Dylan had slept through the movie without any disturbance and was only stirred awake by the sound of his bedroom door flung open. He flinched upwards slightly as he woke up but maintained his fatigued composure as he glanced over to the door on his left. His view was blocked partially by Markus' body, who'd shockingly seemed unmoved from his original position, but regardless Dylan could still clearly see Iris standing in the doorway.
"Made some food if you and you're friend want some," She remarked, leaving just as quickly as she arrived. Dylan let out a stifled huff as he plopped his body back against the bed and shut his eyes again. He still felt pretty disoriented, now starting to feel a heavy pounding sensation in his forehead. However, it wasn't like Dylan would go back to sleep, so he pushed himself off the bed begrudgingly. His vision was stained with obscure splats of color, and his body wobbled from disorientation after he stood, but Dylan soldiered on down the stairs regardless.
He was not excited about the frivolous conversations that were bound to happen at dinner, and he wasn't even looking forward to the food since his mouth had been plagued with an odd taste since he'd gotten up. He inwardly sighed to himself, regaining what little composure he could as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
Iris was still cleaning up the cookware in the kitchen, but Astra had already taken her seat at the table and began to eat her food. Dylan shuffled over to his seat, still summoning what tolerance he had left before his dear guest stole his attention, only a few paces behind Dylan.
"Uh, sorry, I probably should have said this sooner, but I think I should get going now. Thanks for the offer of dinner!" Markus stated apologetically, audibly stuttering much less than he had been earlier. Astra didn't hesitate to respond, getting out of her chair as she did so, "Oh, don't worry about it. It was kind enough for you to drive Dylan back over here, so the dinner is more like a reparation for dealing with our sweet little hellspawn of a brother." She grinned confidently, walking over to the front door.
Dylan was taken aback by this but mostly wasn't sure how to respond since his brain was running on a fucked biorhythm, so he just silently stood and stared at Markus as he made his way to the front door. Markus seemed a bit frightened but was escorted out the front door by Astra before he could say anything about it.
When the door shut behind them, Iris momentarily paused to wash the dishes, "So we were gonna ask you about it anyways, but I'll just get the ball rolling here…" she began, her posture shifting and her arms now crossed over her chest. Dylan's head had turned back to her, still with his blank empty stare. He tried to think of something to say, but his slowed brain was still trying to piece together what she was talking about before she started back up.
"That kid looks a lot like, well…" Iris hesitated, "...you know who…." Dylan's stare stayed blank since he did not know who. Iris waited, slowly realizing that she may have been too vague. As that realization hit her, the front door opened, and Astra came back inside, seeming to know what the conversation was about as both pairs of eyes landed on her.
It took her a moment before she said anything, considering her words carefully, "Alright…so, actually- you know what? Let's all sit down and talk about this, ok?" She asked as she made her way back to the table. Iris agreed with a nod and headed to her seat as well, and it was only now starting to click with Dylan that this was a confrontation. The only problem was that he still had no idea what he had done wrong. He tried to mull it over quickly as he sat down.
Was it because he was gay? No, no, he'd come out years ago. Maybe Markus told him that Dylan had run from the cops. Wait, no; this was about Markus' looks. Oh no, were Iris and Astra racist?! Damnit, why wasn't his brain working?!
Dylan's thoughts were interrupted as Astra spoke, "Listen, Dylan, we're not mad at you. Honestly, I wouldn't be shocked if you had no idea what we're talking about, but regardless it needs to be addressed." Her tone was staid and solemn, though Dylan was mostly unphased by it. "Markus looks almost identical to Carla, and we know your issues with that stuff and your violent tendencies… But, listen, we want to make sure you're stable and not- I mean, god forbid, planning something."
Dylan's expression froze, his throat tightening to his lungs and the hair on his skin sticking up to their ends with goosebumps. The table was dead silent, the room air now stiff with tension. The remaining bits of Dylan's composure was knocked out of his breath in an instant, panic filling its place as his heart rate began to increase.
The three of them sat silently for a while before it spooked Dylan enough that he turned and rushed away from the table, bolting up the stairs. Astra was shocked by this reaction, while Iris barely seemed to flinch, though both of them called after him. Dylan turned a deaf ear to them, rushing to the bathroom and locking the door behind him. He was unprepared for that realization and needed to get this borderline meltdown under control ASAP.
He began to pace back and forth, flapping his hands next to his torso to try and create a stimuli distraction. Unfortunately, it didn't work well, and his head started to feel light, which was a terrible sign. Finally, he let out an exasperated whine, his hands now moving to grip the hair on the back of his skull as he tried practicing breathing exercises. His behavior became near animalistic, but he couldn't help it, no matter how pathetic it made him feel. He tried to keep as quiet as possible, but that only made his limbs tremble with anxiety.
Around thirty more minutes of these desperate attempts to calm down went by before he'd started wearing himself out. He felt unclean– no, he felt utterly filthy, but he'd tired himself out too much to be able to shower comfortably. It was a defeating feeling, and that depressed him even more. He barely felt any better than being overstimulated, but all he could do was unlock the door and drag his feet back to his room, closing the door as quietly as he could.
He was pale with shame, barely able to lift his finger to turn the lights off, nevertheless cleaning up the movie setup from earlier. Then, with not even a whine, he plopped back down in his bed and loosely curled up under the blanket, his head yet again lit with fatigue.
He passed out within half an hour and slept soundlessly until the afternoon the next day. He was too embarrassed to do much after he'd woken up, leaving the entire day to waste. Dylan felt he needed it since that was the last day of the weekend, and like hell, he desperately needed a recuperation day before going back to school and seeing Markus' face again, a look he now knew his reason for disliking.
He took what little he had left of Sunday to ponder silently in his bed, only interrupted when he went downstairs to get a snack and some water. At around 10 pm, he'd conclude, one he'd sworn to stick by.
He needed to either avoid Markus like the plague or be so rude and disturbing that it would ward off Markus of his own volition.
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