NHL IMAGINES [SLOW UPDATES]

Dylan Larkin (Part 2)

Opening one eye, you take note that someone is threading their fingers through your hair and that your pillow isn't really a pillow.

"I thought I told you not to braid my hair anymore." You mumbled into his chest. 

"My mom taught me how to braid, and I decided to try it." He whispers back, trying not to ruin the silence in the house.

"Why did your mom decide to teach you how to braid?" You ask him.

"I was thinking about growing my hair out." He blurts after a minute of waiting in silence, "How would you feel about that?"

"Why are you asking me? It's all up to you, but I don't think you'd like braids." You try to sit up and escape Dylan's hold on you, but he wasn't having it, and he pulled you back down. "I don't want to lazy around all day." 

"But I do." 

You huff in annoyance, "Can we at least be somewhere comfortable, the couch barely fits you, let alone me." 

He groans lifting himself up and he brings you with him, "My parents probably left breakfast on the table." He checks his phone on the table, "Never mind, they aren't even awake yet." He shows me the time, and it's 7 o'clock in the morning on Sunday. It explains why the sun is so faint. 

"Maybe we can make breakfast for them, I mean, they let us stay here for the week." 

"You can't forget the rest of the month," Dylan says, "and then we go to Colorado." 

You couldn't forget about the vacation you planned over two months ago,  spending time in a cabin, trying to see all of the sights you can in a couple weeks. 

"How could I forget?" You laugh, "Now get up." You try pulling him out of bed but his body was like a dead weight that didn't want to get up. "Fine then, I'll just go make breakfast myself." You say walking up the stairs from the basement. 

The first thing you do is get all of the things you needed, bread, eggs, milk, cinnamon, you felt like having french toast. 

As soon as the food started cooking, you hear a pair of feet stomping down the stairs as fast as they could. Colin -Dylan's brother- in his half asleep state, walks into the kitchen in his pajamas mumbling something about food. 

You toss a plate of the food in front of him and he doesn't waste his time eating. Next to come down are his parents, and Dylan is no where to be seen. 

You go downstairs to check on him and the boy looks at you with sad eyes, "Can you bring me food?" He asks you with the puppy dog eyes. 

You just stare at him blankly, and slowly you turn around and leave him laying there,

"In your dreams Larkin."