After Foundation Week ended, Dylan still showed up at school every day. Quiet and withdrawn, he even handled Flynn's assignments from the days Flynn was absent, brushing it off with the excuse that Flynn was unwell.
But the moment he saw Flynn back on campus, Flynn's final words slammed into him like a wall: "I don't ever want to see you again."
Since then, Dylan avoided lingering in class. Even though he continued showing up daily, the second he caught sight of Flynn, he would either leave campus immediately or drag Jake and Cholo to a club instead.
A week passed like that.
And in that week, not a single day passed without Dylan drinking. He'd gone back to his quiet, withdrawn self—barely speaking, barely reacting. Jake and Cholo didn't know what to do with him anymore. He'd become short-tempered, snapping at the smallest things, even simple questions.
One Friday night, the three of them were hanging out in vip club. Empty bottles littered the table while music played softly in the background.
"Bro, you should slow down," Jake said carefully as Dylan reached for another bottle. "That's already your third."
Dylan didn't even look at him. "So?" he muttered before taking another long drink.
Cholo sighed, leaning back on the couch. "Man, what's going on with you lately? You've been drinking nonstop. Did something happen?"
No answer. Dylan just stared blankly ahead, jaw tense.
Jake exchanged a glance with Cholo before trying again. "Come on, at least tell us what's going on—"
The bottle slammed down on the table, hard enough to make them both flinch.
"Don't," Dylan said sharply, voice low but heavy with warning.
The room fell silent. Neither Jake nor Cholo dared to say another word. They'd learned the hard way that pushing him only made things worse.
After a moment, Cholo gave a weak chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "Alright, alright. No more serious talk. Just... take it easy, dude. We're just worried, okay?"
Dylan didn't respond. He just leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if the world had stopped existing around him.
Jake sighed, muttering under his breath, "Man, this guy's a mess."
They eventually gave up trying to talk sense into him. But even so, they never left his side. If Dylan was drinking, they drank with him. If he wanted silence, they sat with him quietly. It was the only way they knew to keep him from falling apart completely.
---
While Flynn was busy working on his assignments, their male class representative suddenly approached him, holding out two notebooks.
"These are your and Dylan's math assignments," the class rep said. "He did them for you while you were absent. Since he wasn't around, I thought it'd be easier to just give these to you so you can hand them to him later."
Flynn took the notebooks and muttered a simple, "Thanks."
"By the way," the class rep added casually, "did you know Dylan might transfer schools? I just heard it in the director's office when Ms. Amanda accompanied me. You probably didn't know yet. Anyway, I've got to go first."
Hearing that, Flynn felt a sudden pang in his chest. The words Dylan might transfer hit him harder than he expected.
When he looked down at the notebooks in his hands, he noticed Dylan's handwriting. It had changed, no longer the chaotic, rushed style he remembered, now neat and almost identical to his own. When did Dylan study my handwriting? Flynn wondered silently.
Flynn didn't know why, but that small detail twisted something tight in his chest.
After class, Flynn immediately look for a payphone and called Jake to ask where Dylan was. Jake told him that Dylan was staying at his aunt's place for now.
Flynn quickly got the address from Jake, but the place was vast, and he struggled to find it. After almost two hours of wandering and asking around, he finally arrived at the location Jake had given him.
At first, Flynn was puzzled. The address led him to a large building, but Jake had said it was his aunt's house.
On the ground floor were boutiques selling branded clothing; other floors housed cafes and restaurants. There was even a gym and a spa inside the building.
Flynn approached the guard to ask if he was at the right address and whether he knew Dylan. The guard nodded, confirming that Flynn had come to the correct building and that the person he was looking for lived on the top floor.
Flynn thanked him and headed straight for the elevator.
When the elevator doors opened, he stepped out and walked toward the unit's entrance.
Flynn hesitated at first, suddenly remembering his Aunt Anna. A part of him wondered what he was even doing here. His hand subconsciously curled into a fist before he glanced down at the notebook he was holding—Dylan's notebook. I just need to return this. That's all.
Flynn took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. A few minutes later, the door opened, revealing a middle-aged, fair-skinned woman.
