And if the man wasn’t already godly enough, his grunge wardrobe really did it for Dylan. The only light color on the guy was a pair of white earbuds that hung from top of his shirt. There was no way a man this hot could be on this planet. The man looked up at him and his eyes were dark but they stared at him with a soft kindness that he had yet to see in any stranger.  Dylan didn’t understand why he was looking at him like that… He had straight up just knocked this guy off his axis. The stranger should be cussing him out… 

Dylan’s face flushed red. Not only did he just run into the most beautiful guy he had ever seen… but he was also a stuttering, panicked mess…

Fuck. 

“Nothing to apologize for,” The man shrugged. Dylan’s eyes widened at his voice, deep and smooth like a cold-brew… god, he really needed his coffee. Especially after this. “Shit happens.”

“I- haha, yeah,” Dylan attempted to gulp down the anxiety, shakily picking up his phone that had fallen onto the ground during the fall. He quickly glances it over, checking for any cracks. “I hope that you um… have a good day. I have to um..” He gestured toward the way he came with his left hand, opposite from the coffee shop and the man tilted his head. “ I’m sorry again… and uh… Yeah, bye.” 

In record time, Dylan zipped away from the scene. Away from his destination. Cursing himself out under his breath with every step he took. He had said he was going that way and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to commit to that direction. 

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” He hissed, fidgeting with his hand like never before. Humiliation turned his entire face into a dark shade of red, as he practically ran back toward the apartment.

Sure, he didn’t get his coffee, but at least one good thing came out of his little venture in the real world. He had forgotten all about Silas, for at least a moment. 

When Dylan had walked through the front door of his apartment, his mouth dropped open. In the living room, the couch that was once a cardboard box had transformed into a cute black sofa. Kaitlyn was sitting on it, scrolling through her phone. Her eyes met his look of shock, but all she could do was grin. This girl was insane, Dylan had thought. When she put her mind to something, she always put in one hundred and one percent. He was baffled every time she would get shit done in a short amount of time. Bafflement had turned to annoyance when said shit would get done perfectly. He was only gone for about an hour, trying to clear his head and looking for that stupid coffee shop and boom, they suddenly had a living room. And somehow she had fit in the time to get ready?!

Kaitlyn wore black athletic leggings, along with a cropped orange hoodie. Gold chain necklaces, varying in size, hung down from her neck. Her makeup was dark and as impeccable as her craftsmanship at putting furniture together.

“Now where the hell were you, young man?” Kaitlyn teased in her best mom voice, her white tennis shoes tapping on the wood floors.

Dylan shook his head. "You're annoying," He groaned, throwing his head back. He trudged over to his best friend, flopping onto the seat beside her. He leaned his head back, rubbing his tense shoulders trying to unknot any kink in his muscles. Oh, man… this couch was soft. If he wasn't terrified to close his eyes, he would've fallen asleep on the spot. 

"Oh my god, your face is like- so red. What happened?" Kaitlyn gasped, a grin gradually increasing. The only answer she got was a hardened glare that had only made her shrug. 

"Okay, keep your secrets," She sighed. "We're leaving at 11, just so ya know…"

"Ugh… Kaitlyn-?" 

Bailing would be preferable. He knew that the incident he just ran away from was enough social interaction for an entire decade. He didn't want to embarrass himself anymore. If he stayed, he could even possibly get more unpacking done…

"Jacob is meeting us at a diner just down the road," Kaitlyn smirked. "He says they have killer pie."

Dylan picks his head up to look at Kaitlyn, whose eyes gleamed playfully. A resigned sigh slipped out with an eye roll. "I… do like pie."

"Damn straight you do," 

And with that, he had sold his soul for a pie. 

Besides… Diners had to have coffee. There was no diner in America that did not serve that cup of thick, black life juice. 

Running on no coffee, no hours of sleep was torture but as his mother always told him: "Appearances are everything." And at this point, Dylan could be an A-list actor with his ability to hide the fact that he was about to face plant into the checkered floor of a diner and knock out. But he refused to let his exhaustion show as he saw a big, sophomore in college bound up to the two of them like a dog happy to greet his owner. Yeah… A dog is exactly what Kaitlyn's childhood friend looked like. Not in a bad way, at all. In fact, Dylan knew an attractive man when he saw one. Jacob beamed the moment his eyes landed on Kaitlyn. And if he had a tail, it sure would be wagging. 

"Hey, Jake!" Kaitlyn said as if she had seen him just yesterday. She happily pulled him into a casual hug, to which he turned into a giant bear hug. He crushed her compact frame tightly. An unpleasant noise escaped her as she tried to break free but Jacob's grip did not loosen. Dylan stood to the side awkwardly watching the two, his feet shuffling.

"Dylan!"

Dylan snapped his head up to Jacob who finally let Kaitlyn breathe outside of his arms. His face contorted with glee. 

"Bro, it's so freaking good to see you!" 

Before Dylan knew it, he took Kaitlyn's place in the bear hug of doom. It was his turn to have the life crushed out of him. Behind him, he heard Kaitlyn scoff out a chuckle. He wanted to smack her. 

"Uh-" Dylan groaned, patting the back of the shorter… more muscular man. "Yeah- Good to see you too- man-" 

To say he was surprised by the hug would be an understatement, but he didn't have time to be shocked. Everything happened so fast. The three sat down and Dylan looked around at the diner with an intrigued expression. Everything had a hint of a 50s vibe, from the blue sparkly booth seats to the delicious pie rack that Dylan had his eye on from the moment they sat down. 

"You like?" Jacob exclaimed happily. "I know it's old school but it’s pretty chill."

"Super retro," Dylan nodded. "I dig it."

"SO-" Jacob clapped, bringing back Dylan's attention. As well as Kaitlyn, who had been intensely staring at the menu this entire time. "How are you guys? How's the new apartment? Is North Kill the same? Do you wanna go to a party at my place on Saturday? Was the drive up here okay?"

Dylan gawked at the word vomit that had just been spewed out of the jock's mouth. He was too exhausted to catch any of that. 

"We're good. The apartment's good. North Kill still sucks. And, unsure, we need details… and the drive up here was long. It would've been shorter if someoonnnee didn't have to go pee every other town." Kaitlyn said with a shrug, her eyes drifting back to the breakfast menu nonchalantly.

How the hell did she-

"I'm sorry I have a small bladder," Dylan shot back, earning an eye roll from the girl. 

Their trains of discussion quickly drifted to current events in their lives; when classes started, the best places to hang out, which professor’s they had to keep an eye on. Conversations weren’t exactly Dylan’s strong suit, but talking with Jacob was way easier than it should have been. Small talk, deep questions, nothing was off limits when it came to him. And to Dylan’s delight, there were no awkward pauses between the three, since Jacob would say literally anything that came to mind. 

When the server in a cute blue uniform set down their food in front of them, Dylan ignored the waffles she had placed before him, making a B-Line to the coffee.

Kaitlyn gave him a judgemental look, “God, you’re obsesse-'' Swiftly she was shushed by the boy who drank the java like his life depended on it. The bitter, thick liquid burnt his taste buds, setting his throat on fire. But he didn’t care. He needed the caffeine. 

“Jesus Dylan,” Jacob gasped, with wide eyes. “That’s gotta be hot.”

Dylan let out a little ‘mmhm’ as he continued to drink his cup of joe. 

“So about that party, Jake?” Kaitlyn chuckled, ignoring the coffee addict beside her.

“OH! Yeah! Zeta Delta Nu’s got a part ay on Saturd ay ,” 

Dylan snorts a laugh into the coffee, splattering small droplets of hot coffee into his face. He rushes to wipe his face before anyone can see his mess, “You’re in a fraternity?”

“Yeah!” Jacob smiled with pride, oblivious to Dylan’s mocking tone. “It’s been fun! Since class is starting in a week, we want to start the year with a bang . You two should definitely come!” With that, the sophomore shoved 2 entire strips of bacon into his mouth. Dylan's lips thin at the boy as he watched him devour his plate of eggs and bacon. He glanced at Kaitlyn who wasn't phased one bit, "We'll think about it for sure." She hummed, sipping on her glass of OJ. 

"Come on! You're in college! Live a little!"

Dylan frowns, "I don't do great at parties."

Jacob's expression softens, backing off a bit, looking at Dylan. "Yeah, I get that. I'm not gonna force you but I would honestly love to see you guys there. Even if you just drop by just to say what's up or something."

Dylan and Kaitlyn exchange glances. So much was said in just a look. 

He wasn’t lying when he said parties weren’t his thing. Loud noises and worst of all booze just didn’t settle well with him. Besides, when Jake said he’d love to see them there, he was convinced that he just meant Kaitlyn… He wasn’t sure if it was the best idea if he went… 

Kaitlyn’s glance told him that the choice was up to him, that she’d support him no matter what. 

She sacrificed so much for Dylan, and he did not want to be the reason she missed out on a normal college experience. His eyebrows furrow, exhaling. 

This was a bad idea…

“We’ll be there,” 

Chapter Text

"GODDAMNIT,"

Dylan threw the throw pillows off the couch, shoving his hand into the nooks and crannies of the cushions. Searching for the brown leather wallet that he had sworn he had just had. Between all the events of yesterday, and Jacob graciously paying for lunch, he hadn't even noticed his wallet was missing. Panic settled into his guts as he searched everywhere through the nearly put together living room. Kaitlyn strutted out of the bathroom, pulling her shoulder length, wavy hair into a green scrunchy. Two strands from each side, one longer than the other, fall from her ponytail. She watched Dylan ruin the decorations she had just delicately arranged yesterday from the doorway of the restroom. 

