"I really like your hair," Dylan said, petting Chris's dark waves. He was sitting cross-legged on the bleacher with Chris in the same position in front of him, and while he didn't keep track of the time, he had a feeling that they'd been sitting there for a good while by now.
"Thanks?" Chris chuckled. Dylan's eyes lit up as he got an idea.
"Wait," he grinned and rolled up one of his sleeves, pulling a hair tie from his wrist.
"You carry a hair tie around?" The dark-haired boy laughed. Dylan shrugged.
"Felicia needs them sometimes, especially in Chem," Dylan answered, "lean forward, will you?"
Chris did as he was told and Dylan took a gentle hold of the dark hair. He twisted the elastic around a few times before letting go to inspect his work. Chris sat up straight again and lifted a hand to feel his new hairstyle.
The best way to describe the masterpiece that Dylan had created was: 'wannabe unicorn'. At least according to himself. The hair really did stand up like a horn emerging from Chris's scalp.
"Really?" Chris laughed and Dylan nodded.
"Looks cute," he grinned, biting his lip, which only made Chris laugh even more. Once he'd calmed down, he leaned forward to capture Dylan's lips with his own. The kiss only lasted a moment, though, as Dylan pulled back after a few seconds.
"I gotta ask you something..."
Chris hummed, looking a bit confused.
"Will you tell me about your brother?" Dylan mumbled. The words from their walk toward the Lookout echoed in his head, and at that time he'd said that he didn't need to know, but he now realized that that had been naive of him; he had always been very curious by nature, after all. "Only if you're comfortable with doing it, of course," he added.
"The whole story or what I tell everyone else?"
"The whole story, not that I know what you tell everyone else."
Chris sighed. "He's not a bad person, you know. Or... he wasn't a bad brother. And by that, I mean that he was great. Mom and dad were always working when I was younger, they still do, and Sam was the one to play and take care of me most days."
"We did everything together when I was a kid..." there was a pause, "I never asked too much about the trial, and sometimes I regret not going. I should have, since mom and dad didn't. Dad was just mad that he had to spend his money on a lawyer. And about the trial...From what I heard, there was a, and I quote, 'substantial amount of evidence'. I was really surprised."
Dylan listened quietly. In the pit of his stomach, a gnawing knot had started to form.
"I didn't mean to cut him off when he went to prison, it just kind of happened, I mean, he was still my brother. Now... I don't know how to reconnect."
"I'm really sorry," Dylan breathed. Chris gave a light shrug but didn't say anything else for a while. Dylan took the opportunity to wrap his arms around the other, sighing into the warmth that the action brought.
"So," Chris spoke, slowly untangling himself, though they were still sitting huddled close together, "about Saturday-"
"It's my turn," Dylan cut in, "though I can probably not trump the date that you orchestrated, I was thinking you could come over and we could watch a movie. I could cook."
"You cook?" Chris raised his eyes.
"Well," Dylan stretched the word and Chris chuckled, "fine, I admit, I won't cook, but we could order take out."
"That sounds like a great idea."
Dylan smiled wide, and even in the November chill, he felt warm. A few moments passed before he sat straight up.
"What time is it?" He asked, searching through his jacket for his phone.
"Uh-" But Chris hadn't even started his sentence before Dylan had found the device and gotten it out. He started the phone and it lit up. Shit. It was already nine-forty-five and there was no doubt that his mom knew that the game was over. He'd get killed. There was no getting out of this.
"I- my mom-"
"I know," Chris smiled sympathetically, "I'll see you Saturday?"
"Saturday... at five?"
"Five is perfect," Chris smiled as Dylan quickly collected all of his belongings and hurried down the bleacher-stairs. He was going to be killed.
A few minutes later, he stopped the car and hurried up the path to the house.
"I am so sorry I'm late, we won so I got caught in some after-game celebrations," Dylan panted as he slammed the door closed, instantly regretting it when he realized that people could be going to bed. It was just after ten and most lights were out in the house.
"They're already asleep," William's voice called from the living room. As expected, Dylan found his brother huddled up with a blanket and his laptop in one of the armchairs.
"Was mom mad?" Dylan shrugged the jacket off and took a seat on the sofa.
"Not really," William reassured, closing the laptop's lid slightly, "or, dad calmed her down so I think it's going to be fine."
"That's good," the younger breathed, letting his head fall back against the backrest.
"What were you doing?"
"Just met up with some of the players," one of the players, "and we cheered and talked and then it got really late."
"That's all?"
"That's all."
"So, who did you make out with?" William tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. Dylan frowned.
"Wha-"
"Come on, I won't tell. I can see a hickey from here."
Damn that Chris. If there was one thing that Dylan had noticed about the other boy, it was that he was really happy to leave marks, which did nothing to make Dylan's life easier, as this conversation showed very clearly.
"I- just a girl," Dylan lied, placing his hand over his neck to hide the mark.
"What's her name?" William smirked.
"Now you're crossing a line," Dylan said.
