dyl

i'm too hot (hot damn) make a dragon wanna retire man

[dylan--williams]

it's hard to get around the wind •

[catholicwyatt-deactivated201504]

Even as she pulled her things from where they’d been hurriedly shoved into her suitcase, Nico was still reeling from te trip. She didn’t know if it was jet lag (or if you could even call it jet lag, when there was only a two hour time difference) or just the fact that she had actually been in the presence of Jackson’s mother, in the place where he grew up, for a week. The mixture of tiredness and emotion had knocked her off balance, and she was having trouble remembering where everything went. She kept replaying the trip over and over again in her mind, dissecting every move she’d made and every tiny mistake. She wished Violet was here, so she’d have someone slightly more objective to talk to. Jackson’s simple, “She likes you,” and “She smiled, that’s good,” didn’t do much to comfort her, and Nico still found herself worrying, even as she shoved her clothes back into drawers hundreds of miles away from Connecticut, that she was going to make some fatal misstep.

She had been nearing the end of her suitcase when a knock on the door startled her from her agonizing. It occurred to her that she should try to make her room more presentable— there were dirty clothes flung everywhere, fast food wrappers littering the desk, a pink glass bowl in full view of the door, but she doubted that now, of all days, was when the administration had finally decided to care about it’s students activities. She was expecting Violet on the other side of the door, anxious to hear about the trip and drop more heavy-handed hints about moving out. Nico wasn’t expecting to come face to face with the person she had thought about more than anyone else in the last five months. The last person she would ever expect to see when she pulled open her door was Dylan.

"Holy—" Her eyes went wide and she dropped the balled up sweatshirt she’d been holding, taking two steps back. Her first thought was a hallucination; she’d been thinking about Dylan so much, finally he had manifested in a physical form that only she could see. It wasn’t possible that he could actually be here in front of her, not after what Aaron said. She remembered vividly the night in the hospital, and storming away in tears while Aaron screamed at her not to come back. Dylan didn’t want to see her. That much had been made very clear. But he was hear now, and presumably real, but she was too afraid to reach out and touch him to be sure. Her heart was threatening to burst from her chest, and she scrambled for the right words to say to her best friend after five months of loaded silence. The best thing she could come up with was a choked, "Hi."

[dylan--williams]

Dylan was left waiting for seven entire seconds. He counted in his head, adding the 'missisipi' inbetween each number just so he wouldn't rush. He waited the whole time with his breath caught in his throat while his fingers lifted to twist into the material of his t-shirt. It felt as though his heart was going to hammer itself out of his ribcage and land on the floor between his feet and the door, it was beating that hard. The moment the door handle twisted from the other side, Dylan's eyes pivoted towards it and stayed transfixed as it turned, only lifting his eyes to meet Nico's once the door was fully opened.

And there she was. It took him a moment to register that she'd even spoken, because he was too caught up in the way her eyes had widened with shock and her body had lurched back away from him. Maybe, just like he'd predicted, she didn't want to see him after all. There was a beat of silence where all Dylan could do was stare back at her, not even breathing, before Dylan decided to do what he does best, and talk. "Hi. So. Um. I wanted to see you, because it - it's been a while. I wanted to see you months ago, actually, but I couldn't because, you know - hospital. I thought you would come but you didn't, but I understand why you didn't, so I'm here to...apologise." He sucked in a shaky breath, hating the way his voice had come out raspy and unsteady. It had taken him at least a month of speech therapy to even be able to speak a whole sentence without messing up, because his brain just didn't quite get it then, but now he was better - or at least he thought so. Maybe he'd just gotten so used to just talking in little chunks to familiar people that this just didn't sit right with him, and he hated it. What he hated more was how it was completely out of his control.

Regardless, he forced his way through his mental block and said, "If...if you want me to go, I will, but I want - I wanted - I mean, I want, you to know that I'm really sorry. For what happened. Our argument, I mean, in case you forgot. I was...I mean, I know it was a long time ago now, but I didn't get a chance to apologise before. So now I am. Apologising," he finished, another rattly breath battling it's way down into his lungs. He stood there for another moment, shoulders held back, trying to ignore the way his voice lacked any shred of confidence whatsoever. He didn't want to seem weak, not now, since that was all he'd felt for the past five months, however it seemed as though there was no use trying not to be. Especially not in front of Nico. "Nic..." he whispered, biting his bottom lip into his mouth and casting his eyes to the floor. They were stinging like they always did when he felt like he was about to cry, just like his throat started closing up involuntarily. He inhaled harshly and looked up, before whispering, "I missed you."