"Dude, chill," She sighed. Her eyes rolled, returning to give a dirty look at the mess maker. "What happened?" 

Dylan huffed angrily, throwing a cushion harshly back into its rightful place. He glimpsed at his roommate, his whiskey brown eyes burning with annoyance. Kaitlyn's eyebrow arched upward, "Well?"

"I-" He groaned, crossing his arms over his knitted green sweater. "Lost my stupid ass wallet…" 

"Shit, Dylan," Kaitlyn gasped. "How’d you do that?" 

Dylan frowned. He glanced around the once tidy living room, regretting the mess he had made. His right hand reached for the left, but was met with nothing but air. In the panic of this morning, he must have forgotten to put on his prosthetic. Eh… He didn’t feel like wearing it today anyhow. Dylan recollected the events of yesterday; the unpacking, the crick in the neck Jake gave them from his deadly hugs, the delicious breakfast for lunch, and finally he remembered. The gorgeous guy, who's voice made his heart jump out of his chest. His kind eyes had reassured him that scattering his books on the side of the road wasn't a big deal, even though Dylan would still disagree. When they both fell, his wallet had to have… Oh shit-

"Fuck," He cursed under his breath. " I… know what happened."

"Oooo," Kaitlyn cooed, walking fully into the living room picking up the throw pillows and fluffy blankets he roughly tossed to the floor moments earlier. "Do tell." Mindlessly, she began to fold the blankets into neat rectangles. 

He didn’t want to tell her about his embarrassing encounter. He could already hear her teasing. “I totally beefed it yesterday. It must have fallen out…”

Kaitlyn barked out a laugh, setting down the folded blankets neatly onto the arm of the couch. She adjusts the pillow before turning to Dylan. “That sucks,”

“Kaitlyn, this is serious,” Dylan scowled. “My money is in there.”

He couldn’t believe they’ve been there for just a few days and he already was having issues. Not big ones, but even minor issues can become enormous problems. Kaitlyn smiled sympathetically, sitting on the couch with her hands folded in her lap. “Someone probably found it, I mean your ID is in it so maybe they’ll return it.” She said hopefully. Doubt had made Dylan shake his head. There were rarely kind people who lived in cities. He knew Kaitlyn was trying to think of the best-case scenario but it didn’t exactly comfort him. Dylan wasn’t very optimistic. 

“Yeah… Maybe… So much for going to get coffee,” 

Kaitlyn chuckled, “Jesus, Dyl. I’ll get you a coffee, if you need it sooo bad.”

“I do.”

She dug into her front jean pocket, pulling out a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. Offered in between her index and middle finger, she stretched it out towards Dylan. He eyed it for a second before grasping it in his palm. “Go get a coffee,” 

“You know I probably just need like… 5 bucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Kaitlyn winked at him, talking in her best ‘sugar daddy’ voice. Which was just her voice but more gravely and deep, “Buy yourself somethin’ nice, doll,”

“You don’t wanna come with?”

“I gotta a few more things to hang up in my room,” She shrugged. 

“Well, thank you. You’re a lifesaver,” Dylan grasped the bill close to his chest. 

“Have fun, kiddo,” Kaitlyn joked, winking at her friend. 

Dylan snorted. Waving goodbye, he made his way to the coffee shop that he was denied yesterday. On his way he wondered if he would run into the boy from yesterday. Not that he really wanted to. Dylan did not feel the desire to embarrass himself further. To his relief, the coffee shop came into view with no sign of that gorgeous stranger. The shop was tucked away between two, local clothing stores. Students and workers alike came in and out of the dark bricked shop with fresh cups of java. It didn’t seem like a crazy busy place, but students obviously needed their daily dose of caffeine. 

The door opened with the ring of a bell startling Dylan. He glared up at the bell above his head, cursing at himself for jumping. The shop had cute fairy lights hanging down from the ceiling along with a lot of pop culture posters on the white walls. It was super… “trendy” as the kids would say. There were only a select few people in the shop, sitting at various tables, all of them on their computers or behind a book.

The energy of this place made Dylan way too happy. 

Dylan sauntered to the counter, where a sweet-looking girl was filling out a crossword puzzle behind it. She was humming a tune completely unaware of the customer in front of her. Dylan looked over at the crossword puzzle reading it upside down. 

Down 15.

In general, the solution of the Schrodinger wave equation is- 

“Complex,” Dylan slipped out. The young girl jumped slightly, looking up. 

“Oh shoot! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there! Um- s-sorry, what did you say?”

Dylan points to the puzzle book, a small grin on his face, “The answer is complex for fifteen down.” The girl blinked at her crossword puzzle, something lighting up in her amber eyes. 

“Oh!” She exclaimed, excitingly writing the answer. It perfectly fit into the boxes and the barista beamed happily at Dylan. A warm feeling spread through him at her expression. “Thank you! I’ve been stuck on this all morning.”

She looked back at Dylan, a shy blush warming up her cheeks. Swiftly, she shut the crossword book, pushing it out of the way of the counter. “Sorry again. Usually we’re pretty dead during this time, what can I get you?” 

“Oh! Right!” Dylan chuckled. “Ummm… anything with caffeine would be nice,”

“Heh,” The girl smirked. “Do you prefer something sweet? Or maybe a little more bitter?”

“Yes,” Dylan admitted. “Can I just get a large brown sugar cold brew, with um… oat milk.” 

The girl nodded enthusiastically, spinning around to get to work. The girl zipped around as if she was on automatic mode. Dylan could tell she’s been at this job for a while with the way she effortlessly went around making his order. Before he knew it, the cold brew was right in front of him in a clear cup. The oat-milk and whipped cream on the top slowly mixed with the coffee below it. His mouth watered slightly. 

“It’s gonna be 3.25,” The barista said, pushing on the tablet in front of her.

Dylan slipped over the twenty-dollar bill, which she took gently from the dark counter top. With the cling of her register, she hands back his change with a bright smile on her face.

 “Thanks uh…” Dylan squinted at her name tag, smiling softly. “Abigail.”

“Sure thing! Have a great one!” 

Dylan noted how automated that response was, but he didn’t really mind. She was just doing her job. He gave her one last smile before grabbing his coffee to sit down. 

He pulled out his phone, sipping on the cold drink. The drink, to his surprise, was perfect. A tasty balance between sweet and bitter made his tummy extremely content. Drinking coffee while scrolling on the ‘Gram was one of his favorite pastimes, which was silly but it did make him forget about his anxiety for at least 30 minutes. A sweet selfie of Kaitlyn and him appeared on his feed, their nicely put together living room in the background that they had taken yesterday. He couldn’t help but feel a comforting snug pulling on his heartstrings. Dylan felt silly feeling so good, it almost felt wrong to feel so happy but he really was. Well… happier than he ever would be back in North Kill. 

For once he was excited for his future. 

A large object banged onto the table in front of him. His stomach jumped into his throat looking at what was just suddenly thrown before him. A worn out leather wallet… HIS worn out leather wallet with a hand covering the top. His eyes slowly followed the black and gray striped sleeve upwards only to meet a familiar pair of dark eyes. It didn't take him long to realize that they belonged to the stranger he had bumped into yesterday. It was unfair that he looked just as good today as he did before. His outfit was still dark, a classic rock t-shirt over a long sleeve and of course… ear buds hanging from the top. Dylan’s eyes widened, his heart suddenly speeding up. He put down his phone to give him his full attention.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” He said, his deep voice still shocking Dylan to the core. 

“It’s okay,” Dylan sputtered out, a nervous smile on his face. 

“You ran away so fast yesterday,” The stranger said, sliding Dylan’s wallet closer to him. “I wasn’t able to return this.”

Dylan gaped at the wallet in surprise. “I- Heh, thank you…”

“Yeah. Sure thing,” He bluntly stated with a shrug. 

“Uh, how’s your um… head?” He cringed slightly as he pointed at his own head, trying to make conversation. 

The guy smiled slightly, “Uh, sore.”

Dylan retreated eye contact with him, looking down, “Yeah… I’m still sorry about that.”

The guy uninvitingly sat himself down across from him. He looked at Dylan with a small grin and a raised brow. “Don’t be, it wasn’t a big deal. I promise,”

The jitters took over Dylan, his hand shaking from the pressure of being so close to such a handsome man. 

“I’m Ryan, by the way,” He introduced himself.

“Ryan…” Dylan repeated. God, that felt right to say.

Ryan. Ryan. A name that repeated in his head pleasantly. The corner of his eyes crinkled at finally having one to put with the face. 

Ryan

A growly voice repeated in his mind. It had frightened him when his mind would do that. It sent a frigid chill through his body. Ms.Von told him that, that ‘monster’ voice as he used to call it, was just his intrusive thoughts. He hated it. Quickly, his head jerked into a tremble, trying to shake off the weird voice. It wasn’t the first time he had heard that voice but shaking it away like an etch-a-sketch always worked. To his appeasement, Ryan hadn’t noticed.

“It’s nice to meet you Ryan,” Dylan smiled softly, reaching out his right hand for a shake. “I’m Dylan.”

“Dylan,” Ryan echoed in the same cadence as Dylan saying his name. 

Dylan nodded, taking his hand. Electricity shot through his hand at his warm touch. Butterflies flutter around his stomach, and the two hold the handshake a beat longer than they should have. 

“So, you a freshman?” Ryan asked, gently letting go of his hand. 

“Yeah,” Dylan nodded. “You?”

“Yeah,”

This guy was crazy hot, but keeping up a conversation was not his strong suit. “Uh- Whatchu majoring in?”

