Welcome To The Media (Dylmas AU)

28. He's My Forever

34 days remaining

Dylan's pov

"You invited who to our what?" My mother's voice pierced through our small kitchen, echoing loudly on the polished appliances. She fixed me with a wild stare, daring me to repeat myself.

I grimaced despite myself. Forcing an innocent smile onto my face, I slumped back into the kitchen chair, trying not to meet her gaze. Her anger seemed to flare throughout the entire room, brief waves of rage coursing through the air. I almost didn't want to tempt fate by repeating myself. After all, her first reaction was clue enough to how a second backlash might play out.

"I said," hesitating only slightly, "I invited Thomas Sangster to stay for a couple days."

Just as I expected, my mother's face reddened, her eyes flashing in unmistakable fury. She dropped the wooden spoon in her hand and clenched the linoleum countertop, a habit she had adopted when I was a troublesome kid. I resisted the urge to shrink away from her.  

"You..." my mother started, her voice surprisingly level. I grimaced again, trying to look as harmless as possible. For a few seconds, she didn't say anything. She just stared at me, eyes wild, nostrils flared, cheeks flushed.

I tried pulling a cute, adorable smile. You know, something that might ease her anger, that could reassure her that I'm just a simple, virtuous child, who made a small error in judgement.

Unfortunately, my plan backfired.

As my lips quirked up, my mom seemed to shock herself back into reality. Her arms rose up in sync with my grin (which quickly fell) and her voice, loud and full, began echoing throughout the house again. To someone standing outside, her sudden shouts could have easily been mistaken for a small explosion.

"Dylan O'Brien!" my mother began, her voice cracking and pulsing with an electric current. "You invited a celebrity to our household without asking your father and I first?! What were you thinking?"

My mother didn't wait for a reply though, quickly continuing in her thoughtless rampage. I knew from years of experience that it would be worse for me to interrupt her while she yelled, so I stayed silent. Glancing over at Tyler, who sat across from me at my table, I inconspicuously shrugged.

Looking back, I had acted rather rash when I had asked Thomas to come. It was completely uncharacteristic of me. I was generally a pretty thought out, type A kind of guy. Unlike Thomas, everything I did was done deliberately. I thought, I calculated, I acted accordingly. That was who I was, and who I thought I'd always be.

I still wasn't quite sure why I had asked him so abruptly. It was so effortless; the words were spilling past my tongue before I even processed what was happening. It wasn't something I would usually do, and I couldn't deny that. So what had I been thinking?

The truth was that I hadn't thought at all. My mind had blanked; suddenly I was blurting words and thoughts that should have been left unspoken, and the only explanation I could possibly offer was that Thomas usually had that effect. It was so unfair. He would just grab my hand or stroke my hair and then I was putty in his hands, becoming basically a mindless slave.

Thomas made me stop thinking, stop calculating, stop acting. He just made me live.

Perhaps that was a bad thing, but it sure didn't feel like it. Despite the fact that my mom was still bellowing in my ears, a small smile crept onto my face.

Maybe Thomas made me reckless, but he also made life more fun.

"You weren't thinking, were you?" I heard my mom continue to shout. "This was so foolish, irresponsible, a ridiculous idea--"