"How did you get here? What do you need?" she asked gently, though confused.
"I'm looking for Dylan. I just need to give him something," Flynn replied.
The woman looked him over. Flynn still in his school uniform, bag slung over his right shoulder, notebook in hand.
"Oh, you must be his classmate. Come in, he's in his room."
"Thank you," Flynn said and stepped inside.
As he entered, Flynn removed his shoes, placed them neatly on the shoe rack by the doorway, and slipped into the indoor slippers the woman handed him.
"I'm Jennifer, by the way. I'm Dylan's aunt. Follow me, I'll show you to his room."
"I'm Flynn," he replied, then walking behind her as they entered deeper into the unit.
Flynn couldn't help glancing around. The place looked like an entire floor converted into a single penthouse, sitting at the top of the building. Massive glass windows dominated the space, offering a clear view of the city below.
Jennifer noticed how amazed Flynn looked, so she broke the silence as they walked.
"We own this building," she explained warmly. "So we thought it would be convenient to live here. It's close to the city, and at the same time, convenient for our businesses."
Flynn simply smiled and nodded.
Before long, they reached Dylan's door.
"Dylan's been here for almost a week," Jennifer said quietly. "He doesn't usually stay in this place, so I was surprised when he told me he'd stay here for a while. He just mopes around all day... and sometimes he comes home drunk. He won't tell me anything, though. So, Flynn... I'll leave it to you to talk to him, okay?"
Flynn nodded.
Jennifer knocked on the door.
Inside, Dylan woke at the sound. He frowned—his aunt never knocked.
"Come in," he said, sitting up on his bed.
Jennifer pushed the door open. "Dear, you have a visitor. I'll leave you two here, all right? Call me if you need anything." With that, she slipped out.
When she was gone, Flynn slowly stepped inside. He saw Dylan looking... wasted. Like he hadn't been taking care of himself at all.
"What are you doing here?" Dylan muttered.
Flynn walked to the side table and set down the assignment notebook.
Dylan let out a sarcastic smirk.
"Why haven't you been coming to school? I heard you're transferring?" Flynn asked.
"So what if I transfer?" Dylan shot back. "And do you really think I'd still show up after the last things you said to me? Weren't you the one who told me you never wanted to see me again?"
The bite in Dylan's voice hit Flynn's pride harder than he expected.
"I don't care whether you go to school or not. I'm only here because they asked me to return your notebook."
Dylan smirked, sharp. "And you think I still need that?"
"What you do with it isn't my problem. I was just told to give it to you. Throw it away if you want."
When Dylan didn't respond, Flynn turned toward the door to leave. He was already steps from the door when Dylan suddenly shouted—
"FLYNN AMARO LUZ!!!"
Flynn froze at the sound of his full name being shouted.
Dylan got up from his bed, walked toward him, and immediately pulled him into a hug. Flynn didn't move. He just let Dylan hold him.
"Is that really all you came here for?" Dylan whispered. "You wouldn't have gone through all that trouble to find me if that notebook was the only reason."
Flynn stayed silent, but his eyes shimmered with forming tears.
"Didn't you see how sincere I was?" Dylan's voice cracked. "Did your anger really matter more to you than something I never even did?"
His grip tightened.
"Are you really that cruel? Putting all the blame on me? I didn't think you'd throw me away like that... after everything."
Tears streamed down Dylan's cheeks.
"You know... ever since my mom died, this is the first time I've been hurt like this again. The first time I cried this hard. I didn't think things between us would end like this. You really hurt me, Flynn." Dylan let go of the hug and wiped his tears.
"It hurt too much, Flynn. So if you don't want to see me anymore, then fine. I don't want to see you either. Leave."
Flynn didn't move. He only turned his gaze away.
"LEAVE!" Dylan shouted, pointing toward the door.
Flynn's tears spilled over. Flynn tugged the strap of his bag with a sharp, frustrated motion, stared at Dylan one last time, then walked out the room.
The moment Flynn left, Dylan shut the door and leaned against it, sliding down slightly. Regret washed over him like a cold wave. He hadn't expected his own words to cut him just as deeply.