Excitement suddenly radiated from the guy, “Oh, I’m in the animation program here.”

“Animation?” 

“Yeah, I’m um… an ‘artist,’” Ryan put up air quotes at artist, making Dylan snicker. His head tilted. 

“Why the air quotes?” 

Ryan's cheeks grow hot, "I- uh- honestly don't know why I did those, if I'm being honest."  

Nothing to make a stunning man less intimidating than an extremely awkward conversation. A genuine laugh slipped out of Dylan’s mouth. 

“Uh, what about you? What’s your major?” 

“Oh! Um…” Dylan hummed. He suddenly got nervous, “I-I don’t know what I really want to do… I’m just kinda here?”

“Oh?”

“I mean, I just- I don't know… I like music I guess? Radio wouldn’t be a bad thing to look into… But-” Dylan faded out staring at the table awkwardly. 

“Nothing wrong with not knowing,” Ryan shrugged. 

“Yeah, I just wish I knew, I guess,” 

“I get that, you’ll figure it out I’m sure”

A silence fell over the two, they both avoided eye contact with one another, listening to the clinking of Abigail cleaning cappuccino mugs in the back and the small talk of other customers. Dylan took in a big breath, he wanted to know more about Ryan. More than anything but he just didn’t know where to start or how. It was a giant obstacle he wished to overcome. Mustering up all his courage, Dylan exhaled slowly taking his chance. He opened his mouth, “Uh… So I think my um… phone number’s broken-”

Ryan turned to him, confused.

“-you think I could borrow yours?”

An even more quiet silence fell between the two and Dylan wanted to get up and bolt, but his legs felt like cement in the tense air, keeping him in place as Ryan blinked at him with an unreadable expression. 

“Ha,” He exhaled in amusement. “… smooth.”

Dylan breathed out air he hadn’t realized he was holding. He smirked, “Well?”

Ryan stood up, smiling largely at Dylan. “Ask me next time,”

“Next time?”

“Yeah, next time. You know where to find me,” Ryan laughed, putting in one of his earbuds. “I’ll see ya.” 

Crap, he was leaving! Dylan’s heart broke a bit as he walked away from him towards the exit. 

“Uh, thanks again Ryan!” Dylan called after him. Ryan looked behind his shoulder at the boy, giving him a small wave. And out the door he went. Dylan watched him walk away through the coffee shop window, his stomach twisting and turning. If this was a cartoon, his eyes would be major heart eyes. 

What. A. Man.

Chapter Text

Dylan would do anything for Kaitlyn. After everything he’s ever put her through, there was nothing on this planet that he wouldn’t do to make sure she was happy. It was something he often thought about in the dead of night for years. They had known each other for so long, they became more than just best friends. They were soulmates. Platonically, of course. Kaitlyn had proven time and time again that she held Dylan to top priority. In a weird way, Kaitlyn had been more of a mother to him than his own flesh and blood. 

When Claire would break Dylan into pieces, Kaitlyn was always there to build him back up. Sure, everytime he was put back together, he came out more fragile. Delicate as thin glass. Even so, Kaitlyn always found a way to bring him back. 

Dylan knew this wouldn’t make up for all the parties she had to decline so she could have her own little movie parties with him, but maybe he could ultimately show her that -just like her- he could make her his top priority. 

“We don’t have to go Dylan…” She whispered, empathetic eyes staring at him from the bathroom doorway. 

A crackle of his neck bounced off the walls of the dim white room when Dylan tilted his head to relieve the tension hiding in his bones. Rolling his shoulders, he attempted to get out all the remaining stress that hid at the edges of his neck. His eyes met hers in the mirror and he mustered up the kindest smile he could. “Why shouldn’t we? Like Jacob said, we need to live a little,” And by we, he really meant himself. It wasn’t that he never wanted to do something crazy like get crazy drunk, go batshit wild on the dance floor, just let loose but he was never that kind of person. Dylan had gotten drunk once, at the ripe age of 15, when Kaitlyn sneaked a bottle of Malibu from the liquor cabinet in her basement. Nothing was remembered besides flashes of lots and lots of vigorous sobbing while cuddling the stuffed animals on Kaitlyn’s bed. That next morning, Dylan had sworn off getting drunk. 

Tonight, he was going to keep that promise to himself. He was just going to be there for Kaitlyn.

Dylan adjusted the jean jacket he wore over his navy blue flannel. It was an extremely casual outfit. Even for a party he didn’t have the energy to get dressed up. Contrary to Kaitlyn, who wore a gorgeous silky yellow blouse under her favorite leather jacket. Her makeup was edgy, dark just like her freshly curled hair and she pulled it off well. 

“If you say so,” She sighed. “But if it gets too overwhelming, say the word and we are out of there, no questions asked.” A deep pang of guilt punched him in the stomach. She’s done this for as long as he could remember. Looking after him…

“Won’t come to that,” It came out unsure, doubt laced between the words. He couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t freak out but what he could promise is that he wouldn’t be dependent on her. He would make sure that at this party she was going to be completely Dylan-free. He had wondered if Kaitlyn caught the waver in his voice with how she just stood there in silence for a moment. The heavy, skeptical filled air didn’t sit right with him.

“But if it does, you’ll tell me right?”

“Kaitlyn-” 

Her name coming off his tongue was stern in nature. She didn’t have to worry about him. This night was more than just giving her a break. Dylan wanted to prove to her… No, he wanted to prove to himself that he could be independent. That he didn’t have to use the girl as his emotional crutch. Funnily enough, Kaitlyn was being just that at that very moment. She didn’t know it but she was. Dylan could barely stand being in that bathroom alone. His eyes were always drifting into the corner, expecting blood red eyes to be staring back at him. It was driving him crazy.

“Dylan-” She had said just as firm. “You got to promise me, dude. I can’t have fun when I’m worried about you.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Heh, yeah, I can but I’d rather not.” 

Dylan sighed, “You don’t need to worry about me. Everythings going to be fine.” He danced his way around promising anything. Promises, to Dylan, were nothing but a waste of breath. When Kaitlyn promised something, people knew she would always come through. When Dylan promised something? It would always fall through the cracks. In that way, he was just like his mother. 

“Okay…” She frowned, still not convinced. But she wasn’t about to argue with Dylan. For once. 

                                   —

It was a party, that's for sure, a real rager. Various flashes of pink and blue light flashed through the town house windows. The neon luminosity danced on beat with the booming bass of another generic pop song that they’ve all heard on the radio one too many times. On the sidewalk where two roommates had barely arrived, the boy could feel the vibrations under the soles of his shoes. Dylan stood on the edge of the steps of the fraternity house, staring at the dark blue door like it was about to jump forward and eat him alive. Kaitlyn gently elbow locked with him, and she smiled. “You ready?” She asked, trying to avoid sounding too worried. He bit his tongue to stop himself from spilling out his true feelings. It was easy to do that when he was with her, so he stood up straight and nodded. 

Music was something Dylan had always loved. But he liked it when it was his on own terms. When he could control the music played, when he could control the volume. Control, control, control. Music was the ONE thing in his life he could control. But here he was, submitting to the chaos of blasting music and array of colors that had slapped him in the face the moment Kaitlyn turned that golden knob. 

His eyes followed the couples that pushed past Kaitlyn and him, trying to get to the kitchen.

Which he could barely see, past the archway, there was a bright shine of silver kegs. People were already getting loaded, and it was only ten o’clock. Dylan’s stomach twisted. The home was crazy packed with dancing students. He was regretting this. Kaitlyn gripped his arm tightly, feeling a little nervous herself. Not to his extent but she could feel the pressure. 

Beneath the pounding beat of the next song, he could hear his friend yell out something to him. Whatever she had said, he could not make it out. Her eyes had a small flash of irritation, giving a glare to the DJ, who was obviously one of Jacob’s “frat bros," as if that was going to lower the volume. She lifted herself up on her tippy toes, yelling even louder: “Let’s go find Jake, yeah?!”

Ohhhh. Dylan nodded almost instantly when he had finally processed what she had said. He made sure to keep a firm grip on her shoulder as she pushed her way through the crowd of people, searching for her childhood friend. He was thankful for Kaitlyn taking the lead. She was tough, she didn’t feel bad breaking up couples who were locking lips just so they could get through. After a few minutes of a tedious game of hide and seek, there Jacob was at the foot of the stairs talking to a gorgeous girl wearing a short, skin tight dress. It was a gorgeous matte emerald color that one could notice from all across the packed room.  She stood about three steps above Jacob, talking to him over the dark wood railing. Jacob and her laughed at something and Dylan wondered how they could even hear one another. Kaitlyn dodged multiple people on the way over him. Dylan rushed after her to catch up.

The closer the two got, the more gorgeous the girl on the steps became. She was stunning, but Dylan noticed an edge to her. As cliche as it was, she seemed like a rose with thorns, which would be confirmed in just a manner of minutes. 

Jacob spun around when Kaitlyn tapped gently on his shoulder with her index finger. His eyes grew wide, beaming at the two. Just the same as the diner. It made Dylan smile. This was his second time actually hanging out with the jock, and he didn't hate it but it left him wishing that he would’ve been closer to him in North Kill. 

“HEY GUYS! I’M GLAD YOU COULD MAKE IT,” Jake screamed over the music, a little too loud for Dylan's liking. Everything was so so loud. The music, the chatter, the loud clinks of cheering beer bottles, the laughter. How did people go to these every night? 