"Okay, okay," William chuckled, "just make sure that you get back at her for that. And, also, if you don't want mom and dad to see, then you should put olive oil. It makes it heal quicker, but you still need some concealer and a turtleneck."
"How does everyone know that olive oil heals it so well?" Dylan exclaimed.
"Because we've all had that problem and we've all found the best solution... wait, who else has told you that?"
"I'm not telling you that either," Dylan stuck his tongue out at the older, who simply laughed. "Anyway, I'm going to go to bed so that I'm not too dead tomorrow."
William nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Goodnight."
Dylan stood from his seat on the sofa and bid William goodnight, walking around the sofa to get to the hallway. He crept up the stairs as to not disturb anyone and skillfully skipped the board that he knew creaked.
Well in his room, he quickly got out of the shirt and pants that he'd been wearing. He changed into the pair of sweatpants that had lay discarded on the floor by his desk and went back into the hall and farther, into the bathroom.
Maybe both Ry and William had been right, he thought as he leaned forward to get a better look at the older, yellowish marks that Chris had left. Then again, that had almost been a week ago. The new ones, however, were already turning a dark purple on his skin. Sure, they weren't that many, but he still had to hide them.
One day he'd take William's advice and get back at Chris. One day.
He brushed his teeth and left the bathroom. A low groan escaped him as his back hit the mattress and he relaxed, letting go of all the tension that he'd accumulated throughout the day. He sighed, getting into a more comfortable position, and grabbed his book.
__
Felicia picked at her food. They'd been sitting in the cafeteria for a few minutes now, but she still hadn't eaten anything. Dylan, however, was downing his food as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.
"So... me and Maddie are dating," Felicia mumbled, making Dylan splutter and almost choke on his food. He swallowed, staring at his friend. Then, he smiled.
"I had a feeling," he said, taking another bite of his food.
"Well, I wasn't really trying to hide it, it was just that we weren't official. But now we are and I wanted you to know," she grinned. Dylan nodded.
"So, you're bi?"
"Basically," Felicia shot a look over at Blaire, who was sitting at another table, "Blaire was my first girl crush."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but she's only into guys," Felicia shrugged, "so we're just friends."
"Cool," Dylan smiled.
"Now you tell me."
"Tell you what?" Dylan cocked a brow her way.
"How it's going with... You know who."
She pointed her fork in the direction of where the football team was currently sitting. Dylan turned his head, looking over to the other table, then turned back to Felicia.
"It's going well," he smiled, "it's-it's going good."
"Dylan!" A hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. "How've you been?"
Landon and the rest of the boys spread out around him and Felicia, the sound of scraping chairs still not heard over the loud chattering in the cafeteria. As the other soccer players settled, Dylan grinned.
"I've been good," he replied, "how about all of you?"
"Good, just good," Shawn smiled, taking a huge fork-full of the food on his plate, "I take it no one has heard about the party on Saturday?"
Felicia leaned closer, resting her chin on her fist. "No, tell me more."
Shawn laughed. "Well, Francis has the house to himself over the weekend, so you're both welcome if you have time."
"I'll be sure to be there," Felicia grinned, "but sadly, Dylan has gotten himself grounded."
"What?" Landon exclaimed, along with the rest of the boys. "How'd you do that?"
Dylan sighed, making a mental note of thanking Felicia for the save since he would probably have given the same excuse as last week.
"I'm not grounded, per se," he explained, "mom just wants me home while my brother's in town."
"Over the weekends, too?" Cole frowned.
"This weekend, yes."
"I'm sorry 'bout that, man," Shawn gave him an awkward smile and padded his back.
"Next time, though," Dylan added, moving his eyes to Landon, who was already looking at him with that same inquiring gaze as last week. There was a moment of silence before Felicia cut in:
"While on the subject on Francis, or rather the football team as a whole," she met Dylan's eyes, "why don't we sit with them at lunch sometime?"
Dylan didn't know if he was supposed to be happy or terrified at the suggestion. On the one side, it would mean that he and Chris could hang out in school. On the other, it would mean that he'd make more of an effort to look like he didn't like the tall football player.
"That could be a fun idea," Cole grinned, taking a bite of his food.
The boys turned their heads toward Landon. As he was, after all, the captain, decisionmaking usually fell on him. He shrugged.
"Why not?"
"Great," Felicia cheered, holding Dylan's gaze. She winked.
When the group was walking down the corridor a few minutes later, Felicia got up close to Dylan. "There, now you're closer to your babe," she whispered, making Dylan's cheeks heat up.
"What are the two of you whispering about?" Landon laughed, seeing Dylan's red face.
"Nothing," Felicia simpered.
"Alright," Landon shrugged. Dylan released the breath that he'd been holding.
"Be more careful, will you," he hissed at Felicia as she continued walking when he was going to turn in the hallway. She didn't say anything but twisted around and formed the shape of a heart with her hands as she backed away.
He simply shook his head at her antics, though the thought of sitting with Chris every lunch made his heart lurch in his chest.
///