The next morning, Flynn woke up early. Before he even opened his eyes, he felt like something heavy was pressing down on his chest—like something solid resting right against him. Then, a sudden stiffness at the back of his neck made him turn his head slightly.
To his surprise, he saw a hand draped over his left shoulder. When he shifted his gaze downward, another hand was wrapped gently around his torso, holding him close.
As soon as the scene fully registered in his mind, it finally hit him, Dylan was lying next to him.
Flynn's heart skipped. Dylan's body was snug against his back, arms wrapped around him in a comforting embrace. It was as if Dylan was the big spoon.
Startled by the closeness, Flynn quickly sat up and slipped out of his grasp.
Dylan stirred awake, stretching and letting out a lazy yawn before turning toward him with a teasing smile.
"Good morning," Dylan greeted, still sounding sleepy, but playful.
"Why are you hugging me like that?" Flynn asked, trying to sound annoyed.
"Huh? You are the one that kept snuggling up to me. And judging from how deep of a sleep you were in when you laid on my arm, you should be thanking me," Dylan said proudly, his eyes sparkling with teasing pride.
"Shut up. I can't sleep when someone's that clingy," Flynn shot back, though he couldn't deny he'd slept better than usual.
Flynn got up and headed straight to the bathroom to wash his face. Dylan followed, making his way to the bowl to relieve himself.
"Aren't you going home yet? Doesn't anyone at your place miss you?" Flynn asked as he lathered soap on his face.
"Don't worry, I already asked permission," Dylan replied casually, shaking off his Little Dylan with a small smirk.
Without warning, he grabbed the soap from Flynn and started washing his own face.
Flynn just sighed and rinsed the suds off.
Back in the room, Dylan suddenly remembered his phone. The distraction of being with Flynn had completely wiped it from his mind.
"Flynn, have you seen my phone?" he asked, sounding a little panicked.
"No. Where did you put it?"
"I can't remember..." Dylan frowned, then it hit him—the wet clothes, and pants that he pulled off after his shower last night.
He rushed out and reached into the pocket of his drenched pants. Sure enough, his phone was there. But relief faded quickly. The screen was black, waterlogged, and dead.
When Dylan returned to the room, he showed the ruined phone to Flynn, who just laughed.
"That's what you get. Haha," Flynn teased.
Dylan just scratched his head, and gently placed the phone on Flynn's study table.
"Forget it. I don't really have anyone to talk to or need to use it anyway," he muttered, trying to sound indifferent.
Moments later, they heard Lucas's voice calling from the kitchen. "Flynn, son! You and Dylan awake? Come on, time to eat!"
"Eat first before you go home," Flynn said as he walked out. "Don't say I didn't offer again."
Dylan smiled and followed without a word.
After breakfast, Dylan stayed until afternoon before finally heading home. When Dylan left, Flynn felt as if he had truly rested. He lay down for a bit, but boredom soon crept in.
Rising from his bed, Flynn grabbed his bag and went over to his study table. He started gathering the books he needed to read and the assignments he hadn't finished yet. That's when he noticed Dylan's phone on the desk. "He left his phone again, " He muttered.
He remembered Dylan mentioning that the phone had broken after getting soaked in the rain. Curious, Flynn examined the device—a vintage model with a keypad.
An idea struck him. He decided to place the phone in their rice container to dry it out. From the videos he'd seen online, rice was surprisingly effective at pulling moisture out of wet electronics.
He left the phone there for now, planning to check back once it was completely dry before attempting any repairs. Flynn grew up watching his dad fix things, so tinkering came naturally.
Flynn sat back at his desk, only for his eyes to catch a folded letter between his books. It was the last letter from his ex-girlfriend.
He sighed after rereading it. Memories of their bitter final moments flooded back. Truth was, he had read it several times over. He had moved on from what happened between them, but the ache still lingered every time he thought of her.
Sleep wouldn't come that night. His mind replayed old memories until exhaustion finally pulled him under near three in the morning.
The next day, his alarm jolted him awake with a pounding headache, proof of his restless night.
After getting ready, Flynn left and headed straight to Aunt Mary's eatery. Before he could even sit down, someone beat him to the spot beside him—it was Dylan. Flynn barely acknowledged him. His mood was off.
"Flynn, it's you! Oh, you have company today," Aunt Mary greeted warmly, her hands never stopping as she tended to other customers.
"He just passed by," Flynn replied quietly. "I'd like to order two servings of hotdog with egg and fried rice."
"I'll have the same as Flynn," Dylan chimed in as Mary jotted down the orders.
Mary quickly turned to prepare their food but couldn't help feeling curious about the size of their order.
What? That's already for the two of us, Flynn muttered to himself. Dylan didn't seem to realize he was already included in Flynn's order, and Flynn wasn't in the mood to explain.
Dylan noticed Flynn's silence, the heavy exhaustion clouding his expression, so he chose to keep quiet for the moment.
When their food arrived, they ate in silence. Dylan observed how much Flynn loved the hotdog and quietly slid his own portion onto Flynn's plate.
"What are you doing?" Flynn asked, eyebrows raised.
"Here, you take it. I'm not really into hotdogs," Dylan replied casually.
"Then why order if you don't like it? You're just wasting food."
"That's why I gave it to you. Just eat it," Dylan shrugged.
Flynn didn't argue and simply continued eating.
When they arrived in the classroom, it was as if the other students had seen a ghost—especially Nathan, who had seen them come in together several times now. Flynn wasn't late anymore either.
Nathan slid quietly over to Flynn's side, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard by Dylan, who was nearby at the table.
"Am I late to the news? Looks like you two have been coming in together a lot lately," Nathan asked, his curiosity barely contained.
Flynn rolled his eyes. "You're always so nosy. Dylan's just from a different part of the neighborhood, so it just makes sense we walk in together."
Nathan's eyes narrowed in confusion. "From a different part? Then why haven't I seen him around?"
"Same question I had at first," Flynn admitted, lowering his voice as he rested his head on the desk, signaling he didn't want to talk more. "It's not a big deal. Go back to your seat before Miss Amanda catches you."
Nathan frowned and glanced at Dylan, but Dylan shot him a dark, sharp look that made him flinch.
Without another word, Nathan turned and headed back to his desk, deciding not to ask any more questions.