Dylan kept an eye on the girl behind Jake, watching her gracefully walk down the steps until she was standing next to the boy in the letterman jacket. Her perfect lips curved upward in a poised smile and Dylan couldn’t tell if she was kind or mean. She looked like the typical mean girl, but he could see a certain kindness behind her hazel eyes. “You going to introduce me, Jacob?” She had said. Her words were pronounced flawlessly, and her soft voice carried over the noise. Dylan couldn’t believe how easy it was to hear her. 

“OH YEAH! GUYS THIS IS EMMA!”

“Ah,” Kaitlyn smirked. “Emma! Your Jacob’s ex!”

Jacob gave the raven haired girl a warning glance, but Kaitlyn returned it with a smug grin. 

“Glad you’ve heard of me,” Emma laughed. “You two must be Kaitlyn and Dylan, right?”

“Yep, I’m Kaitlyn,” Dylan said. 

Kaitlyn rolled her eyes, “I guess I’m Dylan now.”

Emma chuckled a bit and Dylan saw that as a win. “I was just telling Jake that we’re starting a little party game upstairs, you guys wanna join?”

“YEAH, THAT WAY WE CAN CATCH THE TWO OF YOU UP ON YOUR DRINKING,” 

Going between Emma’s and Jacob’s voice was like getting in the hottub and then instantly jumping into a cold pool. He could see why they were exes. Sure, they were both pretty and with bare eyes anyone could assume they were the ideal couple, but the way each carried themselves didn’t seem very compatible. “Yep!” Emma agreed, reaching out to grab the two of them by their arms to lead them up to the game. When her hand touched Dylan’s, she quickly gazed at his metal hand. Her hand must have brushed against it. It was a quick movement, but Dylan had caught her looking. A twinge of embarrassment pinched his gut. Luckily, her curiosity didn’t last long and she continued to cheerfully drag them up the stairs. Dylan hadn’t even gotten a chance to get word in his choice before being pulled up. Jacob was following the three closely with a big goofy grin.

“Uhh, you haven’t said what we’re playing..?” Dylan asked.

Emma lets go of the two when she stops in front of a door at the end of the hallway. “It’s just a little game of truth or dare!” 

Oh shit. Just like the movies.

The girl shoves them into the room where a few other unfamiliar people were in a circle on the floor, sipping on different forms of alcohol. All their eyes shoot to the newcomers in a judgemental manner. As if they didn’t belong. But the moment that Emma sauntered in after them, their judgmental expression shifted to a reluctant acceptance. Kaitlyn rolled her eyes at the posers while Dylan’s gut was screaming at him to run away. If it wasn’t for the significant lack of blasting music in this room, he would have by now. It wasn’t completely silent but it was far more quiet then it was downstairs.

Dylan jumps slightly when Jacob’s arms wrap around Kaitlyn and his shoulders. “ALRIGHT. LET'S GET THIS GAME STARTED!”

Dylan flinched at his loud voice, and Emma noticed. She gave him a nasty glare, “Jacob. You don’t have to be loud anymore.”

Jacob thought for a moment and laughed. “Oh yeah! Sorry!” He was still loud, but it was better. Emma and Kaitlyn both gave him a glance that said ‘Dude. Bring it down 10 more notches.’ 

He scanned the quite large bedroom with a frown, eyeing the drinks in everyone’s hand, his eyes landing on one of the guys on the end of the circle who wore an identical letterman as his. Dylan hadn’t meant to think it, but this guy looked like a total douche. He had one of those “fuck-boy” haircuts and those gray eyes were ice cold…

“Yo, Liam, we got anymore alcohol for our additional players,”

“Negative, dude,” Oh my god, their voices almost sounded exactly alike. It was scarily uncanny. Frat boys terrified Dylan. 

“WELL SHOOT!” Jacob slapped Dylan’s back, startling him once again. “We need to get more drinks for you two, Kaitlyn and I can do that. You guys get started!” 

Panic began to settle in. No, no, no. Dylan did not want to be left alone with strangers. Before his best friend could protest, Jacob grabs her hand, dragging her from the room.

 "JAKE WAIT-" She yelped as she was whisked away on an alcohol scavenger hunt. 

 Emma saw Dylan’s pleading eyes follow them out the room. She stood close to him, patting his shoulder, “This will be fun!”

It was meant to be reassuring, unfortunately it didn’t feel that way at all. It sounded like the beginning of a horror film.

‘This will be fun,’ said the hot chick.

Then by the end of the night, they would all be burying a body in the park down the road, swearing an oath to never talk about it again. Instinctively, he reached to fidget with his prosthetic. 

“Yeah, man, you don’t need your mommy to hold your hand do you?” One of the boys hissed at Dylan who was still staring at the door, debating on going after his friends. The girls on either side of him began giggling. 

Dylan frowned. What was this high school? They needed to grow up. “Knock it off, Jamie,”The obvious leader of this posse said. Their mouths shut tightly. Dylan was a little grateful for her but still he didn’t feel comfortable, even with the gorgeous, gold-jewelery wearing goddess as his temporary guard dog. 

  Emma gently led Dylan to sit down on one of the beds, near her, in the unfinished circle. “Alright everyone! This is Dylan!” She said, a large grin on her face. The group all mumbled a ‘hi’ and ‘nice to meet you’ for safe measure, to make sure they didn’t piss her off. 

The gorgeous girl sat in an office chair next to a messy desk with papers scattered all over it. She crossed her legs with a small huff, “Well, since everyone is being… shy,” It came out cheery but poison was laced in that last word and Dylan noticed some of the girls flinch. “Let me introduce everyone.” 

“We have Emily, Liam, Candace and of course Jamie.” Her manicured finger pointed at each person she had called out. Emily was a skinny asain girl who wore stylish clothing, a resting bitch face falling on her beautiful features. She had a clear liquid in a clear solo cup which Dylan could safely assume that it wasn't water. Candace and Jamie almost looked related. Candace was short and stout with gorgeous green eyes, and the boy next to her called Jamie was also short, a little on the bigger side with what Dylan would call "Troy Bolton'' hair. Jaime's eyes were narrowed, examining Dylan as if he was an exotic animal. He hated it. He hated people staring at him.

 “So!” Emma claps after Dylan gives a tiny, nervous wave. “Jacob said to start, so let’s start.” 

He could feel his heart thump against his ribcage, anxiety rising and falling with every breath. The room felt claustrophobic and he wished that Kaitlyn was here with him. “I’ll go first, letsssss seeeee-” Emma sang. Her head turned to Candace, who shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. Emma smirked wickedly, “Truth or Dare, Candy?” 

“I- ummm….” Candace thought about it for a moment. “Truth?” 

Suddenly, Emma didn’t look as kind as she did when she had reassured Dylan that this was going to be fun. She had a look about her, one that was like a shark. And it seemed like Candy had just thrown chum into the water. “Hmmm, alright. Let’s kick this off with something simple… What’s the last lie you ever told?” 

Candace laughed, sipping her drink. She side-eyed the girl sitting across from her. “That Emily looked good tonight,” 

Dylan’s eyes widened, but to his surprise, Emily smiled.

“You bitch!”

Everyone except Dylan thought that was funny. He couldn’t help but stare at the door.

“Okay! My turn!”

Silent prayers that no one would even think of asking him anything were being repeated in his head. 

“Liam!”

Oh thank god. 

“Truth or dare?”

Liam puffed out his chest, “Dare, obviously.”

The last thing Dylan had heard was Candace giggle before everything around him audibly faded away. It was only a few questions in, and he already couldn’t do this without Kaitlyn. His leg bounced up and down, barely listening to the laughs of the group of strangers.  What was he thinking? What the hell was he thinking he shouldn’t be here. He should have just let Kaitlyn go while he stayed at home. The loud tunage shaking the second floor, the room of complete strangers. The way that frat boy was just glaring at him. It felt like the walls were slowly closing in on him, until a flowery voice brought him back to reality, “Dyl?”

Dyl? Dyl was something only Kaitlyn called him, and even then that was rare, but the voice came from Emma who had a scary gleam in her eyes. “Dylannn, truth or dare?”

“I- uh… I don’t really- um…”

Liam's eyes rolled, cursing, “Hurry up, dude.”

“I- I guess truth?”

The group seemed to like that, glancing at each other happily. Emma smirked, “Truth it is then.” She hummed a tune, thinking of what to ask. But from the way she was looking at Dylan, like fresh prey, made him think she already had one in mind. “Might be insensitive, but what’s your deal with that?” His heart dropped to his stomach when she had pointed toward his left arm. What the fuck? 

“I uh-” He wanted to tell her it was none of her fucking business. To get lost. Something. Unfortunate for him, nothing came out of his gaped mouth. “I-It’s nothing…”

“Don’t lie.” Emma growled. Her face fell serious for a second before returning to a menacing grin. Dylan flinched away from her. What the hell was this sudden personality change? She was so nice just a moment ago. "We're all just a little curious." Her speech was now sugary sweet, making Dylan nauseous. 

“It w-was an accident, at summer camp…” Dylan whispered, gripping his left hand as if his original hand was still there. He was lying of course. His hand missing was no accident, but the reasoning was crazy, and he wanted to be normal. He was going to be normal here.

“Oh? Like- how did it happen though?” Emily pushed. 

“Does it really matter?” Dylan asked, his voice wavering. “The point is there was an accident and now it’s gone.”

“Dylan Lenivy,” Jaime hissed, realization brightening up his face.

The tall boy’s blood ran ice cold, staring at the frat member. Jaime had a dark aura surrounding him all of a sudden and Dylan couldn’t take his eyes off him. “Dylan Lenivy, North Kill, 2011. You’re like the only interesting thing that ever happened in that shithole,” He laughed. 