[dylan--williams]

it's hard to get around the wind •

Being back in his dorm room after so many months felt surreal. To Dylan, everything was so unfamiliar. Despite the colour of the walls being the same as that of a hospital, these ones were covered in his posters and photographs, and his bed was still slightly rumpled as though it had been slept in just last night. In truth, it hadn't been slept in since the night of the accident, and that was all the way back in September. Everything seemed to be roughly where he'd left it, though, with a stray pair of jeans shoved under the bed and his toothbrush settled precariously on the side of the sink in the bathroom. It was all the same, but it didn't feel that way to Dylan - not quite yet. He told Aaron he needed a while alone, to readjust or something, but actually he just needed to put a rest to the thoughts that had been swarming in his head ever since he woke up in that hospital bed. And the only way to do that was to see Nico.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, Dylan closed the door behind him and set off down the familiar route towards Nico's dorm. He had to go down two flights of stairs and up another, but the path was so deeply engraved in his memory that he didn't need to think about which left to take nor which right. Instead, his mind once again obsessed over the details of their argument. For Dylan, the worst part of it all was how he'd never gotten a chance to apologise for acting how he had, and now he'd left it so freaking long (not that he really had another choice, with the brain injury and all) maybe the apology would have lost all it's meaning. Still, it was worth a try, even if Nico immediately slammed the door in his face, at least he would've gotten the words out. Not that that really means anything when the consequence of his stupidity was losing Nico for good, someone that was more important to him than he'd ever be able to explain. She was his best friend, and they hadn't seen each other for four months. And that was four months far too long.

Dylan was so wrapped up in his rampage of thoughts that he took two steps more than he needed to, and had to do an awkward reverse back to Nico's door. He stumbled over his left food, clumsy as always, before steadying himself with a hand on the doorframe. Then he straightened himself up, let his hands drop to his sides, sucked in a shaky breath, and knocked.

[dylan--williams]

merry christmas lil d!!! i assume this year has been shit for you so use these gifts to make 2015 the best year you’ve ever had

enjoy ur slush and popcorn makers!!!!!

[robertdeniro]

I’d like to get into some sort of workout regimen so I can properly be healthy and exercise like a normal human being. I seem to not do that… ever.

[aaron-d]

Haunt || Aaron & Dylan

The past two weeks have been an endless cycle of self loathing. Everytime he’d walk pass a mirror, it was the same blurred image. Bloodshot eyes, messy hair, scruffy shirt, moist cheeks. He had no idea it was possible to cry everyday for two weeks in a row but he managed it. It was exhausting though. He hadn’t seen his dorm in two weeks and his phone had been dead for the same amount of time. There was no way he was leaving that hospital room. The chair set beside Dylan’s bed was awfully uncomfortable but it wasn’t like he was getting any sleep. He had to be awake when Dylan woke up, there was no way he couldn’t be awake. He had to be there for him, he owed him that much. He’s the reason he’s in this state in the first place.

The sound of sirens outside were muffled but still heard and it irked Aaron to think of what possibly could be happening to that patient. Everyone’s situation is different but a hospital was a fucking depressing place to be in. Even when he went out to get a coffee, he was faced with hearing yelps of pains from patients. Or he had to witness different patients in wheelchairs, unable to even lift a finger. It was heart wrenching. But the worst part was when he found himself back in the dull room with the beeping machine, tubes running throughout any open wound on Dylan’s ghostlike body. His whole body ached when he made himself through the room, setting the coffee and muffin down, realising he was never actually hungry. The caffeine just keeps him up but in reality, four cups of coffee a day for two weeks in a row, surprisingly your body just becomes immune to it.

His fingertips slowly ran over Dylan’s cheeks before resting idly on his cheekbone, forcing his eyes shut then fluttering them back open again. He hoped this was all just some twisted dream. He found his fingertips running over the wound on Dylan’s head which didn’t look any more healed than it did two hours ago. At least he thought it was two hours ago. He had no idea. He’d completely lost track of time. “Wake up,” he whispered, shakily. The words barely passed his lips, his hand slowly dropping to his chest. “P-Please.” His hand slowly clenched into a fist against Dylan’s hospital gown. That’s when he started to get worked up, a rage building up inside him. Taking a few steps back, his breath became shaky, louder. “Wake up!” He plead, his knuckles turning white as he forced his fingers into his palm.

