As soon as Dylan stepped out of the hotel, he went straight to the club to drink. The moment he arrived, he called Jake and Cholo, asking them to come and join him.
When they got there, Dylan wasted no time telling them what had happened.
"WTF, dude. I never thought Steph could do something like that," Jake said, clearly shocked.
"Maybe she just isn't satisfied with you anymore. Haha," Cholo joked, smirking.
"Chols, not a good time for jokes," Jake cut in sharply.
"Fine, fine. My bad. But seriously, what happened between you two? You and Steph seemed perfectly fine before. You didn't even look like you were fighting," Cholo asked, leaning back in his seat.
"It's my fault, too," Dylan admitted with a sigh. "I guess I've been neglecting the relationship lately. We agreed to give each other some space to think things through, but... I didn't expect her to go that far."
"What exactly caused it? Is it because of your family issues?" Jake asked carefully.
"No. It's not that," Dylan replied flatly.
"Then what is it? Do you have someone else?" Cholo teased again.
Dylan let out a long breath, but before he could say anything, his phone suddenly rang. He grabbed it and glanced at the screen—it was Lucas number.
"Are you planning to come home or not? Because if you're not, I'm locking the doors," said the voice on the other end before hanging up immediately.
The moment Dylan heard that familiar voice, something inside him loosened. The heaviness he'd been carrying all night suddenly lifted, replaced by an unexpected warmth.
He couldn't help but grin. "I'm heading out, guys," he said, standing up.
"What? You're leaving already? You're the one who dragged us here!" Cholo protested.
"You guys have fun. Someone's waiting for me," Dylan replied with a sly grin before hurrying off.
"Hey, wait! You're not even done telling us the story! Who's waiting for you? Hey!" Cholo called after him, but Dylan was already gone, disappearing into the crowd.
"Unbelievable," Cholo muttered, scratching his head in disbelief.
Jake turned to him. "Did you see Dylan's mood just now? You have any idea who called him?"
Cholo shook his head. "Not a clue, man. Not a clue."
---
Flynn sat on the veranda of their house, pen in hand, a notebook resting on his lap as he tried to compose a song. Every few seconds, though, he'd swat at his arms or legs, irritated by the swarm of mosquitoes feasting on him. He grumbled under his breath, but stayed put, determined to finish at least a verse.
An hour had passed since he last called Dylan, but Dylan had still not arrived.
Growing impatient, Flynn finally decided to call it a night. He stood up, stretched, and was about to head inside when he suddenly heard a familiar voice.
"Flynn! Wait up!"
Dylan came running through the fence, slightly out of breath but wearing that same playful grin.
"Have you been waiting for me?" Dylan asked, teasingly.
Flynn smacked him lightly on the forehead with his notebook. "Who said I was waiting for you?" he replied flatly before walking inside.
Dylan just chuckled and followed him in.
Once in the room, Flynn went straight to bed, lying down without another word. Dylan, meanwhile, took off his shirt, changed into a tank top, and slipped under the covers beside him.
Resting his head against Flynn's chest, Dylan sighed deeply. Flynn was about to push him away but decided against it, letting him stay.
A moment later, Dylan spoke quietly. "We broke up. I caught her in a hotel room... with another guy."
Flynn's voice was calm when he asked, "Did it hurt?"
Dylan lifted his head slightly to look at him, disbelief written all over his face. "What kind of question is that? Of course it did. She was my girlfriend for years," he said before lying back down against Flynn's chest.
"You don't look like it hurts. You still have the energy to cuddle," Flynn muttered.
Dylan immediately pulled away and lay flat on his back, pouting. "You're mean. I just needed a little comfort."
Flynn suddenly sat up, then leaned down until his ear was pressed against Dylan's chest.
"W-what are you doing?" Dylan asked, startled.
"I'm just listening to your heartbeat," Flynn said calmly. "To see if you're really hurt."
"Eh? You think you can tell that from someone's heartbeat?"
"Depends on how it beats," Flynn replied, sitting back up again. "Yours sounds normal."
"So what, you think I'm not hurt?" Dylan asked, half-smiling.
"I don't know," Flynn said with a shrug.
Dylan chuckled softly. "Just because I don't look like I'm hurting—and my heartbeat's normal—doesn't mean I'm not."
"Alright, alright," Flynn replied, rolling his eyes. "Don't you plan on fixing things with her?" He asked.
"Probably not," Dylan replied, his tone calm but heavy. "Maybe it's better this way. Breaking up is kinder than making her keep putting up with me."
Flynn nodded slightly. "Alright. Just remember — if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. Since you're living here now, that makes you family."
"Thanks," Dylan said softly.
His chest felt lighter hearing that... but there was also a faint sting. Family. That's all he was to Flynn. He tried not to dwell on it, though. What mattered was that Flynn was finally starting to open up to him — and for Dylan, that alone was enough.
The next day, during Flynn's free time, he was still busy finishing his song. Dylan, on the other hand, was already growing restless — Flynn hadn't paid him any attention for almost an hour.
"Are you still not done with that?" Dylan complained. "You've been ignoring me forever. Let me see what you're working on." He reached out to grab Flynn's notebook.
But Flynn quickly pulled it away before Dylan could touch it. "Don't bother me right now. I'm almost done with this verse. And no peeking — you'll hear it when we perform anyway," Flynn said, focused on his writing.
"You're so stingy," Dylan muttered under his breath.
After their class ended, Flynn told Dylan he wouldn't be able to join basketball practice that afternoon. He had to meet up with Jacob to give him the song he'd written so they could start rehearsing.
Dylan couldn't really do anything about it, so he just sighed. "Alright then. Just wait for me after our training — I'll come pick you up," he said.
Flynn simply nodded in response before they both went their separate ways to do their own things.
---
"Nice one, Flynn! I knew I wasn't wrong about you. That verse you made is amazing," Jacob said, grinning after Flynn played him the song he'd been working on.
"Thanks," Flynn replied with a shy smile.
"There are just a few things we need to tweak — maybe change some of the words and adjust the tone to match the rhythm better. A little more practice and it'll be perfect," Jacob explained.
"What about your part? Do you still have time to work on your rap verse?" Flynn asked.
"Don't worry about it. I already have an idea of what to add to your song. I'll finish it tomorrow, then we can start practicing together. We'll do a final run-through the day before the event night. I know you've got basketball training, so I'll try not to mess up your schedule. We'll practice around it," Jacob said.
"It's fine," Flynn replied. "I'm just a sub player anyway, so I don't really need to be there all the time. Honestly, I doubt I'll even get to play — the main team's really solid."
Jacob chuckled. "Well, that works out for both of us then."
By the time they finished practicing, it was already close to 8 p.m. Moments later, Dylan arrived. His expression darkened the instant he saw them — Flynn and Jacob, alone in the room, sitting a little too close for his liking.
Jacob quickly noticed Dylan's presence and immediately stood up. "Oh, looks like your ride's here," he said with a teasing grin. "Guess that's my cue to head out. See you tomorrow, Flynn."
"Yeah, see you," Flynn replied.
Jacob left, and the room suddenly grew quiet. Flynn turned to Dylan, noticing the stormy look on his face.
"What's with that expression?" Flynn asked.
"That Jacob guy sure likes getting close to you, doesn't he?" Dylan muttered, his tone low.
Flynn frowned. "So what if he does?"
"Nothing," Dylan replied curtly. "Let's just go home."