Finding You || Dylan O'Brien

thirty three (edited)

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Oh my god this thing has 11K reads...

I love you all endlessly. 

-L

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A week later, Ben still didn't want to leave.

Minho didn't mind. Having Ben live with him was a dream come true. He hated having to constantly drive to Ben's house to collect his misplaced clothes and - more than often- a missing shoe.

Dylan, however, found the entire ordeal very stressful.

There was the constant laughter coming from Minho's room, which he could hear very clearly because their rooms were side by side. Ben also went to work early in the morning and Dylan could never watch his TV programs in peace because Minho would be on the phone babbling on about the worst, most sexually explicit things with Ben. During this time, Dylan enjoyed locking himself in his room until the conversations stopped.

This gave him plenty of time to surf the internet and see what he could find.

Astrid's Facebook page was flooding with messages. So many, in fact, that her profile had crashed several times. All of them were about Bonnie, if not somehow relating to her.

"We are so sorry for you loss" he would usually skim his eyes over, or more than once he would stumble across a "She was a lovely kid" and a "May she rest in peace". Things such as "I hope you are okay" and "Uncle Jim sends his love" were also part of the growing list. He was unfamiliar with most of these people, and many of them he wasn't even sure if Astrid was related to.

All this gave him some advantage, inevitably.

She had posted a 'thank you' a few days ago, with her location attached. This lead Dylan to find out exactly where Bonnie's grave was. His internet prying skills were certainly growing, but he knew he would never be better than Minho.

On a Saturday afternoon, Dylan went downstairs and popped into the kitchen. Ben was sitting on the island, drinking something chocolatey and Minho was in the middle of choosing a mug. Of course, at least one of them was without a shirt.

"Hi Dylan." Ben greeted.

"Hey, I'm popping out for a bit. Minho, would you mind taking out the trash?" Dylan said.

"I would mind, actually" Minho said. "Why can't you do it?"

"I said I was going out. It isn't that hard. The bin is literally two metres away from the door." Dylan argued.

"Come on, sugar." Ben sung, hopping down from the island and gently tapping Minho's backside. "Take out the trash and then we can do something equally trashy afterwards."

"Still not taking out the trash. I can't interact with things below my social class." Minho dismissed. "It's like, in the unwritten rules. Take out your own bloody trash, Dildo."

"We live in the same house."

"Fine, fine, I'll do it. Leave, dildo."

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The place was as creepy as any cemetery depicted in a film. A bare tree stood tall in the centre, and the stone angels looked like they were about to pounce.

He walked quickly along the path and tried to ignore the thought of ghosts nagging at the back of his mind. His pace quickened and he followed the scrawled instructions on his hand to reach the corner of the cemetery. A breeze swept a few leaves up nearby and Dylan tried to convince himself it was not a demon.