His fist flung back and every ounce of his body wanted to hit something, do something stupid, take out his anger but he didn’t. Instead, he fell into that cruelly uncomfortable chair and buried his face in his hands. The last thing he needed was to be kicked out of the hospital again. Like the first night he showed up and they told him visiting hours were over. His aggression forced him out and three hours later, he came back drunk. Obviously, he was stopped by security before he could make it to the front desk so he waited outside until he sobered up. He slept outside on the steps but he didn’t care. He needed to see him. See the damaged he’s caused. Make sure Rhiley wasn’t lying or she was just exaggerating. Hoping it was just a tiny scratch on his head that would heal in days. 

Soft whines and cries emitted his lips, muffled by his hands was the word “please” which was repeatedly spoken. He needed Dylan to wake up, he needed him. It was his fault and he truly believed that. Though, he blamed Nico too, it was his alcohol. And it was the same night that they got into an argument on how much Aaron drank. Being compared to his father was like a dagger to his chest and all he had to do was fucking listen. Throw it out, get rid of it. It’s fucked up his life before but never this bad. He could be losing the only person he’s got. The only person he truly can’t live without was slipping right before his eyes and it was his fault. He manages to hurt the people he loves most effortlessly. He fucks up constantly. He lives his life in guilt. But rightfully so. 

[dylan--williams]

It wasn’t like waking up in the morning. It wasn’t familiar, it wasn’t peaceful, it wasn’t easy. It felt more like trying to claw out of a coffin packed under six feet of soil and dirt. At first, there was nothing but white noise, ringing in his ears. That was all. There was no sensation in his body and only a blanket of darkness around him. He didn’t feel like a person at all. The sound was deafening, and it simply wouldn’t cease. He tried to lift his hands to his ears, but nothing happened. He tried to speak, but nothing happened. Even when he tried to properly think, nothing happened.

Dylan had completely lost track of time when the white noise finally ebbed away. It could have been hours or it could have been minutes, but to Dylan it made no difference as he could finally hear a voice. Finally he heard something other than the disfigured ringing in his ears, and despite not being able to make out the words or register who was speaking, relief surged through him. He waited and he waited and he waited for the indistinguishable noise to finally form something he was able to understand. Eventually, it worked.

“Please.” That was all he heard. It was still foggy and far away, and he couldn’t gather enough thoughts to string together an idea of who the voice belonged to. It was enough for now, though, and he clung to that word as it was repeated over and over again until it finally hit him.

Aaron. It was Aaron’s voice. Never before had he heard his voice sound so broken, so full to the brim with hopelessness, but he could recognise it all the same. His spirit leapt, and in his excitement he went to open his mouth and respond. Shout that he was here, that he could hear him, that he didn’t need to be afraid anymore. Of course, he soon found that he was still incapable. His lips felt like they were stuck together with glue, and his tongue felt like a limp piece of felt wedged into his mouth. At least he could feel it now, though, as well as the feeling of the cannula in his nose and the scratchiness of the blanket against his bare arms. He could feel all of that, and with every second that passed he became aware of even more. The pungent smell of antiseptics, the way his left arm was slightly bent, the dull ache in his forehead. It was all coming back to him.

Once he could mostly feel his entire body, he attempted to open his eyes. He figured that should be easier than trying to move an entire limb, and he managed to crack them open after only a few moments. The light above him was white and intense and burning, however he refused to shut them again. He needed to see Aaron. He needed to see him and touch him and talk to him.

Dylan couldn’t move his head - not yet - so all he could do was lie there and stare at the light, slowly re-adjusting to the world around him. That wasn’t good enough, though. So he tried. He tried to move his lips. They were as incompetent as rubber slabs glued to his face, which is exactly what they felt like, and despite all his effort they simply wouldn’t move. He tried again and it was just about as useless an attempt as the first. And it hurt. It was exhausting, trying to will his body to do something that it simply wouldn’t allow, and it felt as though every thought that ran through his head was a physical wound. It was painful, but that didn’t stop him from trying again. This time, his bottom lip quivered and expelled a slight sound that closely resembled a whimper. Without fully meaning to, he made the sound again, louder this time, whilst he still continued to urge his lips and tongue to move. He needed to form full words. He needed to say Aaron’s name and he needed to tell him how much he loved him, all before asking the countless questions that were whirling through his mind.

