˗ˏˋOur Differencesˊˎ˗

-4-

I woke up at 5 AM to noises coming from downstairs.

Sometimes Dylan's up late, and I assumed it was him raiding the kitchen for a snack or something. I got up to check and see — incase it wasn't Dylan and there was an intruder breaking in.

It's happened before. My family's very wealthy and our house definitely reveals that fact. Especially to people looking for something to steal. Dad was pissed when Dylan got drunk and came home late once, forgetting to lock the door before he went to bed. We woke up the next morning and our TV was literally gone, along with many other valuables.

I crept downstairs as quietly as possible. The microwave beeped and I walked towards the kitchen to investigate.

Dylan would've left the light on. He doesn't give a shit if he wakes anyone up. That's how inconsiderate he is.

Confused, I turned the light on, and there stood Devin doing god knows what.

I gave him a weird look.
"What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting food." he shot back defensively.

I could've sworn he went home last night. He even made a big dramatic exit and played a walkout song on the TV and everything.

"Why aren't you at your house?" I asked out of aggravation from his presence.

He had a nice home — nothing over the top fancy, but comfortable and nice. He's practically an only child too, with the exception of his little sister who's about 5 years old.

His parents are chill. Much more chill than mine. I never understood why he chose to live at our house rather than his own. I also never understood how he never got sick of Dylan ever. No matter what.

"Got bored." he admitted casually, while stirring his now fully cooked cup of ramen.
"Why are you awake?"

I knitted my brows together with genuine concern.
"Can't sleep. How did you get in?"

He wordlessly held up a key.
Of course he has a fucking key to our door.

"You know that's like, weird, right?"

He shot me a glare. "Like hell it's weird. I'm here more than you are."

Yeah, and I fucking hated it.

Sometimes I hated that our house was the hub for all of Dylan's friends to hang out. A day rarely passed where nobody came over.

That meant that I was always in my room, trying to avoid them all the time or I was out with Anna and Josh (also trying to avoid them.)

Dylan tells them horror stories about me regardless, so it's not like they have any desire to speak to me or acknowledge me.

"Did you do the homework for Hassle?" I asked, trying to stir up small talk which was very rare.

He nodded.
"Yeah. Did you?"

"Yeah."

I don't know why it shocked me to hear that. He was such a douchebag with an inflated ego. All he cared about was sex and soccer, so I guess hearing that he actually does his homework and makes good grades takes me by surprise all the time.

He went to the fridge and grabbed a Gatorade.

I let out a sigh and sat down at a stool by the kitchen counter since I was now wide awake.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked me bitterly.

"I'm hungry."

His stone cold expression never changed.
"For what?"