“Dude, fuck off,” His voice was starting to break, but he caught himself. He wasn’t going to let these pricks get to him… Well, he was going to try and not let these pricks get to him. “This isn't shit you talk about." 

"I'm intrigued," sang Candy.

"He found his dad dead when he was what? 8 years old? Totally obliterated, I'm talking shotgun to the face," Jaime explained, raising his hands to mimic a shotgun. He made a pew sound. It wasn't scary but Dylan's eyes still widened with fright. He would give anything to zone out right now. To just stop listening to this. He thought it would be different here. Dylan's luck must have been bad. Out of all the assholes in this party, he was shoved into a room with one that knew his past. A sour, bitter taste hit his tongue.

"That's gnarly," Liam gasped in amusement. He turned to Dylan in a giddy way, "Brains and everything?!"

Yeah. Brains and everything. It was almost like his father's body was in front of him now, head blown to bits scattering over a tan carpet, all over the light blue wallpaper. He remembers watching slide down the wall, leaving a trail of red behind it. 

"The dude who killed him too. He shot himself."

"No way!" One of the girls exclaimed. He couldn't tell who and he didn't care who. 

"Shut up," He whispered, shutting his eyelids tight, trying to block out their banter.

I need to get out of here.

Out.

Out.

Out.

Help me.

WHY CAN'T I MOVE.

"Kid who did its name was Caleb or something? Totally normal guy before that. Guess he went totally bonkers that night because bro had absolutely no motive. Dylan's dad was just unlucky,"

"How do you even know about this?" Emma curiously asked.

"Some stupid podcast covered it like months ago man,"

Dylan's eyes snapped open, ready to scream at that dumb fucking jock, but what he saw nearly made him jump out of his skin. There was an additional man in the room with them. He was leaning against the wooden nightstand wearing a cream white suit, gold lining… It didn't go with his pasty skin, but those red eyes really sold the all white look. The man looked high class. He stared at Dylan with that same smile from the bathroom. 

Cold beads of sweat ran down Dylan's temples. He was completely immobile, his heart racing. What could he do? What was he supposed to do? 

Nothing came out. Nothing. No talking, everything being said by the group inaudible, at this moment it was just him and a pal, he used to know so well, inside this room. His mouth was opened but only a low airy wheeze escaped instead of words. 

"These guys are assholes, aren't they?" Silas smirked, watching them bicker with each other as they completely ignored the panic-ridden boy sitting on the edge of a shitty, dorm-like bed. Dylan didn't remember his tone being that sharp and baritone.

              His appearance was grown up so he guessed it made sense that his voice was grown as well. Didn't make it any less unsettling though…

"Now, now, what's that look for, bud? Aren'tcha happy to see me?"

Chapter Text

Burning bile climbs up his throat, spewing all over the sidewalk in an orange, chunky mess. His eyes watered at the sight before throwing up some more. Dylan gagged a bit before wiping his denim sleeve over his mouth to get anything left over off his face. His eyes glanced around, hoping to god, no one was on the streets to see it. Luckily, they were empty, only the sound of young adults having fun behind him. Dylan was jealous. 

He had no memory of rushing out of the party. After seeing Silas, all he remembered was bolting out the door, then suddenly he was outside, trying to stop himself from vomiting. Obviously, he had failed. 

A crimson gaze watched the boy release his stomach contents onto the concrete with a judgemental gleam. Silas leaned against a brick gate, his arms crossed over his chest. “You should have stood up for yourself,” He sighed. 

“Shut up,” Dylan snapped venomously, and Silas almost looked offended. “Just shut up. You need to leave. You aren’t real.”

Silas blinked at him, unamused, “Says who?”

“Everyone!” Cried Dylan. His knees began to wobble, dropping to the ground exhausted. “Mom, Ms. Von, Travis! EVERYONE! You have to leave!” 

Silas frowned, crouching down to the boy’s level. A boy is exactly what Silas perceived him as in that moment. The hopeless expression made him look like the night Silas had found him when his father died. “It’s going to be okay Dylan,” It was shocking to hear Silas’ voice so soft. Dylan’s eyes met his and his imaginary friend noted how desperate he appeared. 

“Why now?” He choked out. 

“You need me,” Silas shrugged. He said it like it was obvious, but Dylan still didn’t understand. Was he going crazy? He thought his mental health was improving. 

“I- need you?” 

“Come on now. That was what? 30 minutes without our dear Kaitlyn and you instantly crumbled beneath the pressure,” Silas huffed, standing up straight over him. A hand of friendship reached out to Dylan, ready to lift him to his feet and he didn’t know how to respond. He stared at Silas’ hand like it was a rabid dog, but slowly he accepted the help up. Silas grinned, gripping onto his friend’s right hand, pulling him up. It was a simple gesture but a general step forward towards trust. 

“I didn’t freak out because Kaitlyn wasn’t there,” He admitted. 

Still not convinced, Silas rolled his eyes. “No, of course not,” He grumbled sarcastically, retracting his arm away from Dylan. He opened his mouth to continue on but a loud shout from the doorway made him close it. Silas glanced over and Dylan followed his line of vision to his best friend standing on the steps. “Dylan, thank god!” She gasped, rushing over to him. Kaitlyn examined him over as if he had gotten physically hurt. “What the hell happened?”

The imaginary man rolled his eyes at the short girl. He hated Kaitlyn. He would do anything to make her go away. Kaitlyn’s friendship always got between Dylan and him. And she never stopped. Sometimes Silas thought that the girl was just as dependent on Dylan as he was of her. His finger tapped on the brick wall beside him impatiently. Dylan’s lip quivered for a moment, slowly he took a deep breath to steady him, “They knew who I was? I guess? It sounds so stupid but they kept asking questions and they brought up dad and FUCK- I don’t know-”

“What do you mean?” Kaitlyn frowned. She glanced at Dylan’s puke on the ground. It didn’t take long for her worried gaze to become anger as she finally processed what he had just said. “Are you saying those assholes up there did this?”

“I- kinda? I don’t know-”

Kaitlyn fist curls up, her fingernails digging in the palm of her hand. “ Was it Emma? Or was it one of those other dickheads?” 

“Emma started it but it was some guy named Jaime- Ugh, does it even matter?”

“Of course it matters Dylan! No sane person makes another person spiral into a panic attack. That fucker needs to be taught a lesson-”

“Kaitlyn please… I just want to go home, okay?”

“What?!” Silas growled. “Come on, bud, you can’t let those dicks ruin your fun!”

Her fist of fury quickly loosened when she saw those big, brown puppy eyes looking down at her, pleading, “Then I’ll go with you, let me tell Jacob-” 

No. No. He couldn’t ruin another one of her nights. God, why couldn’t he have just sucked it up. They were just dumb teenagers like him. It was a stupid game. Fuck. 

“NO!” Dylan yelled. It had come out a little snappy and instantly he regretted it upon seeing Kaitlyn flinch away. Her eyes were full of shock. Even during his worst times, he’s never yelled at her. “I mean- fuck. Sorry. I just don’t want to ruin your night Kait. Let me just go home and you have fun doing all–” He gestures to the house, his hand motioning in a quick circle. “-- that.” 

“Dylan…” 

Dylan’s hand runs over his face as if to block the tears about to fall from his lashes. “I’m just- I need to be alone, I think. Just let me be alone-”

He wasn’t going to be alone though… Was he? There was no way Silas was going to leave him by himself.

“Y-yeah,” Kaitlyn nodded, trying to hide the hurt on her face. “Yeah of course, take your time. Call me if you need me… please.”

Dylan gave her a weak smile, to which she returned. “I will, I promise…”

“You better,” Kaitlyn smirked sadly. “Text me when you get home.”

“Yeah, yeah. You got it.” He signed her to shoo away. Before turning to return to the party, she gave him one more once over just in case. Once she was satisfied, she retreated into the house.

It was quiet when Kaitlyn disappeared back into the party, despite the blasting music and cheerful screams of college degenerates. His faux grin dissipated into pure numbness. He knew the full panic attack he's been holding back would hit him like a truck but right now all he could feel was nothing.  

Silas walked up to stand next to Dylan, giving him a disapproving look. 

“What’s up with you now?” Dylan mumbled.

“You haven’t changed,” 

Dylan glared at him, “Trust me, I have and I’ve been doing fine without you.” 

Then he began to walk towards home. Silas scoffed, rushing to catch up with him.

“My ass.” 

“Dude, I was getting better.”

“In what world?”

“In mine, okay?!” Dylan snapped, attempting to walk faster. But he knew he wasn’t going to lose the well-dressed man. How could he outrun a figment of his imagination? The answer was he couldn’t, it never took long for Silas to end up right back next to him matching his walking speed. With that stupid, grin on his face. 

“You're delusional,” Silas snickered. The giggle was full of amusement and it made Dylan angry. A huge pang of rage… no… hurt struck Dylan’s heart because he knew. He knew Silas was right. He wasn’t getting better. He just wanted to be getting better so bad that he convinced himself that he was. The reality of it was that he's still that scared little boy sitting in the back of his closet waiting for someone to save him. 

“Yeah,” Dylan sighed. His hands cup behind his head in a slow stretch. “ Maybe. Guess I’m completely crazy and delusional.” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, bud,” Silas smirked, patting his shoulder. “It’s not so bad, being crazy.”

“I beg to differ,” Dylan growled. 

“You’re so hostile,” Silas pointed out.

“I wonder why Silas.” 

“You’re still mad at me?”

Dylan slid to a stop, irritation twisting his face into a scowl. Mad? He was furious. He lifted his prosthetic in Silas’ face, pointing at it. “Yeah, I’m still fucking mad Silas. Of course I’m still mad.”