Dylan could feel his face crumpling from the strain of trying to trick his body into doing something it wasn’t ready for. He could feel his eyebrows creasing and a tear welling in his left eye, soon to track a path down the side of his face to meet the pillow. He tried again, more determined this time, his heart pounding away in his chest out of panic and frustration. “Aa...” he mumbled. It was only a sound - and an incoherent, disjointed sound at that. That didn’t stop him from trying again, despite the warning signs blaring in his head. He shouldn’t be overworking himself like this, not when he felt so utterly weak and exhausted. Contorting his lips against his own body’s will once more, Dylan inhaled deeply and finally managed to whisper, “Aaron.”

[dylan--williams]

lights out, words gone

Dylan raised the tequila bottle to his lips once more, letting his eyes fall shut in anticipation of the burn that was soon to come, however there wasn’t a single drop left. He’d drained the entire bottle on his own, and had barely even realised it. “Yeah, well, screw you,” he slurred and gripped the bottle by it’s neck before hurling it towards a nearby tree. He expected it to smash satisfyingly against the bark, but instead it missed the trunk by almost two meters and landed on the soil without so much as a chip. “And screw you, too. Stupid. So goddamn stupid.”

After glaring at the intact liquor bottle for a few moment’s longer, Dylan sighed heavily and looked out at the lake before him, it’s surface blinking at him in the moonlight. It looked blurry, though, out-of-focus in a way that wasn’t very familiar with him, all because getting drunk wasn’t something Dylan did that often. He thought that the alcohol was meant to numb your mind, get rid of all the crap for a while; instead, Dylan’s thoughts just seemed even louder than usual. He couldn’t stop thinking about how stupid he’d been, pushing and pushing at Nico’s boundaries until she eventually snapped, attempting to get closer to her in a way that only lengthened the bridge between them. It was stupid; he was stupid. And instead of fixing what he’d ruined, he was out here, alone, wallowing in anger and guilt.

Over and over, Dylan kept telling himself that he’d only been trying to help, to get her to open up to him and tell him something that a best friend would. Because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair of her to stay so guarded around him, because they’re best friends and trusting someone and opening up to them is just how a friendship works. Except, now that he’s had hours to think it over, that just seems to general; he now knew that it’s not some formula that can be applied to every friendship out there, because it’s not that simple. Dylan shook his head, letting his eyes fall closed as it hit him again just how out of order he’d been. Nico’s a private person who kept most thoughts to herself, and he’d try to infringe on that; he’d tried too hard, and messed it all up. What kind of friend did that make him? Never before had he thought of himself as someone disrespectful, as someone oblivious and stupid and hurtful towards people he cared for, but right now...that was all he could think. All he could feel.

Something must have changed him. Transformed him into someone who’s reckless and ruins the things he values without even realising. He never thought he’d become that person, but today he’d proved it twice in a row. He’d pushed at Nico until she cut him off completely just like he deserved for being so foolish, and then went on to say stupid, stupid things to Aaron. Things that hurt him. Things that must have made him feel awful inside. He’d said those things to the one person he loved more than anyone else in the world, the one person he cared for the most. Aaron shouldn’t have stayed with him when he did nor forgiven him so easily - not really. Dylan didn’t deserve that much; he didn’t even deserve half that much, or anything at all. He was so disgusted with himself. He could feel it boiling in his gut, settled next to the liquor he’d just poured down his throat. It was physical and agonising and unbearable; the disgust he felt towards himself was unbearable. It was almost as if he didn’t even recognise himself anymore. He wasn’t careless, he wasn’t hurtful, he wasn’t stupid; but what he’d done today proved exactly the opposite. Maybe now he was all those awful things, and probably more on top of that. What other explanation was there? Now, he was someone who pressed his friends - his best friend - until they broke; now, he was someone who hurt the people who meant more to him than anything else. Despite it being accidental, he was still to blame. It was still his fault.

