I took my time getting up and ready on Saturday morning, making sure that Jane and Sophie would be gone by the time I got round to Dylan's. I got another shower, brushed my teeth and put on a pair of grey sweats and a white t shirt, along with a zip up black hoodie. Mum said that Jane had phoned to say that they had left, and that the back door was left open for me because she doubted Dylan would answer to anyone. I said goodbye to my mum and told her I didn't know how long I would be but that I'd let her know if I went anywhere other than Dylan's.
It was a dry day and a bit chilly, but I chose to walk to Dylan's. The walk calmed me down and cleared my head, and by the time I reached Dylan's I wasn't as nervous as I had been this morning.
I walked round the side of the house and went in through the back door. I walked slowly down the hall and lightly tapped on Dylan's door before pushing it open.
He was lying face down on the bed, his left leg dangling off of it. The covers were on the floor and he was wearing a loose pair or black boxers and a black t shirt. The room smelt slightly of cigarettes and booze, but then I saw why Jane was worried. Dylan's room was a mess. He had a few empty beer bottles by the side of the bed and his clothes were lying on his floor. There was scrunched up pieces of paper on the floor, along with few sketchbooks lying around. Sally once told me that Dylan used to do art when he was upset or angry.
I closed his bedroom door and made my way over to his bed, carefully watching my feet. I crouched down at the top of the bed so my eyes were level with his head.
"Dylan? Dylan?" I said.
He groaned and squinted his eyes at me.
"Alec?"
"Hey, it's me."
He opened his eyes wide in shock.
"Alec!"
"Hey, you okay?" I asked, standing up and taking a step back.
He sat up and wiped his hands over his face. His hair was all over the place and his eyes were red and bloodshot.
"What are you doing here?" he asked gently, making sure not to sound defensive.
"I came to talk to you. Well, to hear what you wanted to say the other night," I replied, looking all over the room and not at him.
"My mum called you." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yeah," I answered anyway. "She's worried. Mitch said you'd been smoking and you've been drinking and- Dylan, why?"
He bit his lip and looked down at his hands. I wanted to put my arms round him and tell him that it was okay. But it wasn't okay. Not yet.
"Because I fucked up," he whispered.
I went and sat at the opposite side of the bed- enough distance between us to avoid the temptation to take his hand.
"I'm so sorry Alec," he said, still looking at his hands. "Jayme came and apologised, said that he shouldn't have left me in the state I was in and that it was his fault. He said he wanted me to be happy. I genuinely thought he had come to deliberately fuck thing up- which he did end up doing, I guess. But when he kissed me- I was shocked when I realised that my feelings hadn't changed."
"Alec," he said, looking up at me. "I feel the act same way about Jayme that I did before- I just hid those feelings by being angry at him, when it was me who drove him away."
I shouldn't have come. I could feel my heart collapsing in on itself, being consumed by my fears. Dylan still loved Jayme. Dylan still loves Jayme. I could tell Dylan knew what I was thinking, I never had a good poker face around him, and he shuffled forward on the bed and took my hands. This time I let him.
"Hey," he said softly. "That night I realised that I still felt the same way about Jayme as I did back then... but I know now that I was never in love with him. I admired him, and I need him way more than he needed me. I latched onto him when I was confused and worried, and he made me feel safe. But I never loved him."
"What makes you say that?" I asked, aware that tears were falling down my cheeks. He left go of my hands and instead took my face between his hands and wiped away my tears with his thumbs.
"Because I love you Alec Brooke, and what I felt for him isn't worth comparing against how I feel about you."
I closed my eyes and sighed in relief. He loved me. He loved me.
"I love you, "I said back to him, opening my eyes.
He full on grinned at me and raised his eyebrows at me. "Really?"
I laughed. "Really."
"Say it again."
"I love you Dylan Lewis."
He launched himself on to me and pinned me to the bed.
"Say it again."
"I love you. I love you, I love you, I love-"
He cut me off by kissing me, slow and sweet. I relaxed against him rested my hands on his sides.
"I love you too," he said softly, resting his forehead against mine. I took my hand and combed it through his hair and frowned at him.
"Dude, you really need a shower."
"It doesn't matter. You love me. I don't need to shower ever again."
"Yes, you do."
"No I don't, love is unconditional."
"With the acceptation of hygiene."
He laughed and kissed me again, and this time I broke it off.
"Dude, I mean it. Go shower."
"Yes mum," he said, getting off of me.
"That's just wrong."
"Whatever you say, darling," he replied, skipping down the hall to the bathroom.
"Don't call me darling!" I called after him.
"Okay honey bee!"
So this was love, was it?
~
I busied myself by quickly tidying up Dylan's room; I binned all the paper, put his clothes in the wash and got rid of the empty beer bottles. Seeing this side of Dylan scared me, but at the same time I was grateful that did. I got a taste of who Dylan used to be, and I have no intention of ever letting him be like that again. I wouldn't leave him.
Once I'd cleared Dylan's room I lay down on his bed and waited for him to get out of the shower. Five minutes later he emerged with a towel wrapped round his waist.
"I could get used to this," he said, taking in the clean room and eyeing me on the bed.
"So could I," I replied, gesturing at him only wearing a towel.
He bit his lip and wiggled his eyebrows at me before taking out a clean pare of boxers and t shirt. He quickly got changed with his back turned towards me.
"Quit checking out my ass," he said.
"Quit pointing it in my direction," I said back.
"Oh be quiet, you love it really."
"Just you keep telling yourself that," I relied, and he turned towards me with his eyebrows raised.
I sat up and moved towards the edge of the bed as he made his way towards me, and I sat so he was stood between my legs. He ran a hand through my hair, tilting my head back so he could kiss me. He tasted of toothpaste, clean and fresh, and I groaned when his tongue entered my mouth.
"You make noises like that and I won't stop," he said against my lips.
"What if I don't want you to stop?" I asked, and he pulled away to look at me.
"Are you saying..."
"Yes," I replied, without a trace of doubt.
"You sure?"
"Completely."
With that his mouth returned to mine and this time we didn't have to worry about taking things too far. This time, we were taking thing as far as they could go.
He mouth devoured mine, and he slowly brought me to my feet. His lips travelled along my jaw and down my neck as his hands travelled up my check. He pulled back and looked me straight in the eye, our noses barely touching, as he slowly pulled down my zip. He pushed my hoodie down and discarded it on the floor, where his clothes would soon be joining it.
He combed his fingers through my hair, holding my face close to his.
"You can tell me to stop at anytime," he said.
"I know. I trust you."
He pulled my face to meet his lips and kissed me. He kissed me with lust, with passion, but most importantly; with love.
"I love you," he said breathlessly, as he planted kisses just below my ear.
I took his face in my hands and turned his head to face me, so I was looking into his eyes.
"I love you," I said back, "and I trust you."
He smiled and gave me soft, delicate kiss on the lips.
"Then let's get those clothes off then, shall we?"