“Ah,” Silas clicked his tongue, making Dylan groan, continuing to walk. The pale man followed close behind. “Look, I apologized for that. You’re so sensitive.” 

“Sensitive?!” Dylan gasped. 

“Yeah! I got you what you wanted Dylan.” 

“Oh fuck off-”

“No! I did! Your mom didn’t pay one bit of attention to you before that! You can’t tell me that was the first night since your dad died that she was actually treating you like her actual kid. I did what I told you I would do.”

Dylan cradled his bad hand to his chest, frowning at his old friend. “A favor? I lost my hand dude,”

“How was I supposed to know it was going to get infected?” 

Dylan was done. Dylan was done with this whole shit night. He was done talking about the past and he was sure as hell done with Silas. 

“Look, bud,” Silas sighed. 

“Could you stop with that ‘bud’ crap?!”

“Oh come on, you used to love that name.”

“I’m 18 years old, man,” Dylan hissed. 

“Right, right, whatever. What if I helped you? I can help you be normal, it’ll be like North Kill never happened. That’s what you want? Right?”

“Dude, go away.”

“Dylan-”

“Just go away.”

Dylan had almost not expected that to work. But to his surprise, when he looked around, Silas was nowhere to be found. Was he really gone? For good this time? Dylan doubted it. Silas could never disappear for too long when he was a kid. The longest time they had been separated was the gap between the night he lost his hand and… and tonight.

It was a long walk to his apartment but he didn’t mind. He liked feeling the cool breeze against his skin, and the silence that fell over him when Silas was gone. Dylan wanted to enjoy the noiseless night before Silas would return. He knew in his gut he’d be back. 

Dylan pulled out his phone as he began to climb the steps toward the door of his apartment, and his eye caught the sight of two different text notifications. His head shook when he saw Jacob’s name on the top. He had almost forgotten that they exchanged numbers at the diner just the other day. It was strange seeing other names other than Kaitlyn’s.

Jacob 12:20

Hey man. Kait told me everything. Jaime won’t be bothering you again, I promise. I got your back. I hope you get home safe.

Jacob 12:25

Take care of yourself please.

Wow. He didn’t expect that. He didn’t expect that at all. Dylan’s heart warmed up slightly, and he opened his messages, typing back to the guy. 

Dylan 12:40

Thanks man. I appreciate it.

Prior to shoving his phone back in his pocket, he shot off an ‘I’m home’ text to Kaitlyn. He headed inside the deadly quiet building, but with everything that happened tonight, he was enjoying the sound of nothing. 

And for once in his life, he didn’t mind being alone. 

Chapter Text

May 2011

Travis hated classical music. 

But for Dylan, Travis could sit through an hour of it. The 11 year-old kid could not keep still in his seat. Of course, he couldn't, he was nervous. Dylan kept examining the room with the washed out walls, dull of color. Unfortunately, Ms.Von was the only therapist in town. There was no official child psychologist in North Kill. And he knew that Claire Lenivy would refuse to take Dylan to one outside the town lines for a problem that “didn't really exist.” So, Ms.Von was their best chance for Dylan to feel better. 

Travis thought standing in the corner, out of the way, would be for the best. If Dylan was anything like him when he was a boy, he wouldn’t want to be smothered by an adult. Let alone one he barely even knew. But the farther from Dylan and his therapist, the more he could hear the horrid sounds of a symphony playing Tchaicovsky’s Swan Lake. Swallowing the irritation, he continued to remember why he was there in the first place, helping him bury that anger building up in his stomach.

When Travis Hackett suggested that Dylan should see a therapist, Claire wanted to spit in his face. Whatever her son was going through, she would rather have him fix in the walls of their own home. It was a foolish notion from the deputy according to her, especially when he knew that Claire was busy with her own work at the hospital. She couldn’t be bothered to worry about Dylan’s psyche when she was the only breadwinner in the house now. But Dylan was getting worse and Travis found himself worrying more and more about the boy. 

Maybe it wasn’t any of his business. Dylan wasn’t his child after all. Though, after the night Mr.Lenivy was found dead, Travis felt a certain responsibility for the kid. Especially after finding out who the body in the kitchen truly was.  

The Lenivy family were not the only ones to lose a loved one that night. It was an appalling discovery that left the whole town in utter shock. No one, not even his own family could have guessed that Caleb Hackett would have snapped. 

Caleb was a good boy. Or so his grandmother would say. But the DNA that was all over the kitchen floor claimed otherwise. It was weird to see Travis’ nephew’s name show up in the coroner report. It almost felt like a dream. How could it be real? Once upon a time, Travis would have fought tooth and nail for his nephew’s honor. He watched his brother, Chris, raise his kids with his own eyes. Caleb was headstrong, kind… A lot like his father. But the report didn’t lie. It was one hundred percent Caleb who had killed Mr.Lenivy. After seeing Dylan’s exhausted eyes that night, hearing his screaming as he sobbed into the Deputy’s chest when it had finally settled in what happened to his father. Those screams weren’t something Travis would ever forget. Dylan was a child. A child who had to see the bits and pieces of his own father splattered across the wall of his own home. He knew he could never forgive his nephew for the lifetime of trauma he bestowed upon this poor boy. 

The perfect Hacketts, who took care of the town of North Kill, were suddenly compromised in just one night. Even so, no one dared to hold the actions of one Hackett against the rest of the family who kept this town running. 

It would have been an understatement that Travis wanted to fix the wrongdoings of his nephew. He never would've guessed that the mess on that kitchen floor was his own flesh… his own blood. It left an aching pain in his soul, but with Dylan still alive, he wanted to make sure the boy was safe and protected. Something Travis couldn’t do for Mr.Lenivy or his brother’s kid. 

So when Claire Lenivy refused to seek help for the boy, Travis offered to take Dylan every Saturday to see the psychologist. Hell, he even offered to pay for the expenses. 

Claire was apprehensive at first. She had no idea why the cop was being so persistent about her son’s well-being, but after making him promise to keep the appointments on the downlow, she had agreed to let her son go weekly. 

Dylan had always waited patiently on the front porch of his house every Saturday, waiting for Travis’ police car to pull up. He was on time, never late, never early. Always exactly on time. And just like clock work, Dylan would run up to the cop car, jumping in and having the same conversation as every Saturday morning:

“How are ya, kid?”

“I’m okay, what about you Deputy Hackett?” 

“I’m doin good too,”

“That’s good…”

“...”

“Deputy Hackett?”

“Yeah?”

“Silas says he doesn't want to go…”

That name kept floating in the air around the boy. Silas this, Silas that. It was almost obsessive the way that little boy would talk about him. But Travis was basically trained in these types of ramblings. When Caleb was about his age, he wouldn't shut up about his imaginary friend either. Chris had explained to him that it was a normal kid thing to have imaginary friends, but still, Travis found it odd but that never stopped him from listening to Caleb’s excited rants. 

Even with all Dylan's troubles, that little kid in those khaki shorts and terrible tie-dyed shirts never not made him smile. Those dumb jokes he always made, or the way his nose would crinkle at the bridge when he found something truly funny.  It wasn’t hard to see that Travis cared about him, even in the short time that he’d known him. Who wouldn’t? Dylan was an amazing, brilliant child. One who constantly searched for love and validation. Something Claire refused to give him. Travis wasn’t sure if he could provide that love and validation, but he would do his darndest to help him feel seen. Something, he never had the luxury of when he was a child. 

Ms.Von ambled over to her record player, pushing the needle upward. Swan Lake came to a screeching halt and Travis had thanked god. 

“Deputy,” Ms.Von said softly.

Travis glanced behind the therapist at Dylan who was talking enthusiastically to the empty space on the couch, “Everything okay?”

“Is Mrs.Lenivy still not coming?”

He tensed up, returning to look at the therapist. “‘Fraid not…” Travis clicked his tongue, biting back the anger as best he could. He didn’t understand why Claire didn’t want to know what was going on with Dylan. He couldn’t understand how she didn’t want him to get help. 

“Well… The boy is definitely…” Ms.Von peered over her shoulder. “Coping in his own way. This imaginary friend of his is pretty harmless. In fact, I think he might be helpful in some way. From what Dylan has told me, this ‘Silas’ has really helped him deal with his mother and the kids at school. This is something he’ll most likely grow out of but for now I think he just needs to ride it out.”

“Ride it out?”

“I’ll keep our sessions going, make sure he’s not too dependent on his imagination. That’s all I can do for now. He’s still a kid, you know? And more than anything right now, he needs to act like his age.”

Travis could agree on that for sure. And so, after they left “Ms.Von’s lair” (Dylan ™ ), he decided to take Dylan out for some ice cream.

 December 2011

It was Christmas.

Well… Christmas Eve, to be exact. But the Ka family liked to have their celebration a day early, so Kaitlyn and Dylan could play with their toys all day on actual Christmas. Usually at this time Travis spent this holiday with his family down at their place. Not this one though. In fact, he’s barely spent any time with any of his family at all. Except the occasional beer with Chris every other weekend. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing usually depended on two things: his job, and Dylan Lenivy. 

If you would have told the deputy eight months ago that he would be wearing the corniest, ugliest sweater of all time and spending his entire Christmas at Mia and Carey Ka's humble abode, he would have laughed in your face. The jingle bells on his shirt rang throughout the house as he lugged in the gifts Dylan and him had for the Ka family. Dylan rushed past the man holding the messily wrapped boxes, almost knocking over the stack in his arms.