“‘M sorry,” he muttered, lips twisting into a scowl. “I’m gonna try. I’m gonna try to make it better,” Dylan said, hoping it would sound more convincing said aloud. But his words were all caught up and strung together, distorted by the liquor thrumming through his veins. He regretted it now; he regretted sliding out of Aaron’s arms and stealing the tequila from the cabinet, closing the door as quietly as he could manage. Now that his head was pounding and his stomach was churning, and all he could think was I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry - he regretted it. Not quite as much as he regretted treating Nico the way he had, however. He just wanted to take it all back. Every damn word he’d said. All of it.

But he couldn’t. It just wasn’t possible. He hoped that he hadn’t ruined their friendship for good - that this was just temporary, a minor bump on the road. He hoped with all he had in him that he could fix it, fix the mess he’d created. “Tomorrow,” he murmured. “I’ll fix it tomorrow. Tomorrow,” Dylan repeated, running his hands through his hair once before placing them on either side of his hips and pushing himself to his feet. He straightened up too quickly and blood rushed to his head, making his mind swirl and his vision blur. He staggered forward, trying to find the tree he’d tried to use as a target to lean against for support, but his fingers only sifted through empty air. He couldn’t see straight, couldn’t see anything apart from the blue blur of the lake. Dylan didn’t think to stop and try to get ahold of his senses - instead, he kept fumbling forwards, tripping and faltering and losing all sense of balance.

There was no chance of him seeing the empty tequila bottle lying on the grass until it was too late. He stumbled and fell, his forehead colliding with what could only be the trunk of a tree. First, there was the shock of the impact, sudden and disorienting. Second, there was blinding pain, white noise and a darkening vision. And then, there was nothing.

[dylan--williams]

matti--wilson replied to your post

HOEY

rayban i love YOU u make my dreams come trU

[dylan--williams]

cryin n dyin over here

[aaron-d]

The answer to that question is never no.

[dylan--williams]

C'mere you.

[aaron-d]

Nico’s difficult, it’s not your fault that you want to be there. Just give her time to cool down and she’ll get over it. I don’t really feel like drinking but I’ll stay with you.

[dylan--williams]

Do you wanna have sex instead?

[aaron-d]

I’m not leaving. I just won’t drink. What was the argument about?

[dylan--williams]

It - it was my fault. I pushed her and tried to get her to talk about stuff she didn't want to talk about. I thought I was trying to help, you know? But I just messed it all up. I was only trying to help. But whatever. I'll sort it out tomorrow or something. Right now I just want to get drunk, I think. And you...you can drink, too, if you want. Don't let me stop you. Please.

[aaron-d]

Not me too? What’s that supposed to mean?

[dylan--williams]

It - well, uh, Nico and I argued before. It...it was bad. She told me to leave her the fuck alone and - and I did. And now you're gonna leave, too, and I just - just please don't. Please. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Just - please. Please don't go.

[aaron-d]

It’s in the cabinet by the window, get it yourself. I’m leaving.

[dylan--williams]

Not you, too. Come on. Just - please. Don't.

[aaron-d]

Dylan, don’t. The last thing I want is to turn out like my dad and hearing those words come out of your mouth just fucking infuriates me. I’ve heard it enough for Robert and now you?! I’m not a little kid, I know my boundaries and I don’t really need you reminding me of them. 

[dylan--williams]

Fine. Forget I said anything. Just get the goddamn alcohol already.

[aaron-d]

So now you’re scared of me? What the fuck, Dylan? I have a drink every so often and you’ve never appeared to have a problem until now. Now you’re acting as if I’m some drunken dickhead who’s going to fucking abuse you before shooting myself in front of you and blaming you for everything gone wrong in my life. 

[dylan--williams]

No, I - I'm not scared of you! I never said that. Why does no one ever freaking listen to me? I'm saying I'm scared that it could get worse. That's it. And it's reasonable, okay, considering I've had firsthand experience with a drunken dickhead just like that. Which you knew. How...how could you even say that shit to me? Just - just fuck you, Aaron. Fuck you. 

[aaron-d]

You compared me to the two people I hate most. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?

[dylan--williams]

That - that isn't what I meant and you know it. I was trying to say I worry that it'll get that bad one day. It's nothing like that now, and maybe it never will be. But I was raised by a drunk and that...that's just the only impression I have of it, okay? I - I just get scared. Who the hell wouldn't?

[aaron-d]

You think I’ll end up like my dad?

[dylan--williams]

Or - or mine. Or whoever. I don't know.