"Dylan, slow your roll," Travis sternly gave him a look to which the boy returned with a sheepish grin. Travis couldn't help but smile slightly down at him. It was nice to see Dylan so excited for something. This was his first Christmas without his dad, and it was a rough one. Claire refused to be home that night, leaving Dylan in a cold, undecorated house. When Dylan had told Travis that he wouldn't be doing anything for Christmas, he was horrified. Adding to the list of what he doesn't like about Claire Lenivy.  But when Travis talked to Kaitlyn's moms about having a small get together to cheer him up, they were on it like moths to flame. It warmed his heart to see others who cared about Dylan.

"Sorry, Mr.Hackett,"

Dylan's pace decelerated, walking calmly into the house of his best friend. 

"DYLAN!" Kaitlyn screamed excitedly, running into Dylan with a large hug. The two were so, so excited to have a sleepover tonight. It was going to be so fun. They had a whole itinerary for the night: cookie decorating, hide and seek, watching silly movies with hot cocoa in hand. Everything was planned out by these two. 

"Need help there~" A soft voice cooed from the doorway to the kitchen. A beautiful lady who strongly resembled the little girl still hugging Dylan strided over to stand in front of him. Her eyes glanced over the present and she tsked, shaking her head, "This is too much Travis," She wore a beautiful red knitted sweater, her gorgeous raven hair tied up in a messy bun. 

"It's nothin Mia," Travis shrugged, letting her take a few of the presents on top of his stack. "Just wanna make sure that these kids have a good Christmas." 

"Come on Dylan! Let's go play hide n' seek!!" Kaitlyn grinned mischievously. The tiny girl loved that game considering with her minute frame, she could hide almost anywhere.

"Okay!" Dylan laughed. "Oh! Silas wants to know if he can play too!" 

"Ughhhh, does he have to???" Kaitlyn whined. 

"Plleeeasseee,"

"Fine, fineee, you're it first!"

"Awww, why?!" 

Travis had a lot of faith in that kid, but beating Kaitlyn in a round of hide n seek? That was a battle he was bound to lose. 

Mia smiled gently, leading Travis over to the stunning Christmas tree. Every one of the ornaments that hung off the branches of the pine tree held some kind of memory; Kaitlyn's first painting, a picture of them at DisneyLand, a picture of her on the first day of Summer Camp, and a lot more! Each memory was woven together with a string of white and blue lights. This just made Travis admire the Ka family a whole lot more. They were so close and kind to each other. And they communicated about everything. It was truly a rare thing to see in a family in North Kill, or any normal American family in general. Travis wasn’t surprised that Mia had such a great family, he had the honor of going to highschool with Mia and it was safe to say she hasn’t changed one bit. She was still feisty and kind and strong, just as she was back at North Kill High. Mia adjusted the presents Dylan and Travis had brought underneath the tree. 

"Your wrapping skills are atrocious, Trav," Mia bluntly told him. 

"Not my fault," Travis told her, his hands up in surrender. "This is the first Christmas I've ever had to wrap things.” 

Mia arched her brow, standing up straight after straightening the last present,  “Really?”

Another lovely lady emerged from the kitchen with a huge plate of steaming sugar cookies in hand with a bright smile before Mia could continue ranting about his sloppy skills with wrapping paper. Carey Ka’s red curls were in a puffy mess, her emerald eyes catching the lights of the tree. Flour and egg were smeared on her freckled nose matching the mess on her pink polka-dotted apron. “Hey there Travis!” Carey smiled wide, a southern-like drawl pulling at the strings of her words. She bounded over to her wife with a bouncy pep in her step. 

A waft of sugary goodness slapped Travis in the face. He was never a big sweet tooth, but Carey’s baking was absolutely an exception. At different Hackett events, Travis' Ma would hire Carey to cater her desserts for the event. And everytime, Travis and his two brothers were the first to get their hands on her famous chocolate fudge cookies. 

“Hey there Carey,” Travis smirked, eyeing the plate in her hand. 

He was not subtle about it what-so-ever, so it was no surprise that Carey caught on, “Hold your horses there, cowboy, these are for Dylan and Kaitlyn to decorate,” She said, narrowing her eyes at him. 

Travis tried his best not to look disappointed but failed. Carey chuckled, stretching the plate forward so he could grab a warm cookie, “Fine, fine, but just one,” 

Now it was Mia’s turn to be offended, “What?! He gets one?”

“You don’t get to have one because if you eat one then you’ll eat the whole batch!” 

“Nuh-uh!” Mia exclaimed in a child-like manner. 

Travis watched the two banter while collecting a cookie from the plate. The married couple playfully argued with each other back and forth and sneakily the deputy stepped away. He took a bite of the soft, warm cookie that almost melted in his mouth the moment it hit his tongue. Carey was an extraordinary baker. 

With another delicious bite, a sudden flash of Dylan's gray sweater zipped over to him, stopping right in front of the man. Travis looked down at Dylan whose lips were curled upward on his face. Travis couldn't help but feel a bit suspicious. As a cop, those small hints from body language were easy to pick up. 

"Hmm, what are you up to, kid?"

"Notttthhinnggg," Dylan shrugged, rocking on his feet. 

"I call bullhonkey,"

Travis was getting real good at not cussing around the kids. It was so surreal how much Travis had changed since that night. Everyday was wake up, go to work, and have a TV dinner alone when he got home. But now he was rarely ever alone. He was constantly with Dylan and if he wasn’t, then he was out thinking about when next he would see the boy and he couldn't help but wonder if this was what it was like to be his young brother Chris. Chris was a fantastic father. He adored his children with all his heart… Even after they found out what Caleb had done. Travis wasn’t half the man that Chris was but he was doing his best to help Dylan as much as he could.

“Can we open some presents tonight?” Dylan asked, beaming.

“Patience is a virtue, Dylan,” Travis shook his head.

“Please!” The boy pleaded, attempting to throw his puppy dog eyes in the ring. Travis glanced away knowing if he saw that look, he would cave in almost immediately. 

“Why don’t you ask Ms.Mia?” 

“Silas and I want to know what you got us though!” Dylan huffed, giving him a look.

“Well, you and Silas are gonna have to wait,”

“UGHH,” Dylan groaned. 

“READY OR NOT HERE I COME!” Kaitlyn yelled from the other room and suddenly Dylan’s face fell into a state of panic. Without saying anything more, Dylan rushed away to go find a hiding spot. 

The rest of the night went by in a flash. They ate an amazing dinner cooked by Mia Ka herself and spent most of the time decorating the cookies that Carey had baked. They ended the night watching a cheesy claymation movie about Santa’s reindeer. Travis wasn’t really paying full attention to the movie but he was incredibly happy to see a cheerful Dylan having so much fun. It was like the past eight month never even happened. Travis knew this wouldn’t last long. Soon they would have to return to reality but at least this one night, Dylan could forget about his troubles.

Midnight had fallen over the town of North Kill and everyone in the Ka house was sound asleep. Dylan and Kaitlyn were already put to bed in her bedroom and Carey and Mia headed up to their room about an hour ago. All except Travis Hackett who stayed awake, sitting on the couch. Mia offered the guest room to him but Travis didn’t feel like sleeping tonight. He was thinking about anything and everything. His brothers, his niece, what they were doing tonight. Travis may have grown distant with them but he still loved them all dearly. Maybe not his Ma and Pa, he was never that close with them, but his brothers were everything to him. Travis mindlessly surfed through the channels on the TV, the blue light shining over his features. This went on for a few hours

“Mr.Hackett??” A small, quiet voice squeaked beside the couch. Travis jumped a little, head snapping over to a frightened boy in flannel pajamas. 

“Dylan?” Travis asked, a little shocked to see him awake. “Now, what are you doing up?”

“Um…” Dylan frowned, avoiding meeting his eyes. It was easy to see something was bothering him. The poor boy looked like he had been crying. His eyes were a bit puffy, filled with despair. And Travis had an inkling what that something was. He sits up straight back, his hand clasped together in his lap. He pats the cushion next to him. Dylan is hesitant to sit down on the couch, but after a moment of silence he decides to. 

“I-” Dylan began. Travis glanced at him, ready to listen. “I had a nightmare…” 

“...Ah…” Travis nodded. “...Do you… Do you want to talk about it?”

Dylan sniffled, running his sleeve under his nose. “Not really…”

Travis nodded again, patting his shoulder gently, “That’s okay, you don’t have to kid.”

Then it dawned on Travis. He had an idea. Quickly, he stood up on his feet strutting over to the still lit Christmas tree. Dylan watched him walk over there, his dark eyes shimmering in confusion. He snatched the best looking present from the pile of gifts they brought to the house. Travis didn’t really know if Dylan would like this gift. He had seen it in a local shop and for some reason, he had thought of the boy. The tag hung off the side with a small strip of scotch tape holding it in place, the writing was just as messy as the wrapping job that said: To Dylan, From Travis.

Trudging back to the child on the couch, he offers the dark green present to him. Dylan blinked, “I can open it?”

“Yeah. Technically it’s Christmas morning, so yeah, go for it.”

Dylan beams with a burst of happiness, snatching the present from Travis. He rips open the terribly wrapped gift, revealing a medium sized ball of fluff. It was a stuffed wolf! The wolf’s eyes were a gorgeous, glassy yellow and the fur was various shades of gray and white. Travis' smile grew gigantic when Dylan instantly pulled the stuffed animal in a giant hug. If it was a real animal, he would have been being strangled. “He’s awesome! I love him!” He exclaimed, wiggling in his seat happily. 

“Yeah?” Travis chuckled, sitting back down next to him. 

“Yes!” Dylan gasped, still holding the wolf in a death grip. 

“I’m glad you like him,” He smirked, messing up the kid’s hair affectionately. “I figured he’d help, ya know… Maybe keep you company when I’m not around. Or… when Silas isn’t.” 

“...thank you, Travis…” The hushed whisper was so quiet and soft, Travis barely even heard him. 

“It’s no problem,”

“I- I mean for everything…” 

Travis blinked at the kid who now stared at him with glossy eyes.  “It’s my pleasure, Dylan.”

May 2012

Almost a year later, nothing had changed. Dylan still seemed so dependent on this Silas figure. On the days that Dylan said that Silas wasn’t with him, he became so lost. As if he had no idea how to act or do anything without him. That made Travis worry. Ms.Von insisted that Silas was just harmless, but that didn’t soothe his nerves.

Now, the two were in a little ice cream shop downtown after a long session with Dylan’s therapist. It was a tradition now, to grab ice cream after Dylan’s sessions. The deputy frowned at the boy, trapping the side of the ice cream glass with his metal spoon in a rhythmic manner. Dylan didn’t even notice, he just stared at his vanilla ice cream, swirling the dessert around until it became a smooth, creamy texture, never taking a bite. Today was one of those days where SIlas was supposedly not with him.  

“Not hungry?” Travis asked.

Dylan jumped a little at the sudden conversation, glancing up. “Yeah. I’m just… you know, thinking.”

Travis’ lips thinned, “Dylan?”

“Hm?”

“ I ain’t your dad. But if you ever need to talk… I’m here for you.”

Dylan smirked slightly, but Travis knew him enough to know it wasn’t genuine, “If that’s the case, does that mean I don’t have to see Ms.Von anymore?”

“Hey, hold on there. I ain’t got her degree,”

“At least you wouldn’t play that stupid music…”

Travis snorted, taking a bite of his rocky road to prevent himself from laughing. The chocolatey goodness melted on his tastebuds before he swallowed. They bonded over their new-found hatred for Tchaicovsky’s work. “The music is shi- is crap, but at least Ms.Von is nice.” 

“I guess,” Dylan sighed, finally taking a big chunk of his ice cream, shoving it into his mouth. 

“Hang in there Dylan,” Travis frowned. “At least you won’t have to go to the sessions for the next two months… You excited for camp?”

Dylan brightened up a little bit at the mention of camp. It was all Kaitlyn and him ever talked about for the past few weeks. Chris had taken a little convincing, but Travis had got him to agree to let Dylan come back to camp. Chris was rightfully worried about Dylan being ready to be around other children away from home, but Travis had thought that this would be good for him. To be around real life children his age. And so, Chris was convinced. 

“Super excited!” 

June 2012

He was on the job when he had gotten a call from Chris that something had happened to Dylan. He immediately rushed to the North Kill Medical Center, getting there in record time. The bright luminescent lights of the place hurt his eyes but he didn’t really care at that moment. He ran to the front counter where a young lady was typing away on her computer. “I- Uh, hi. I’m h-here for Dylan Lenivy.” He was so out of breath. Every word came out airy… desperate. 

The woman blinked at him, glancing at his badge still hanging on his shirt, “Oh yes, he’s in room ten with his mother.” 

Without hesitation, Travis bolted down the hall to room ten. He didn’t know what had happened, but he knew he needed to be there for Dylan. But room ten was closed shut and in front stood a woman. When her eyes caught Travis rushing down the hall, her expression became furious. The woman was Claire Lenivy. Travis stopped in front of her, and just like that, a sharp pain struck his cheek. Travis reeled back in shock, holding his face. It wasn’t that it hurt, but that it was unexpected. 

“This would have never happened if you didn’t bring him to that stupid summer camp!” She hissed. Her hazel eyes were full of fire. “But you insisted! I knew it was a bad idea! I knew it!” 

“Claire, liste-”

“No, you listen, Travis Hackett.”  Claire snapped. “My boy is in there, high out of his mind on morphine with a mangled hand! If you didn’t bend to his every fucking wish, he wouldn’t have been at camp and this would have never happened! Haven’t you Hacketts done enough to our family.” 

There was poison in those words, seeping underneath Travis’ skin. He was still full of worry, fear, but now guilt on top of that. He rubbed his cheek, “Claire, what happened?”

Claire’s eyes brimmed with tears, and Travis felt a pang of anger. Now she cared about her son? “That is none of your business. Get out of here.” 

“Claire-”

“GET OUT!” 

Travis flinched away at her scream. It had echoed throughout the whole hospital, the other nurses turning their heads to see what was going on. He shrunk under their watchful gazes. “Is Dylan okay?” He continued to press. 

Claire’s face reddened, “Leave, Travis.” With that, Dylan’s mom walked into room ten, shutting the door behind her. She left the Deputy staring at a light brown door, filled with confusion. 

But he didn’t leave. He couldn’t leave when he needed to make sure the boy- no, his boy was okay. So, he stood and waited for hours on hours watching doctors and nurses walk in and out of Dylan’s room. Every once in a while, he saw a glimpse inside. Little sight of a sleeping Dylan, holding on to “Wolfie,” the stuffed animal he had gotten him last Christmas. Travis held back the urge to push into the room every time he saw even just a peek of Dylan. 

It was a while until finally, Claire walked out. Hatred was clear as day on her face when she had seen that the Deputy was still there. Travis stared back at her, but no hatred was returned, only exhausted distress. “He’s awake,” She growled, her arms folding over her chest. Travis waited for her to continue, “He wants to see you.” 

That was all he needed. Travis pushed past Claire, into the room, and the sight of Dylan hooked up to the heart monitors, his hurt hand wrapped in layers of white gauze, he just appeared so frail, it made his heart shatter. He rushed to the bedside giving the kid a once over. 

“Mr.Hackett?” Dylan whimpered. Travis didn’t think his heart could break any further, but he was wrong. Dylan’s voice was so small, terrified. Just like the night that changed both of their lives. 

“Hey there, Dylan,” 

Upon hearing Travis say his name, Dylan broke into sobs. Travis swiftly reached for Dylan’s good hand, holding it comfortingly and the kids’ sobs grew louder. The kid gripped his hand back tightly. 

“Dylan…” Travis frowned. “What happened, kid?”

“K-kaitlyn and I found a bear trap in the w-woods and she w-went to tell Mr.H a-about it, but t-then-” A cry got stuck in Dylan’s throat. He sucked in air to try to get the cry down to continue telling the cop what had happened. 

“Then what?”

“S-silas pushed me i-into it!”

What? Travis blinked at the sobbing kid. His thumb rubbed the back of his hand as he let out his wails. “Silas hurt you? Dylan…” 

“I know! I know it sounds crazy but I swear!” Dylan gasped out in between his tears.

“Dylan, I know Silas is very important to you, but he’s not real.”

“Yes he is, Travis!”

“Listen to me kid, Silas is not real. He couldn’t have pushed you.”

“Please,” Dylan weeped. “Please believe me!”

“Kid…”

“It was him!”

Travis honestly felt himself being convinced by his howls of pleading. The way he was begging for him to believe him was so… real. He stared at the crying boy, still holding his hand.

Suddenly, the door clicked open behind Travis and Claire strutted in. She glared at Travis’ hand in her son’s, “You tripped, Dylan. That is all that happened.”

Her harsh tone irked something in Travis, making him send her a look that could kill. “ Claire, not now.”

“No. That stupid imaginary bullshit is done, do you hear me Dylan?!”

His wails softened to whimper. “Y-yes ma’am.”

“Jesus Claire, would you just listen to him? He doesn’t need one of your lectures right now,” Travis snapped. He hadn’t meant to. Not really. But Claire really had the gall to yell at her injured son as he was wailing. 

Claire’s eye twitched, “Get out,”

Travis shook his head, feeling Dylan’s hand grip even tighter, as if begging him not to go. 

“You do not get to tell me how to talk to my own child. Get the hell out of here!”

Dylan’s fingers trembled, tears silently spilling down his face. Travis frowned, loosening his grip on his hand, gently releasing him from his grasp, “I should go,” He told him softly. Claire was going to make things worse if he had stayed. That was the last thing Dylan needed right now. But the way Dylan’s bottom lip quivered made him regret his decision. “I’m sorry. If you need me-”

“Travis, I said, get the hell out of here.” Claire interrupted.

Travis gave the boy an apologetic gaze before beginning to head out the door. The last thing he heard was the soft cries of Dylan behind him. 

August 2021

Travis was debating on sending the text. 

He didn’t even know what he was supposed to say.

Hey Dylan, it’s Sheriff Hackett. Congratulations on getting into college. I’m so proud of ya.

Hey Dylan, it’s Travis. I hope Albany treats ya well.

Hey Dylan, it’s me. Ya probably don’t remember me well-

No.

Hey Dylan, It’s Travis Hackett. I hope you’re-

FUCK. Why was this so hard for him?! Travis set down his phone on his desk, watching it like it was a snake. It had been years since he had last seen Dylan. And it had been just a few days when he had heard the news that he had moved from North Kill. 

Of course, Travis had wanted to reach out every year since Claire refused to let him see her son. Every year, every holiday, birthday he found himself in the same situation, with his thumb hanging over the blue button that was just begging him to send. This time felt different though. A weird, gut feeling kept nagging at him to reach out to the boy.

Finally, pushing away his intense anxiety, he picked up the phone. 

Hi Dylan. It’s Travis Hackett. You might not remember me well, it’s been a while. But I wanted to tell you how happy I am for you! College is a huge step, and with how brilliant you are, I’m sure you can’t get through it no problem. I’m proud of ya, kid. 

And at last, without thinking, Travis hit send.